by Sienna Blake
I focused on what I was doing to Donncha, sucking and licking every inch of him and trying not to give in to nervousness. He was moaning at my ministrations, which was the only sound in the room aside from the low crackling of the nearby fire.
There was a stinging sensation that made me flinch as the head of Aogán’s cock finally pushed inside. He paused, giving me time to adjust without my needing to say a word. I could hear his heavy breathing, as if it was taking effort to restrain himself.
Tristan slid a hand between us, finding my engorged clit with his thumb. Rubbing in tight circles, he soon made me forget about any pain at all. I was letting out strangled cries of pleasure around Donncha’s erection within seconds. I didn’t even realise that Aogán was pushing farther inside until he gasped.
“Fuck, Orla. You’re so tight, baby.”
I shifted my hips back and forth, dizzy from wanting more, making both Aogán and Tristan groan.
I felt like I might explode into a thousand pieces. I was so full, so complete. Pleasure radiating through me when both men started to move, effortlessly finding a back-and-forth rhythm. Dear God. Having Aogán in my ass didn’t hurt like I thought it would. After the initial flash of pain, it started to feel good. So damn good.
Donncha called my name, which was the only warning I got before his orgasm claimed him and his seed flooded my mouth. I swallowed every drop, moaning the whole time as Aogán and Tristan were taking me harder. I couldn’t move, but there was no need to. I was sandwiched thoroughly between their hard bodies.
Donncha backed up, watching us with heavy-lidded eyes and an expression of pure satisfaction. With my mouth free, I was able to plead for even more. My body was wracked with pleasure. My fingers dug into the thick rug, pulling at the fibers while Aogán started to pump faster, driving into me with a speed that told me exactly what was coming.
We reached our climax together, as I contracted around both of their cocks, hard. I let out a scream, as the most intense orgasm gripped me and shook me. Their names fell from my lips over and over again as I rode out my orgasm.
We lay in a quiet tangle in front of the fire. Talking. Touching. When I drifted off, I was scooped up into a set of arms and carried up the stairs to our bed.
I had forgotten all about the news report and my missing persons status. I needed a distraction, and they knew how to provide it. Life was perfect. And nothing would ever come between me and my boys.
Orla
“Do you really have to go now?” I asked, frowning as Aogán and Donncha came down the stairs with shoes and jackets on.
“I’m afraid so,” Aogán replied.
“But tomorrow is Christmas. Will you be back for it?”
“Definitely,” Aogán promised, pressing a kiss to my mouth. Donncha did the same.
“I hope we’ll be back later today,” Donncha said. “It’s a management problem, but we do need to deal with it in person.”
They were going to Dublin for a work emergency. I hated that they were leaving.
“The car is here,” Aogán said.
“I can’t believe you ordered a driver for this trip.” I glanced out the window to see a sedan with a middle-aged man behind the wheel. “A two-hour trip to the city is going to cost a fortune.”
Aogán shrugged. “Good thing that’s what we have.”
“Besides, Donncha needs the SUV to pick up Mom and Dad,” Tristan explained. “Their plane will be landing in a few hours.”
“Don’t remind me,” I said, biting my lip nervously. I had been running around the house all morning, cleaning and preparing Christmas Eve dinner. I hadn’t seen John and Lana Cassidy in years, and I wanted to make sure they were happy to see me.
“Stop worrying,” Tristan said with a kiss to my forehead. “You know they love you.”
“Maybe they did, but I fell off the radar for three years. What if they’re mad about it?”
“Not everyone is as dramatic as Aogán,” Donncha said, earning him an elbow in the ribs from his older brother.
“Shut up,” Aogán grumbled. Then he turned to me, “But Tris right. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Just hurry back to me,” I said, as the car outside bleeped its horn.
“Always.”
I waved at them and watched them drive off, part of my heart going with them.
Tristan slid his arms around me from behind, kissing my neck. “Alone for the next few hours. Whatever shall we do?”
I chewed my lip, staring after the car driving off in the distance. “What if they don’t get back in time?”
“They will.” Tristan’s fingers slid underneath my shirt.
“But if it’s worse than they thought?”
Tristan spun me in his arms to face him. “They’ll be back before you know it.”
“But—”
Tristan stole the next word from my lips, lifting me and pulling me inside the house, where he proceeded to strip me, slowly, in the way only Tristan could. He kissed every inch of my body, worshiping me. Then he lay me on my back, knees out and kneeled before me. He ran the length of his cock along my wet pussy, teasing me, making me beg for him to fuck me.
He slid into me, slowly. Holding my hips down with his hand on my lower belly, his thumb running languid circles around my clit.
“You look so fucking good like this,” he said, watching himself enter me over and over.
Every attempt of mine to speed him up was ignored.
So I let go. I gave in and rode this slow wave to the top with him, our gazes locked. When we finished, I lay on the rug as he pulled out paper and charcoal and drew me. I watched him in silence, wondering how I got this lucky.
When the clock struck three, he set aside his work. We dressed and he pulled on his jacket.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I have a turkey in the oven that I don’t want to leave unattended,” I said.
“You’ll be okay here by yourself?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m pretty sure I can cook a meal without burning down the house.”
