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Meg bucked beneath her husband. His weight held her efficiently
as he sat on her midsection and calmly looked to his brother.
“Get me some rope,” he said as though asking someone to pass
the salt.
Cian walked off to do his bidding.
“Bastard,” Meg grunted as she tried to force him off. His position
was perfect. She couldn’t quite strike him, though she tried. “Get the
fuck off me.”
Beck looked entirely too pleased for Meg’s comfort. “Language,
my love. Have you noticed, Ci, that our sweet little wife has quite the
mouth on her?”
Cian was smiling broadly as he returned with a length of material.
Meg recognized it as a scarf she’d bought in the marketplace. “I did,
indeed, notice the mouth on her. I’ve found when she gets that dirty
mouth of hers going, it’s best to shove something in it.”
“Fuck you, too, Ci,” Meg said. Cian was supposed to side with
her, damn it. He was supposed to understand. He’d spent two weeks
listening to her and getting to really know her. He’d understood how
she felt about Beck. It had taken roughly three minutes for Cian to flip
on her and take his brother’s side. She should have known. Meg tried
kicking her legs.
“I suspect there will be a lot of fucking, my lover,” Cian
promised. “This will chafe less than the rope.”
Meg looked up at the faces staring down at her. They were twins,
but she could tell them apart. Besides the very slight differences
living had brought to their faces, she could tell by their expressions.
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Sophie Oak
Cian was looking down on her with a sweetly lascivious grin. Meg
could tell he was anticipating the sex he thought was coming. His
