Page 2 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"Leave it on," he murmurs against my lips, his voice low and rough.

"I want to fuck you in it."

The words move through me like heat.

He grazes my entrance through the thin fabric of my panties, and I inhale sharply, my hips shifting toward him instinctively. He strokes the base of the material with his finger — slow, deliberate circles — watching my face while he does it.

I grip the sheets. He lowers his lips to mine, kissing me harder as he slips his finger beneath the fabric and inside me, and I gasp, pulling the sheets into knots. I arch my back off the mattress, my body tightening around him as he thrusts into me deeper, finding the spot that makes my vision blur. I writhe beneath him, trembling, completely undone by the slow, precise movement of his hand.

He adds another finger, stretching me, and my thighs shake. He twists his hand, his fingers curving inside me, and I cry out — not quietly, not controlled — a desperate,unguarded sound that I don't have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about.

My orgasm builds fast, cresting higher with every thrust of his fingers, until I come apart beneath him, my body shuddering, pleasure pouring through me in long, unraveling waves. He watches every second of it, his expression focused and intent, like he is cataloging each detail.

He withdraws his fingers and lowers his head, his eyes still on mine, as he licks them clean.

I’m going to lose my mind.

He lowers his briefs, fisting his hard thick cock as he lifts my dress higher and edges toward my entrance. He rubs against me — teasing, patient, torturously controlled. I reach for his hips to pull him in, and he resists, dragging it out for another agonizing moment before he pushes forward and thrusts deep, filling me and stretching my pussy walls..

We both go still.

His breath escapes in a rough exhale, and I feel him everywhere — his hands braced on either side of my head as he gives me a moment to adjust. Then he begins to move, and I stop thinking about anything at all.

He rocks into me in slow, deep strokes that hit the place inside me that makes me want to climb out of my own skin. I wrap my legs around his waist, tilting my hips to take more of him, and he dives deeper, as I moan into his shoulder and grip the back of his neck.

He thrusts harder, faster, and I move with him, matching his rhythm, chasing the pressure building in mylower belly. He breaks my grip and slips out of me, flipping me over in one smooth motion and pulling me to my knees. He raises my dress, smooths his hand down my spine, and lands a firm, open-palmed smack against my ass that makes me gasp at the sharp sting of it.

He presses his lips to the same spot immediately — soft, deliberate — kissing the sting away. Then lower. His mouth finds my pussy opening, and I grip the headboard, my knuckles whitening as his tongue moves up and down against me. He slips a finger inside while his thumb finds my clit, and I am shaking within seconds.

He positions himself behind me, spreading me open, and leans over my back with his lips brushing my ear. Then he pushes his entire length inside me in one slow, unhurried stroke, and I moan so loudly I have to press my face into the pillow.

He pulls out to the tip, then drives back in. We groan together.

He grips my hair and pulls my head back as his rhythm builds — deep, long thrusts that seem to reach some untouched place and light it on fire. My knees tremble against the mattress. My fingers claw at the sheets. I am completely at his mercy and I have never wanted anything more in my life.

He flips me over again, settling between my legs, his chest pressed against mine, his forehead dropping to my shoulder as he drives into me with full force. I cry out, wrapping my legs around him, nails dragging down his back. The sound of our bodies fills the room — raw and unrestrained — and he reaches between us tofind my clit, circling it with his thumb while he continues to thrust, and the combination undoes me completely.

My thighs shake. The wetter I get, the harder he fucks me, like he is responding to every signal my body sends him without my having to say a word.

He pulls out briefly, rubs himself against my entrance — teasing again, insufferable — then plunges back in, driving so deep I feel him in my stomach. He hooks one leg over his shoulder, then the other, spreading me wide, and he holds my gaze as he rocks into me — steadily, powerfully, watching me come apart beneath him while he grunts with every thrust.

My orgasm slams through me like something breaking open, and I cry out his name.

He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me so we are face to face, still joined, his cock buried inside me as he holds me in his lap. It is so intimate that it makes my chest ache. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my forehead against his, and I begin to move against him — rising, dropping, taking him in deeper. I ride him hard, my nails sinking into his shoulder, my head falling back as I lose myself entirely.

He digs his hands into my hips, groaning, and captures my lips in a rough, breathless kiss. Then he lays me back, bracing himself over me, and drives into me with deep, claiming thrusts — his hand closing around my throat, not enough to hurt, enough to make my toes curl.

My orgasm takes me before I have time to prepare for it, and I squeeze around him with every spasm, pullinghim deeper, my body dragging him over the edge with me.

He groans — low, guttural — and buries his face in my neck as he releases, his body trembling, his arms pulling me against him so tightly that I feel every pulse as he empties his warm seed inside of me. I tremble with every aftershock. He drops beside me, exhaling heavily, and draws me into his arms before I can think to move away.

Our breathing tangles in the silence. He tilts my chin with two fingers and kisses me softly — a different kind of kiss than anything that came before it. Slower. Something else in it.

"I love you, Scarlett," he says.

My heart stops.

His blue eyes are warm and steady, his voice quiet, carrying the kind of certainty that has always characterized everything about him. Not performed. Not impulsive. He says it the way he does everything — like a man who has already thought it through and arrived at his conclusion some time ago.