Chapter thirty-two
The Estate, Buckinghamshire
Connor
“This doesn’t feel right,” I mutter to Russell and Harrison as they watch the girls enjoy a jacuzzi in the hotel spa. “Do you not think they’ll figure out there are no other guests here?”
“I doubt it with the volume of champagne being drunk,” Harrison replies, and Russell punches his arm. “Vi will be asleep by eight o’clock at this rate.”
There’s a knock at the door, and an elderly man dressed in the clothes of a butler steps into the room. “Good evening, gentlemen. Would any of you like a drink?” he asks.
“Another round of beers, please,” Harrison says, his eyes never leaving his wife.
Somehow, he convinced the hotel manager to give us access to an office next to the spa with one-way glass.
We’ve been somewhere on the grounds since our ladies arrived at the hotel three hours ago, just in case anything goes amiss, which is unlikely since we booked out the whole damn place.
“Do you not think you’re slightly overprotective?” Russell suggests to him, and Harrison glares back.
“This coming from a man who stalked his brother’s girlfriend to get her to notice him.” My brother’s mouth falls open. “No, Violet could find trouble in an empty room. So being here means I know she’s safe, and I wouldn’t sleep at home anyway without her.”
“Sam said they weren’t using the spa today,” I continue, trying to divert a disagreement. I was only made aware of their arrangement to follow the girls minutes before Russell and I left the café.
“I paid the receptionist one hundred pounds to convince them otherwise,” Russell says. “It was too good an opportunity to see Trouble strutting around in her bikini.” My focus moves to the girls having the time of their lives, laughing and joking together, completely unaware of our presence.
“I wish we could hear what they’re saying,” Russell grumbles.
“Maybe we can.” Harrison cracks open a small window, and the sound of excited female voices floats toward us.
“This isn’t good,” I mutter, and the men scowl at me.
“Shut up! If we can hear them, they’ll hear us,” Harrison whispers, annoyed.
The bubbles stop, and our girls groan dramatically before standing up.
Samantha looks incredible in a bright pink bikini scattered with crystals.
When she turns to step out of the tub, her pert ass cheeks jiggle merrily on either side of the tiny string.
My cock stirs in my trousers in hope. Once out, they wrap themselves in fluffy white towels while pushing their feet into matching slippers.
“Where do you think everyone is?” Samantha asks my sister. “It seems very quiet for a hotel.” Violet purses her lips and taps them with a finger before answering.
“Maybe we are the only booking,” she suggests, completely unfazed by the random situation.
I’m never sure my sister will live or has lived, for that matter, in the real world.
As much as I love her and her fierce loyalty to us all, she’ll always live slightly above the clouds.
She’s oblivious to the reality around her, but with Harry by her side, I don’t think that is a bad place to be. “So, what do you want to do next?”
“How about a massage, ladies?” a male voice interrupts their conversation, and they both turn in the direction of the question.
When I follow their gaze, two men walk over, dressed from head to toe in white.
One signals to two massage beds set up at the poolside.
“I’m Thomas, and this is Francois. We would be delighted to help you relax here at The Estate.”
Violet squeals and claps her hands together, bouncing up and down on the spot. Samantha’s lips twist into an amused smile at her friend’s antics.
“Oh, I love massages!”
“That won’t be happening,” Harrison growls under his breath.
“You booked the fucking hotel,” I tell him. “With a spa. Was a massage not an obvious perk of the trip?”
“Yeah, but not from those two boneheads.” He signals to the masseurs with an angry finger. “No man other than me touches my wife.”
Our girls stroll toward the beds and quickly remove their towels before lying face down. The three of us watch on as the two men, younger than any of us, step towards our women.
“Not a fucking chance in hell,” Russell says, starting to remove his shoes and socks.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Going to massage her my fucking self.”
Harrison follows suit and begins to remove his shoes.
Feeling like I have no other option, I remove my own.
Once our feet are bare, we take off our suit jackets and throw them over the back of the chairs we sit on.
Russell heads for the door. He unbuttons his shirt sleeves as he walks, turning them up to expose his forearms.
When we reach the massage tables, all of us are prepared to pleasure our women, not that I think either will be pleased by our unannounced arrival.
The two masseurs stand beside a unit, pouring oil into a small container and lighting candles.
The girls still lie face down, chatting between themselves.
