Chapter 22 #2
I reached for the soap and worked it into a soft lather, my hands moving slower than usual as I slid them along her arms. I washed away the grime and dried sweat, and with it some of the tension she’d been carrying. I traced small circles over her shoulders, massaging away some of her tightness.
This wasn’t the moment for jokes or bravado. It felt almost sacred, the way she finally let us see who she truly was. I’d treasure this moment forever.
Dmitri stood close on her other side, steady as ever.
When her knees wobbled, he was already there, one hand firm at her back, the other guiding her a half-step forward so she stayed balanced under the spray.
His touch was all reassurance, like he was reminding her without words that she didn’t have to brace herself anymore. She was in our care now.
“You don’t have to stand alone,” he murmured. “We’re here with you.”
He reached for the shampoo and worked it into her hair, fingers massaging gently at her scalp. Kara tipped her head forward, resting it against Dmitri’s chest, a small sound escaping her before she could stop it. I felt my chest tighten at the trust in that simple movement.
I rinsed her hair carefully, angling the water so it wouldn’t run into her eyes.
When she swayed again, Dmitri and I moved in without thinking—one hand at her back, another at her elbow—keeping her upright between us.
It wasn’t about control right now; it was about being there, fully, when she needed it.
For once, she let us.
The two of us washed her body with the same gentle reverence, then conditioned her hair and gently detangled it with our fingers. After we were through bathing her, we took turns washing up ourselves while the other held her steady and safe.
I shut the water off once the last traces of soap were rinsed away, the steam already thinning as the room cooled.
Kara leaned heavily against Dmitri, eyes closed, her body loose in that way that told me she’d finally let herself relax.
Dmitri wrapped an arm around her without comment, while I grabbed the towels from the rack and used one to dry her off.
“That’s our good girl,” I crooned, brushing damp hair back from her face as I patted the towel along her damp skin.
Dmitri dried himself while I tended to Kara, then reached for another towel, wrapping it snugly around her and tucking it in like he was making sure she wouldn’t catch a chill.
The tenderness of it hit me surprisingly hard.
While I quickly and haphazardly dried my own body, Dmitri scooped her up without hesitation, cradling her against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. I dropped all the towels to the floor, opened the bathroom door, and led the way back to the bedroom.
My brother put her down carefully and wound his arm around her waist. For a moment, the two of us just stared at her.
Then, unable to help myself, I reached up and gently took the towel away from her, tossing it aside.
I knelt in front of her, my hands on her hips, my gaze fixed on the slick, heated flesh between her thighs.
She was wet, so wet that I could see the glistening evidence of her arousal, a sweet, intoxicating invitation that called to me.
I looked up at her, my eyes meeting hers. “You are so beautiful.”
Dmitri’s voice was a low growl of corroboration. “And she’s all ours.”
I leaned in, my tongue darting out to taste her. She gasped, her hips bucking. I licked her, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. Her hands flew to my hair, her fingers tangling in the strands, holding me in place as I explored her with my mouth.
Dmitri’s hands moved to her breasts, his fingers rolling her nipples, a sweet, tormenting pressure that made her whimper. His mouth was at her ear, his voice a low, seductive murmur. “You like that, don’t you? His mouth on your pussy while I play with your beautiful breasts.”
She didn’t answer, but the way her body shuddered in response was all the confirmation I needed.
I slipped a finger inside her, then another, my long, thick digits stretching her, filling her. I curled my fingers, finding that spot deep inside her that made her rise up onto her toes. I stroked her from the inside out as my tongue worked her clit in a relentless, demanding rhythm.
She didn’t have to say anything. I knew she was already close to the edge. I wanted to push her over that cliff; I wanted to be the one in this moment to make her come undone.
I wanted to make her mine.
“Look at her,” Dmitri observed. “She’s going to come all over your tongue, brother.”
I could feel the tremors running through her, hear her panting breaths. I glanced up at her, at the blissed-out expression on her face, and the sight of her surrender sent a fresh wave of heat through me.
“Not yet,” I said, pulling my mouth away. “I’m not done with her.”
“Neither am I.”
I watched as Dmitri sidestepped her around my kneeling form and guided her toward the bed, his hands possessively gripping her hips. He laid her down on the crisp white sheets, her body contrasting beautifully against the fabric.
