Page 15 of Katie 3 (Desires #6)

Chapter thirteen

Brad

M y bare feet move over the deck, phone pressed tight to my ear. Henry’s on the other end of the line, but it’s the version of him that belongs to the office. Clipped, cold, every phrase measured for impact.

“Brad.”

I set my jaw and gaze out at the lake. “Did you get everything?”

“Yes, the whole damn circus,” he says. There’s a cigarette in his voice, even if he quit years ago. “Are you ready for what’s coming?”

“No.” It’s the only honest answer.

He sighs, then I hear a shuffle and the click of a lighter. He’s relapsed is seems. I almost smile at that. He always said stress was the best excuse for a vice.

“I’ll keep this short. Dan’s legal team isn’t stupid. You’re not on the stand, they already know you will lie your ass off, which is a win, but they will try to get Katie to slip up.”

“She shouldn’t be up there.”

“I know,” Henry says. “But you know how it is. You need to prep her, and you need to prep yourself. You’re going to hear things you don’t like. You’ll want to punch someone. You cannot do that.”

I scoff. “You’re saying you wouldn’t?”

He breathes out a laugh. “Of course not. But I’ve learned to take a punch and wait my turn. You need to do the same. For once.”

“Right,” I mumble.

“Keep her away from the press. If you have to go out, keep your heads down. Carter knows what to do.” He clears his throat. “They’ll go after her past. Her… relationships.”

I choke, angry and sick at the same time. “They’ll crucify her.”

“She’ll do better than you think. She’s a survivor.”

“I hope so,” I whisper. “Are you mad at me?” I ask, rolling the words over slow. “Like, really, honestly, are you?”

“I’m not mad,” he says. “I’m tired, Brad. I’m tired of watching all of you burn yourselves down for things that don’t matter.”

“She matters,” I say, voice sharp.

“She does.” His voice breaks a little. “Just don’t make her regret it. That’s all I ask.”

“I won’t.”

He clears his throat. “I’ll try to stop by before the trial.”

“She’ll like that,” I say, a smile lifting on my lips.

“Me too,” he sighs. “Tell Carter to call me.” And with that, the line goes dead. I put the phone back in my pocket and lean on the rail.

The sliding door behind me opens and closes.

“She still asleep?” I ask.

“Best I’ve seen her in months.” He stands next to me, watching the water, and I almost ask what’s wrong. But I already know. We’re both thinking about the trial, and about Katie, and about how every fucking decision we ever made led to this.

“We’re probably monsters, you know,” I say. “For how much we want her. For what we did to keep her.”

Carter’s smile is strange, soft at the corners, but cold everywhere else. “Everybody’s a monster. Dad said so.” He takes a long sip of his coffee. “The trick is making sure the people you love are safe in your jaws.”

I want to say something poetic or even ugly, but I can’t. I just let it be.

“Do you think she’ll stay with us, with Dad and me?” Carter asks. “If you go away for a long time?”

“Of course,” I say, and it hollows me out to tell the truth. She doesn’t need me. Hell, perhaps she’s better off without me. “She’ll survive… You can’t let her go.”

He smirks. “Trust me, I won’t.”

I look at my brother for a long moment. All the shit we’ve been through together and we still have this to handle. Guilt weighs heavier on my chest. I just asked Dad if he was angry with me, but Carter’s here smirking at the idea of having Katie… because that’s all that matters.

My eyes flit towards the house again. I could tell him to call Dad. I could warn him about what’s to come, but when he meets my eyes and takes another drink of coffee, I see exactly how aware of all this shit he really is. It’s unnerving.

“We can talk about it or enjoy a full day with her, make her happy, make her forget about everything,” he says evenly before licking a bit of coffee off his lip.

“That sounds like an ultimatum,” I say softly.

“It’s the truth. We start talking about shit, she’s going to end up picking up on it and being upset. Just like she was last night. We need to give her a break from reality,” he answers.

“She said she wanted to forget,” I note.

“She also said she feels like two different people—a normal person at school and…” He trails off and glances in the direction of the rising sun before exhaling slowly. “Let’s give her some normal at least, the normal with us.”

“Good memories,” I mutter.

“They’re made in the present so she can savor them in the future. So we all can,” Carter says.

“Right.” I nod with a heavy breath. “Dad needs you to call him.”

Carter shakes his head. “I will, but not now.”

He knows what I know. I’m going to end up in jail. Unless there’s some secret dirty tactic Dad can use, I’ll end up rotting for at least a few years.

And it won’t just be Katie I’m missing out on. It’ll be our child. Then what? Who will hire me after this shit storm? Who is going to give me a chance to prove I’m capable and able to hold down a job and do it without fucking someone’s face up?

They’re consequences I’ve earned. I know that. The second I kidnapped Dan and dragged him to the forest, I knew that there was no coming back from it. Why not go all out? It made so much sense at the time, but everything does when I’m pissed.

