The other night was an abnormality.
The way she took their dicks to the back of her throat on her knees with her thighs spread apart had me growing painfullyhard. She may have resisted at first, but she clenched her thighs at the end, telling me she wanted to be filled. It made me want her.
Which is problematic because she’s off limits.
So, after the twins came all over her tits and poured down her throat, I walked back to the cabin and immediately called Britt, ordering her to get her ass to my place.
I found that pink rabbit in my little ghost’s underwear drawer at the rental that afternoon before she escaped. It’s currently burning a hole in my bedside table.
When I brought it back to my place, I wondered how she touched herself with it. What she thought about. Finding that toy was like a bomb straight to the wall I built, convincing myself I’d never touch her because she’s here for Elena and Tristan.
Not for me.
Not for Cam and Bren.
She’s here for them.
I called Brennan and Cameron and told them I saw her bolt with Rossco. I followed her while they found us using the tracker they implanted under her skin the night they brought her home. After they were finished with her, I knew they were returning her to the tower. Visions flickered behind my eyes of Taryn touching herself in the dark after my brothers used her like that, maybe desiring her pink toy to get her to the precipice.
If it weren’t for Britt coming over that night, I wouldn’t have trusted myself not to barge in and validate that Taryn was wet and craving more, even if she was reluctant to admit it.
If I keep myself satiated and dive into a hot piece of ass every night, it will lessen the craving to touch her.
I prefer sex long and hard, but that night with Britt took much longer than usual. It wasn’t until the image of my little ghost writhing under me appeared instead.
That’s all it took for me.
God, I am so fucked.
“We are here to answer your questions,” Brennan tells Taryn, dragging me out of my thoughts. Jessica sits next to him, her legs crossed and foot bouncing. I know she hates this and hates to leave, but she needs to. “But think about your questions first before they leave your mouth,” he forewarns.
Taryn scowls at him and swipes her hair behind her shoulder. “Why am I here?” she probes, her gaze darting to each of us.
Cameron walks into the living room, lowering himself to the arm of the couch Elena and I are on. “We needed someone more permanent when Jess leaves for college in a month. After all this family has been through, we can’t have another person leave us.”
Her eyes flash to mine, shimmering with a blend of pity and concern.
She causes the pulse in my neck to pound harder.
Sure, we could’ve asked her to be our live-in nanny—or even hired one. We had plenty of chances to be up-front and honest with her about our situation once Jess leaves for college. But my brothers and I don’t trust easily. And the truth is, nannies and babysitters are temporary. We weren’t looking for someone who would bail when we needed them the most. When you’ve experienced loss, even the people who barely touch your life can leave a gaping hole when they’re gone. A void you never knew could cut so deeply.
Taryn is different. She’s an independent and kind spirit who seems to have no ties to anything or anyone, from what I learned from our few interviews for the teaching position, making her an easy target compared to other women we considered. The likelihood of anyone even realizing she’s missing, or that we took her, is slim.
By abducting her and keeping her here, we are protecting ourselves.
Shielding our vulnerable family from someone we could’ve easily hired just for them to leave us as quickly.
We didn’t have time to convince Taryn and give her the chance to say no. It’s not ideal, but I’d do anything to protect my siblings, even if it means bending morals and taking an unconventional approach to ensure she doesn’t leave us.
Taryn considers Cameron’s words. It’s only been a few days, and I can already tell she has a soft spot for him. It awakens a pang of jealousy that shouldn’t be there in the first place.
“Oh. Uh— So I’m like a nanny then?” She thinks harder. “An enslaved nanny.”
“An enslaved nanny getting paid way more than any second-grade teacher ever would,” I clarify.
Elena sits up, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. She turns her head to peer up at me. “What does enslaved mean?”
I assume Tristan looks up for the first time, wondering the same thing. But he doesn’t say a word. He never has much to say; he listens. A lot.
