Fated To Not Just One, But Three

Chapter 341: Play 2

Olivia’s POV

The heat of the wax stole my breath, a hiss escaping me as it trailed down my skin in molten ribbons. My body jerked against the cuffs, but there was no escape.

"Breathe through it," Louis’s voice came, low and husky, brushing the shell of my ear. "Let it burn. Let it claim you."

Another drop fell, lower this time, pooling at the dip of my spine before sliding along the arch of my back. I gasped, my thighs clenching together, every nerve alive, every instinct screaming both pleasure and surrender.

The flogger hit my skin immediately after, the sting crossing paths with the lingering heat of the wax. The contrast made me cry out, muffled and desperate, before I remembered his warning. I bit down hard on my lip, swallowing the sound until tears pricked behind the blindfold.

Louis’s hand cupped the side of my face, steadying me in the dark. "That’s it," he praised softly, though his tone carried possession like steel. "My obedient little wolf."

He trailed his fingers lightly over the fresh lines of wax, tracing the patterns he’d painted into my body, his touch tender compared to the bite of heat. My breath shuddered, chest straining against the bench, torn between relief and anticipation of what he would do next.

Then his voice dropped darker, filled with promise. "Let’s go to the next part."

I shivered, bound and blindfolded, not knowing what was coming next. Suddenly, he released my hands from where I was suspended and spun me around. I gasped, unprepared, knowing only that he was close—so close I could feel the hot whisper of his breath against my face.

Suddenly, I felt him move away from my front, and I stretched my attention, wondering where he was going. His presence shifted, circling me like a predator that had all the time in the world. My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, straining against the fabric that still clung to me. Then I felt it—the brush of his fingers at my back, deliberate, unhurried, until they found the clasp of my bra.

A click.

The strap fell slack, sliding from my shoulders. My body tensed, but I didn’t move, bound in place. The cool air kissed my bare skin where the bra no longer shielded me, my nipples tightening instantly from exposure.

calm precision, he slipped lower, hooking his fingers at the band of my underwear. The thin fabric peeled away, leaving me utterly exposed. My breath caught, humiliation and arousal tangling into something dangerous, something that made my wolf whimper

my cuffed wrists high above my head before securing them to a bar of cold metal overhead. I gasped but had no chance

could form a thought, heat ghosted across my chest. His

And then—ice.

Cold, sharp, shocking.

searing kiss of ice, the frozen cube sliding between his mouth and my skin. A strangled cry caught in my throat as my body arched, the temperature

ice in place with his tongue, his mouth commanding and merciless. The cold burned deeper, harder, until it melted and

torment of sensation. The cube slid over my nipple as his tongue released it, and I hissed at the shock of cold trailing against overheated skin. The sharp ache made me strain against the cuffs, my breasts jutting forward helplessly as the last edges of the ice melted

cube between his fingers then, dragging it down the center of my chest in a slow, merciless path. The freezing trail burned over my heated skin, droplets following

ice reached my stomach, I gasped and twisted, the sensation sharper there, vulnerable

voice deep,

from crying out as the cube traced lazy circles around my navel, then lower. My thighs clenched instinctively, a futile attempt

inner thigh. My entire body jolted, the contrast between the icy chill and the

And then—

touched my

breaking free before I could stop it. The frozen sting against my swollen, sensitive flesh made me thrash in the cuffs, my entire body jerking violently. The cold was brutal, shocking,

cube tighter, circling on my entrance. My wetness mingled with the water as the ice melted faster against my heat, droplets

murmured, low and possessive. "Even frozen,

me off from everything. I couldn’t see him, couldn’t tell what he was about to do next. My body

possessive, until they reached my thighs. With one rough tug, he parted my legs wider, forcing

he ordered, his voice deep, rough. Then I felt it—cold, sharp,