They would show her what she meant to them. Everything. What they could give her. All of them. A devotion unparalleled and unending until death claimed them. They would show her the benefit of their wolf senses. How they could scent her every desire, read her body’s subtlest signals and give her what she wanted, what she needed. They would leave her satiated beyond her wildest dreams and in no doubt of how much she meant to them.
“The bedroom?” suggested Louis.
Melinda whimpered in his arms and rolled her hips, her hot little core pressing against his impatient cock.
He swung her around and sat her on the island bench. “Non.Here.” He wasn’t capable of more. Words failed him.
Louis growled and rushed to clear the counter of cups and Melinda’s precious teapot. Pierre laid her across the cool surface and ran his hand down her throat, across her chest and down to the button of her jeans. She moaned, arching her back, the hard bead of her nipples poking through the fabric of her sweater.
Louis stood across the bench from him, at Melinda’s head, his nostrils flaring. His twin’s gaze met his. They needed no words.
She was beautiful, perfect, and they were going to show her what it meant to be theirs.
Melinda wasn’t sure what she was doing. Why she was letting them touch her, but… Louis brushed her hair from her face, his lips a mere breath away from hers, the need reflected in his hazeleyes matching the fire coursing through her body. Pierre gripped her hips, firm but not painful. They would never hurt her. Had never hurt her. And, oh God, she wanted this. Wanted them. To take thingsall the way.
She parted her lips on a sigh, and Louis dove in as Pierre rolled his hips. Gentle hands tugged at the hem of her sweater. Another pair popped the button on her jeans and worked the zipper down. Then Louis’ mouth was gone, and he guided her sweater over her head as Pierre tugged her jeans off.
“Putain.”
The word exploded from Pierre’s mouth, his Adam’s apple jerking as he swallowed.
“You packed her sexy lingerie, Pierre?” Louis’ eyes blazed. “I like it.”
A low growl rumbled in Louis’ throat, and wetness coated her panties. She should be afraid of this obvious manifestation of his wolf, but, God help her, it only turned her on more.
Louis ran his fingers beneath the strap of her bra. “But it has to go.”
Yes.
“First, though…”
He leaned down, taking her nipple in his mouth, sucking it through the red lace. She all but bowed off the kitchen counter when Pierre did the same with her other nipple.
Oh, Lordy.
Her skin was flushed, her nipples were tight, and she reveled in their attention. Like with everything, the differences between Pierre and Louis were stark. Louis rolled his tongue around her nipple, plumping her breast, sucking deep, then backing off, a caress of his hot breath over her skin. No rhyme nor rhythm, whatever took his fancy. Pierre worked her with controlled strokes, molding her breast where he wanted it, the laving of his tongue interspersed with little nips, the faintest bite of pain, toher nipple, to the underside of her breast. The scratch of lace against her sensitized skin heightened the sensation.
Then Pierre lifted her up, and Louis flipped the clasp of her bra. The cold marble of the countertop as Pierre laid her back down did nothing to cool her heated skin. There was something more intimate about their tongues, their mouths, their hands on her bare flesh that had Melinda gasping for breath, her body putty in their hands and her heart… She let the thought slip away, snaking her fingers into their hair and tugging them closer.
Louis chuckled. “She likes this.”
Pierre dropped a kiss beneath her breast, another at the top of her ribcage. His tongue flicked into her belly button and her stomach quivered. “She’s going to like this even more.”
He dropped another kiss below her belly button as he tore away her panties. Large hands settled on her thighs, pushing them wider, exposing her. Louis grasped her hands, wrapping her arms around his neck. Cool air teased her wet nipples as Pierre’s hot breath brushed across her core. Nothing she’d ever experienced with a man had ever felt as right as being here, like this, with both of them.
Pierre ran his nose along her slit, breathing her in, a low rumble starting in his chest. “Divine,” he murmured, then he replaced his nose with his tongue.
Laid out between them like this on the countertop, like a dinner for two, they devoured her. Louis, playful, teasing, his tongue dancing with hers, his hands exploring her body, never still. Pierre, determined, purposeful, swiping his tongue along her seam, before diving in, strong strokes in and out. With one hand on her thigh he kept her firmly in place, the other on her mound, his thumb an insistent press against her swollen clit. Melinda squirmed beneath their attentions. It was almost too much, too intense. She clasped at the collar of Pierre’s shirt, herother hand in Louis’ hair, and held on. Her body, charged as though she’d plugged herself into a live socket, floated on the edge of ecstasy.
Then Pierre changed the rhythm of his tongue, of his thumb, and her orgasm stuttered and stalled.No.She whimpered into Louis’ mouth.
Louis grinned against her mouth. “Pierre, youconnard. Are you playing with our little cipher?”
Pierre rumbled an assent that almost,almost,sent her over the edge, but then he withdrew from her, leaving her wet and needy and desperate.
Her chest heaving, she managed to get out one word, a mere whimper. “Pierre.”
He nipped at her inner thigh, each tiny sting buzzing her clit. “Patience.”
