Page 45 of Claimed By The Club
His control snaps.
One second, we’re clinging to each other like we’re drowning. The next, his hands are everywhere—yanking my top over my head, shoving my bra down until my tits spill into his palms. His mouth crashes into mine again, hungry, devouring, and then he’s biting down my throat, sucking bruises into my skin like he wants to mark me forever. I arch into him, gasping, my fingers twisting in his hair as his teeth graze my nipple.
“Yes—” I hiss, my hips rocking against him, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing my pussy through my panties. I’m soaked. I can feel it, the slick heat of me smearing against him, and the way his fingers dig into my hips tells me he knows it too.
“Fuck, Sierra,” he growls, his voice wrecked. One hand slides between us, fingers hooking into the waistband of my pants. “Need to feel you. Now.”
I don’t argue. I lift my hips, letting him strip me bare, and then his fingers are dragging through my folds, circling my clit just hard enough to make me cry out. My head falls back, my nails biting into his shoulders as he teases me, his touch relentless.
“Look at me,” he demands, and when I do, his dark eyes burn with something feral. “I want to watch you come.”
I’m close, so fucking close, but I shake my head, my breath coming in sharp, shallow pants. “No—I want your cock, Carter. Give it to me.”
A ragged sound tears from his chest. He fumbles with his belt, his jeans, and then his hand is wrapping around himself, stroking once, twice, before he’s lining up and pushing inside.
The stretch is exquisite. I moan, my body clamping around him as he fills me, inch by inch, until I’m seated fully in his lap, his cock buried to the hilt. For a second, neither of us moves. We just feel—the heat, the ache, the way our bodies fit together like we were made for this.
Then he grips my ass and lifts me, just enough to drag me back down.
“Fuck!”
The pace is brutal from the start. I ride him with everything I have, my tits bouncing, my thighs trembling as he meets me thrust for thrust. The sofa creaks beneath us, the sound lost under the slap of flesh against flesh, the filthy, squelching noise of him driving into me over and over. His mouth finds mine again, swallowing my moans, and I can taste myself on his tongue.
“Carter, yes, that’s it! I’m close!”
“Sierra,” he calls out, panting as if chasing that climax.
It’s too much. Not enough. I’m unraveling, my orgasm coiling tight in my belly but suddenly, the door opens. I gasp, my heart jumping in my throat.
Halfway through this urgent dance, the front door creaks open. My heart lurches in alarm, but we’re too entwined to fully separate in time. The silhouette in the doorway belongs to Frost his face partially lit by the pale overhead lamp. My breath stalls and my pussy clenches looking at him.
“Damn, Sierra, you just squeezed my cock. It seems you like having Frost here,” Viper comments, shivering. Nervousness and embarassment wrecks me. I grip his arm, not sure if we should stop.
“Shut up,” I whisper, staring at Frost’s with wide eyes.
A flicker crosses Frost’s expression—surprise, maybe even a brief flash of jealousy. But the shock fades quickly, replaced by something I can’t quite name. He doesn’t bolt or yell. Instead, he steps inside, closing the door behind him, gaze locked on us. My pulse skyrockets, words tangling on my tongue.
Viper tenses under me for a beat, then grins. What now? What should I do? I wonder, my mind running a mile a minute. I need to do something, this silence is suffocating!
I try to move away, but Viper just thrusts slow into me and I remain impaled on his cock.
“Damn it, Viper,” I hiss, my fingers digging onto his shoulder.
Frost remains silent, surveying the scene. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there’s also a spark of adrenaline. Maybe this isn’t so bad. We’d talked about sharing, about the club’s unorthodox approach to relationships. Yet having Frost witness me and Viper in such a vulnerable moment is more intense than any scenario I imagined.
Frost crosses his arms, exhaling slowly. “So this is where you two disappeared,” he says, voice low but not angry.
I shift, about to slide off Viper’s lap again, but Frost holds up a hand. The flicker in his eyes suggests he’s having an internal debate. He swallows hard, then speaks in a rough whisper, “Finish what you started. I’m not here to tear you apart.
My stomach flips. I look at Viper, who’s grinning. Whatever tension in his body eases at Frost’s words. He glances at me, silently asking if I’m okay. My heart hammers, but I nod. Relief and a twisted form of excitement swirl under my skin.In some corner of my mind, I recall how the club thrives on unconventional loyalty, that we might share deeper bonds than outsiders can understand.
Viper’s grip tightens on my hips as I rock against him, resuming our actions earlier, his cock buried deep in my pussy, every movement sending sparks of pleasure up my spine. The sofa creaks beneath us, the sound filthy in the quiet of the safehouse. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps, my fingers digging into his shoulders for balance.
“Viper… Frost…” I call out, unable to stop myself. How will it feel if they both touch me? But Frost doesn’t move, just watching intensely but his eyes is so intense, he can see through my soul, fucking it.
“You like having Frost here?” Viper questions, his hips moving softly.
“Please…” I beg, wanting more. “Harder…”
