He heard her groan, tasted the sweetness of her cream. He let his tongue massage her cl*t gently, his hands holding her h*ps now as she cried out at whatever caress Cade was bestowing as well. Bending closer, he licked down to the entrance to her body, his tongue sliding in with a smooth, firm stroke. She jerked against him, and he lapped at the soft pulse of her nectar.
Her thighs widened further as Brock moved his mouth back to her clit, his fingers sliding up her thigh, two pushing into her vagina as she bucked against his mouth. She was crying out now, suspended
between the two brothers, rocked by the pleasure, just as she always was.
This was what he wanted for Sarah. To know the pleasure, the incredible sense of sharing and love that welled through the experience. Marly lifted her leg, propping her dainty foot on the tub as Cade’s fingers began to penetrate and stretch her nether hole, coating it with the lubricating gel he used excessively, thrusting in counterpoint to Brock’s fingers in her cunt, he imagined it was his Sarah. Her cries echoing around them as they drove her to her first cl**ax.
Long minutes later, Marly lay stretched out over Cade’s body, impaled by his erection, her head tossing as Brock moved behind her, inserting the head of his c**k at the entrance to her anus. She was tight. So damned tight. He slid in by slow inches; tensing, growling with the pleasure as he felt her muscles relax, accept him.
He gripped her hips, bending over her, hearing Cade’s whispered encouragements to her, the deepening lust in his voice, the need and the drive for release suddenly echoing in his voice.
“I love you, Marly,” Cade cried out to her. “God help me, I love you.”
Brock felt the hard thrust of his brother’s c**k into Marly’s vagina, the retreat, then Brock thrust in to the hilt behind her, hearing her shattered cries of pleasure, feeling her tighten, merge with them, drawing them together through the acceptance, the rush of cl**ax that began to fill them.
Brock closed his eyes, his hands gripping her h*ps as he found the familiar rhythm. He imagined Sarah, screaming for more, begging for release. His chest tightened with emotion, his c**k swelled, pulsed. He groaned, surging inside the tight anus carefully, forcefully, sweat covering his body as he fought for control.
Then she tightened, shuddered, he heard Cade groaning, felt the hard slamming thrusts into the spasming cunt and let his body go. Two hard, quick thrusts and he was releasing the hot jets of his se**n into Marly’s body. But it wasn’t her name on his lips, it wasn’t her body he felt. It was Sarah’s. Always, it was Sarah.
CHAPTER TEN
Sarah was amazed at the incredible sixth sense that told a woman when a man had found release with another woman. She was never certain what it was that assured her of the fact. A look, a shadow in the eyes, perhaps the way they moved, but when she saw Brock that night, she knew he had. And she knew who it had been. The same woman sitting at the table with him and his brother. His brother’s woman. It wasn’t just the rumors she had heard over the years, but a shadow in his eyes, the way Marly glanced over at Brock, the way his eyes flickered guiltily in Sarah’s direction. Had he taken her today, Sarah wondered furiously. Had he relieved the lust he claimed he had for her with another woman?
She met Brock’s eyes across the distance separating them, anger storming over her. She watched him sigh, a slow careful heave of his chest, a flash of pain in his eyes. Bastard. He was no better than Mark.
There he sat with the woman he likely screwed on a regular basis, watching her like she had hurt him .
Tears burned at her eyes, tightened her chest, and she wanted to scream with the unfairness of it.
“Sarah, you just dazed out on me.” Dillon Carlyle sat across the table from her, lounging casually in his chair, watching her with an expression that clearly showed his amusement.
He was more handsome than he had a right to be, with his thick black hair and brilliant green eyes. He was almost as tall as Brock, but cockier, more cynical rather than shadowed.
“You knew he would be here.” She turned back to him, almost shaking with anger as she picked up her wineglass and finished it off quickly.
Dillon lifted a brow, then refilled the glass. She took a healthy drink of it as well.
“Actually, I wasn’t certain,” he told her, his lips quirking in a smile. “But I was curious about the rumors circulating.”
If he weren’t her brother, she would kill him. She might just do it anyway.
“What rumors?” she bit out, trying to pretend they didn’t exist.
His look chided her. He knew her too well and she had never appreciated how easily he used the information when he wanted something from her.
“Oh, the little ones that say you’ve joined the August family.” He shrugged, watching her carefully. He seemed worried though. Hell, she didn’t blame him, she was worried. “Have you, Sarah?”
Sarah flushed. She felt the heat begin in her neck and work its way to her hairline. She couldn’t get away from it, no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t escape Brock or what he wanted. She felt pummeled from every direction and she was growing weaker by the day.
“No.” She drank more of the wine, ignoring the once appetizing pasta that sat in front of her.
“Are you thinking about it?” He frowned now as he watched her. “You seem pretty upset over him.”
“No.” She wasn’t even considering it. Damn Brock. Damn Dillon for bringing her here. Damn her aching, for wanting to give Brock August whatever he wanted in return for the pleasure that sang through her body at his touch. In return for the look of approval, the flare of emotion that came to his eyes when he touched her. Like he finally had all he ever wanted in her arms. A lie. It was all a lie, and she couldn’t make herself accept it.
“I think you are.” He was suddenly serious. “Do you know what you’re getting into, Sarah?”
She glanced at him, then her eyes went back to Brock. He was watching her, his gaze hot and intense.
God, she hated it when he did that. It made her ache, made her want what she knew she couldn’t have.
What Marly was clearly comfortable with.
“I’m a moron.” She lifted the glass again, taking a healthy drink of more wine.
She was insane to be so aroused when she was so pissed off. She was insane to allow herself to be drawn into this. She knew what was happening, knew what he was trying to do to her. Why was she allowing it?