Page 298

Mine to choose.

His eyes hold mine as the Tiller’s hands find the hem of my tank top. Then he grips the fabric and tears it straight down the middle.

The sound slices through the night.

My breasts spill free into the warm air, and Malakai’s gaze drops, something hungry moving across his face.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Then his mouth closes around my nipple, sucking hard enough to pull a moan from me as his teeth graze the sensitive skin.

My head falls back, and the sound disappears into the dark.

Ezra stands to my side. Still dressed, still fighting himself, his eyes black with want. I turn my head, bound and helpless, meeting his gaze.

"Please," I whimper. "Please, Ezra, I need you—"

He breaks.

His shirt comes off. His pants follow.

And fuck.

He's every bit as perfect as I imagined. Lean and cut, every hard line of him exposed to me. And his cock… fuck. Long, curved, already dripping at the tip.

He fists himself once, then twice, his eyes locked on me as the other two devour me. The hunger on his face is almost painful to look at, like every second he watches strips away another piece of that brutal control he’s fought so hard to keep.

Then he steps closer.

"Open," he commands.

I do.

I open my mouth like a good girl. Like their girl.

He slides his cock between my lips, and the groan that tears from him sounds less like pleasure and more like surrender.

Yes.

The taste of him fills my mouth. Salt, skin and two hundred thirty-five years of denial. I suck greedily, swirling my tongue around him as my cheeks hollow, pulling him deeper.

His control finally snaps.

Ezra fists my hair and fucks my mouth in short, brutal thrusts.

"Look at you," Rhett growls against my ear, his hand sliding down my stomach and beneath my skirt. "Bound and dripping, taking him like you were made for it."

I moan around Ezra, and the vibration tears a curse from him just as Rhett’s fingers find my clit.

Fuck.

I'm soaked. Embarrassingly, obscenely soaked. My arousal coats his fingers as he spreads me open, dragging them through the mess before circling my clit until I’m bucking against the rope. The fibers burn into my wrists every time I strain against them, only feeding the pleasure already tearing through me.

"Please," I gasp when Ezra pulls back, a string of saliva stretching between my lips and his cock. "Please, I need…"

"What?" Malakai demands. His hand replaces his mouth on my breast, fingers pinching and twisting. "What do you need?"

"All of you."