"Father… I—" she started, her voice soft, almost pleading, but the Marquis raised his hand and silenced her.
Shayla's head turned slightly, her lips still close to Vigg's throat, her hand never pausing its rhythmic strokes on his throbbing cock.
"Come, Aryl," she coaxed. "Your brother needs us both. Show him how much you love him." Her thumb circled the tip of Vigg's cock again, drawing a choked moan from him.
Aryl hesitated, her fingers twisting in the sheets, but her eyes locked on Vigg's flushed face, his body trembling under their mother's touch.
"Vigg… do you want me to?" she whispered, her lips parting as she leaned closer. Her hand reached out, tentative, brushing against his thigh, her touch cold against his fevered skin.
Vigg's eyes snapped open, wide and glassy, caught between shame and the overwhelming heat of his mother's hands.
