Page 104 of Claiming Pretty

Out of instinct I turned to run, my thighs slick with my wetness.

But I didn’t get far.

Ciaran caught me, his strong arms clamping down on me. He whirled me to face him before slamming me against a tree trunk. “You make me fucking crazy.”

He ripped my skirt off me before running his fingers through my wet, aching pussy.

I groaned, my head falling back against the rough bark of the tree.

“Hmmm,” he growled, his fingers teasing along my slick folds, sending shivers of twisted pleasure through my body, “are you soaked for Ty or me? Or… both of us?”

“Both,” I whimpered, unable to lie anymore. “I’m sorry.”

A low growl rumbled in Ciaran’s chest. His eyes, dark with desire and hate, locked on mine. In them, I saw a storm of emotions—anger, lust, possessiveness, and something deeper that made my heart ache.

He unzipped his pants and thrust into me, his cock filling me in one powerful thrust.

I cried out, my back arching against the rough bark of the tree.

His hands gripped my thighs, lifting me effortlessly. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper. The new angle sent sparks of electricitythrough my body, and I cried out, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

The scrape of wood against my skin sent shivers down my spine, pain and pleasure mingling in a heady rush.

For a fleeting moment, I wondered where Ty was. Was he close? Was he watching, the way he was watching when Ciaran fucked me the other night?

The thought sent a thrill of excitement through me, quickly drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of Ciaran moving inside me.

“I hate you, Ava,” he hissed as he slammed into me. “I hate that I love you so much.”

He fucked me like he hated me, like he was punishing me for loving his brother as well.

“God,” I moaned, “you feel so good.”

“Better than him?” he hissed, his hand coming around my throat, cutting off my air supply. “Tell me I fuck you better than him.”

The world narrowed to a pinpoint, my senses heightening as blood roared in my ears.

“Tell me,” Ciaran demanded, his hips never stopping their relentless rhythm. “Him or me?”

I gasped, struggling to form words as black spots danced at the edges of my vision, shivers of pleasure coursing through me, my nerves singing with a mixture of fear and dark pleasure.

Then, over his shoulder, I saw him.

Ty.

Standing in the shadows, his eyes blazing with a dark intensity that made my breath catch.

He stood there watching, stroking his cock, his gazelocked on mine, his jaw clenching as his fingers tightened around his cock, the veins in his forearm standing out as he pumped himself in time with Ciaran’s rhythm.

His chest heaved with each ragged breath, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his skin.

His usual icy mask was cracked, a storm of emotions swirling underneath—desire, jealousy, and a hint of darkness as he waited for my response to Ciaran’s devastating question.

Him or me?

Over Ciaran’s shoulder, I reached out for Ty.

Ty swiftly moved toward us, not bothering to be silent anymore, his footfalls landing heavily on the dry forest floor. “Maybe you should learn to share, brother.”

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