*Isabella's POV*
Last night, they were the ones in control, calling the shots, passing me back and forth like their favorite fucking toy. But tonight? Tonight, I was getting all the control. I was the one who decided who I was kissing, and when I wanted them.
I turned to Damien first, claiming his lips in a deep, lingering kiss, my hand tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. One of his hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer. Then, just as he was starting to deepen it, I pulled away, a smirk on my face, and turned to Jacob. I captured his lips, teasing and playful, and his hand immediately went to my hip, squeezing it in a way that made my stomach clench. Back and forth I went, a fucking queen on her throne of expensive leather, switching between the two of them, reveling in the power, in the way they both responded to my every touch.
But all that fucking control... it melted away into a puddle of pathetic need the second the car smoothly pulled up to the mansion.
They shared one of those looks. A silent, fucking electric communication that passed between them in the dim light of the car's interior. The game was over. They had won.
Jacob opened his door and stepped out, holding it open. Damien didn't even give me a chance to move. He wrapped a strong arm around my waist, pulling me out of the car and lifting me in one smooth, powerful motion. I didn't even have to think, my legs just instinctively wrapped around his waist, my arms circling his neck. They walked inside, my body pressed against the hard, solid heat of Damien's chest, with Jacob walking beside us, a silent, looming presence. And just like that, I wasn't in control anymore. I was the prize again. And I wasn't complaining. I was fucking terrified of how much I loved it.
The moment we were inside the foyer, the heavy front door clicking shut behind us, Damien stopped. He didn't set me down. He just... turned. And in one smooth, effortless motion, he handed me to Jacob. Like I was a fucking parcel, a prize to be passed from one winner to the next. Then, without a word, he just walked away, his retreating footsteps echoing on the marble floor.
What the fuck were they playing at?
The question barely had time to form in my head before Jacob claimed my lips in a fiery kiss. It wasn't soft or teasing; it was a goddamn inferno, demanding and possessive, and it made me forget all about Damien. His hands were fucking everywhere, roaming my back, tracing the line of my spine before finding the zipper of my dress. I heard the soft, metallic hiss as he pulled it down, and then he leaned back, just enough to watch. My red dress pooled at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my heels and a scrap of lace.
A shiver went through me, a pure, fucking electric jolt of exposure and anticipation.
He continued kissing me, his lips leaving mine, roaming down my jaw to the sensitive skin of my neck. He wasn't just kissing me; he was marking me, sucking and nibbling, sending jolts of pleasure straight down to my core. A soft, broken moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.
"Ahh... fuck."
He lifted me effortlessly, my legs still wrapped around his waist, and placed me on the cold, kitchen counter. The sudden shock of the stone against my bare skin made me gasp. He stepped back, his eyes burning into me as he shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Then, with one fluid motion, he pulled his shirt over his head.
And holy fucking shit.
"Fuck," I muttered, my eyes trailing over the intricate, dark ink that covered a significant portion of his chest and arm. It was a masterpiece of swirling lines and shadows, a stark, beautiful contrast against his taut, muscular skin. I'd seen glimpses before, but this... this was a whole other story.
He must have seen the awe on my face, because a slow, arrogant smirk touched his lips. He stepped forward again, closing the distance between us in an instant, and claimed my lips once more. But this time, it was different. It was gentle, slow, deep exploration that made me let out a soft, helpless moan which he immediately swallowed, his tongue tangling with mine in a way that was both possessive and tender.
His hands moved to my back, and with a flick of his fingers, he unclasped my bra. He pulled it away, and my breasts bounced free, the cool air making my nipples pebble into hard, sensitive points. He leaned back for a second, just looking, his eyes dark with hunger, before he lowered his head.
He didn't waste any time. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, a jolt of pure, white-hot pleasure shooting straight to my core. He wasn't gentle about it; he was devouring me, like a man starving. But then, just as I was getting used to the punishing rhythm, he'd switch, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub in soft, teasing circles, his other hand coming up to gently knead and squeeze my other breast. The contrast was maddening, a perfect, torturous cycle of rough and gentle that had me writhing on the counter, my hands gripping the edge of the stone to keep from falling apart.
He worshipped my breasts like that for what felt like an eternity, switching back and forth, leaving me a panting, whimpering mess. Then, he began to kiss his way down my body, his lips tracing a path of fire over my stomach, his hands gripping my hips, holding me in place. He knelt on the floor before me, his eyes looking up at me from between my legs, dark and full of a promise that made my entire body tremble.