by Ker Dukey
Not everyone wanted freedom. They mourned their leader, who they were shocked to learn died in a boating accident with Eli. It was easier that way.
Claudia and a bunch of younger islanders chose to leave with the promise of a donation and help from the Ward brothers’ foundation set up to aid islanders adjust into society. But for some, this island has always been home and they’re too afraid to leave.
My mother takes her place at the front of the church, not on the stage, but staying on the same level as her people. She’s not preaching to them.
I take a seat next to Mary, who chose to stay here, along with her family.
“I want to first thank you for coming to this meeting today. I think it will be beneficial for us to hold such things to address any concerns from our residents and solve them in a humane and civilized manner.” She starts, and a hush of uncertain silence hangs in the air. “Things will change. I appreciate change is hard for some people, and I want you to understand you’re safe to voice your concerns.”
“What is going to change?” Megan’s mother speaks up. Megan was one who chose to leave this place.
“For starters, there will be no more cleansings of any kind.”
A rush of gasps echo through the room.
“No one is a prisoner here. You are free people. Your faith is not tied to this island. It lives inside and all around you. It’s in the air you breath, the bird’s song in the morning, the crashing of the waves on the shore.”
I smile, thinking of the water.
“We will be allowed to swim and teach our children how. We will embrace the outside world and invite visitors here to teach us about the modern world.” She looks over to me, a tear in her eye. “We will forgive easy and love hard. The person we choose for ourselves will not be assigned to us. We will be free to marry or not marry, if that’s not what we want.”
My father’s righthand man stands. “This is ludicrous,” he sneers.
“You’re free to leave.” My mother straightens her back, glaring back at him.
He looks around the room, then takes his seat. Men like him wouldn’t survive the world beyond this island and he knows it.
“Are there any questions?” No one budges, not used to being allowed to ask questions in the past. “Don’t be afraid,” my mother urges, and slowly, one by one, hands raise, smiles tilting lips.
She’s got this.
I clutch the necklace around my neck, salvaged from when Eli ripped it from me, the heart pendant put on the chain with my own.
Clara’s immortalized within me forever. I’ll live for us both.
Epilogue Two
Cash
It’s been over three months since bringing Mona home to the mansion. I moved back in, giving Claudia the use of my place in the city. The mess of getting rid of our Father’s body became apparent after the death of Mona’s father. We drove out into the ocean, weighed his body with bricks, and dumped him. There’s a lot of blood in that water, hiding our crimes for us. The police just assumed he was guilty of Annemarie’s murder and fled. It was lucky for us they didn’t like delving more in-depth. We had enough money to make life hard and costly, so they took the easy option.
Music croons through the room. Mona dances, her rhythm more refined and on beat than when she first arrived here. Colts watches her with a hungry gaze, a tumbler hanging from his fingers, tie loose around his neck, no jacket, sleeves rolled up. She’s teasing him, swaying her hips, wriggling her plump, ripe ass.
My mouth waters and heart begins to race, blood roaring in my ears, anticipating what’s to come.
“Who do you want, sweet islander?” Colt asks.
“Why do I have to choose?” She smirks, learning her little devil grin from him, and swings a bottle of lube between her forefinger and thumb.
“Naughty little girl,” Colt growls, rubbing his dick through his slacks.
“You want us both?” I pull my shirt over my head and loosen my belt, popping open the front few buttons of my jeans.
“I’m greedy,” she purrs, “and famished.” She licks her lips.
“Fuck,” Colt groans, downing the remnants of his glass before stalking her across the room.
She slips her dress up her thighs, waist, tits, and then over her head before dropping it to the floor.
Bare, creamy flesh. Dark, rosy nipples, hard and ready for attention. Slim navel. A slightly rounded stomach protruding with our baby inside. She’s stunning. And ours.
He clutches her in his arms, claiming her, tasting, loving.
I push my jeans down my thighs, taking a seat on the couch, stroking up the shaft of my cock, rubbing the pad of my thumb over my Prince Albert piercing.
“Sit her on my lap, brother,” I instruct. Walking her over to me, he positions her on my lap, still facing him, and lowers her onto my cock.
My entry steals her breath as my girth stretches her open, burrowing deep inside.
I pull her back against my chest, my lips sucking on her neck, marking her, my palms kneading her tits, tweaking her sensitive nipples. She lifts her hips and lowers herself again and again in slow, sensual movements. Every fucking time inside her is intense and like the first time.
Colt pinches her clit—stroke, pinch, stroke, pinch—bringing all the nerve endings to life.
The music she loves hums around us, our bodies feeling the pulse. Her breathing accelerates with each upstroke of my hips. “Fuck you’re beautiful,” I groan. Colt discards his clothes, watching us fuck.
“Oh God, I’m going to come,” she calls out, writhing in ecstasy.
Before I can follow her over, Colt takes her in his arms. She straddles his waist and lowers onto his cock with a satisfied moan. He lies back on the floor, gripping her hips, guiding her movements as she rides him, wild and fucking free.
I get to my feet, grasping a fistful of her hair, tilt her head back, and dip my cock past her juicy fat lips as she fucks my brother.
She lets out a sultry moan as she flicks her tongue over the piercing, lapping the pre-cum. I pull out of her mouth with a pop, growling in appreciation.
Grabbing the bottle of lube from the floor where she dropped it, I lather my cock and take my position behind her. Colt grips her around the neck and pulls her to his lips, giving me access to her tight little ass. I stroke my fingers up the seam of her cheeks, swirling lube around the hole, then dipping a finger inside, then two, fighting past the muscles trying to expel me.
“Fuck me, Cash. I want to feel us all together,” she urges, desperate and needy.
