Page 25 of Buried Beneath Sin

“Ok,” I mutter begrudgingly. I suppose I can handleonemore person around. As long as she doesn’t step between me and the twins, I’ll—urgh—try to make this work. “Maybe she and I will end up as besties.”

Thatcher saunters into the bathroom toward me. A half smile tugs at his lips. “I’d very much like that, Knox. While you warm up to the idea of having someone else around, just think about all the fun projects you have waiting for you that you’ll have help with now. You have a house and a business to renovate. Won’t that be fun?”

“Yeah, like the Starr girl is going to let me come in and completely gut the place now.” I close my eyes and tilt my head back to let the water wash the shampoo out of my hair.

A hand fists my dick. I gasp, my eyes flying open as my hips jerk in response.

“The house will be ours. She won't have any say in it,” Thatcher purrs as he plays with my soft cock.

It doesn't remain soft for long, not under his touch. I groan as he strokes me. His touch is always militant. There's never any foreplay or teasing. If Thatcher wants me to cum, I'm going to cum. But I'm grateful for his lack of caressing and teasing. Most touches cause me agony. And while I’m all for a bit of painwhile I play with the twins, I can only handle so much. I bite my bottom lip and thrust my hips forward.

“There's no way she's going to want any part of us,” I growl between my teeth.

“She won't really have a choice, will she?” Thatcher's hand grips me tighter, his other going to fondle my balls.

I lean into his touch, loving and hating it. How can I stay mad at him when he only wants my happiness and pleasure? My balls begin to rise as my breath catches in my throat. Words are impossible to formulate with my orgasm closing in on me so quickly. Fuck, he's good at this.Fuck. Thatcher's hand works me up into a frenzy. I pant and groan, and when my release finally arrives, I can't help but brace my hands on the wall of the shower and cry out. Thatcher's hand doesn't leave my cock until I'm completely spent.

When I’m shaking and breathless, he leans in and kisses me hard on the mouth. His face gets wet from the falling water, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Sagan will be back shortly. We'll talk about our next move when he gets here.”

With that, Thatcher leaves me to finish up my shower.

14

THATCHER

It’s been three days since Beatrix gave the signal for us to act.

Now, after impatiently waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, it finally arrives.

The three of us stare at the ambulance as it sits in the middle of the empty parking lot of the Bright Starr Funeral Home. The back doors to the vehicle are open but the paramedics are out of sight—having wheeled two bodies through the front doors of the building just a few moments ago. Where we stand, across the street and just beyond the treeline, we remain out of sight. Still, the flashing red and white lights manage to reach us.

“Ready?” I ask my brother and Knox.

“I'vebeenready,” my Pretty Boy replies immediately. His impatience is almost palpable as it beats at me. At his sides, his hands curl and relax then curl once more. After the other night's sulking, he seems to be in better spirits.

Quite frankly, I've been a little impatient myself. Though I think I've held it together a lot better than he has. But it's finally time. We've covered our bases, and once we're through here, the house, the business—will be ours.

What's even better: my plan now includes a pretty little mortician.

“Beatrix will be busy handling this call,” Sagan says softly. “If we’re going to do this, we need to move now.”

I glance over at him. His expression is blank, like always. But I know better. While his face rarely ever gives anything away, with our connection, I can feel the rare storm of emotions brewing beneath his skin. He’s just as excited about this as me and Knox.

“Then let's go,” I urge.

We move then. Like the perfect unit that we are, we adjust our positions accordingly. Sagan takes the lead, knowing the layout of the property better than either me or Knox. I fall in at his left, and Knox, snickering, strolls beside Sagan at his right. We stick to the trees and come up behind the house, just like Sagan and I had done a few weeks ago.

And just like before, the backdoor is unlocked.

My heart races as we slip into the mudroom. As much as I would love to charge forward, we can't be rash. This can't be like all of our other kills—bloody and violent. No. We have to take care in how we approach this.

The three of us linger in the mudroom, listening for signs of life in the house. We don't have to wait long.

“You fucking asshole!” Lauren screeches. Her voice drifts from upstairs. “I told you I needed more than last time. This isn't enough!”

“You got what you got. Now be grateful, bitch, and go shoot up.”

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