He grinned. “Grand. I’ll be back soon.” A quick kiss goodbye and he, too, was gone.
It felt weird to have the entire house to myself for the first time since I arrived. It was too quiet, even with the television on for background noise. I missed the way they would get under my feet when I bustled around the kitchen. Having to slap away their hands reaching to tug open the oven before it was time. Or the way one of them would come up behind me to slip their hands around my waist, fingers tracing my barely there baby bump.
Tristan had only been gone for ten minutes when there was a knock at the door. I halted in the process of chopping potatoes. Was it one of the neighbours? Or did Tristan forget something?
Setting my knife down on the cutting board, I wiped my hands as a second knock sounded.
“Coming,” I called out.
I hurried to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. The sight of the person on the porch made my blood run cold.
Channe was standing there, the smile on his face a mixture of hatred and glee. His dark hair peppered with grey was slicked back. Bitter chocolate eyes in slits. That thin-lipped sneer hiding crooked teeth.
Shock froze me in place as I stared at my nightmare come to life. Everything around me seemed to slow even as my thoughts sped up.
How did he find me? How did he know I was home alone? Why the fuck didn’t the door have a peephole? Would I have even looked if it did? I’d become too complacent with the boys around me. Too sure of my own safety. My comfort. My happiness.
I was wrong. So wrong.
“Hello, my sweet Orla.” His oily voice trickled in through my ears and down my spine.
I flung the door closed, panic making my movements jerky. Too late. His beefy arm caught it. Despite my throwing my whole body weight on it, it would not close. He threw the door open, flinging me back in the process.
I backed up in t
hrough the living area as he advanced upon me slowly, taking his time as if he knew we were alone. He’d probably been watching the house for days, waiting til the boys had left me.
It was just him and me.
“W-what are you doing here?” I hated how my voice trembled. “How did you find me?”
A part of me wanted to break down and cry. To fling myself at Channe’s feet and beg for him not to hurt me. But the other part, the part that had gotten stronger in the last few weeks, the part that had so much to live for, to fight for, would not.
“Your dear, concerned friend, Talia, told me where you were,” he said, stepping forward. I shrank back, weaving around furniture, trying to put distance and obstacles between us. “She wouldn’t at first, but I convinced her that I was just worried about you.”
The words were mocking. But as long as I kept him talking, he wasn’t hurting me, hurting the baby. My hand went to my belly. I had to figure out a plan. Now.
My mind flashed to the cell phone that I had left lying on the kitchen island. Damn it. Even if I could get to it, I wouldn’t have time to hit two numbers before he stopped me.
“Well, you’ve seen me. I’m fine. You can leave now,” I said. My words had little effect as I kept backing away with every step he took.
His lips thinned to nothing in a wicked smile. “Not without you, love.”
Bile coated the back of my throat. I couldn’t go with him. I wouldn’t.
I had to run.
For the stairs and hopefully to a bedroom that locked upstairs. Or the knife in the kitchen. I didn’t know if I could stab anyone, even Channe.
I lunged toward the stairs. Channe was too close. He blocked my way and chuckled as I backed up.
“You are mine, Orla,” he continued. “You’ve belonged to me since you were fifteen years old.”
He was so close now...
Kitchen. The knife. I had no other choice.
I turned on my heel and sprinted to the kitchen. The cellar! I remembered as I spotted the large walk-in pantry, the entry to the cellar in there. I could lock myself in the cellar.
My scalp burned with pain as a hand grabbed my hair and yanked me backward right off my feet. And into his arms. Channe spun me around, his hands gripping my arms tight as claws.
“I’ve been watching the four of you.” A chill went down my spine at his words. He had been out there, watching, waiting. “You’ve been whoring yourself out,” he spat before backhanding me across the face. Pain exploded along my cheekbone and a scream started to claw its way out of my throat, only to be cut off when he reached for my neck and squeezed.
I saw stars as he slammed my head against the front door. I clawed wildly at his hands, barely able to breathe. “P-p-please,” I choked out, “s-stop.”
“Sluts don’t get mercy,” he said mockingly.
“Th-the…the…” There were black spots appearing in front of my eyes now and my limbs felt heavy and weak. “…baby.”
Channe’s grip loosened, surprise clear in his eyes. I sucked in a lungful of air.
“What?”
“I’m carrying your baby,” I said. “I’m twelve weeks along.”
His eyes locked on my stomach. A smile appeared on his lips, the sight of it making me nauseous. He bent down, pushing my hem up and pressed his lips against my stomach. My skin crawled at his moist lips on my skin, memories of his greedy hands all over my body slamming into my mind.
I bit back a scream, clamping down the parts of me that just wanted to fall apart.
I would not break down.
I could not.
It wasn’t just my life anymore.
I belonged to my men. And my baby.
Above all, I had to protect my baby.
I spotted the frying pan on the stove beside me. Before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed it with both hands and brought it crashing down on Channe’s head with all the strength I possessed. It cracked against his skull. Channe collapsed at my feet with a loud thud, his heavy body limp.
I must have stood there for a full minute, staring at his unmoving body. Oh God. Did I kill him?
