Page 48 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

“Roll it,” he repeats.

When I do, the sensation feels sharp, making me gasp.

“That’s it. Now tug on it.”

That sends a spark straight between my legs. Suddenly my other breast begins to ache.

“Squeeze harder.”

I do as he says, pinching with the pressure I remember from his hands, and a low moan slips out before I can stop it.

Caleb nods appreciatively while Lucian sips his coffee, calm and controlled, as if watching me unravel is the most natural thing in the world.

When I am trembling, totally turned on, my breath coming in shallow pants and my panties starting to dampen, Lucian sets his cup down with a quiet click. “That will be all. Thank you, Sophie.”

I blink furiously, shock crashing through my haze. “What?”

What am I supposed to do? Take my seat and sip my coffee, pretending that just hadn’t happened?

My body throbs, and their casual dismissal only heightens the frustration twisting through me.

“You’re everything we could hope for,” he tells me, standing, helping me to put myself back together.

I’m more confused than I ever remember being, and I’m still frowning when Caleb takes me home.

He walks me to my door, waits until I am safely inside with the lock secured before he leaves me alone with restless energy continuing to hum through me.

Still wondering what the hell happened back there, why they wanted that show only to reject me, I pour myself a glass of the cheap merlot and carry it into the bathroom.

The tub fills with steaming water while I light a few candles, their soft glow flickering across the tiles.

Trying to understand them and remembering things Piper said, I download a BDSM book and then sink into the water with a deep sigh.

I tell myself there is no way their actions and this book can turn me on, yet the words on the screen pull me in anyway.

There are vivid scenes of teasing dominance and eventual surrender that make my nipples tighten.

I picture myself as the heroine—bound not by ropes but by their steady gazes as Lucian’s velvet commands and Caleb’s rougher hunger strip me bare while they watch me come apart exactly as they did tonight.

But in my mind, their hands replace mine, mouths following, the fantasy so sharp that I press my thighs together.

What are they doing to me?

After the bath, I dry off slowly and wrap myself in my fluffiest robe.

Arousal is still simmering low and insistent, deep inside me, and every nerve ending feels alive.

In the bedroom, my phone vibrates on the nightstand.

I walk in to check it, and the screen is lit up with a text.

Do not masturbate.

The words stare back at me, and a storm of emotions rushes through me, frustration, annoyance. And more than a hint of defiance.

Those men have left me aching and unfinished like some toy they can wind up and put away.

But this is one place I refuse to let them control me.