I rose smoothly and went to kneel on the bed, one hand on her knee, spreading her legs wide. “She’s beautiful like this, isn’t she? All spread out for us, a feast for the taking.”
Dmitri’s eyes were dark as he sat down on the other side of her, his hand tracing a line down her stomach. “A feast,” he agreed, an appreciative hum emanating from deep in his throat. “And I’m starving.”
He lowered his head, his mouth finding hers in a deep, dominant kiss. I watched them, a strange, heady mix of jealousy and arousal surging through me. I wanted her, but I also wanted this—this shared possession, this dark, tangled intimacy.
I wanted her with us.
I bent over her, my hands and mouth finding her breasts. I suckled, my tongue swirling, my teeth grazing the sensitive peak, as I filled my hands with her plump, tender flesh. She arched her back, a low moan escaping her lips, her hands tangling in Dmitri’s hair.
“She tastes so good,” I murmured against her skin. “Sweet and salty. Like the sea.”
Dmitri pulled back from the kiss, his eyes meeting mine. There was a fierce, primal look in them, a challenge and an invitation all at once. He understood. He always understood.
“Together,” he whispered.
He moved down her body, his mouth tracing a path, licking and nibbling. I mirrored his movements on the other side, our mouths in perfect sync. We were a team, a well-oiled machine, and she was our sole target.
We kissed our way down the outsides of her legs, then back up the insides—ankles to muscular calves, behind her knees, then spreading her wide and drawing her legs back to gain access to her inner thighs.
Our mouths were hungry, our tongues insistent, and she was whimpering.
We nipped at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, our teeth leaving faint red marks that would bloom into very light bruises by morning.
She was writhing now, a moaning, pleading mess of need.
“Please,” she sobbed, her voice a breathless plea. “Please, I can’t…”
“You can,” I insisted. “And you will.”
Dmitri shifted and took hold of both her ankles now, spreading her legs wide and taking a moment to enjoy the spectacular view.
The subdued lighting reflected off the wet trails we’d left on her flesh, and her own wetness, now dripping from her swollen pussy.
He allowed himself to smile, then fairly dove between those gorgeous thighs, his mouth finding her slick, heated core, and I watched as he licked her.
Her back arched off the bed, a ragged, needy cry tearing from her throat.
I moved up, my mouth claiming hers in a deep, hungry kiss. She tasted of desperation and desire, a potent, intoxicating cocktail. I kissed her deeply, my tongue dueling with hers, my hand cupping her breast, my thumb teasing her aching nipple.
“She’s soaking wet for us,” Dmitri murmured against her thigh. “Her pussy is weeping for us, just begging to be filled.”
“She was born to be shared between us,” I growled against her mouth. “Look at her. She can’t get enough.”
I pulled away from the kiss, my eyes meeting Dmitri’s. He looked up at me from between her legs, his chin glistening with her arousal. There was an intense look in his eyes, a silent challenge and a shared understanding between us.
We were moving in sync, a dark, intricate dance of possession. It was a test of control, a silent negotiation for dominance, with Kara’s body as the battleground.
I ran a hand up her stomach, my fingers tracing the curve of her ribs. “She’s ours to play with, Dmitri. Ours to break. Ours to remake.”
He didn’t answer, just lowered his face between her legs and kissed her slit again, increasing the pressure of his mouth as his tongue swirled around her clit with a ferocity that made her whole body tremble.
Her hands flew to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. I leaned down, my mouth brushing against her ear.
“You’re going to come for him, Kara,” I whispered.
“I don’t think—” she said hoarsely, but her voice trailed off in a breathy sigh that exposed her completely. Her hips arched, betraying her denial too.
I leaned in a little closer, rumbling against her ear. “Your body knows its masters, sweet girl. It’s already begging for us.”
I moved my mouth to her breast again, my teeth catching her nipple in a sharp, stinging bite that made her gasp. “You’re soaking my brother’s face. Tell me you don’t want this.”
Dmitri chuckled. “She doesn’t have to say it,” he hummed, his voice thick with his own arousal. “I can taste it. She’s desperate for it.”
Dmitri laved at her clit, sliding two fingers inside of her and I watched her face, the blissed-out expression, the way her head fell back against the pillows, a silent surrender to the pleasure we were inflicting upon her.