Page 112 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

Watching her responses, I part her carefully and press two fingers into her. Her mouth opens a little more as she accepts the intrusion. I know she has to be sensitive from all our lovemaking, but she clenches around me in total surrender.

I add a third finger because I want her throbbing and dripping before what comes next.

She rises onto the balls of her feet. The heels make a small, helpless sound against the marble.

Caleb draws the small clamp from his pocket. It’s finer than the others, designed for one precise, devastating placement.

I withdraw only far enough to expose that swollen, tiny bundle of nerves.

She knows what’s coming, and she tries to close her thighs.

Caleb’s hand settles on her hip. “Hold still for us.”

“I…” Her gaze locks on mine, beseeching. “Lucian, I can’t.”

We wait for a safe word that never comes.

Then the metal kisses her clit.

“God!” The cry rips out of her. Her body jerks. Her fingers whiten where they’re laced together.

Her hips twitch as if she cannot decide whether to escape the bite or press into it.

I’ve never been harder. My cock has never throbbed this incessantly.

Anguish is written on her face.

“Breathe through it, wife.” I watch every flicker as it crosses her. “You can do this for us.”

She does. God help me, she does.

Her chest heaves, and tears glitter at the corners of her eyes. I know it’s from the bite of pain but also from sensation stacking on sensation—her nipples, her clit…her need.

I touch the inflamed spot, and heat coats my fingers all over again.

“Keep your hands where they are.”

“Lucian…”

“You can.” I work her with a patience that costs me.

Every stroke is meant to show her who she belongs to.

When I curl my fingers and find that swollen place inside her, her forehead drops forward, and a broken sound slips out of her that I feel all the way down my spine.

Caleb’s mouth finds the side of her throat. He tugs one of her nipples, just enough, and she clenches hard around my hand.

And now I want her pleasure the way I once wanted her capture. Completely. Relentlessly. As if it is the foundation of everything we are going to build.

I do not stop until the insides of her thighs gleam and she is shaking hard enough that Caleb has to slide an arm around her waist.

“You may come.”

Caleb wraps his hands around her slight wrists, holding her steady, imprisoned as I stroke her, filthy and thorough.

Then, with a sharp, startled cry, she shatters, pulsing around my fingers. I stay with her until she is wet to mid-thigh.

Caleb looks at me, and I nod.