A Sinful Trap (Three Sinful Wishes 2)

“Cam,” she sobbed, her fingers clawing at the desk. “Don’t stop. It’s so good.”

He couldn’t. He’d never come inside a woman without protection in his very long life, but the idea of filling her with his seed was too arousing to shake. She was on the pill—even without the link, he could smell it—but the primitive urge didn’t fade with that knowledge. He wanted her covered in his scent, so there could be no doubt who she belonged to.

Mark her. Claim her.

When Bailey’s cries were suddenly muted, he looked up to find Davide kneeling by the desk, his mouth locked on hers in a passionate kiss.

He broke away, looking into Cam’s eyes as he whispered in her ear, “Come for him. Give him what he needs.”

Ours. She’s ours, Cam thought, knowing to his bones she was made for them.

“Bailey.” His voice was guttural and ragged. She had to come. He wanted her squeezing like a vice around him before he gave in to the insistent need boiling in his balls.

Come. Come. Need to come.

Davide’s fingers slid between them to work on her clit, and then she was shouting Cam’s name, her pussy spasming around his shaft and setting him on fire. His cock jerked inside her, hips still thrusting as he filled her until there was nothing left. Until his thighs were shaking and he saw stars exploding beneath his lids.

“Yes, it’s love. The kind that originates in the soul and takes your heart by surprise.”

It was love, and Bailey had certainly taken him by surprise. Fallen into his arms. Transformed him.

He leaned down and kissed her gently, careful not to crush her under his weight. Then he turned his head to kiss Davide, who was waiting for him with a smile and the same determination he felt. The same wonder in his expression.

It was decided. She had to choose them. But even if she didn’t, there would be no leaving Bailey behind. They were hers now. Heart and soul.

Chapter Fifteen

“I still can’t believe he left you up there alone like that,” Davide grumbled into her hair.

She smiled sleepily, wiggling her ass against his erection. “He knew they didn’t want to hurt me. Forget about the attic. I can’t believe either of you have this kind of stamina. Are all shifters this energetic? Or only you two?”

“Looking for replacements already?”

“I’m pretty sure you broke me, so I’m good.”

They were spooning in Cam and Davide’s enormous bed, recuperating while Cam went down to the kitchen to get them something to drink before they passed out from dehydration.

At least she would die happy.

“When did we break you? Was it the kitchen, when I bent you over that stool and took you while Cam watched? Or the shower after, when I fingered your ass and you rode Cam’s lap?”

Bailey squeezed her thighs together as each visual rolled over her. “Maybe it was when you fed me leftover takeout and washed my back. Or a few minutes ago, when you were cradling me between you and talking when you thought I was asleep.”

Little things made all the difference. Pathetic though it might be, one of her fondest memories was of chicken soup. Dani had brought some of Liam’s homemade goodness over when she sick last year, and Kaya had made a special tea to go with it. The kindness had nearly brought Bailey to tears.

And this? No one had ever taken care of her after sex like this. Even the friends she’d been intimate with didn’t think it was required. But with Cam and Davide, it felt profoundly loving and intimate. They made her feel special. Cherished.

The way they’d spoken about her. The plans they were making. The inn.

Davide pulled her closer. “You heard that?”

“Some of it,” she said, caressing the hand rubbing her hip. “You should tell Cam there is no way I’m accepting the inn without paying the amount I initially offered to Pikeson, despite whatever paperwork he’s already done. You were right, I would be insulted.”

After their dinner break, Bailey had been too curious about the trunk to let it sit in the foyer unopened. The contents had been fascinating, but they changed nothing. The handwritten copies of their uncle’s will, the original deed and the permits the sisters had gotten from the county clerk all verified their story that the inn had basically been stolen by the sheriff’s cousin—Pikeson’s father.

It explained so much. Pikeson had never looked at the inn as anything more than an income, never cared about it or seemed interested in its history. Was that because he knew what his family had done to get it? The Enchanted Inn had never belonged to him. His perpetual desire to sell the place had to be the result of a guilty conscience or the sisters haunting his dreams. Or maybe he was just what he appeared to be. A mean old miser.