Chapter 4 In heat

Elsie

I stripped off my clothes in the bathroom and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water punish my skin. I couldn't stop thinking about the kitchen, about how close I’d come to losing myself.

Stupid! Stupid! I groaned into my hands, reliving the moment Aiden kissed me. The shock of it, the heat of it. What if Lena hadn't burst in? I'd been ready to shatter right there.

I pictured the two of them, Jacob and Aiden, pushing me against the cool marble countertop, their hands on me, their mouths— their thick cocks, slamming inside me with a punishing pace.

My ass still stings from Aiden’s spanking and the sensation still sends waves down my spine, causing my pussy to flood all over again.

I hated that the fantasy was so potent.

I love the idea of sex. I crave that kind of connection and power. But not with these two. Not with my sister's murderers. They were undeniably hot, which my body annoyingly acknowledged with every glance. But they were filthy. I had to hate them. I had to.

Yet, their touch, the way their eyes promised I was prey, was a feeling I couldn't scrub away. I stayed under the water longer than I should have, scrubbing until my skin was pink, desperate to wash the memory, the desire, clean off me.

I retreated to my room. It was small, with a sharply slanted ceiling that cut the space in half, a universe away from the lavish, king-sized suites the Lancaster boys slept in. My room held only a small cot and a dresser, illuminated by two weak bulbs.

But even this tiny, sloping box of a room was a fortress compared to where Clarita and I had lived—an old, rusted, windowless van abandoned near a lake. We were barely teenagers, living wild, hiding from social services, and hoping the roof didn't leak enough to flood us again. This prison, was still better.

My phone, an old, cracked-screen Samsung, buzzed on the bed. I grabbed it, the caller ID showed Aiden. I froze, wondering why he'd call. He never called. If the boys needed anything, they used the intercom. The phone was actually a hand-me-down from Malcolm Lancaster, for when he was away and needed me to run a specific errand.

I hesitated for a moment, my thumb hovering over the screen. This felt wrong. But I had to answer.

I picked up, and what hit my ear wasn't Aiden’s voice, but a woman moaning.

“Yes, baby… oh fuck… yes… harder.”

It was Lena's voice. She wasn't just making noise; she was speaking loudly, clearly, as if she was talking right to me. This wasn't an accident. This was a message. She was making sure I knew exactly what was happening and who was in control. Lena was marking her territory, staking her claim with noise, proving that she was the one Aiden chose to share his bed with. The whole call was a deliberate, vulgar whisper in my ear.

The call ended. The dial tone was immediately replaced by the pounding silence in my attic room. My hand trembled as I lowered the cheap phone, the sound of her pleasure still ringing in my head. They weren't just sleeping together; they were humiliating me.

I dropped the old Samsung phone onto the bed, the memory of Lena’s voice still burning in my ears. I felt sick.

Before I could even process the humiliation, the phone buzzed again with a text message. I stared at the screen;

Aiden: Water. Bedroom. Now.

I frowned. Water? If he were truly caught up in that level of passion with Lena, he wouldn't be typing a one-word demand. He wouldn't even be aware of his phone. Was Lena operating his phone, continuing her cruel joke? Or was Aiden just... bored?

I jumped up, shedding the lingering shame. "They are probably not even making out," I muttered, grabbing a simple yellow and white striped dress. "Lena just wants to act up."

If they wanted water, I would take it to them. I would walk in, put the glass down, and walk out. I would show them I wasn't broken by a pathetic phone call.

I left the claustrophobic attic and went downstairs, heading straight for the kitchen.

The large, stainless steel room was quiet, but not empty. Jacob was perched on a stool at the counter, completely absorbed in a sleek laptop, rows of complex coding scrolling down the screen. He was dressed in a dark, expensive silk robe that only emphasized his broad shoulders and bare, muscled forearms. The room suddenly felt very small.

He didn't look up immediately, but he knew I was there.

I went straight to the fridge, grabbing a fresh bottle of sparkling water. "I need a glass," I said, my voice steady, aiming for pure professionalism.

Jacob finally looked up, his blue eyes sharp and assessing. He tilted his head, a slight, knowing smile on his face. "Did my brother call for you, Elsie?"

"He texted. He wants water." I pulled a tall glass from the cabinet, trying to keep my movements quick and efficient.

"And you jumped right out of bed?" he asked, his voice low and laced with amusement. "That’s devotion. Especially after the... late-night entertainment you were given."

My cheeks flushed. "I'm the maid. I follow instructions."

Jacob smoothly closed the laptop and pushed it aside. He didn't move from the stool, but his focus was now entirely on me. "That's exactly what I'm looking at. Obedience."

He slid off the stool in one unhurried movement, closing the distance between us until I felt the heat radiating off his body.

"But you don't look obedient, Elsie. You look furious. You look like you want to throw that glass at Aiden instead of serving him." He stopped less than a foot away. "Which is it?"

"It's none of your business," I whispered, clutching the glass tighter.

"Everything in this house is my business. You are my business." He reached out, his long fingers trailing lightly over my shoulder, stopping where my pulse hammered wildly beneath the thin fabric of my dress. "You see two brothers treating you like a toy, and yet you keep coming back. Why is that?"

"I need the job," I lied, knowing the real reason, revenge, was too dangerous to speak.

He chuckled, a low, rough sound that vibrated through my bones. "No, you need something else. You need the danger."

Before I could form a protest, he moved. Fast. He gripped my arms and backed me firmly against the cool stainless steel of the refrigerator, trapping me. My breath hitched.

His face was close, too close. I could smell the rich, lingering scent of his whiskey and something clean, purely masculine. This wasn't Aiden's casual cruelty; this was Jacob's controlled power.

"You like being watched, don't you?" he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips. "You like being humiliated, because it makes you feel something real. It makes you feel alive."

He didn't kiss me immediately. Instead, he simply pinned me there, letting the tension coil between us, watching my eyes widen with a mix of terror and the terrible, undeniable desire that always flared up around him.

"You're shaking," he observed, his voice a possessive whisper. "Tell me why, Elsie. Is it fear, or is it something else? You want me.”

“No!” I said quickly, but my body was betraying me as I shivered under his touch.

He finally moved, lowering his head. His lips brushed mine. The touch was soft, demanding, and utterly maddening. My mind screamed Revenge! While my body betrayed me, leaning in instinctively.

But I remembered Lena's voice, her triumphant moan echoing in my head.

With a gasp that was half desire, half fury, I shoved against his chest. He was solid, but he allowed the push, stepping back with a knowing look.

"That's my girl," he murmured, his eyes full of cold amusement.

I didn't waste a second. My hands shaking, I grabbed the water bottle, slammed the glass onto the counter, and turned on my heel.

"Aiden is waiting," I choked out, and practically ran from the kitchen, leaving Jacob and his smug, controlling smile behind me, the phantom touch of his lips already a burning, shameful memory.

I didn't stop running until I reached the second floor. I leaned against the cool hallway wall, trying to catch my breath. My heart was slamming against my ribs, and the heat from Jacob's nearly-kiss was pulling low and urgent in my body. I was dripping wet. I pressed my legs together hoping it would suppress the burning sensation.

First, it was Aiden's kiss that made me tremble with unexpected desire. Now, it was Jacob, pinning me against the fridge, his touch burning me alive. The twins were tag-teaming my sanity. Stop it, Elsie. You hate them. I reminded myself.

I straightened my dress and smoothed my hair, forcing my expression blank. If they wanted a show, I would give them a maid, nothing more.

Aiden’s bedroom door was ajar, just slightly, an invitation, or perhaps a trap.