Feral Bonds: Claimed By Rogue Alpha Brothers

Chapter 278: The Silk Scarves (I)



Warning: Mature content in the chapter

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Evaline:

I didn't know how much more I could take.

The heat, the shivers, the maddening pull of my bonds - everything blended into one hazy, dizzying storm that kept dragging me deeper and deeper into helplessness.

Both their mouths were at my chest, relentless and wicked, teasing me until my mind spun. Their tongues were almost in sync, circling, grazing, and flicking over my swollen buds before closing around them with wet, sucking pulls that sent sharp jolts of pleasure rushing through my veins.

I arched against them, my back bowing and a strangled sound breaking from my lips as the twin sensations tore through me.

My nipples had never felt so sensitive, so unbearably alive under the dual assault of their mouths. Every swirl of their tongues left my chest aching for more, every light graze of teeth left me shuddering and tugging at my restraints. My wrists strained above me, but the silk only bit deeper into my skin, a reminder of my powerlessness.

I couldn't even tell which of them was where anymore.

Was it Draven's mouth tugging on my right peak while Oscar licked the left, or had they switched? I swore I felt them switch places once, maybe twice... but maybe it was only a trick, another way of keeping me from knowing who did what.

The bond wasn't helping either. Their energy, their scents, their heat - it all was melting together, leaving me breathless and disoriented. I couldn't separate them. Couldn't distinguish which hand belonged to whom, which mouth drove me closer to the edge.

And the worst part? I didn't care.

Every graze, every pull, every hot drag of tongue had me whimpering and twisting. I had become a slave to the fire licking up my nerves.

Then, I felt a hand slipping behind my back, fumbling with the clasp of my bra. My heart leapt into my throat. Maybe it was Draven, or maybe Oscar - I couldn't tell, not anymore. All I knew was the soft snap of the clasp giving way, the sudden looseness of the fabric against my chest. The bra was pulled down my arms, but with my hands bound, the straps snagged at my wrists and left it dangling uselessly.

Not that either of them cared.

Their mouths only grew hungrier with the fresh access. Their lips closed over bare skin, tongues flattening over the stiff peaks as if claiming what had just been unveiled. I gasped sharply, my head falling back and my body straining to meet every wet, relentless drag they gave me. Fire spread beneath my skin, while my pulse hammered so hard I swore they could feel it.

Then it happened... one of them moved lower.

I felt a hand on my thigh, fingers pressing down, forcing my knee to part. My breath caught as a second hand slipped between my closed thighs, moving deliberately, almost teasingly slow. My legs started trembling, my instinct fighting to stay closed, but that firm grip kept me spread, vulnerable.

The hand brushed up my inner thigh, closer, closer... until it stopped just at the edge of my panty-covered core.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

My body arched instinctively, anticipating the touch, begging for it. But instead of giving me what I so desperately wanted, the hand slipped upward again, gliding over my belly, then higher, until it cupped my breast firmly and gave it a delicious squeeze.

A moan slipped from me. Half frustration. Half need.

But before the sound could even fade, the hand began its journey south again. This time, slower. Crueler. My chest was rising and falling in shallow gasps as fingers dragged over my navel, lower, lower still. When they finally brushed over my covered folds, the touch was so light, so fleeting, that it made me jerk against them. My thighs were trembling with the effort to push forward and hold them there.

The fingers grazed me again, not pulling away this time, and then slipped under the waistband of my panties.

I froze, only for a heartbeat, before the heat of skin on skin consumed me.

Those fingers found my folds, slick and already aching. They parted me with sinful ease, spreading the wetness before seeking out the swollen bundle of nerves throbbing with need. The moment they pressed against my clit, I cried out, the sound raw and desperate, my body jerking against the sensation.

A chuckle answered me. Low. Dark. Taunting.

I didn't know if it was Draven or Oscar. I couldn't focus enough to care. My entire world narrowed to the wicked fingers stroking me.

Slow. Lazy. Drawing tight circles over my clit before dipping lower, sliding two fingers inside me.

The sudden stretch made my knees tremble while another broken moan spilled out as my head fell forward. They pumped into me at a slow, steady rhythm, the heel of the hand pressing down while the thumb teased my clit again. My chest heaved, my nipples still caught between their mouths.

The dual assault was too much.

The wet suction of lips at my peaks, the hot swirl of tongues tugging me tighter, the steady rhythm of fingers plunging into me while the thumb teased my clit... it was a storm, pulling me under. My body clenched and tightened, my cries growing louder, breath breaking into gasps.

It barely took more than a couple of minutes before I shattered.

The orgasm ripped through me, sharp and merciless, leaving me crying out as the world went white behind my closed eyes. My body trembled violently against them, legs shaking, wrists pulling desperately at their bonds as I rode the overwhelming wave. Pleasure coursed through me in hot, shaking bursts until I sagged against the cushions behind me, breathless and chest heaving.

I barely registered the mouths finally pulling away from my swollen nipples, the fingers slipping from inside me.

But I did hear the whisper.

Hot breath against my ear, the voice deep and rough.

"I'm dying to taste you, love," Draven murmured.

The words sent a fresh shiver rolling down my spine, goosebumps prickling over my heated skin. My breath caught again, and a weak sound broke from my lips.

But before I could even answer, before I could even prepare myself, I felt the shift of weight, the brush of movement between my legs.

Someone was there, slipping lower.

Maybe it was Oscar. Maybe it was Draven. I couldn't tell.

Maybe I was tripping. Maybe they wanted me lost like this.

But all I knew was that whatever came next… I was powerless to stop it.


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