Twin Alphas: Claimed (A BBW Werewolf Romance) by Georgette St. Clair Page A

tray down on the table.
    “Do you trust us?” Holt said, sitting down next to her.
    “Well, I – oddly enough, yes.”
    “I want to blindfold you. Indulge me on this.” Clayton pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and she let him tie it around her eyes.
    “Now, we feed you.”
    He picked up a piece of cake and slipped it between her lips.
    The cake was moist and sweet on her tongue and she gave a contented sigh. Clayton’s fingers, warm and slightly rough, lingered on her lips for a moment and she felt a twist of arousal  deep in her belly at the intimacy of the contact from this beautiful man – a stranger, yet one who somehow made her feel safe and protected. When his fingertips left her lips she darted out her tongue and he gave a low chuckle.
    The blindfold meant she couldn’t see where the brothers were, but she felt the sofa dip and heard the leather creak as Holt settled beside her. She could feel the warmth of his thigh where it pressed against hers, even through two layers of cloth, and she realized her panties were damp, her pussy tingling. Her nipples were sensitive, straining against the fabric of her shirt.
    Strong fingers pressed something cool and sweet against her lips and she let them part. Holt slid the slice of plump, ripe strawberry into her mouth and she bit down, hearing a stifled moan from him as the juice ran over her chin and down her throat in a sticky rivulet.
    Then she felt warm lips against her throat and it was her turn to moan. Holt nipped gently at her throat, soothing the tender skin with his tongue, and energy crackled through her body, lighting up her nerve endings and filling her with an electric need that made her gasp and squirm restlessly in her seat. He pressed his teeth against her flesh and she gasped as they broke the skin. She thought she caught the faint coppery whiff of blood. Despite the sting, despite the fact that she knew there would be a mark there, what she felt wasn’t pain. As Holt pulled back to gentle the spot with tender kisses, the slight throb in the flesh of her throat set up an answering pulse in her clitoris, deep and insistent. It was a new kind of pleasure; one she hadn’t felt before.
    She heard a faint rustling, and then Clayton was taking her hands, pulling her to her feet. She could barely hold back a whimper at the loss of Holt’s warmth and was about to protest, but Clayton grasped the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head in one swift motion.
    The handkerchief covering her eyes briefly slipped and she had a glimpse of smooth, muscular flesh and caramel eyes that smoldered with undisguised lust. She realized Clayton had taken off his shirt...and then it registered that he had taken off her shirt, and with a yelp she crossed her arms over her torso to cover herself, burning with embarrassment.
    “Don’t do that.” Clayton’s voice was low and soft, but there was a note of command in his
    “Wh-what? Don’t do what?” Amelia couldn’t keep the quiver out of her voice. She was blind.
    She was trembling with excitement and, suddenly, with nerves. The thought of these beautiful, magnetic men looking at her pale, imperfect body made her stomach lurch in a way that had nothing to do with arousal.
    “Don’t hide from us.” Holt’s voice came from behind her and she felt the heat of his naked chest against her back. “You’re beautiful.” He unsnapped her lacy bra then crowded in behind her, sliding the straps over her shoulders.
    “Gorgeous,” echoed Clayton. He ran his hand up the side of her thigh. “Those hips...” He unwrapped her arms from her body, skated his fingers over her ample belly. “Those curves...” Then he ran a finger around her nipple where it strained against the lacy fabric of her bra, pert and furled.
     
    “Your breasts.”
    He peeled the cups from her breasts and she caught her breath as the scratchy fabric caught against her pebbled nipples. He lowered his head and briefly sucked one rosy peak into