The Angel (The Original Sinners 2)

“Nora Sutherlin…” she sighed as she watched the erotica writer’s lover get into the backseat of the Rolls. “You lucky f**king bitch.”

Suzanne turned back to Adam’s grave and smiled.

“I miss you, big bro,” she said. She kissed her fingertips and touched the tombstone. She left it at that. Next time she came by the grave, she’d stay a little longer.

Suzanne pulled out her cell and hit the first number on her speed dial.

“Hey, you,” she said when Patrick answered.

“Hey, you okay?” Patrick asked.

“I’m actually amazing. Wrapped up the whole Father Stearns story once and for all.”

“Good. Done with that?”

“Completely. Wasn’t even the sister. You were right. He’d donated some money that raised the church’s eyebrow. He won’t be bishop although he probably should be. But whatever. Want to get some dinner?”

She tensed when Patrick didn’t answer immediately.

“I don’t know. Is this dinner? Or is this a date?”

Suzanne returned the pause with a pause before answering.

“It’s a date.”

* * *

Michael obediently closed his eyes and tried not to sneeze or flinch.

“This is ridiculous, Nora,” he said. “I feel like I’m getting married.”

Nora grinned.

“Nothing so formal or terrifying. Collaring ceremonies here at The 8th Circle are just an excuse to publicly humiliate a sub and razz a dominant for falling in love. Griffin is way overdue for much razzing.”

“Is the guyliner part of the humiliation?” Michael opened his eyes when Nora finished adorning them with eyeliner.

“I know Griffin. He’ll pee himself when he sees you in eyeliner. One of his weaknesses.”

“Awesome.” He took a quick breath. “I can’t believe this is real. It is real, right?”

Nora took a step back and angled his face into the low light. She nodded approval at her own handiwork.

“Yes. Very real. And it’ll feel very real when it stops being fun. The first time Griffin puts his foot down about something you don’t like…the whole collared thing really sinks in. But it’s worth it. You find the right dom, and it’s completely worth it. Just enjoy the honeymoon period while it lasts.”

Michael looked at Nora as she capped her eyeliner pencil and put it away. She looked so weird tonight wearing all white. White skirt, white blouse, white collar around her neck. He was in all white too—white pants, no shoes, white button-down shirt untucked with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

“He’s taking me to Key West for a week tomorrow. Speaking of honeymoons.”

Nora adjusted her collar.

“Good choice for same-sex couples. Have you two figured out the school/living situation in all this excitement?”

“Yeah. He’s getting a new place that’ll be easy to get to by the train. I’ll just be in the dorms during the week and be his on the weekends.”

“You going to tell everybody at school that you’re the bisexual collared submissive of the richest trust fund baby in New York?”

“Maybe not this semester.”

Nora grinned.

“Good call. Your mom handling everything okay?”

“Yeah. Better than I thought.”

“Mothers can surprise you sometimes.”

Michael went over to his backpack and pulled a photo folder out.

“Here. I better give this back to you. Griffin might snoop.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the photo back. She opened the burgundy folder and smiled at the picture. “God, they were sexy as hell, weren’t they?”

“Seriously,” Michael agreed as he looked over Nora’s shoulder at the black-and-white photograph. In the picture he saw an eighteen-year-old Father S sitting casually in an armchair in a dark suit, tidy and pin neat. At his feet sat another boy, only a year younger, with longer dark hair and his Catholic school uniform artfully rumpled with the jacket abandoned, the tie loose and the collar open.

“Kingsley and Søren…I think this is the only picture ever taken of them as teenagers. Looks like they were studying, working on something. Wonder if anyone else other than us kinksters get it.”

Michael had gotten it. He understood. Young Kingsley’s neck bore two bruises that anyone without any kink experience would simply assume were hickeys or love bites. But Michael knew those marks, had borne them on his own skin. Lips hadn’t made them, nor teeth. A thumb and index finger pressing into the skin had left those bruises. Kingsley had been pinned down by his neck during sex with a young Father S.

“We all have to start somewhere, right?” Nora asked, closing the folder and tucking the photograph away. “Søren and Kingsley have no shame at all that they were lovers when they were kids. Kingsley just doesn’t want anyone to know he’s a switch.”

“I won’t tell. I promise. Not even Griffin.”

“I know,” Nora said. “We better go. They’re waiting.”

Together they left Father S’s private dungeon at The 8th Circle, the club where he, Nora, Griffin and Kingsley did their hardest playing a couple of times a week.

A few doors down was Griffin’s private dungeon. Michael had already been warned he’d be spending a lot of time naked and tied up in this room. Even now as he entered it unfettered and fully clothed, he felt naked and bound. Nakedly vulnerable. Bound to Griffin.