Page 125 of Stolen Faith

She sank down hard.

Both men groaned in unison as she let out a loud cry of delight, then held still, letting her body adjust to Rowan’s girth. A moment earlier, she’d been pissed off about her denied orgasm, but she realized if she gave in to her desires, this would be over before it began, and she didn’t want that.

This was her first time with Rowan. Part of her was sad when she realized her first time with Brennon had been in that cell, but she couldn’t regret that. Not even a little bit. She’d needed him, needed that escape, that brief moment of something good in the midst of so much fucking bad.

Brennon remained where he was, kneeling in front of her, and she gave him a seductive smile.

“Help me?” She placed her hands on his shoulders as he reached out, gripping her waist to lift her up, then loosening his hold as she slid back down.

They started slow, a trot, Izabel intent on drawing this out. Before long, the pace picked up, a canter, and her eyes closed as she lost herself in the sensation of Rowan’s thick cock, driving deeper inside her.

“Brennon,” Izabel cried out, her fingers tightening in his shoulders. She needed more, but she needed him to help get her there.

He kept one hand on her hip, the other drifting down to her clit, stroking it firmly. His fingers brushed the place she and Rowan were joined, and even though he’d just come, his dick seemed to have forgotten as it began to grow hard again.

“God, I can’t—” Rowan’s voice strained as he fought to stave off his own climax until Izabel came. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Ohmigod,” Izabel yelled, her back arching as her orgasm crashed over her. Rowan’s groaned curse came a split second later, the two of them lost in the throes of pleasure.

Through it all, Izabel refused to close her eyes, entranced by Brennon’s look of awe. He barely blinked, soaking it all in, and she’d never felt more beautiful, more cherished.

More loved.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Five weeks later

* * *

Rowan stared in the mirror, trying to recognize the man looking back at him. Less than two months had passed since he’d been standing in this dressing room, looking in this same mirror, preparing to meet his future spouses at the binding ceremony.

The Rowan he’d been then had been closed off, distant, almost resigned. He’d come to the ceremony prepared to do his duty, to accept the Grand Master’s chosen spouses for him, and to remain faithful to them. Then Brennon and Izabel had dropped the robes and he’d realized just what he had stepped into, what he’d committed to. Because he’d seen two strong, smart, attractive people standing next to him, both looking at him with expectation and hope, and he’d felt completely out of his depth.

Today, he knew exactly what he was getting into, and he was still nervous. His fears of failing to be the man they deserved had crashed in on him this morning and he was struggling to pull himself together.

Recalling his previous therapist’s advice, the one he went to see just after he left the military, he closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and focused on a gold ball of light. He managed a couple deep breaths until the stupid ball of light exploded and his thoughts went wild again.

Screw it. He wiped his sweaty palms on the pants of his tuxedo, then tugged at his bow tie.

Brennon stepped up behind him, batting his hands away. “Stop fucking with it. It’s fine.”

Rowan studied Brennon’s reflection, that now-familiar affection he felt for his soon-to-be husband, making him warm and fuzzy inside. Brennon, of course, looked cool as a cucumber.

“Nervous?” Rowan asked Brennon, hoping he might be feeling the same. Misery loved company and all that.

Brennon gave him a quizzical look. “Hell no. Are you?”

Rowan wasn’t sure how to respond. “I…”

“You are,” Brennon replied for him, placing a hand on his shoulder, twisting Rowan until they stood face-to-face. “Why?”

Rowan didn’t reply, mainly because he was still shit when it came to talking about his feelings. So, he lobbed the ball back in Brennon’s court. “Why aren’t you?”

Brennon smiled widely. “Because I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Rowan’s throat grew too tight to talk. Because he was too.

As always, Brennon had plenty to say on the subject. “And it doesn’t matter if we’re perfect, just so long as we’re perfect for each other.”