Page 15 of Stolen Faith

“He’s pulled my panties out of the way. He’s…he’s…”

Rowan stroked her clit again, but this time it was no hit-and-run. He ran his finger around the slick nub, increasing the pressure and the speed until Izabel was gasping for breath.

“Rowan,” Brennon said. “I don’t know what you’re doing but keep going. You should see our beautiful fiancée.”

Izabel writhed against Rowan’s finger…no, fingers, her head dropping to the side, resting on Brennon’s shoulder.

“Clit,” she said, moaning when Rowan pinched it. “God, yes.”

“Yes?”

“He pinched it. Harder,” she pleaded.

Rowan pinched her clit again with more pressure. “Fuck,” he murmured from beneath her skirts.

“Harder, huh?” Brennon pressed his fingers beneath her bodice. It was a tight fit, but he was determined. With his thumb and forefinger, he mimicked Rowan’s pinch, only on her nipple.

“Brennon.”

Rowan stilled for a moment, long enough that she panicked he’d stop and pull his head out from under her skirt. She lifted her legs, tossing her calves over his shoulders to keep him in place. This time, Rowan didn’t push them down.

“He’s pinching my nipple,” she said, giving Rowan his own play-by-play. “It feels so good.”

Brennon kissed the top of her head.

This kiss was a platonic gesture, but damn if it, along with his fingers tormenting her nipple, didn’t spark her need for more.

She turned her face toward Brennon, and he was there, ready and waiting.

His lips claimed hers in a kiss that was scorching. Brennon had witnessed the way Rowan kissed her last night and he’d clearly taken notes.

His tongue found hers, stroking deeply into her mouth, his hand kneading her breast with a roughness that had her back arching.

Rowan, oblivious to what was happening above his head, added his own fuel to the fire. He’d replaced his fingers with his tongue, flattening it against her clit, licking her until she saw stars behind her closed eyes.

When his fingers reappeared, circling her pussy, she broke the kiss on a gasp, fighting like mad to draw air into her lungs.

“Tell me,” Brennon demanded, their faces so close, their noses practically touched.

“His tongue on my clit. His fingers…”

Rowan thrust two inside her sopping-wet pussy, driving in hard enough, Izabel had to fight back her orgasm.

Holy shit.

“How many?” Brennon cupped her jaw, forced her gaze to hold his, as Rowan stroked his fingers inside her with a force that she’d only dared dream of.

“Two,” she whispered. “Three.”

Izabel enjoyed rough sex, pain with her pleasure. Somehow, Rowan had tapped into that desire within minutes. Her hips rose and fell in time with his thrusts, her body moving of its own accord.

The only thing keeping her tethered to Earth was Brennon’s kiss, his hand squeezing her breast, pinching her nipple. Dragging his lips along her cheek, Brennon’s voice was almost harsh when he asked, “Ready to beg?”

“Please,” she gasped, pride be damned. “God, please.”

Rowan continued fucking her with his fingers, his thumb joining the game, stroking her clit. Her orgasm on a hair trigger, that touch pushed her over the edge, straight into the abyss.

As her climax subsided, she had only one thought.