Chasing Scarlett: A Breeder Romance

“This is absurd!” I cry. I’ve only ever been with one man. Alexander took my virginity, and we’ve been together ever since. Thinking of baring myself to another man scares me, not to mention four men! My core pounds, and the heat becomes unbearable. I don’t know what the f**k is happening to my body, but I know that this isn’t what I want! Riordan’s eyes flash, the black spreading until they cover the whites. Something burns on my skin. I peer down to see the crescent over my heart glowing. I raise my gaze to him, and…he’s so unutterably beautiful, and…I don’t know what I want anymore. I think I want to touch him. Never in my twenty-five years have I felt lust so blisteringly hot, it threatens to obliterate me. “Scarlett,” he seems to say, but his voice is guttural. Deep. Sexy. I ache. “Mon Dieu,” I whisper, fighting the urge to touch myself. Then, my gaze shifts. It’s Tiarnan. The exquisite perfection of his face, much like his brothers’, makes it hurt to look at him, like if I continue, my eyes might bleed. I gibber wordlessly, words getting too far out of reach. His blue eyes lose their color too, and the mark on my right wrist ignites. I double over, unable to stand straight as my lust doubles. Pressure begins building between my legs, yet, I have not been touched. I shut my eyes, to prevent looking at the third, but I know from the burn in my neck that…I gasp. My fingers rise to the choker and I rip it off as every sensation under my skin triples. My fingers drift to my dresses neckline and I don’t know how, but I rip it. My breasts spill out, and a single caress of the wind against my n*****s drive me to climax. Something within me awakens as I shudder, moaning. A beast, savage and primitive opens her eyes. And she purrs. I stand, a stranger in my body, and my fingers work on the rest of my clothes, ripping here and there until there’s nothing left. My left wrist burns and I look into Cillian’s hazel green eyes, watching him watch me as his eyes turn wholly black. A delicious sense of anticipation overcomes me, and I arch my back, almost ready as lust slams into me again. In fourfold. This, I think, as I fall back against the bed, this is what I’d been born for. The precipice my life has been building towards. All this time, I thought I knew my purpose. I thought if I worked hard enough, I could be the best daughter; the best wife; the best mother. I thought if I loved hard enough, I’d be loved too, just as intensely. I’d thought Alexander was my life. My love. That might have been true, but there’s nothing truer than the men who stand before me now. They are destruction. Mine. And I exist to be destroyed by them.