Page 68 of Claiming Pretty

My nipples hardened to the point of agony over my voyeuristic crime.

But I couldn’t look away.

Ty stroked himself with an infuriating ease. He didn’t act like the criminal I felt I was. He was calm, sure, steady.

I took my pleasure like a thief. He took his like a god, like masturbating to the sight of me getting fucked by his twin was his birthright.

I dug my nails into Ciaran’s shoulders and I moaned like a whore as the pressure in my lower belly reached its breaking point.

I shuddered and Ciaran groaned beneath me.

“That’s it, baby,” Ciaran said. “Come.”

I didn’t care if I was going to burn for this. I needed it. I came with a throat-slicing scream and my back arched like I was possessed as waves of pleasure slammed through me.

I felt Ciaran come inside of me, hot jets of cum filling me as he shuddered beneath me.

I collapsed with a strangled moan against Ciaran’s shoulder and he hugged me tight to his chest.

As I lay there, still reeling from the pain and pleasure, I looked back to the doorway.

“I love you,” Ciaran whispered.

“I love you, too,” I whispered back.

I watched Ty come over his hand in silence as he mouthed,“I love you more.”

THE WARDEN

Ifiddled with the bathroom lock, my fingers working on the picks with practiced ease, while my ears stayed tuned to any sound from the couch.

I could practically feel my brother’s focused energy from here as he pawed through the files he’d stolen from Hallowstone Adoption Agency.

Any moment now, he could come stomping in, fists clenched, ready to catch me in the act.

Ava could keep pretending all she wanted—that Ciaran was the one for her, that he completed her, that he was enough.

She could fuck him and lie next to him all she wanted, but she was lying about how he satisfied her. How he made her whole.

But I knew better. I’d been studying her, learning her, becoming an expert in everything Ava McKinsey since the day we met. I knew her better than she knew herself, every flicker of emotion in her eyes, every catch in her voice.

She couldn’t hide from me—not really.

Her connection with my brother might have been intense, but it was fragile. Thin and shallow, like the delicate crust of ice over a winter lake. One wrong move, and it would shatter.

I couldn’t blame her for being with him. It was only natural, after all, for her to be drawn to the rush of a falling-star love—bright, breathtaking, but destined to burn out before it could leave a mark.

I had Eamon.

She could have Ciaran.

He would give her something I couldn’t. Perspective. Contrast. The flare of kindling against the unrelenting fury of a wildfire.

Because that’s what Ava and I were. Wildfire.

I remembered watching her last night, glorious as she rode him, her breasts gleaming with sweat, her mouth parted, but her eyes hungry and searching.

Ciaran had given her everything—his sweat, his tears, his anger, his lust, his heart, his cock, his lips, his every last ounce of will—and it hadn’t been enough.

---