Chapter 6
Aidan
My fingers drum a beat on the granite top as I wait for Ethan to return to the penthouse apartment the three of us share. He stayed all night, which is an interesting development.
Irritating, but interesting.
The lift chimes. Ethan steps out, looking entirely too satisfied. He’s wearing the same clothes from last night, but his posture is different. He looks like a king returning from a conquest.
I don’t move from the island. My phone lies face down on the granite, the screen still warm from the dozen times I’ve replayed that video. Every time I saw his name on her skin, a fresh wave of possession crashed over me.
“You took your fucking time,” I growl.
Ethan heads for the fridge, ignoring the tension vibrating off me.
“The kitchen needed a deep clean. She isn’t looking after herself.
” He pulls out a bottle of water and turns to look at me.
His blue eyes are icy. “You’re pissed off that I fucked her.
She threw herself at me. Did you expect me to say no? ”
“I didn’t expect you to make a fucking reel out of it and send it to me.”
“That wasn’t the whole show. Besides, I did what was necessary to anchor her. She’s more fragile than we suspected. If I hadn’t stepped in, she would’ve ended up coming on some other fucker’s dick and maybe getting herself hurt in the process.”
“Yes, because we know what kind of monsters hunt in the dark,” I mutter.
“Precisely. If we hadn’t been following her, God knows what would’ve happened to her.
I know this has accelerated. We weren’t ready for this yet.
But it’s here now, and there is no turning back.
You will pick her up outside the library at three.
Before then, you will go to her home, get the spare key and have three cut.
Replace the spare and let yourself in. Make her dinner.
Something wholesome and nutritious. She isn’t feeding herself properly. ”
“Me?” I say, tilting my head, my aggression dissipating in an instant. “You want me to take over?”
“As me,” he states, even though I already knew that part. “If we go to her as three men looking to integrate ourselves into her life, into her bleeding soul, she will be overwhelmed and bolt. Not fucking happening, Aidan. So we will play by the rulebook.”
“I know, I get it,” I say. “It’s not the first time I’ve pretended to be you. Probably won’t be the last. Can I fuck her?”
“If she wants you to, do whatever the fuck you want. Force her, and I will cut your dick off and feed it to you.”
The threat doesn’t move me. Ethan is the oldest, the self-appointed architect of our shared obsessions, but he knows my hunger matches his.
He knows I’ve spent as many hours as he has watching her through lenses and shadows, waiting for the moment we could finally stop being ghosts in her life and start being her reality.
“Whatever she wants, she gets. You think for her, talk for her, act for her. She is so far gone that she has already accepted everything I’ve laid down. She won’t fight you. She is crying out for a lifeline. We are it.”
“Does she know anything?” I ask, my gaze steady on his.
“She has no idea. She keeps a journal in a folder under her bed. Read it. It’s illuminating.”
“No mention of Jack?”
“None at all.”
I breathe in deeply. Jack Deveaux. Serial killer.
Our father. Currently somewhere hot and beachy where I hope he stays until the devil finally reaches up from hell and drags him down where he belongs.
“Fine,” I say, standing up and rolling up the sleeves on my black shirt. “Anything else I should know?”
“If you move too fast, you’ll break her. I call her Tinkerbell.”
I smirk. “Suits her.”
“Go and get the key, get it cut, go shopping. Do not be late picking her up.”
His phone buzzes, and he checks it. “She’s there.”
“Where?”
“At work. I told her to text me when she got there.” He saunters off, leaving me to snatch up the keys for his Porsche to play the part.
I head for the lift, my skin tingling at the thought of being the man she needs.
I drive through the city, weaving through traffic with a savagery that would make Ethan scowl. He likes to blend in. I like to remind people I’m there.
When I reach her cottage, I pull up outside. I know the layout of this neighbourhood by heart. I’ve walked these pavements in the dead of night more times than I can count. The spare key is tucked inside a hollowed-out stone near the front door.
Returning to the car, I pocket the key and set off towards the nearest supermarket. Something wholesome and nutritious. I can do that. It’s my specialty.
The guy at the key-cutting shop in the supermarket car park works quickly. The machine screeches as it bites into the blank metal, creating three identical copies. I pay cash and head into the supermarket.
I fill a basket with everything needed to create a nutritious dinner. Fresh vegetables. High-quality protein. I avoid the frozen aisle entirely.
Driving back to the cottage feels like reclaiming territory. I pull the Porsche up to the kerb and sit for a moment. This street is too exposed. Too many windows. Too many people who should not be looking at what belongs to us.
Getting out with the shopping bag, I nod to the old lady walking her dog.
She glares at me, but I smile. After a second, she smiles back.
Replacing the spare, I then use the new key.
It slides into the lock and turns with a heavy click.
The sound is final. I step inside the kitchen and set the bags on the counter.
Everything is in its place. It is sterile.
I open the fridge and stock the shelves, leaving out the ingredients to make a casserole.
I search around, find a slow cooker pushed to the back of a cupboard, and drag it out.
It’s dusty, so I clean it up and then get to work, chopping.
The rhythmic thud of the knife against the wooden board grounds me.
Carrots, onions, celery—I break them down into uniform pieces, my movements precise and cold.
Grief has a way of eating the flesh off the bone until there is nothing left but a ghost. I won’t allow her to vanish. I want her soft, fed, and pliable.
I sear the beef in a pan, the hiss of the meat filling the quiet kitchen. The cottage is small, but it’s a fortress now that we’ve stepped inside.
I dump the ingredients into the slow cooker, turn it on, and wash my hands.
I have time before I need to head to the library.
I move through the downstairs, checking the locks again, ensuring every window is latched.
I go upstairs and push open the bedroom door.
It’s like a whirlwind crashed through it.