I pushed him to the side with my foot. There was a bleeding gash on the back of his head. But his chest was moving. He was breathing. I hadn’t killed him. Thank God.
But he’d wake up soon. And he’d be mad. Fuck, what now?
I kept the pan in my hand, gripping it like it was a shield, as I hurried to the laundry room. We had spare washing line rope there. It would hold him until I called for help. Grabbing it, I hurried back toward the front of the house. I halted when I heard movement.
Shit shit shit. Is he awake already?
I dropped the rope and gripped my frying pan as tightly as I could.
“What the hell? Who is this?” That voice. It was familiar. Donncha.
“I don’t know.” And Aogán. “Orla? ORLA?”
My lungs shook as their names tore from my mouth, my body flooding with relief. I dropped the pan and ran into the living room. Aogán stood at the entrance to the kitchen, Donncha behind him, standing by Channe with a murderous expression on his face.
I threw myself at Aogán, my arms going around his neck as I burst into tears.
“What happened? Jesus fucking Christ, are you okay?” Aogán held me away from him so that he could scan my body for injuries.
I nodded my head. Then shook it. “That’s him. It’s Channe.” I found myself rambling, tears blurring my vision. “He just showed up. He’s been watching the house. Waiting. I never should’ve called Talia. That’s how he found me and—”
“Shh,” Donncha cooed, pulling me into his arms. “It’s okay. You’re okay now. He will never hurt you again. Never.”
His words were soothing, but I could see the fury in his eyes clear as day.
“He’s still breathing.” Aogán stood up from where he was kneeling by Channe. “Unfortunately,” he added, his tone going dark.
“He’ll wake soon,” Donncha said.
“I was getting rope,” I said, my voice shaking. “I dropped it in the corridor.”
Aogán and Donncha both stared at me for so long, I felt my cheeks flush. “What?”
Donncha pulled me closer into his arms and kissed my forehead. “My fearless girl,” he whispered. Before announcing, “I’ll get that rope then.”
“I’ll call the Garda,” Aogán said, pulling out his phone.
Donncha pulled away and I had to bite down a whimper. I hugged myself with my arms over my chest and tried not to stare at the still bleeding monster on the floor of the kitchen.
“Hey.” Aogán pulled me against him with his free hand, and I sagged with relief against him. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. Hello? Yes, hello? I need officers here immediately…”
They were here.
I was safe.
My thoughts turned to the precious peanut growing in my belly.
We were safe.
Donncha and Aogán tied Channe up, pulling the rope as tight as he could.
While we waited for the Garda I was in the living room, curled up on Aogán’s lap while Donncha made hot tea and paced across the floor.
The Garda arrived minutes later including Aogán’s friend, Greg.
Channe still hadn’t come around by the time they arrived, and paramedics were called in. Aogán insisted that they assess me first, worried about the bruises on my cheek and neck. I was told I would be fine.
Channe woke up just in time to threaten me in front of a room full of people. He was led away in handcuffs. I buried my face in Donncha’s chest, my hands over my ears, unable to look at him.
By the time the Garda had taken everyone’s statement, I was exhausted. The adrenaline rush from my encounter had dissipated, and I just wanted to sleep forever. I didn’t even have the energy to be upset anymore. I was sure tomorrow would feel different. I sat between Aogán and Donncha on the couch as Greg went through the next steps, promising to keep us informed,
but I wasn’t listening. I could barely keep my eyes open, my head resting on Aogán’s shoulder.
“Let me through. Orla! This is my goddamn house. What the hell happened? Orla!” Tristan’s frantic voice could be heard from the front of the house as he tried to push his way past the officers processing the scene of my attack.
“That’s our brother,” Aogán told Greg, and the detective indicated for the officers to let him through.
At the sound of Tristan’s panic-stricken voice, one last rush of adrenaline surged through me. I leapt to my feet and ran to the door, throwing myself into Tristan’s arms.
“Jesus, what happened?” he whispered.
I shook my head, letting him know that I couldn’t explain right now. He nodded and kissed my forehead.
“Tris?” A worried female voice called out.
Tristan stepped aside as his parents walked in through the front door, their eyes wide. I had forgotten all about their arrival with everything that’d happened. Oh God. This was not the reunion I had in mind. They’d have every right to be furious with me for bringing a monster into their house.
But my fears were for nothing. As soon as I met the gaze of the two older Cassidys, the only thing I saw was love and concern.
“Oh, Orla!” Tristan let me go so Mrs Cassidy, the soft-cheeked woman who had the same eyes as all my boys, could wrap me up in her warm hug that smelled like so much of my childhood—citrus and lilac soap. “It’s so good to see you,” she said into my ear.
Mr Cassidy, the older version of the Cassidy brothers I loved so much, wrapped me up in a giant bear hug, despite Aogán’s protests that I was “too delicate” right now.
His gentle voice spoke in my ear. “Welcome home, Orla. Welcome home.”
Aogán
Christmas was a time for family, warmth, love…
But I was having a hard time keeping my rage in check. When I walked into the house, past an open door. Saw an unconscious man but no Orla, I knew what true fear was. Then she’d coming running into the room looking like a walking bruise…
