Hers to Keep (Quintessence #1-5)

by Serena Akeroyd

Sawyer, as he loaded himself up with spaghetti, murmured, “I’ll go with you, lass. I hate doctors too. They give me the willies.” She blinked at that, then snorted. Even though she was uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, she had to laugh. “The willies? What the fuck are they?” “Not penises,” Devon informed her. “It’s a phrase.”

Andrei clicked his fingers. “I know this one. Heebie-jeebies?” She chuckled. “How do you know that?” “A misspent youth watching too many Home Alone movies on repeat.”

“You’d really go with me even though doctors give you the willies?” He shrugged. “Course.” Touched to the point where her stomach churned with excess emotion, she whispered, “Thank you.”

Apparently uncomfortable with her regard, he shifted in his seat. “You don’t have to thank me.” “Sure I do.” She cleared her throat, overwhelmed by the knowledge he’d go to the clinic with her even though he didn’t like it. But, wouldn’t she do the same for any of them?

And, if they were experiencing headaches as fucking painful as the ones she was having, wouldn’t she make them go, and sit with them, too? Fuck. Overwhelmed wasn’t the word, as she realized exactly how far along her feelings were for these men. Was it possible to fall in love when y...

With a frown, Sawyer looked at the woman sitting in his friend Kurt’s seat, and wondered what it was the idiot had seen in his ex-wife, Katrin. She was a hard-faced bitch. And that wasn’t just because he knew all the shitty things she’d done to Kurt. Her malice and lack of interest in anyone other than herself was evident from every angle on her face.

From the constant purse of her lips, to the dissatisfied narrowing of her eyes, it was as though everything around her wasn’t worthy of her attention. She was haughty, dismissive, and high-maintenance—and the day Kurt had divorced the cow had been a day Sawyer had let his inner Scot out by doing a jig.

She was falling for them, Sascha knew, and as she tumbled into sleep, couldn’t find it in herself to be scared about that. If anything, she was excited, and that was probably way more dangerous.

“Would being romanced make you happy?” “I suppose.” Being fucked would make me happier still, she thought ruefully.

“I have no idea how to romance someone,” he continued. “This presents a problem. I wonder if Sawyer knows.” Considering Sawyer was earthy and gritty, she doubted it. “Ask Andrei or Kurt,” she advised. They were charmers.

Andrei with his warm smiles and eyes that could melt her with the looks he shot her way, and Kurt’s tender affection, his cosseting… the two...

Jesus, the day she understood what the fuck was going on in his mind, she knew she’d have to check herself into the looney bin.

“I’ll do that. I’m surprised you didn’t say Sean.” “Sean’s romantic. Just in a unique way.” “What kind of way?” “He’s competent.” Devon scowled. “That doesn’t sound romantic.” She snorted. “That’s because you’ve never lived in a chaotic household before.”

She felt impaled, and that was the only way she could describe the torture. But she loved it. "Sweet Jesus," she moaned. "No, Devon," he corrected gruffly. On anyone else, that would have been declaration. An arrogant, smug response. To Devon, though, it was a statement of fact. His name wasn't Jesus, but Devon. How could he do this to her? Make her want to laugh when she felt like her entire world was suddenly experiencing an earthquake?

Her throat closed as laughter tried to spill from her lips, but he fucked the amusement out of her. When those short deep thrusts suddenly became long, slow impalements. Just as she was gasping for air, he mixed it up. Switching between the two until her body had no choice but to experience what he was willing to give her. And that was exactly it. Exactly what this was. His show.

He was fully in control. So dominant in that moment, if she'd had the wherewithal, she would have questioned everything she knew about him. But as it was, she just h...

He sent her to the stars and back. Had her spiraling around as supernovas burst behind her eyes. Making her realize that this wasn't sex. This was a fucking opera. With music and majesty. And math. The random thought had laughter spilling from her as the sheer joy of the moment overwhelmed her, overtaking everything else, and making her purely, utterly, and irrevocably his.

“What the fuck is that woman still doing here?" Sawyer's lips twitched in response to Sascha's demand. He wasn't the only one amused. Sean had to cough to hide his laughter, before he said, "It was only for last night. I'm going to arrange a hotel room for tonight." Her nostrils flared as she gritted out, "Good. She's already put a request in for French press coffee with whipped cream, as well as a continental breakfast. I didn't realize we were offering stray cats room for the night."

"I can totally be jealous. That woman fucked Kurt. And Andrei, damn it. Plus, she's ordering me around like I’m the help." She waved a finger at him. "Don't even say that that's because I am the help." He grabbed her finger, raised it to his mouth, and nipped the tip. "As if I'd dare," he declared dramatically.

"I've already been tortured once today." Andrei snickered. "It's always the quiet ones." "That would make sense. If Devon was quiet. Which he totally isn’t,"

She’d never realized how hot smart guys were until she’d entered this house.

