Page 44 of Claimed By The Other Brother

I fist myself, aligning at her entrance, then sink back inside, harder this time. A moan tears from both of us as I push deeper. Her walls clench around me, hot and tight, sending a shudder through my entire body.

I grip her hips, setting a relentless pace, pounding into her with nothing holding me back. She takes it, her hands clawing at my back, her cries of pleasure muffled against my shoulder as I drive her toward another peak.

The tension builds, coiling tighter with each thrust. I can feel her getting closer, her body tightening around me, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

And then she breaks.

She comes first, her entire body tensing, her nails digging into my skin as she shatters around me. But this time, it's different. Tears spill from her eyes, streaming down her temples as the orgasm crashes through her—notjust pleasure, but release. All the pain, the humiliation, the devastation of the day pouring out of her in broken sobs mixed with moans.

I slow my movements, still inside her, and gather her close. One hand cups the back of her head, the other wrapped around her waist, holding her tight against me. Possessive. Tender.

"I've got you," I murmur against her hair, my voice rough.

"Let it out. I've got you."

She cries harder, her body shaking as wave after wave of emotion crashes over her. I hold her through it all, my arms tight around her trembling form, letting her feel everything she needs to feel.

Her walls pulse around me, still gripping my cock, and the sensation combined with the raw intimacy of this moment sends me over the edge. I groan against her neck, my thrusts turning erratic as the pleasure consumes me, my release comes in full force, spurting inside of her, coating her walls.

We collapse together, tangled in sweat and heat, our bodies spent, our breaths uneven. I roll slightly to the side, pulling her with me, keeping her tucked against my chest. Her tears have slowed, but she's still trembling, her limbs slack, her entire body wrung out.

I press my lips to her forehead, my hand stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. The room is silent except for our ragged breathing and the distant sounds of the city.

Her eyes grow heavy, exhaustion—both physical andemotional—finally claiming her. Her breathing evens out, deepens. Within minutes, she's asleep in my arms, her face pressed against my chest, her body completely surrendered to sleep.

I lie there in the darkness, tangled in the sheets with my brother's abandoned bride, and wonder what the hell we've just done.

Chapter Six

Scarlett

The light is wrong.

That's the first thing I notice as consciousness creeps in. Soft, gray dawn filtering through unfamiliar windows. Not my bedroom. Not my curtains.

My head throbs with each heartbeat, a relentless pounding behind my eyes. My mouth tastes like champagne and regret. The hangover hits me like a freight train—nausea rolling in my stomach, temples screaming.

But my body...my body is buzzing.

I'm warm. Sore. Aching in places I haven't ached in months—maybe ever. My thighs throb. My pussy pulses with a delicious soreness. My skin feels alive, hypersensitive, like every nerve ending is still firing.

I shift slightly and freeze. There's an arm around my waist. Heavy. Possessive. Pinning me against a solid wall of muscle and warmth.

My eyes fly open.

Dax.

I'm in Dax's bed. In Dax's suite. Naked. His arm draped over me like I belong here. The previous night crashes back in fragments. The terrace. The champagne. His mouth on mine. The wedding dress falling to the floor. His hands. His mouth. His cock. The way he made me come apart. The way I cried. The way he held me.

Oh fuck.

What did I do?

My heart hammers against my ribs. I stare at the ceiling, trying to control my breathing, trying not to panic. Dax's chest rises and falls against my back in the slow, steady rhythm of deep sleep. His face is turned away from me, buried partially in his pillow.

I need to leave. Now.

Carefully—so carefully—I start to extract myself from his arms. His grip is firm, his forearm resting across my stomach. I lift it gently, inch by agonizing inch, praying he doesn't wake up. He takes a deep breath and I freeze, every muscle locked. My heart stops.