Isla
Dorian’s question hangs on the chilled air.
My heart slams against my ribs, and I’m shaking, caught between the heat roaring in me and the apprehension of what’s next. Both of their cocks are hard and insistent, and I have no idea how I’ll manage to take them.
“Isla?”
Since my throat is too tight for me to speak, I settle for nodding.
“I’m more than ready.” Dorian’s smile is quick and lethal and not at all reassuring.
“Open your legs for me.”
Instinctively I clench my muscles, but Brennan sinks down on the mattress beside me and strokes my side with his knuckles. Somehow I manage to do as Dorian asked, and then he kneels between my legs.
My breaths are shallow. Now that he’s planning to penetrate me, nerves flutter again.
Brennan shifts a little, moving slightly closer. In thismoment, I’m surrounded by them, their scents—whiskey and spice and power—mixing in the air.
“Touch me,” Dorian says, his voice firmer than it has been until now, and he guides my hand to his cock. It’s thick, heavy in my palm, and I hesitantly wrap my fingers around it. He groans, a low, rough sound. “Good God, Isla.Fuck.Hold me tighter.”
Even though my grip is shaky, I do as he says.
Brennan slides one of his hands onto my hipbone, holding me in place, and he moves the other between my legs, rubbing back and forth between my folds. Instantly I attempt to lift my buttocks, but he tightens his grip in response, keeping me in place. “You’re soaked for us.”
His words scandalize me, and I realize how right he is. Despite everything, the two of them have managed to completely arouse me.
“Shall I see for myself?” Dorian asks, removing my hand from his cock and slipping his fingers between my legs. “You’re right. She’s definitely wet.” Even though he’s talking to Brennan, his gaze is on me.
Their words, light and teasing, make me flush with embarrassment.
But that vanishes as he pushes a finger inside me.
He angles his wrist and presses against that tender spot. Gasping, I jerk my hips up, and even Brennan’s attempt to keep me still doesn’t work.
“I think she might like that,” he tells Brennan. This time, Dorian’s smile is sensual and meaningful. Then he looks at me. “What do you think? Do you like it?”
“Yes,” I whisper, hating the admission.
Slowly he pulls in and out, his gaze locked on mine, his steely eyes even darker than they were before. “So wet.” His voice is rough. “So ready.”
Brennan shifts lower, and he dips his head between my thighs.
They can’t mean to do this.
I grab hold of the sheet, knotting it in my fists.
Brennan kisses my lower belly. Then he licks my clit as Dorian adds a second finger. I moan, loud and sharp, as my body clenches around him. Brennan’s mouth works me—sucking, teasing, his lips closing over my swollen bud. He licks and sucks, making me lose control.
Dorian thrusts deeper, curling his fingers once more, hitting that same spot that makes me cry out.
“So responsive for us,” he murmurs. “Take everything I give you.” Then he enters me with a third finger, stretching me wider. I’m on fire from the sensation of being too full.
Before I can protest, Brennan flicks his tongue faster, making me forget the discomfort as I buck against his face. Pleasure spikes, sharp and sudden, and I cry out as I clench around Dorian’s fingers.
“You’re perfect for us,” Brennan says, pulling back, his lips glistening with my arousal.
Dorian eases from inside me, and I breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s short lived as he reaches for his wallet. He pulls out a couple of foil packets and tosses them on the nightstand.