“You don’t think they would book the whole place?”
Samantha asks Violet. “It doesn’t seem a cheap deal kind of place.”
My sister laughs out loud then snorts, the same way she has done since we were kids.
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” she replies once she has control of her hilarity. “Our men aren’t exactly normal. As far as we know, there are no other guests, which makes me think we’re the only booking tonight.”
“Yes, the whole place has been booked for a private event. Were you unaware?” one man says over his shoulder. “You’re the only guests we have today.”
“Controlling arseholes,” Violet mutters. “I knew it. When I see Harry, I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Suck his dick a little harder as punishment” Both girls chuckle, and their bodies vibrate softly against the white sheets.
“Probably. I can never be angry with him,” my sister admits. “He’s my kind of perfect. All dominant and possessive, but as soft as butter underneath.” Harrison smiles, biting his lip to stop himself from chuckling. “God, I love him.”
The men turn toward the tables but catch sight of us standing in the shadows to their side.
Russell shakes his head before stepping forward and covering his lips with a finger.
Harrison and I pluck the oils from their hands.
Russell signals for them to leave. When they don’t, he pulls a small handgun from his waistband and motions again for them to go.
Well, we won’t ever be welcome back at this hotel.
The masseurs scurry away like scalded cats. We all smirk at one another. Pathetic.
Harrison moves immediately to my sister, unspeaking.
He coats his hands in oil and places them on her back, kneading softly.
She moans with pleasure immediately. Russell and I look at each other.
He shrugs and then dips his hands in the oil I’m holding before moving to Sam. Not wanting to lose out, I do the same.
We take a side each, placing one hand on her skin.
She wriggles beneath our touch, making herself more comfortable on the bed.
Our hands glide simultaneously over her shoulders, down her back, stopping just above her ass.
My brother glances over, raising his eyebrows as if seeking permission to continue.
I nod. Samantha groans softly, her eyes still firmly closed.
We are all settled in the moment, enjoying the peace and calm. Our ladies are relaxed and pampered, although unaware it’s us, until Violet’s voice sounds angrily from the bed.
“Harry, what the fuck are you doing here?” she shouts, and he steps back as she pushes herself up to sit. Samantha’s head snaps around, and she hesitates as she clocks my brother and me. “I’d know that bloody big toe anywhere.” My eyes flick to the face hole Harrison is standing above.
“If you think I’m letting another man touch you, Vi, you don’t know me well enough. I don’t fucking share.” He steps forward and takes her face between his hands. “You’re all fucking mine. I don’t share,” he repeats before glancing at us standing at the next bed. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I reply, holding my hands up as he passes her a towel.
“Get up. We are going to bed,” he tells her. His eyes are fixed on my sister, the unwavering love for her since they were teenagers burning strong. Harrison has always looked at her the same way, with pure, unadulterated want.
“Why?” she asks, and he laughs before kissing her softly.
“Because I want to put a baby in you tonight, and I would rather not do that in front of your brothers.” She flushes red, then we all watch as he lifts her into his arms and carries her from the spa.
Samantha pushes herself up and fixes her bikini top.
She looks from Russell to me, then back again.
“What do you boys want to do then? As you’ve interrupted my girly evening,” she says, cocking her head to the side.
“Violet has abandoned me, and you two have been playing stalker.”
I wince at her description. “As you’re both here, we may as well—”
“I want to eat,” I tell her. She bites her lip.
“Are you hungry?”
“Always.”
“Shall we all go to my room?” she suggests.
Russell extends a hand to help her from the bed, but I stand where I am and avert my eyes.
A few moments pass without anyone speaking.
She sighs softly, and the mood dips. “As you're both now in crazy stalker mode, I have no doubt you know which room I’m in. When you sort it out, you know where I am.”
Russell and I watch her walk away, her bare feet padding softly on the cool floor.
Once she’s out of sight, I turn to my brother. He glares back at me.
“What?” I say, confused by his anger.
“Could we both not have gone upstairs with her, rather than putting a dampener on everything?” he says.
“I don’t want to watch you have sex with my girl,” I growl.
“She isn’t your girl. She’s our girl. You need to get used to that fact.”
He straightens his shoulders and puffs out his chest.
“Watching her with someone else can be quite a turn-on. You get to focus on her expressions and the way her body reacts. I learned a lot about how to pleasure her from you.”