I pull the covers straight, I put away her brush and hairdryer, and tidy up the mess of clothes on the floor.
Then I reach for the drawer under the bed, pull the journal out of the folder, and sit on her bed to read.
After an hour, more informed than I was about the chaotic state of her mind this morning, I check the time.
It’s a couple of hours off three o’clock.
But I need to see her. I’m itching to get my hands on her.
I want to stand in front of her and pull off being Ethan, so she opens up and lets me do the things I want to do to her.
I return the journal to its hiding place, smoothing the folder so it looks untouched.
My skin feels tight, a restless energy humming beneath the surface as I descend the stairs.
The smell of the beef and vegetables is already beginning to fill the small house, a domestic anchor for the storm brewing in my chest.
I lock the front door behind me and climb into the Porsche. The drive to the library is short. I pull up across the street at two o’clock, killing the engine. I wait, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel.
Then, I get out.
Decision made.
Crossing the street, I take the steps up to the library two at a time and push open the door.
The inside is quiet, cavernous and air-conditioned. Two floors, with a few customers dotted about, I move to the back of the ground floor.
My search for her comes up empty, so I take the stairs, jogging up them lightly and casting my gaze across the upper floor. I see her pushing a cart around a set of high stacks as she moves forward. When I reach the end, I lean against them and wait for her to notice me.
It takes her a few seconds, and then she jumps. “Ethan,” she gasps. “You’re early.”
“I know. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”
She blinks and lowers her gaze. “I still have work. I can’t leave yet.”
“That’s okay. I’ll wait.” I push off from the stacks and move towards her.
This corner is deserted, and I press my body to her back as she shelves a book with a trembling hand.
I catch her hand and help her, leaning over her.
I drop my hand and rest it on her hip, nuzzling her hair as I breathe in the scent of fruity shampoo.
“I want you,” I murmur.
“Not here,” she says, trying to shrug me off.
“Yes. Here.” I grip her hips with both hands tightly, keeping her in place.
“Ethan…”
“Shh, Tinkerbell. No one will see us.”
She inhales sharply as I move my hand around to unbutton her pants. They drop down her hips, and I cup her pussy with a soft groan. “Are you still wearing my name?” I murmur.
“No,” she whispers. “I washed it off. You had no right.”
“I have every right,” I say, squeezing tightly. “You’re mine.”
I slip my fingers inside her knickers and run my finger over her clit.
“Ethan!” she gasps quietly.
“Grip the shelf, Tinks,” I murmur, pushing her knickers over her hips as her pants drop around her ankles.
She reaches up with shaking hands, obeying me even as the small part of her mind wants to cling to her independence.
I let go of her hip with one hand and release my cock.
It’s already straining at the thought of being inside her, in the place where she works, where anyone could come around the end of the stack and see us.
I press my cock against her hot, tight cunt, feeling her slickness against my tip.
I haven’t even pushed inside her yet, and already, I’m throbbing, ready to fuck her senseless.
I bend my knees slightly, angling my cock to slide into her pussy. I thrust upwards, hard, deep.
She lets out a gasp, her fingers gripping the shelf tighter.
I cover her mouth with my other hand, muffling her moans.
The last thing I need is for some nosy library patron to investigate.
Her pussy clenches around me, and I can feel every inch of her, hot and wet.
I move, slowly at first, then faster, harder.
I pull out almost all the way before slamming back into her, making her body jolt forward.
The shelves rattle slightly, but I can’t find it in me to care.
“Ethan,” she whimpers against my hand, her breath hot and rapid.
Her body trembles. She’s close, so fucking close. “That’s it, Tinks,” I murmur, my voice low and rough. “Come all over me.” Freeing her mouth, I grip her wrists and pull her arms backwards, so she arches her back.
I ride her hard with her pants and knickers around her ankles, and she lets me.
The sounds of laughter bubble up and then voices as someone moves onto the floor, only a few stacks away from us.
Annabelle whimpers, but I keep riding her harder.
Faster. Slamming into her as I pull her back onto me.
Her pussy squeezes me, pulsing around my cock as she comes so hard, her body convulses.
I let go of her wrists and clamp my hand over her mouth, the other going around her throat.
I keep fucking her, drawing out her climax until she’s a trembling mess in my arms. My cock is soaked with her, and I groan, squeezing her throat tight enough that she makes a gagging noise as she chokes.
“Fuck, you feel so good, Tinks,” I murmur, dropping my hand from her throat to press my fingers against her clit.
She draws in a ragged breath, and her knees buckle as I pinch her clit hard and twist it. Her pussy clenches me tightly, milking my cock as I keep fucking her in shallow thrusts, drawing out every last tremor from her orgasm.
“Good girl, Tinks,” I murmur. “Soaking my cock when I fuck you where you work.”
“Ethan, please…” she pants. “They’ll hear us.”
“Only if you make noise,” I whisper, twisting her clit again. I want to correct her. I want to tell her Aidan is fucking her, but not yet. Ethan is right that she will bolt.
Her body convulses, and I dump my cum suddenly. I can’t stop it.
I hold her hips steady as I pump every last drop into her.
Her body shudders as she takes it, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
The voices on the other side of the stacks fade away, leaving us in our own world.
I press my lips to the back of her neck, tasting the salt on her skin.
She trembles beneath me, her body still throbbing with the force of her orgasm.
I pull out of her slowly, feeling her tighten around me as if reluctant to let go.
I spin her around to face me, her eyes wide and glazed.
I reach down and pull up her knickers and pants, fastening them for her.
She leans against the shelf, her breath still coming in ragged gasps.
I tuck myself away and straighten my clothes, never taking my eyes off her.
She looks utterly wrecked, and I smile, pleased with my handiwork.