Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Isla
Dorian’s sensual suggestion lands low in my sex, his teasing words a promise and a provocation, and the heat in his gaze makes my pulse trip.
This is not their penthouse. Here there is no sweep of city lights or the echo of marble floors. We don’t have champagne or silk sheets.
My place is tiny. Books are scattered everywhere, along with syllabi. On the counter is an abandoned coffee cup, still half full. And Calypso’s toys are strewn about in a lazy scatter by the wall, on the couch, under the television stand. This is not their world.
But they’re still here.
Not just here but choosing to stay. Loving me. Choosing us.
My chest aches with it. The proof. That this isn’t convenient. That it isn’t an image carefully curated for the press. That it’s real.
The air between us turns molten as Dorian leans in a little more. Brennan’s presence shifts too, with the subtle sound of his boots on the floor as he comes in behind me. Their heat surrounds me, a human cage I don’t want to escape.
Dorian lifts the hem of my shirt just a little.
His eyes hold mine, unblinking, as if he’s giving me the chance to stop this, to stop him .
I don’t.
Brennan places his palm flat against the small of my back, the pressure just enough to tell me he’s here, he’s in this, and he’s not going to let me drift anywhere but toward them. His breath stirs my hair as he leans in from behind, his chest firm against my spine.
With a fierce growl, Dorian lowers his head. Locked on to me, he claims my mouth in a way that is devouring.
He shows no hesitation. There’s no easing in—just the kind of hungry, soul-deep claiming that makes me go wobbly. I sink into it, into him, my fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt like I need something solid to hold on to.
When I respond, my husband slows his kiss, drawing me deeper into that dangerous place where the world narrows to just sensation.
His fingers hook more firmly into the hem of my shirt, lifting it an inch, then another, his knuckles brushing my bare skin.
Brennan’s hands tighten on my hips. Once more, his lips find the hollow beneath my ear and sealing over it with a kiss that’s more like a brand.
I gasp against Dorian’s mouth, and he swallows the sound like it belongs to him.
“Arms up, little one.” Brennan’s voice is low enough that it vibrates in my bones.
My pulse spikes. I lift my arms without thought. Dorian pulls away a little, just enough to give us a tiny amount of breathing room. And then my T-shirt is gone .
Cool air rushes over my skin, chased instantly by the heat of their gazes.
Dorian’s eyes drop, lingering at the swell of my breasts above my bra. His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking like he’s holding himself back.
Then he captures my mouth once more.
Brennan’s palms skim up my ribs from behind, steady, possessive. “Beautiful.” The word emerges somewhere between a growl and a promise.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowers his lips to my neck, each press of his mouth syncing with the sweep of Dorian’s tongue against mine. I feel them both—front and back, heat and heat—until my body is thrumming like it’s too small to hold all of this at once.
Dorian tilts my chin up, deepening the kiss, while Brennan’s there—as always—holding me.
For a moment, we break away, enough for me to see the desire flaring in Dorian’s eyes. “Fuck. I missed you.”
He curves his hand into my hair and guides my mouth back to his. The kiss is deeper this time, hungrier, the kind that steals air and leaves nothing but need behind.
Brennan stays close, his chest a wall of heat at my back. His hands slide forward until his fingers are resting at the top of my jeans. He doesn’t unbutton them—yet—but he flexes his fingers, telegraphing his intention. “You want us?”
I’m desperate with need.
And since I can’t talk, I do my best to nod.
Instantly Brennan’s lips are at my nape, and the scrape of his stubbled jaw sends a delicious shiver down my spine. “Then let us take care of you.”
His fingers make quick work of the button and zipper, the sound loud in the charged silence.
In a symphony of motion, I kick off my shoes while Brennan eases the denim down over my hips, his knuckles grazing the lace beneath.
My pulse is a drumbeat in my ears.
Part of me was scared I would never be with them like this ever again, and the thought had broken my heart.
“Your skin is silk.” Brennan continues, sliding my jeans down my thighs, allowing them to pool around my ankles.
Dorian ends the kiss and steps back just enough to look at me—really look—his gaze traveling from my bare feet up over lace and skin and the flush he’s putting there.
“Fucking stunning, little one. Mine.”
Then, without breaking eye contact, he lowers himself—slow, deliberate—onto his knees on my scuffed floor. The same place Calypso’s toys are scattered.