So instead of wallowing and letting that shit distract me, I climb into bed where Katie’s still sleeping. I gently stroke her side and she hums in her sleep, nodding into the pillow. She shifts against me, her ass rubbing against my crotch like she’s expecting more even while asleep.

Her body always knows what it wants and it always wants us. I stroke lower on her body, willing to give her whatever she needs as long as I can. When she lets out a soft moan, I can’t resist. My hand trails over her body and dips between her legs.

“Always a good slut for us, aren’t you? So eager and willing,” I hum in her ear. “So fucking wet and ready constantly.”

My fingers thrust inside her and a raspy moan falls from her parted lips. My cock strains my pants as I continue to pump my fingers inside her.

“Brad?”

A smile spreads on my lips. “I still think my way is better than Dad’s,” I growl before lifting her thigh and plunging into her.

The sound she makes is between a yelp and a moan, but her head falls back against me as I grind into her.

“I want you awake. I want you to feel it all. I want you to squirm and beg and pant.”

“Brad,” she moans for me.

I roll her onto her belly and hold her down, her face is buried in the pillow. It doesn’t matter. I still hear her. I hear her over the sound of skin on skin, over my own grunts and groans. I can hear her . She purrs my name, begs for more, begs me to fill her, to use her.

“You’re my good slut, aren’t you? My good and obedient slut, so willing, so fucking wet,” I groan.

When she whimpers, I grab the collar and pull her up. Her back arches, her growing tits bounce with each thrust, and her eyes roll back as I tighten the collar around her throat. She lets out a half-hoarse moan as she comes for me, soaking my cock as I grind deeper and harder into her.

Katie is meant to be with us. She’s constantly starving for us in a way that makes me dizzy and threatens to push me over the edge entirely. I pound into her faster and harder, knowing she can take it.

“What are you, Katie?” I demand, wanting to see how far I can push her.

“Yours,” she moans. “Your slut.”

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours,” she pants.

“Whose fucking baby is growing inside you?”

“YOURS!” She screams her answer and it pushes me over the edge.

I finish deep inside her and continue grinding, like I can force my cum even deeper in her as she trembles and shakes. I release her throat and ease her back into bed. My cock slides out of her and she shudders, rolling over to look at me. Her face is red, her hair a mess.

“My beautiful mess,” I whisper softly.

She reaches out for me. “Stay.”

Katie

Brad actually listened and I’m trying not to overthink that. He showered with me, brushed through my hair, and is still cuddling me even after cleaning me up.

I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to push when he’s so willing to give me his time and him .

So instead, I tell him I’m ready to go downstairs.

We have lunch with Carter, we enjoy the day, playing around, talking, walking through the woods, and enjoying our “vacation.” Whenever I bring up school, they take turns kissing me until I can’t think about anything but them.

At night, I remind Brad about his plan with a new set of woods, hunting me down and letting me have them both, but he just laughs and asks if I’d really run. I think he’s joking and promise I will as long as they’ll catch me.

He goes quiet for a moment, then looks up at Carter, who’s approaching from outside where he’s been grilling—wanting to prove he’s a good chef. Brad leans back, then brushes his fingers across my thigh. “Say that again.”

“I said I’ll run fast and hard, but only as long as you two are going to catch me,” I repeat, confused. “Why does that—”

“Don’t run,” Brad says while Carter watches me with primal desire. I slowly turn to look at Brad. He strokes my chin. “I don’t want you running from me when you should be running to me.”

“But our game doesn’t work that way,” I answer, not sure what else to say.

Carter sets the plates down on the coffee table and sits on my other side. He gently spreads his hand over my belly. “The furthest we’re going to chase you is to the front door before you turn around and beg us to fuck you.”

“Begging is better than running,” Brad agrees.

I know why they’re talking about things like this and I don’t like it. I don’t want it. My eyes water. Brad rubs my jaw and thigh, then tugs the collar around my throat, kissing me. “I don’t remember crying being part of the deal.”

“It was decidedly not,” Carter growls.

Once Brad stops kissing me with near violent affection, Carter steals my chin to look at me. “Are your hormones acting up again?”

“No.”

They’re both on a mission. Neither one of them will let me be uncomfortable. Carter insists on feeding me and making sure I get enough to drink while Brad rubs my feet.

I almost laugh at all their doting, but if I laugh I might start crying again.

If I start crying, they’ll get upset and we’ll end up in a cycle we can’t break.

One I’m not ready to dive into even though they’re horrible at disguising what they’re doing.

As if I don’t remember what they were like before we got involved in all this.

Once they’ve finally settled down and we’ve all eaten, I decide we can’t put this off anymore. “You got news?”

Both of them stiffen and I shake my head.

“Tell me,” I demand. “No more doting and distractions, please.”