Having never expected this when she’d walked through the door earlier, she was damn grateful she had. Because Jesus, Sean was finally going to screw her brains out.

He fucked her lips with his tongue just as he fucked her pussy. Slowly, surely, resolutely. He claimed her at that moment, letting her know exactly who she belonged to.

He was the leader of this band of not-so-merry-men… and his word was law. She was his. Theirs. Sean had just made it so.

Call her petty, but if Katrin called her a Yankee one more fucking time, she’d do more than smash the bitch’s bottle of perfume.

“When’s that fucking doctor’s appointment anyway? I’m tired of seeing that bruised look in your eyes. Makes me want to cosset you, and I’m not a man made for cosseting.”

“And stop scowling at everyone. I thought Dr. Gates was going to have a coronary, or something. Well, after she stopped crushing on you. Jesus, she was close to drooling. Do you have to be so handsome?”

She could do this. She could. She could sit here with her five lovers and her father, and not want to start giggling.

“What’s so funny?” She shot Sawyer a look. “This situation.” His lips twitched. “I thought you’d be panicking. Not laughing your head off.” “This is me panicking,”

“I don’t believe you. You want to fuck in the kitchen when your dad is about to come and eat down here?”

“Can I help it that I have a sex drive?” she complained, folding her arms across her chest. “And I was thinking the garden. Not the kitchen.”

“For twenty years, we haven’t been able to get him near a coastline, Sascha. He just said if you bribe him with sex, he’ll go. That never worked before.”

“My mother was my father’s mistress. I don’t know if it’s much better there now, but when I was a child, women aspired to nothing more than that. Being a prostitute was considered a great career opportunity.” She winced. “Every feminist bone in my body just cringed at that.”

He’d already lost the only other woman he’d loved to violence. He wouldn’t lose Sascha too. And that was a promise. One he made to his seven-year-old self.

“I’m not a Yankee. If anything, I’m from the South. Don’t you know your geography?” she teased. He wafted a hand. “You’re all gun-toting nutcases.” “But you’re cute with it, Sascha,”

“I was raised on one of the roughest council estates in Glasgow, Sascha. Trust me, I know what’s rotten and what isn’t.”

“Why though? Everything I know, it’s all… nothing was real.” He shook his head. “Of course, it was real. If anything, you’ve had more love showered on you as a result of the truth, Sascha. A man, dying, gave his everything to wipe out your identity to protect you. A woman, hired as an employee, gave her everything to take you from all she knew to another country.

“There, she married a man who was bound by the law to keep you safe. You were sheltered from the day you were born. Cosseted by love from a family you didn’t know, and then embraced by a new one who chose to love you. Because, from everything you’ve told me about your mom, she loved you.”

“I love you, Kurt.” He tensed a little, then murmured, “Ich liebe dich auch.”

“Remember that time I wore pink lipstick?” He groaned. “And Devon said you looked like his grandmother?” A laugh escaped her. “Yeah. That time.” “Jesus. I tried to kick him under the table, I swear.” She smirked. “I know. You were all too cute. But then, you generally are when he says some dipshit thing to rile me up.”

“Mein Gott, was machst du hier?” His tone was thick, the words close to inaudible as he stepped further into the room, his eyes glued to Sascha’s tender folds being split by Sawyer’s thickness.

Her parents were dead. She’d been raised by two people, however, who couldn’t have loved her more. Henry and Natasha hadn’t been wealthy, but they’d been rich with love. No, her life hadn’t turned out the way it was supposed to. And she’d never answer to Eloisa Jacobie as was her legal right. But... None of that mattered.

You’ve got yourself a lass wi’ a brain at last, lad.” Sawyer snorted back. “Jessica had a PhD.” “You know how much stock I put in them. I love the lad like he were my own, but Devon’s got more PhDs than Alphabet Soup and he can barely survive the week without one of you telling him to get dressed, to eat, or to sleep.”

“You’re more like the man’s caretaker than his friend when he gets into one of his phases tae.” Sascha grinned. “Devon’s getting better.” “He is?” Jacinta sounded surprised. “She’s good fer him then?” Sawyer hummed. “Aye. Actually gets him tae sleep.” “I really dinnae want to know how,” his mother replied, a bawdy laugh spilling down the line.

“You’re ours, Sascha. Ours to protect and to cherish. Ours to love.” Sean said, his tone borderline grim. “It’s time you remembered that.”

“Sweetheart, we were incomplete without you.” The gentle sweetness to his words had her blushing. “I love you, Sean.” He smiled. “I love you too, Sascha.” Then, because things were suddenly feeling pretty heavy and that hadn’t been her intention at all, she murmured, “Want to go fuck in a dressing room?” His eyes lit up. “That sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.”

“I wish you hadn’t had to go through what you did, moy meeliy.”