Page 99 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

Neither man speaks. I’m grateful.

Then I turn my head.

Caleb is looking at me. I know what he is asking without words. He would wait.

I touch his face. “Your turn.”

His eyes close. Just for a moment. When they open again, something in them is almost unbearably raw.

“Sophie…”

I kiss him before he can say anything else.

The second time is easier. Different. Caleb is thicker, slower, that relentless focus of his trained on every flicker in my face. He adjusts before I can ask. Holds me when sensation becomes too much. Refuses to hurry simply because he has waited. When I come again, it surprises me—sharper, wetter, with his name broken in my mouth.

By the time I collapse between them, I no longer know where one man ends and the other begins.

That realization should frighten me.

Tomorrow I know it will.

“You know we’re not done with you.” Lucian’s gaze is breathtakingly intense.

I swallow hard.

“In fact, we’re just getting started.”

He reaches for me, and I know something even more consuming is coming…

Chapter Thirty

Sophie

“You need to get ready, wife.”

Lucian’s firm, velvet-rough voice drags me from the depths of a restless sleep. My body feels heavy, deliciously sore in places I’ve never been sore before.

Every muscle protests as I pull my pillow over my head.

A low, amused chuckle rumbles from the side of the bed—Caleb. Then Lucian’s tone shifts, coaxing now, warm like melted chocolate. “We’ve got a surprise for you, Sophie. You’ll want to be awake for this one.”

The rich, dark scent of strong coffee reaches me, cutting through the fog.

Reality returns with a sharp whomp. Yesterday. The wedding. The vows. The way they took me—together, overwhelming, filling me until I didn’t know where I ended and they began.

I am Mrs. Hawthorne-Pierce now. Their wife. Forever. My insides clench at the memory, a fresh ache blooming between my thighs that makes me press them together under the sheet.

When I don’t move, the covers are pulled down in one smooth tug. Cool air hits my bare skin, and before I can protest, two hot mouths close over my nipples at the same time.

Lucian takes the left one—slow, deep suction, tongue flicking lazily over the sensitive peak. Caleb claims the right—firmer, faster, teeth grazing just enough to send sparks shooting straight to my clit. I arch with a gasp, hands flying to their heads, fingers threading through their hair.

“Wait—I’m sore—oh God⁠—”

They don’t stop.

Lucian’s mouth is relentless as he sucks harder. Caleb alternates gentle licks with sharp little bites that make my toes curl.

They slide their hands down my body in perfect sync, parting my thighs. One thick finger—Lucian’s—circles my clit with teasing pressure. Caleb’s eases lower, teasing my entrance, coating himself in the slick evidence of how much my body still wants them even after last night.