Loved by Them: A Reverse Harem Romance (Quintessence Book 5)

by Serena Akeroyd

  When she tried to pinpoint what exactly it was that Kurt brought to their dynamic, the only thing she could verbalize was a sense of ease.

  That didn’t sound too important, which was totally underselling him. That ease was more… Well, he didn’t judge.

  It was something she’d picked up on early on but hadn’t really let flourish in her mind.

  Most guys didn’t judge at first, but they changed. Morphed over time. Of course, her five were all very open-minded, but Kurt was the most at peace with himself. With his desires.

  She figured that was because he’d had longer to think he was a little weird in bed. Voyeurism wasn’t exactly the worst kink in the world, but she knew it had affected his marriage and when that had dissolved, his self-image had suffered. What had Sawyer told her?

  That’d he’d drowned himself in drink for a time?

  “Is this about the other day?” he asked softly, almost squinting at her as he peered her way.

  She bit her lip. That hadn’t been on her mind, not with thoughts of the baby front and center. Still, it did need discussing. “Maybe.”

  There was no need to pinpoint exactly what it was they were discussing.

  Having Devon and Kurt in her mouth, and Sawyer in her pussy, wasn’t exactly something they could forget.

  She could still feel the slip and slide of Devon’s fingers as he caressed her clit while Sawyer slammed into her. His every thrust pushing Kurt’s shaft deeper down her throat in response.

  Even now, days later, her mouth watered in reaction and her cunt pulsed with need.

  God, she was hungry. So hungry for them. All the time.

  That was what concerned her.

  She was pregnant now—had been pregnant when that wicked foursome had happened. Moms shouldn’t have those kinds of desires. Should they? Or was that just being incredibly naïve? Pregnant woman could be horny too, right?

  Probably, she thought, answering her own worries and deciding to Google it later. But she’d never been in a gang bang before. Neither had she been pregnant. She figured she could be as naïve as she wanted.

  A shaky sigh escaped her, and he gently walked her forward to the low leather sofa he had in front of an old-fashioned fireplace. The grate wasn’t ready for firing up, but the iron gleamed like the night sky and the tiles around it were stark white in contrast.

  She peered into the empty hearth as he maneuvered her onto the sofa so she was perched on his lap.

  He burrowed his face in her throat and settled his hands at her belly. The move, did he but know it, was surprisingly poignant considering the news she’d received less than two hours earlier.

  “Talk to me, Sascha. You know we’re supposed to share this kind of thing.”

  ‘Supposed to’ and this ‘kind of thing.’ The terminology had her wincing a little, then smiling at her own reaction.

  “I told Sawyer to call me a slut,” she whispered, the words bursting free.

  He stiffened, then immediately relaxed, like he blew out the tension with his exhalation. “Why did you do that?” He paused. “When?”

  She gulped. “You remember in the kitchen? With the wooden spoon?”

  “How could I forget?” he teased gently, but he squeezed her and nuzzled his jaw against her temple.

  His chin was stubbled, and the small gesture scratched, but at that moment, she felt so goddamn cherished, her throat choked.

  Was it stupid for her to feel this way? When this man, and the rest of her men, so obviously loved her?

  “Sascha?” Kurt prompted softly after a few.

  She thought nothing of it at the time, but after what happened the other day…

  “You feel like a slut,” he stated, tone bland.

  She flinched.

  “I said ‘you feel’ like a slut, Liebchen, not that you are one. Because you aren’t.”

  A breath escaped her. “I’m not.”

  “For us, you are. But we’re sluts for you, too,” he teased a little.

  “Why do I accept all this, Kurt?”

  “Why are you questioning it now?” She wished she could tell him, but she stuck with a half-truth instead.

  She needed to process being pregnant first before she revealed it to them. And that processing had her stress levels shooting through the roof: “Because I just had a foursome in two of my lovers’ office!”

  Her shriek and the fact she half-jumped off his lap had him shushing her. But, she didn’t want to slap him upside the head for such an offense. Instead, she let him soothe her by tugging her closer.

  “I thought you were past this. The confusion over being with all of us, I mean.”

  “I thought so too,” she mumbled with a sniff. She was until the prospect of making this work with a baby popped into her head.

  “Oh hell, are you crying?” he demanded, sounding utterly aghast at the idea. He couldn’t turn her chin though so she couldn’t look at him, see his horror at her tears.

  “I did that with my dad in the house,” she confessed on a low whisper. “I-I mustn’t have any shame.”

  Silence fell. “Whose house is this, Sascha?”

  She frowned. “Everyone’s.”

  He shook his head—she knew, because his chin, stubble and all, scraped against her temple. The prickling sensation made her eyelashes flutter. “Too vague.” When she didn’t answer, he murmured, “Say the word.“

  She knew where he was going with this, but murmured nonetheless, “Yours.”

  “And why isn’t it ours?”

  Sascha thought about that then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re richer than us, Sascha. You make my wealth look like a puddle of piss in the park in comparison to what you’ll get when your inheritance comes through…”

  “Great imagery there, Kurt,” she retorted with a huff.

  He just snorted. “You know exactly where I’m going with this.”

  “So what? Maybe I do.” She shrugged. “I can’t change the way I feel.”

