Page 98 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim

Then terribly—by some unspoken agreement—they release me.

I’m so overwhelmed; I have to hold on to Dorian for support.

“We’d love to give you orgasms tonight.”

Tonight?What does he mean, tonight? They’re leaving me like this?

“Whether or not that happens is totally up to you.”

For a moment, I’m speechless. “You’re withholding climaxes as a way to bend me to your will?”

“I think you’ll find it effective.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Very much so,” he assures me.

I swing my gaze to Brennan, who shrugs. “I’m planning to eat you out for so long that you can no longer remember your name.”

They’re already driving me out of my mind. “You’re both—” Before I finish, I press my hand against my mouth.

Brennan tips his head to one side. “I believe our little submissive wishes to be pleasing.”

His gaze on me, Dorian feathers my nipples with his thumbnail and then traces the outline of my collar. Leaning in close, he murmurs, “Be careful, little one. You’ll make me fall in love with you.”

I’m so stunned I can’t do anything except blink. What a ridiculous, outrageous thing for him to say. Men like him don’t fall in love with women like me. Regardless, I wouldn’t want him to. The more separation we have between us, the better.

While Dorian slips my bra inside his suitcoat, Brennan helps me back into my dress.

My blowout is a mess, and I don’t care. After all, I’m at Vieille Rivière, not a high society event. Then I wrinkle my nose. Maybe that’s not true. This place is exclusive, and that means it takes money to get in here.

I comfort myself with the knowledge that no one is likely to talk about their experience here.

When we exit, there’s a woman waiting outside the door.She glances at both men, then winks at me as if to say I’m lucky.

I’d happily give both of them to her.

But as we walk back to the table, I realize that’s not true. And I’m not sure what that means to me. I can’t be softening toward them.Can’t.

As I take my seat this time, I notice the way the moonlight is glinting off the lazy Mississippi.

This place no longer feels as foreign, and I begin to relax.

So much food arrives, without us even ordering—Dorian’s handiwork, no doubt. I barely register the plates before they’re cleared, replaced by small cups of chicory-laced coffee that’s dark and bitter and a scattering of sugared violets that shimmer like jewels in the chandelier light. The faint anise scent teases me as the violin wails once more from across the room.

It’s a haunting, feverish cry, and the topless dancer sways to it, her body a fluid shadow against the crimson silk walls, every move dripping with a beautiful, untamed grace. Part of me wishes I had the confidence to be that sensually free.

The violin fades into a lingering note, and Dorian leans in, his breath grazing my ear. “Time to go, little one.”

My pulse spikes as they guide me from the booth and toward the exit.

Once we’re on the porch, the night air clings to me, and I’m no longer sure of who I’m becoming.

In the SUV, the interior is cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat still simmering in my veins, and I’m aware of the fact I’m wearing nothing beneath my dress and how freeing it feels.

Dorian settles in beside me, his knee brushing mine, while Brennan takes the seat across, his gaze steady and unreadable. The engine hums to life, and we pull away from the intoxicating experience of the restaurant.

Brennan tilts his head, looking at Dorian. “Has she behaved to your satisfaction tonight?”