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In order for her to leave the room, we need to move, and as she finishes up and approaches, we don’t. Not until she looks up at us, holding Abel’s eyes, then mine, waiting for what it is we want. Her head lowers, and her hands fold in front of her.
Fuck. Not touching her is killing me.
With her sharp inhale as I lift a hand and cup her neck, brushing my thumb across the hard line of her jaw, she leans into me. Her hands fidget, and I can tell she’s fighting the urge to touch me back. A gasp escapes when Abel mimics my move on the other side of her face. Her entire body trembles from our attention as she tries to absorb as much of it as possible.
“Soon, little lamb, real soon,” I whisper so only the three of us can hear it before we drop our hands. She wilts like a dying flower as we step back, allowing her to pass through.
With great reluctance, she departs because her mother is again screaming impatiently for her, rage ever so present in her voice. I’m leery about what they’re summoning her for, but we aren’t about to let her walk into the lion’s den alone.
Chapter Two
GIRL
Little lamb.
It felt…adoring.
I’d never known that kind of softness from anyone but Jay before. I thought I was dreaming when he called me that in the garage. I’d wanted it to be true but was afraid to believe. Then the other one touched me.
He touched me.
Me.
It’d been so long.
I knew I was starving for it but had no idea how much until the shock of his skin scorched mine. It was so surprising, I burst into tears. Of course, my mother ruined the moment, and I ran away, needing just a few seconds to myself before entering my father’s den. Nothing good ever comes out of there. It’s been months since either has spoken to me; what could they possibly want from me?
And just then…in my bedroom…both men touched me. My heart felt as if it were going to fail. I wanted to wrap myself around them, sit in one of their laps, and let them touch me to their hearts’ content.
Soon. He’d said.
Soon, what?
That raises so many questions, but I’ll never get the answers because I’m not allowed to speak to them. And they aren’t allowed to speak to me. Or touch me. But today, they did both.
Standing outside the den now, I knock on the door once and wait to be called in. My nerves are nearly shot as my two guards stand behind me. Closer than usual, but not so close that they’re touching me. I wish they were. There was so much warmth in the caresses. More caring than I’ve ever experienced before. I could grow addicted, and despite the warning bells in my head telling me that’s not wise, I really want to.
“Come in,” my father’s stern voice bites out, causing me to jump.
Entering quietly, I try to hide the shaking in my hands by crossing my arms and digging my fingers into my biceps. Sitting across from my father is my mother and another slightly older gentleman with graying hair at his temples and a calculated look in his eyes. I don’t say anything because I know better.
“So, this is her,” the visitor comments, taking a drink from his glass of bourbon as his eyes roam up and down my body. “She’s prettier than she looks in pictures. Could stand to lose about ten pounds, though.” He stands, gulps down the rest of his drink before placing the glass in my mother’s outstretched hand and strides towards me. His eyes flick to my guards, a silent demand that they back off.
Neither do.
“Girl, this is Walter Charles,” Mother says. I hide my grimace at his name. Who has two first names for a name, anyway? “He’ll be your husband.” My jaw drops, and matching rumbling growls emanate from the two behind me as I lock my knees so I don’t collapse.
“Husband?” I croak. “He’s old enough to be my grandfather.” I don’t know where the words come from, but I can’t contain them.
“I thought you said she was obedient, Jefferson?” Walter glares at my father.
Climbing to his feet, the person who has provided for me shoots me a deadly look, ordering me without words to shut up. “She turns eighteen in several days; you’ll get her for the weekend as a trial run, and you can see for yourself that she’s broken in.”
I blink furiously, struggling to keep the tears at bay. I can’t believe they’re talking about me like I’m livestock. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I’ve been nothing but a burden to them for as long as I can remember.
“No,” I hiss out.
“Excuse me?” my mother screeches.
