Page 130 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
The two men shift me onto my back. Then Dorian spreads my thighs and positions himself above me.
He enters me hard, relentless, each thrust a claim that rocks my already-sensitive body. I’m still riding the physical high from my climax, but his intensity, the raw hunger in his eyes, reignites me.
My hand finds Brennan, and I gently stroke him, my fingers slick with our combined release.
Dorian’s pace quickens, his hands gripping my hips, and I’m lost again, the pleasure building impossibly fast. Another orgasm rips through me, my cries mingling with Dorian’s growl as he spills inside me, his release a final, possessive mark.
Only then does he slow, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling as we come down together.
I’m not sure how long we remain in a tangled pile of limbs.
With a satisfied sigh, I close my eyes in sated bliss.
I’m floating, flirting with the edges of sleep—something I haven’t had a lot of since I was summoned to my parents’ house.
There’s movement around me, and then the sound of running water. Dorian’s voice brings me back to reality.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, little one.”
Even though I softly protest, he lifts me from the bed.
Since there’s nothing left of me, my body is limp in his arms.
Brennan follows us as Dorian takes me into the luxurious bathroom. The space is all curves and light, with creamy marble underfoot.
A rain shower is behind frameless glass, and a soaking tub is positioned beside a wide window that frames the water like a painting. The shower is already steaming and the glass fogging as Dorian sets me on my feet.
How long was I out?
For a few moments, he holds onto me, making sure I’m steady.
Brennan grins. “I think our girl needs a little while to rest.”
Since I still feel like I’m swimming in an ocean of sensuality, I think he’s right.
In the shower, warm water cascades over us, soothing my aching muscles. Brennan lathers a cloth, and he gently washes my shoulders, my arms, my back.
Dorian occupies himself with my front, running his soap-slick hands over my breasts, making my nipples pucker, and wringing yet another small moan from me.
Both men continue down my body—Dorian bathing my stomach while Brennan rubs my buttocks and legs.
Then Dorian turns a valve and detaches the shower wand to cleanse my pussy.
Happily I lean into their care, my body humming with the afterglow.
A sharp ring cuts through the steamy atmosphere.
“Fuck.” Dropping the washcloth, Brennan stiffens.
He steps out of the shower, water dripping onto the marble as he grabs a towel.
Surprised, I blink. It’s usually Dorian’s phone that demands attention.
Dorian finishes what he was doing. “You’re really the perfect wife.” Though his words are tender and seem sincere, there’s a tension in his jaw. “I couldn’t be happier.”
I blink as his words hit me.
Happy?
