Ella
Even though I was well rested, I still felt on edge.
I opened the wardrobe. The rail was crowded with clothes they’d bought for me—too many for someone who hadn’t chosen a single piece herself. Every other day, another parcel arrived. I crouched to look at the rows of shoes lined beneath.
I picked the plain black canvas pair with the fiery skull on the side. Those were definitely Nick’s.
It was a little sad that I was excited just to walk around the garden. I’d lived here for almost two months and hadn’t stepped into it once. I missed my lunch-break walks around the hospital grounds—those quiet loops that let me feel briefly untethered.
I sat on the edge of the bed and laced my shoes. The weather was warm. It felt like a waste not to use it while it lasted. Summer never lingered for long.
“Are you ready?” Rowan asked, stepping into the bedroom.
I finished tying the lace and nodded.
He wore a plain white T-shirt and black sweatpants.
“You look strange without a suit,” I said, standing.
“Do you want me to change?”
I smiled and shook my head.
It wasn’t until I was almost out of the room that he spoke again.
“Sometimes comfortable clothing makes it easier to fuck.”
The tension I’d been carrying eased instantly.
There was nothing insidious happening. Maybe the pill really was just a vitamin. Maybe they’d left me with Rowan so I could rest. Horny, I could handle. Homicidal—not so much.
He opened the front door, and I shielded my eyes as the afternoon sun spilled over us. It felt brighter than it should have. He closed the door behind us and slipped his hand into mine, setting an unhurried pace.
No rush.
No demands.
No people.
Dominion was always full of wealthy, egotistical men who wanted their hands held by ownership or senior management—people with disposable income and nothing else to do with it. I’d never understood my father’s drinking or gambling. Excess never filled the gaps people thought it would.
“You seem deep in thought,” Rowan murmured.
“What do you plan to do with me when you get bored?” I asked, suddenly tired of not knowing.
“Bored?” He scoffed softly. “You’re not a temporary fixture, Ella. You’re permanent.”
I glanced at him.
“How permanent?”
His frown smoothed into something gentler—a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“We formed our bond before we built our family,” he said. “When we call each other brother, we mean it. You’re part of that structure. We don’t intend to part ways with you.”
I swallowed as he started walking again.
They worked together in business and in private, seamlessly. Even their teasing carried weight. They were impenetrable—Eric had proven that.
Rowan guided me onto the grass.
Did he really expect me to believe I was permanent in their lives?
He stopped and turned to face me.
“Look over there,” he murmured, nodding toward the house. “Do you see that camera?”
I spotted it immediately. In fact, there were several, discreetly positioned around the property.
“Why so many?” I asked.
“We hold a lot of wealth. Extra security,” he said easily. Then his voice dropped. “But right now, Nick and Alec are watching us.”
His thumbs hooked into my waistband.
“Let’s give them a show.”
My breath hitched as he slid my linen trousers down over the curve of my arse. Before I could gather myself, they pooled at my feet.
This wasn’t a pleasant walk.
It was an ambush.
His fingers traced up my back, lifting my top before tugging it over my head.
“They’re watching?” I asked, the words barely steady.
“Yep,” he said, reaching behind me to undo my bra. “Does that make you wet, Ella?”
I closed my eyes, the warmth of the sun brushing over my bare skin.
His fingers skimmed my stomach, then slipped beneath the lace to cup me.
“I thought so,” he drawled, amused.
His fingers moved—rubbing back and forth—before his fingertips rotated in small, deliberate circles. I clung to his T-shirt.
I was wet.
I grew wetter knowing the others were watching.
“Kneel, Ella.”
My eyes flew open. I glanced at the bulge in his pants.
I lowered myself slowly, hissing as the cold grass bit into my knees and calves. He lifted his fingers to my lips. Three of them. I drew them into my mouth, tasting myself on his skin.
“My good girl,” he said, patting the top of my head before pushing his pants down to reveal his hard cock.
The sweatpants hung low on his hips. No underwear.
He guided his cock down.
I opened for him—automatic. Muscle memory. Trained for him.
For them.
His cock filled my mouth. I squeezed my thighs together and drew him in, tightening my lips, feeling the pulsing veins press against them as I took more. He was hot. Hard. Slick with precum.
“Do you see why we’re keeping you?” His voice echoed through my head.
He began to rock his hips slowly, urging me to open wider.
I did.
I wanted to feel him press into my throat.
“Every inch of you belongs to us, Ella,” he growled, thrusting harder—but I was ready.
I swallowed and licked as the thick head pushed past my throat.
“Yeah, baby. That’s it. Show them how much you love sucking cock.”
I pushed my head down, working my mouth on him, bobbing steadily, breathing through my nose.
“Damn right we’re fucking keeping you,” he groaned.
It was wrong—but why did it feel so right?
Didn’t I want autonomy?