Brennan brackets me with his powerful thighs. “Open your legs for him.”
As I step out of my jeans, he skims my shoulder with his fingertips, his presence anchoring me in time and space, while Dorian gently nudges my ankles apart.
“I’ve been desperate to taste you.”
“Watch him,” Brennan commands. “Watch what he does to you.”
Dorian’s hands are firm on my thighs, dragging them wider until there’s no modesty left, no hiding. His breath is hot against my panties. The barest brush of him is enough to make me twitch with anticipation.
Brennan wraps around my middle, pinning me against the thick wall of his chest. “Feel what he’s doing to you.”
His low, rough words curl through me like smoke.
Dorian’s fingers hook into the lace and he slides the gusset aside, baring me completely. His gaze locks with mine, molten and ruthless, before he lowers his mouth.
The first swipe of his tongue is slow. Deliberate.
No longer able to think, I close my eyes, lost in the sensations as Brennan slips a hand up to cup my breast through the thin fabric of my bra.
A low groan rumbles from Dorian as he licks me again, firmer this time, the heat of his mouth and the scrape of his tongue sending a shockwave up my spine.
Brennan rolls his thumb over my nipple until it’s aching, his breath hot in my ear. “Do you taste how wet she is for us?”
Dorian answers with a growl, sucking hard on my clit until I cry out.
But they’re not done with me. Brennan kisses my neck. Then he bites just hard enough to make my hips jolt forward into Dorian’s face.
“Hold her still.” Dorian’s order is curt, and Brennan obeys—tightening his grip, locking me open while Dorian devours me.
Every flick of his tongue, every press of his lips is ruthless and claiming. I can’t think, can’t breathe—only feel. My thighs tremble, my breath coming in shallow bursts.
Brennan slides his hand down my stomach, resting just above where Dorian’s mouth works me over. “Are you going to come for us, Isla?”
The pleasure is a tidal wave building too fast to stop. I curl my fingers in Dorian’s hair, my head falling back onto Brennan’s shoulder as I moan my answer.
“Good. That’s it.” Brennan is more commanding than I’ve ever known. “Let him drink every drop.”
Dorian’s mouth turns merciless, tongue and lips pulling me under until the orgasm rips through me, sharp and blinding.
My cries echo off the walls as Dorian goes on and on, licking me through every pulse and shudder until I’m sagging in Brennan’s arms.
When Dorian finally pulls back, his mouth glistens, and his gaze is pure possession. “Now we’re going to fuck you so hard that you know we own you. And you’ll never have another doubt.”
Brennan shifts his grip, hooking one arm low around my waist and bringing his other up to cup my jaw, tilting my head so I have to keep my gaze on Dorian.
“Take your bra off for us.” His low words are an unyielding command, and every instinct in me responds.
My hands shaking, I obey him. He helps with the hooks, and I draw the straps down my arms and let the material float to the floor.
With a soft moan, he palms my bare breasts, kneading them like he’s been waiting for this since the moment he walked through my door.
Dorian rises in one smooth motion, his chest brushing mine. The way he looks at me—hungry, proprietary—steals the air from my lungs.
Brennan doesn’t let go, not even when Dorian closes the last inch between us and crushes his mouth to mine. The kiss is savage, teeth catching my lower lip, tongue sweeping deep like he owns every corner of me.
A sob lodges in my throat.
I need this physicality and the emotional connection to burn away all the hurt.
Brennan slips his hand lower to cup me between my thighs. “You’re dripping for us.” His tone is approving and possessive. “You want both our cocks inside you?”
My breath catches, heat flashing through every nerve. “In my…” My mouth is suddenly dry, and I have to try again. “In my pussy?”
“Yes.”
His question terrifies me.
“You can manage us. ”
Even though I’m scared, I’m strangely turned on and excited. “Yes.”
Brennan’s fingers tighten, not cruel but insistent, driving me mad. “Say it like you mean it.”
“I do mean it. Really.” When he squeezes a little more, I gasp, arching into his touch while pressing forward into Dorian. “I want both of you inside me.”
When he speaks, Dorian’s voice is rough, threaded with possession. “Then let’s move to the bed.”
Together they guide me until we’re in my room and the backs of my knees hit the mattress.
Dorian hooks a finger under my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “You’re going to take me first.”
The promise in his words makes me shake with anticipation, and I nod.
