Page 66 of Stolen Faith

But they hadn’t taken control, hadn’t stolen it from her. She’d initiated this. She’d given herself to them willingly.

And she wasn’t helpless.

She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that a word, a sound, a gesture from her would stop everything.

On the surface, she enjoyed, maybe even needed to give herself to them, to submit. To let this moment override the feeling that losing control meant she was helpless.

But below that, she knew the truth. She trusted them. It was insane for her to trust these two men she hadn’t known a week ago. Insane that she’d be so willing to not only make herself physically vulnerable but emotionally vulnerable too.

Safe. They made her feel safe. As long as she was with them, no matter what actually happened to her body, she was safe.

Izabel sobbed, a sound of need.

“I’m so fucking close,” Brennon moaned. “Rowan.”

One of Rowan’s hands slid from her breast down her belly. Izabel looked down, watched as Brennon once more splayed his fingers on her legs, his thumbs spreading her labia wide, almost pinning the puffy lips against her thighs.

Rowan’s fingers dipped between her legs, into her sex, exposed, and offered up to his touch by Brennon. Rowan’s touch glided against the tight ring of her entrance, feeling the place where Brennon’s cock slid in and out of her; then his now-slick fingers slid to her clit. He placed one on either side, bracketing the tender, sensitive flesh.

And as Izabel rode Brennon’s cock, her clit slid between Rowan’s fingers. A warm, constant pressure against each side of her clit.

Izabel bounced on Brennon’s cock, chasing her own pleasure. Her knees ached where they pressed against the cold concrete, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was the feeling of their hands on her, Brennon’s cock in her.

“Fuck.” Brennon arched up, driving his dick hard into her. Izabel was nearly knocked off balance, but Rowan’s hands on her pussy and breasts kept her steady.

Brennon gripped her hips, holding her so his cock stayed tight in her pussy as he dropped his hips back to the floor.

“I’m coming,” he groaned.

“Now you,” Rowan whispered in her ear. “Come on his cock, on our husband’s cock.”

It was the words as much as his fingers on her clit that drove her into the second orgasm. Izabel turned her head, letting Rowan muffle her cries of pleasure with a kiss. Her body tightened, then released, the orgasm slower and deeper than the first.

Then she was coming down from the pleasure, her sweat-damp skin chilled, her breathing deep and slow.

She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the concrete wall. A little sound of distress escaped her—she couldn’t help it. Her emotional walls were still down and seeing where they were nearly wiped away the pleasure as an insidious dread seeped into her.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Brennon sat up, his cock sliding out of her. He wrapped his arms around her, then lay back, pulling her down on top of him.

Izabel curled against his side, head on his chest. Rowan pressed against her back, pulling her discarded dress over her naked body like a blanket.

The high of the sex and the orgasms, followed by the low of fear and dread sucked her energy. Izabel squeezed her eyes closed and willed herself to go back to sleep, to forget everything for just a little while more.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she woke up the second time. It felt like it hadn’t been long. She had that odd groggy feeling that screamed “nap.”

She sat up, realizing that she was on her other side, curled against Rowan, her head on his chest rather than Brennon’s. She pushed up on one elbow, blinking. His eyes were closed, but she didn’t think he was sleeping.

“Rowan?”

He looked at her.

“You okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been lying on you like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you probably have bruises and broken ribs.”

He shrugged while still lying down. “Bruised ribs, maybe. Not broken.”

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