Lining my cock up, I push inside, feeling Colt’s cock through the thin layer of flesh between us. “Oh fuck…fuck…” Mona groans into Colt’s neck. I push farther in, then pull out, teasing my way in until I’m buried to the hilt.
“I fucking love you,” she calls out, making both Colt and I chuckle.
“It doesn’t count when I’m inside you,” I remind her.
“It does if you’re in my ass,” she retorts, leaning forward, then pushing back.
“Fuck!” Colt calls out.
She gets lost to the sensation, grinding herself over us both, getting a rhythm she’s comfortable with and driving us utterly insane with pleasure.
Her breath hitches as her orgasms hits, her body squirming, a purring groan escaping her lips on a gasp, her pussy and ass clenching, demanding our hot seed pour inside her, draining us dry.
We collapse in a heap of sweaty limbs and sated smiles.
“I love you,” she murmurs, her chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath.
Her words fill me with profound pride and contentment.
“I love you too.” I lean over and kiss her lips, the shallow dip between her tits, and the small bump of her stomach.
This is love.
Epilogue Three
Colt
The heavy scent of sex potent in the air, we lay together, laughing and talking about everything and nothing.
“Who’s going to feed
me?” Mona asks, her voice dreamy.
“No way you’re ready for more.” I chuckle, palming her pussy, feeling the mess we left there.
“I need real food.” She slaps my arm, giggling.
“I’ll order pizza.” Cash gets up, slipping his jeans back on.
“Can I have the jar of Nutella while I wait?” she pouts, and like a fucking sucker, he runs off to cater to our hungry pregnant mama bear.
“You thought about names?” I ask, stroking my hand over her tiny bump.
“I have, but it scares me.”
I lean up on an elbow so I can look down and see into her eyes. “Why?”
“Because I want to name her Clara, but what if it saddens me when I call her name?”
“Baby, Clara is a beautiful name and was a beautiful soul. You’re honoring your sister using her name. It will bring you joy, not sadness.”
She rubs at her chest over her heart. “I feel like my heart still bears the scars of losing her.”
“Hearts are fragile things. Like glass, once broken, they are forever changed. Your heart isn’t scarred, baby, it’s full of the memories. She lives there. One day, it will stop hurting and you’ll feel peace when you think of her.” I take her in my arms.
“I have a flawed heart?” she queries, making me smile.
“All diamonds have flaws, baby. Even flawed, your heart is perfect to me, little islander.”
“I hope you feel the same way about other parts of me—especially once I push a baby out.”
A loud crack of laughter booms through the room from my chest.
I burrow my head into the nook of her neck. She’s adorable.
“I love every inch of you now and forever, no matter what happens, no matter how many tiger stripes by carrying our children you gain or wrinkle lines from age. I’ll love every new mark, every new smudge, and imperfection, because you make them perfect. I’ll worship you from this day, the millionth after it, and then forever into the afterlife.”
“So, you love me, huh?” She grins.
“Damn straight I love you. I think I’ve loved you since the second you washed up on my shore.”
“You stole the air from my lungs that day.” She traces a line down my nose with her finger, then over my lips. “Then filled them with life.”
I take her lips with my own, cherishing every word from her lips.
“You stole my heart like a thief in the night, and you’ve been stealing it every day since.”
The End.
Sinister Fairytales
Find more in the sinister fairytale collection here.
Sinisterfairytalescollection
Acknowledgments
Bloggers, reviewers, PR team, thank you for all your work getting these books out there. Thank you so much for all the work you put in and for the time and effort. I appreciate you so much and feel so grateful to have such a wonderful community to work within. Enticing journey, thank you for all your hard work and making things on my end a breeze.
Huge thank you to Dee for asking me to be apart of this awesome project.
To all involved in the project, it’s been an easy breezy, joy to work with you, ladies. You lift each other up just like real queens should.
Teresa, thank you for always being ready to take on anything I send your way. I adore you. Ashley Cestra, thanks for your friendship and keen eye! I love you.
K Webster, as always, thank you for being there when I burn out and need a cheerleader, even though an ocean separates us, we’re connected in some fucked up brain twin way. Don’t fight it. We’re kind of meant for each other. Sister wives (winks)
K Moseley, my BFF, I love you so much and couldn’t get through any project without your support and reassurance and passion for reading my work. You’re such a rare gem. I’m so grateful to have you in my life. Who would have thought stalking you all those years ago would work!?. (Listen up stalKER’s that shit works. I kid …I kid…sort of)
Terrie, my PA, you’re family, and I love you. Thanks for always having my back and sorting out my shit for me.
Nicky, Rowan, Nina, thank you! You’re such an amazing group of ladies who always have my back. And keep our little family group active and a fun, accepting place to be.
To my babies, they sacrifice me to the words and the worlds I get lost in.
Thank you for being content to eat take out be bribed with cash when I need you to get lost for an hour. And for always being there when I need family time. Movie night with you tyrants is the best part of my week. Being your mum is the best part of my existence.
Babydaddy, you don’t actually make my work easier, but you do give me O’s, so there’s that.
About Ker Dukey
My books all tend to be darker romance, the edge of your seat, angst-filled reads. My advice to my readers when starting one of my titles... prepare for the unexpected.
I have always had a passion for storytelling, whether it be through lyrics or bedtime stories with my sisters growing up.
My mom would always have a book in her hand when I was young and passed on her love for reading, inspiring me to venture into writing my own. Not all love stories are made from light- some are created in darkness but are just as powerful and worth telling.
When I’m not lost in the world of characters, I love spending time with my family. I’m a mom and that comes first in my life, but when I do get down time, I love attending music concerts or reading events with my younger sister.
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Ker: [email protected]
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