Revenge On Her Dad’s Best Friends (Three Ways To Get Even #2)

Chapter Twelve

She was going to be the death of them. There was no other way to put it, Bradford Evans thought.

Five years they’d successfully kept her at bay, and now everything had turned into a fucking shitshow, their bodies suffering the most.

Seeing her in their space had been one thing. Allowing her to go through whatever revenge plans she had concocted for them was quite another. Still, her presence, the way she moved, and the sound of her voice destroyed them piece by piece.

She was Hank’s daughter, for fuck’s sake. His little girl. How many times had they repeated those phrases as a way to remind them of who they were and who she was?

They vowed they would never touch her. Fuck no. Never. Hank would never forgive them. And they weren’t in the business of tainting his innocent daughter with their touch. Because fuck, that’s all they wanted to do. Touch her. Hold her. Fuck her until all she saw was them and no one else.

Fuck.

They had no idea this would be their lives for the last five years. They had no idea they would become virtual fucking monks because the only thing their dicks wanted was what they couldn’t have.

It wasn’t as if they’d set out to be this way with her. They always knew they would kill anyone who harmed Hank, and the same applied to his family. They may not have been very active in Calista’s life, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t taken her under their protection.

Until that day, when everything changed.

The day they had laid their eyes on her when Hank had his car accident, and she’d been two days from her nineteenth birthday. So fucking young. But seeing her at the hospital, her face drowning in tears, something had changed inside them. She’d unlocked a part of them they didn’t think they possessed. She disrupted them, and they didn’t know what to do with it at the time, so they brushed it aside.

But then at Hank’s funeral, she’d clung to them, her scent etched into their memory to this day. She’d held their hands, refusing to be away from them. She’d smiled at them with sadness in her eyes, and they seemed to take strength from her.

How messed up was that?

She pressed her body against theirs when she hugged them so tight they couldn’t fucking breathe with the want to carry her away and keep her for themselves.

They put it down to the stress of losing Hank. They weren’t known for displaying their emotions, unlike Hank, who had been as transparent as glass. They had no idea how to deal with losing him, so whatever was going on with them and his daughter was something they didn’t understand, and it would pass.

But they did. They knew. They understood. His daughter opened a floodgate in their black souls, and they wanted her beneath them, her body pliant to their touch, their names falling from her luscious lips as she writhed in the pleasure they were giving her.

They doused their thoughts in bottles and bottles of Scotch—anything to erase the deviant craving to feel her carry the weight of their cocks inside her sweet, soft, tight body.

They wanted to own her. Possess every part of her body. They wanted her for themselves.

It had been the first time they’d simultaneously wanted the same woman, the same way, with the same damn intensity that floored them. But it was so fucked up. They were talking about Hank’s daughter. The woman they wanted to feed their cocks to, and fucking hell, breed until she was pregnant with a child they never thought they wanted before, and she was their best friend’s daughter.

They were old enough to be her dad.

They never said it out loud, but they’d unanimously agreed to stay away from her. Took comfort in the thought that the only reason they craved her was because they were grieving their best friend’s death. There couldn’t be any other reason. Time away from her would make them see that.

Except time only did the direct opposite.

Five years later, they couldn’t get her out of their minds. She had no idea how safe she was staying away from them, but now she was here, demanding time with them.

Did she think they were going to be her nice, safe surrogate uncles who had zero thoughts of fucking her?

Bradford sighed deeply. The things they wanted to do to her... pump their shafts so deep inside her, so that a part of her would be imprinted on their cocks. Eat from her innocence and drink from the sweetness of her pussy—

No.

She was too young for them. Too innocent for their dark desires. And the only thing that really mattered? She was Hank’s fucking daughter.

They were not going to touch her.

But then she surprised them again.

What the hell was wrong with them? She turned them into stupid teens with raging hard-ons that affected their thinking. This was so far out of their character, they couldn’t explain how she did it. They lost their heads around her, their thinking became sluggish, and they became fucking idiots around her, which was the direct opposite of the way they were normally.

They took their eyes off her for a second as relief flushed through them when she agreed to leave on her own accord, since touching her, anywhere on her body, would be the one thing that would send them over the edge.

And what did she do?

She handcuffed herself to a pillar in the bedroom of their penthouse. Then put the key between her thighs.

She put the key between her lovely thighs.

Fuck.

Bradford clenched his fists so tight that he could break through steel with his knuckles.

He glanced at his friends, the men who were closer to him than brothers, and with whom he shared the same amount of grief at losing Hank. They were on the same page.

They were not going to touch her.

And surely she knew they didn’t need the key to release her.

Zach found the paper clip they’d used to free themselves.

It was time to end this.