“Tell me what I want to hear.”
For a moment I frown, but then the set of his jaw, along with the flash of dominant desire in his eyes makes his meaning clear. “Yes, I want this. Sir.”
“Fuck . Little one. So damn perfect.”
He eases me back onto the bed, and my body sinks into the worn quilt. Brennan’s weight settles beside me.
With his palm, he skims my ribs, my waist, my hip, like he’s mapping every inch he’ll claim.
After undressing, Dorian climbs onto the mattress to kneel between my knees. Watching me, he tears open a condom with a swift, practiced motion. My eyes lock on the way his fist works his cock, thick and hard, the head glistening.
“Are you ready for me?”
Very much. But I’m still not certain I can make both of them fit.
Dorian positions himself at my entrance while Brennan moves so that he can capture my mouth in a fierce kiss .
In a searing, claiming stroke, Dorian thrusts inside me, stealing my breath, his lean body pressing mine into the mattress.
Tears sting my eyes from the emotional release.
I needed this.
Them.
Desperately I clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the flex of muscle as if I can steel myself against the rush of sensation.
Brennan stays at my side, one palm cupping my cheek while he slides his other down to my breast, his thumb teasing the peak until I’m arching up into both of them.
His gaze flicks between my face and where Dorian is buried inside me, and the hunger there sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
“Look at her,” Brennan murmurs. “Taking you like she was born for it.”
And maybe I was.
Dorian’s jaw is tight, his breath coming heavier as he pulls back only to drive in again, the rhythm unrelenting. “She’s perfect. Ours.”
I’m caught between them, and Brennan—always knowing what I need—strokes my temple as Dorian braces his palms against the mattress. He’s holding himself above me, protecting me as much as possible as he grinds so deep inside me that I feel him everywhere.
Brennan shifts down the mattress, his mouth finding my nipple, drawing it in and swirling his tongue until my back bows. I gasp, the pleasure doubling, tripling, with every push of Dorian’s hips.
When Brennan lifts his head, there’s a wicked glint in his eyes. “Time to shift her up,” he tells Dorian. “I want my cock in her mouth.”
Oh yes .
Dorian grins, low and feral, and adjusts, sliding his hands beneath me to haul me higher on the bed. The new angle makes me cry out, the thrust hitting deeper, sharper, while Brennan kneels beside my head, unfastening his belt and the button at his waist.
The rasp of his zipper is loud in the silence, and I can’t help but stare at his thick, heavy length that’s cradled in his hand. His cockhead is flushed and glistening, showing his anticipation.
He strokes himself once, then cradles the back of my head. “Open for me, sweetheart.”
I do, and the first press of him against my lips makes my whole body clench around Dorian. Brennan slides in slow, filling my mouth, his groan vibrating through me.
They move together without words, an unspoken rhythm—Dorian driving into me from below, Brennan thrusting shallowly between my lips, his fingers pressed against my head.
The pleasure is overwhelming, every nerve ending lit, every sense full of them. My sounds are muffled around Brennan, but Dorian catches them in his own groans, his pace growing harder, rougher.
Brennan pulls back just enough to let me breathe, his thumb brushing my wet lower lip. “She’s close.” The heat in his voice is pure male satisfaction.
“Then let’s take her there.”
Brennan eases away from me, bending low to kiss me—deep, messy, his taste mixing with mine—while Dorian’s thrusts become a steady, relentless drive that leaves me clinging to both of them.
The orgasm builds fast, no slowing it, no pulling back. My nails rake down Dorian’s back, my hips straining toward him .
“That’s it, little one.” His sentence is gritted between his teeth. “You’ve earned it. You deserve it. Come for us.”
The release tears through me, shattering and molten, my cry breaking against Brennan’s mouth.
Dorian rides me through it, grinding as Brennan ends his kiss, turning me over to Dorian.
Moments later, I’m whimpering, limp and shaking beneath him.
After screaming my orgasm, I close my eyes.
I’m spent, used, with nothing left of me.
Unaccountably, the words Mademoiselle Giselle uttered while we were on our honeymoon return to me… “ Things unfold as they’re meant to, non? And the heart finds its way.”
And it had.
Perfectly.
Brennan presses his lips to my temple. Then he leans close to my ear. His voice is warm and fierce. “We’re not done. Not even close.”