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His decree was all it took. Between one breath and the next, I was coming, the force of it taking me by surprise. My vision blurred as I shot all over my hand, my body detonating a million times over.

His thrusts grew wilder and more disjointed. Then he cried out and held me against him as he shuddered through his own release.

We lay like that for a long moment afterward, our sweaty bodies tangled together on top of the sheets. My eyelids drooped as I floated, exhausted and sated, in my mate’s arms.

“We need to try something different,” he rumbled.

I was instantly alert again, and I couldn’t keep the incredulity out of my tone. “You weren’t happy with that?”

His soft laugh stirred my hair. “I meant with Halina. Divide and conquer didn’t work. I think we should approach her together.”

“Tag team,” I said, already plotting.

“What?”

“It’s a wrestling term.”

I could almost hear his frown. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Professional wrestling.”

He made a dismissive sound. “You mean television wrestling.”

I turned in his arms. “Bram McGregor, you are an unrepentant snob.”

“Or—and hear me out—you have exceedingly bad taste.”

“But not in men,” I countered, squeezing my ass around his dick as I spoke.

He sucked in a breath, then released it on a shaky exhale. “No…not in men.”

I grinned. “So how do you propose we tag team Halina?”

“You said she felt like a prisoner.”

“Aye.”

His gaze turned thoughtful. “Then let’s give her a taste of freedom.”

Chapter Ten

HALINA

Fergus hadn’t lied about the size of the castle’s library. Not that I was much of a judge when it came to Scottish libraries—or any libraries, for that matter. But the cavernous space was both impressive and inviting. Bookcases stretched from the floor to the ceiling, and each shelf was stuffed with books of every size, shape, and color. In the center of the room, thick carpets covered the stone floors, and comfortable-looking sofas and chairs offered places to curl up and read.

But I couldn’t concentrate long enough to do that.

Because I couldn’t get the sounds of Bram and Fergus’s lovemaking out of my head. Their bedrooms bordered mine, but I’d never heard so much as a peep from either male.

Until tonight.

It started innocently enough—a muffled groan that had pulled me out of a deep sleep. I’d slid from bed and stood frowning at the carved wood paneling on the walls. Then came another groan. And another…followed by the unmistakable rustle of sheets.

A sound I shouldn’t have been able to hear.

Heart pounding, I’d moved to the wall and pressed my ear against the paneling. Bram’s voice had reached me, his tone rough as sandpaper. “I’m going to milk you. Then I’m going to fuck you.” Fergus’s answering moan was just as rough. “Do it.”

Instantly, moisture had gathered between my thighs. I had no idea what “milking” was. No idea how the men looked or what, precisely, they were doing. But I had my ears and my imagination—and my imagination conjured a world of steamy scenarios accompanied by the very real sounds of rasping breaths, passionate kisses, and sensual groans.