Page 95 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

“You truly are ours in every way.”

Caleb’s eyes are dark and possessive. His voice comes out rough. “We would have gone more slowly if we’d known.”

“I don’t want it to be slower because you think I’m breakable.”

Lucian’s gaze drops over my mouth, my throat, the lace still covering me. “Not breakable. Untouched. That is not the same thing.”

He steps in until I have to tip my face up. “It means we take you apart carefully. It does not mean we pretend we don’t want to ruin you.”

Heat punches low in my stomach.

Caleb’s fingers find the clasp of my bra. He waits there, a question in the press of his knuckles.

I nod.

The hook gives, and lace slips away.

Cool air kisses my breasts, and my nipples draw tight, dark and aching and completely visible.

Caleb makes a sound that’s almost a growl. “Look at that. Already begging without a single word.”

Lucian finally touches me. He traces my collarbone with his finger, then drifts lower, circling a tight nipple without ever quite giving it the pressure I suddenly, desperately want.

“Now your panties.” His voice is low and measured, sliding straight down my spine. “Thumbs under the lace. Slow. I want to see what this conversation did to you.”

My hands are shaking as I follow his orders.

The lace is damp. I know it before I even move. Shame and arousal twist together so tightly I cannot separate them.

Fighting for a calm I don’t feel, I ease the fabric down over my hips, past my thighs, and have to bend to step out. When I straighten, I am completely naked while Lucian and Caleb remain fully dressed.

Lucian drops his gaze to the area between my legs.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “And already glistening. Your body has always known first.”

Caleb moves to my left. “Spread your feet for us.”

I do, and now the evidence is impossible to hide, and I’m mortified.

Lucian’s finger traces down my spine, unhurried, until it reaches the small of my back. Then lower. He strokes through my folds from behind, gathering the proof of me on his fingertips.

“You’re wet for us.” There’s a rough mixture of approval and hunger in his voice.

Caleb’s fingers join his, and when they begin to move, I have no idea which of them is doing what.

One of my husbands circles my clit with devastating precision while the other teases my entrance, never quite pushing inside.

Need overwhelms me, and a broken sound escapes before I can stop it. My hips twitch back toward their hands.

“That’s it,” Lucian says against my ear. “Don’t fight what your body has already accepted.”

A thumb presses harder while a finger slides into me, carefully.

Both of them are watching me with intent focus.

A second finger is inserted, and I rock back, accepting it.

Together, they work me with ruthless patience until my thighs shake and my breaths are tiny, ragged pulls of air.