Independence?
I shut my mind down and focused as his grip tightened in my hair.
The long, deep thrusts erased thought. There was only reaction. I opened as wide as I could, letting him pump in and out of me, spit slipping from my chin as my throat contracted around him, struggling to adjust.
Each slap of soft flesh against my face sparked something dark and triumphant inside me. Every wet impact of his balls against my skin made my pussy throb, aching for more.
“Why would we want any other woman when we have you, Ella?” he grunted.
I glanced up as his cock dragged slowly in and out of my mouth.
His eyes locked onto mine.
Savage.
Raw.
Obsessed.
A wicked smile curved his mouth before he yanked me down hard, thrusting deep into my throat.
He held me there, one hand stroking my hair almost tenderly while I struggled to breathe around him.
“Do you see, Ella?”
I moaned against him, clawing at the fabric of his pants.
He finally pulled back.
Air tore into my lungs as I gasped.
It was always him.
He chose this life for me. Then they tested me—and chose.
He crouched down, wiping my chin before studying my face.
“My mother had so many affairs. My father chose to keep her. We’ll keep you so full you’ll never want to leave us, Ella,” he said, sliding his thumb over my swollen lips.
I blinked, and tears slipped quietly down my cheeks.
He lifted my chin and pressed a kiss to my mouth.
Soft.
Tender.
As if it meant something.
“Turn around,” he murmured, close to my ear. “Face the camera. You’re going to come for all three of us.”
I shifted, ignoring the cold bite of the ground beneath my feet as I fixed my gaze on the camera. I breathed in the warm air, listened to birdsong threading through the quiet, and heard the unmistakable click as Rowan snapped open the lubricant.
My insides clenched at the need.
The constant need—one only they knew how to quench.
Were Nick and Alec watching now?
Touching themselves?
Wishing they were here?
The cold slick against my skin made me gasp.
Rowan’s fingers followed—warm, unhurried—working it in.
“You kept this little hole just for us,” he murmured. “How fortuitous.”
My eyes drifted to the sand-coloured stone of the house. Weathered. Aged. Nothing like the sharp lines of the newer builds. Solid. Enduring.
“Sit upright,” he said quietly. “Hands on your legs. Let them see.”
My hands trembled as I straightened, palms settling against my thighs.
He lifted my hair, moving it aside.
A soft kiss pressed to the healing tattoo.
“Don’t you see, Ella? We own you,” he whispered, his warmth settling over my back.
“Now open for me, my sweet. Let me fuck that pretty little arsehole.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding and nodded.
The slick head pressed forward as my eyes drifted closed.
I focused on breathing as the blunt tip eased past the tight resistance, slow and insistent.
“Yeah, that’s it. Nice and easy,” he murmured, his fingers brushing my pussy—anchoring me, steadying me.
“There you go. Doesn’t this feel good?”
He edged into me gradually, inch by inch, never rushing, never forcing—just holding me there, suspended, until my body softened and yielded on its own.
“Yes,” I rasped. “It does.”
He rocked gently, not taking more, not giving less—letting the stretch settle, letting me open for him.
His hand closed around my breast—weighting it, squeezing, then tweaking my nipple until a moan tore free of me, silent and pleading.
I pressed my arse back, ignoring the frantic pounding beneath my sternum.
“Yes,” I gasped as his cock sank deeper. “Oh, yes. Rowan.”
His fingers circled my clit, forcing awareness—how wet I was, how swollen, how far gone.
Then his hand slid to my throat, pulling me back until I leaned fully against him, my head pressed to his.
“This is what you were made for,” he whispered. “Us.”
I nodded, though the grip at my throat limited the movement.
“Now take what I give you,” he growled.
He didn’t hold back. His hips drove forward—beautifully brutal—each thrust deeper than the last.
I cried out, wailed, begged for more.
My breasts shook with every violent pummel.
There was nowhere to go. His hand kept me fixed in place. My vision blurred. The cameras vanished from my mind.
This was where I needed to be.
“Show them how much you want my come in your arsehole,” he said. “How much you love feeling it drip out of your used hole.”
Faster. Deeper. He plunged into me.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
A sound tore from me—raw, animal.
Then his fingers pushed into my pussy, and I howled.
My body shuddered. My eyes rolled back as the release ripped through me.
He laughed—and kept fucking me through it.
“Fucking beautiful,” he said, forcing me down until my face hit the grass.
His hands locked on my shoulders, pressing me flat as he drove into me with everything he had. There was no pain. I was fully open. Fully taken.
I clawed at the grass, ripping it free, the blades scraping my breasts as his breath broke into rough grunts.
“Oh, yeah. Here it comes,” he roared. “Yes. Take it. Every last drop.”
His movements faltered. Heat spilled from him.
I turned my cheek against the grass.
Exhausted.
Exhilarated.
Annihilated.