Page 106 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
“My turn.” He’s every bit as stern as Dorian.
He slides into me from behind, thick and steady, his cock stretching me differently, hitting new nerves.
I moan loudly as he thrusts, one hand on my hip, the other cupping my breast and squeezing my nipple.
His rhythm is slower, more deliberate, drawing out every pulse of pleasure until I’m trembling, lost in him.
They trade off, seamless, merciless—Dorian flipping me onto my back again, fucking me fast, then Brennan taking over, lifting my hips to go deeper.
My orgasms crash one after another, each thrust pushing me higher, my screams filling the room. “More.” It’s a desperate plea, barely coherent, but they give me what I need, alternating their possession, filling me, breaking me apart.
Dorian finds my clit and rubs tight circles, while Brennan grazes my neck. “Come for us, Isla.”
I do, again, and again, my body shattering, my pussy clenching them as they groan.
Dorian comes first, a low growl as he spills, hot and deep, his thrusts slowing but not stopping.
Brennan follows, his grip tightening, cock pulsing as he fills me, my name on his lips.
I’m a helpless, undone mess: sweat-slick, shaking, slick from my own orgasms. And suddenly my collar is my only anchor.
They collapse beside me, breaths heavy, hands still on me—Dorian’s possessive, Brennan’s tender.
“You belong to us,” Dorian says, voice rough but certain, tracing the collar.
Part of me wants to deny what he said, but I can’t.
Even though I nod, sated, I’m already craving more.
I’m not sure what Dorian wants for me as his wife, but if he intended to leave me broken, hooked on him, he’s succeeded.
How will I ever survive him?
And do I even want to?
“I’m never letting you go. Do you understand?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dorian
Fuck me three ways from Sunday.
Isla emerges from our bedroom looking more stunning than ever.
Her hair is twisted up, and loose curls escape in a way that looks effortless but isn’t.
I sweep my gaze over her, taking in her stunning eyes, coral-painted, kissable lips, and the feminine column of her throat.
The tasteful V neckline of her blue dress draws my attention.
Lazily, I let my gaze drift lower—taking in the gentle swell of the breasts I can’t get enough of, noting the gentle nip at her waist, the subtle flare of her hips, the length of her toned legs, and the peekaboo of her polished toenails.
Then I drag my gaze back up again, admiring the way the silk dress flows over her body.
She’s mine.For life.
My breath constricts. Then I force myself to exhale andget a grip. There’s no fucking reason I should have this kind of a hard-on for the woman I never even wanted, the wife I never knew I was getting.
