Page 113 of Marked By Alphas 2: Claimed

His tongue swept into my mouth with confident precision, tasting and exploring like he had all the time in the world. One large hand cradled my jaw, tilting my head for better access, while the other slid beneath me to cup my ass, pulling me firmly against him.

Holy hell. If I’d thought I was in trouble before, this was a whole new level of danger. I could feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against me, hot and insistent even through layers of clothing. When I shifted experimentally against him, the growl that vibrated through his chest had me seeing stars.

“Careful, little mate,” he warned, his voice a dark promise that had my skin tingling. “Unless you want this to be over before it begins.”

“Maybe I do,” I challenged, because apparently my self-preservation instinct had taken a permanent vacation.

His eyes flashed crimson, and for a moment I thought I’d pushed too far. But then Caleb’s hands were sliding up my thighs, his touch teasing but insistent as he reclaimed his place in our tangled configuration.

“So impatient,” he teased, but his voice was strained, betraying his own desire. “We have all night.”

“We have dinner with the Rivera Pack,” I reminded them, tryingto sound annoyed but failing miserably as Derek’s teeth found my earlobe.

“Plenty of time,” Derek murmured, his breath hot against my skin.

“For a preview,” Marcus clarified, his hands sliding under my shirt again, pushing it up and off in one smooth motion.

The cool air hit my overheated skin, but I barely had time to register it before I was surrounded by them again—Marcus’ mouth reclaiming mine, Derek’s teeth and tongue working magic along my collarbone, and Caleb…

“Oh God,” I gasped as Caleb’s mouth closed around my nipple, his tongue flicking the sensitive peak in a way that had my back arching off the bed. My hands clutched at whatever I could reach—Marcus’ shoulders, Derek’s hair, Caleb’s back—trying to anchor myself against the onslaught of sensation.

“Sensitive everywhere,” Caleb observed, his voice muffled against my skin. “Wonder how sensitive you are… here.”

His hand slid lower, cupping me through my jeans, and I nearly came undone on the spot. The pressure was perfect—firm but not rough, teasing but not enough—and when he squeezed gently, I couldn’t hold back the embarrassingly needy sound that escaped me.

“That’s it,” Derek encouraged, his hand joining Caleb’s, both of them working me through the denim in a coordinated assault that had my hips bucking helplessly. “Let go for us.”

“Can’t—ah!—all three of you—not fair,” I managed, my brain rapidly losing the ability to form coherent sentences.

Marcus chuckled against my lips, the sound dark and promising. “Life rarely is, little mate.”

His hand slid down to join his brothers’, and I was lost. Three sets of hands, three mouths, all focused on my pleasure with single-minded determination. It was too much and not enough all at once, and I was rapidly approaching the point of no return.

“Please,” I begged. “I need?—”

“We know what you need,” Marcus assured me, his voice a rough caress. “And we’re going to give it to you. Tonight.”

Wait, what?

Marcus pulled back slightly, his eyes still glowing crimson but his expression regaining some of its usual control. “After dinner,” he clarified, though his hand didn’t stop its maddening rhythm against me. “We’ll finish this properly.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, my body screaming in protest as their touches gentled, becoming less frantic though no less possessive. “You’re seriously going to stop? Now?”

“Not stop,” Derek corrected, his teeth grazing my shoulder one more time. “Pause.”

“Sadists,” I accused, but it came out embarrassingly breathy as Caleb’s tongue traced one last circle around my nipple. “All three of you.”

“Just building anticipation.” Caleb grinned.

“I’ll show you anticipation,” I threatened, summoning what little coordination I had left to slide my hand down Marcus’ chest, tracing the impressive bulge straining against his pants. The growl that rumbled through him was deeply satisfying, as was the way his eyes flashed brighter.

“Dangerous game, little mate,” he warned, capturing my wrist in a grip that was firm but gentle.

“I like dangerous,” I shot back, emboldened by the hunger in his eyes. “And I’m not the one who’s going to be sitting through a formal dinner with the Rivera Pack while thinking about what comes after.”

All three brothers froze, identical expressions of realization crossing their faces. I couldn’t help the smug smile that spread across mine.

“That’s right,” I continued, taking full advantage of their momentary distraction. “You’ll be sitting there, all proper and alpha-like, while I’m right across from you, remembering exactly how you looked just now. How you sounded. How you felt.”

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