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Thoughtlessly, I asked, “Where did you guys get these matching scars from?”
My fingertips trailed along Saint’s old wound carved into his chest. The cut must’ve once hurt and must still sting to this day from the memory of howthey each received one. I shouldn’t give a damn, but their scars had piqued my interest.
Sin brushed my hair behind my ear and whispered, “We got them while being held captive in Iraq.”
“We served in the United States military,” Saint murmured as he looked down at me intensely, and my eyes locked on his. “But we became prisoners of war.”
“After days of torture, I received a knife blade on my cheek because I was too outspoken and always put up a fight.”
“And I got off easy, they told me,” Saint whispered as his sky-blue eyes swirled with remembrance of a dark time and turned to hate. “Because I was the quiet one.”
Sin added, “They wanted to brand an ugliness on our skin. Something to remember them by if we ever made it out alive. And we did, but not after they tortured us for sixty days straight because we wouldn’t give them shit.”
“My god…” I whispered and for some fucked up reason my heart broke in two for them, but I swallowed any emotion deep inside. “What happened? Were you both rescued, or did you both escape?”
“Rescued, but completely by mistake,” Sin answered as I turned to gaze at him and he caressed my cheek. “We retired after being released from the hospital and agreed to open the nightclub together.”
“And that’s how you met Sebastian.”
“Yes. Which led us straight to our greatest addiction,” Sin breathed and kissed my cheek.
Saint touched my chin and tilted me to face him. “You.”
Saint kissed the tip of my nose and unwound his arms from around me. He got off the bed and grabbed my purse from the floor. Sin slid his length out of me and joined his best friend as they searched through my purse.
“I didn’t give you permission to—”
“Silence,” Sin interrupted me with a command.
My mouth clamped shut as Saint pulled the extra thong from my purse and laid it on the clean part of the bed. But Sin held something else in his hand. Both, still fully erect, wandered back toward the bed, and I feared they desired another round. I was far too weak to move, to even try to refuse them if they wanted to. To endure their intoxicating greed, I would have to lie there and let it wash over my body. I prepared for impact as I closed my eyes while one of them spread my thighs and my shaky legs fell. I awaited destruction, their smell clouding all my judgment. I waited for their hands to devour me all over again.
“Please, I don’t think I can do this. I—” All arguments disappeared after something slid inside of me and my eyes shot open to look up at my phantoms.
Sin and Saint inserted my tampon.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going to take good care of our girl,” Saint answered and lifted me into his arms.
Sin peered down at me with an emotion I had never seen before, and he stole the breath right out of me. He took my hand in his and pressed my fingers against the thunderbolt on his cheek. The wound his captors gave to him for upholding his duty and being his gabby self.
“The torture we lived through taught us to wear our scars with pride. But we don’t excuse anyone who hurts or tries to destroy what is ours because of the pain we endured,” Sin explained with a need for me to understand. “We will be the judge of any suffering to those we love.”
There was their confession. Sin and Saint loved me.
In their own fucked up way, these two unhinged men cared about me in a way no one else could. Cherished me as they walked toward the shower in the private room and Sin turned on the water. I didn’t struggle with Saint as he wandered into the standup shower and water beads trickled down our bodies. Together, we stood in the shower as my blood and our sex washed away down the drain. They cleansed me and took care of me. They gave me all the affection I had ever dreamed of until their dedication hurt. Theseghosts of mine wounded me straight through my heart and pried me open until I felt their love, too.
Forty
Her Phantom
Saint
Tonight, Liv was naked.
She had pulled her dress over her head and stripped off her thong. I had helped guide up the soft lace fabric over her beautiful thighs and snapped the elastic band over her shapely hips. She was a gorgeous vision after we took care of her in the wake of her many earth-shattering orgasms. A gentle gesture of affection was not our style, but our girl needed aftercare and we’d provide.
She had responded effortlessly to each one and barely fought us this time. Her body had grown used to our force, earning her a higher gratification after all of her resistance. But I saw a crack in our obsession today, and we were close to owning all of her.