  “Would you feel the same if you owned the house? I’m certain we’re all quite willing to be your boy toys.”

  She snorted, and then couldn’t withhold her giggle. “You’re all older than me,” she retorted, peering up at him with squinty eyes.

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Still, I’ve always wanted to be a toy.”

  “Can you imagine Devon as my sex slave?”

  “His cock would be willing but his brain would get bored.”

  She laughed. “That sounds about right.”

  Kurt’s eyes crinkled at the sides, making tiny lines appear. He pressed his lips to her temple. “Why are you concerned about something that isn’t important anymore?”

  “Because if I didn’t have that inheritance, I’d still feel this way,” she replied, unease unfurling through her. “I-I don’t want the money, Kurt. Jacobie said something when I met him, and Sean explained that if I don’t take the money, it will revert to the government. So, I understand I have to accept the inheritance, but…” She jerked her chin up. “It’s blood money. I don’t want it.”

  He shrugged. “Then don’t use it. Or, use it for good.” A sigh escaped him and after, he squeezed her again. “You don’t understand, Sascha. You don’t know what we feel for you if you think that money is important.”

  “That’s not true. I know you care for me,” she argued.

  Kurt snorted. “Care? That’s too paltry a word.”

  “Paltry, huh?” she couldn’t resist teasing.

  He grinned. “You know I speak no word of a lie.”

  Looking up at him, she saw his earnestness and had to sigh. “I know Devon’s confused,” she confessed. “I know he’s worried, too.”

  Kurt’s sigh was as long and as low as hers. “Devon can be remarkably simple when it boils down to it. The man’s mind-boggling when it comes to math, and a complete moron with anything else.”

  “You don’t deny it, then?”

  “What? That he’s confused? No.
He went to Sean, and I was there. I also got very angry at him for it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Devon has this very irritating habit of talking about the things we don’t want to hear.”

  “Like shedding a light on them will make it happen?”

  “Something like that. Childish, I suppose, but it’s… The way he sees the world? Analyses it?”She nodded. “He’s usually hitting the nail on the head, even if it’s not exactly in the way he thinks.”

  She licked her lips, understanding where he was coming from.

  “See, in this, he’s right again. But he’s worried you’ll leave because of the money. What he doesn’t realize, but is sensing nonetheless, is that you’re not sticking with us because of our wealth.”

  “No,” she tried to argue. “It isn’t like that.”

  “Then what’s it like, Sascha? You know we love you. You know we’d slay fucking monsters to keep you safe, and would do anything in our power to take out anyone who’d dare hurt you. What more can we do? What more do you need to feel like this is your home? Do you need to buy into the damn thing? Is it as easy as that?”

  She gnawed at the inside of her cheek. “That would only be possible because of the blood money. I don’t want that tarnishing any aspect of my life with you.”

  He nodded. “I understand that. So, what? What would make you feel like this place was yours?”

  She turned her head and burrowed her face into his shirt. He smelled so good. Like aftershave and mint from the chewing gum he whizzed through whenever he was writing.

  His arms were tender about her, but so damn fierce that she knew he was right when he said they were all prepared to slay any monsters on her behalf. Even if they were monsters of her own creation.

  He didn’t push her to answer. Didn’t prod her to talk or to verbalize her feelings.

  She was glad for that, because truth was, she was in the dark. Probably as much as he.

  She didn’t know why the house, their status, and everything that came with it, made her feel apart from them.

  Because she was looking after them and was still officially on the payroll?

  She needed money somehow, though, didn’t she? And she didn’t want to get another job or to get someone else to take over.

  She was happy looking after the house, and caring for them filled her with a contentment no feminist could possibly understand.

  “Maybe there’s nothing we can do to make that happen,” she started slowly.

  “There has to be,” he argued. “I refuse for you to feel like you’re a second-class citizen in your own damn home.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. Maybe it’s my attitude that needs adjusting. Yours doesn’t. None of you seem to think anything about this place and me… You know? Not being home.” A thought came to her, and it was like a light shining in the darkness. “Maybe…”

  “Maybe?” he prompted a moment later when she fell silent, her throat choking with tears.

  “Maybe this isn’t home not because of anything wrong with me. Maybe it’s because you’re all my home. This is just where we lay our head.”

  He stilled beneath her, and his hands were suddenly fierce around her waist. “Do you really mean that?”

  She nodded, and he blew out a shaky breath.

  “We’ll never let you down, Sascha. You know that, right?”

  She let out a little laugh. “Oh, Kurt, of course you will. I’ll let you down too. That’s life, isn’t it?”

  He cursed. “I guess. But I don’t have to like it, and I’ll kick the man’s ass who does hurt you, understand me?”

  Her lips curved but the burn in her eyes spoke of her tears at the relief the revelation brought with it.

  “I get you,” she admitted softly.

  “But what about this ‘slut’ thing?” he asked, prodding at a still sore wound. “I won’t have you thinking of yourself that way.”

  “It’s just a change of thought process,” she replied. “Most people would think that’s what I am for wanting what I do and for being with you all.” She shrugged. “I think I need to embrace the fact I am a slut.”

  “No!” he barked, squeezing her in his embrace. “You’re not! And you’d better damn well not!”

  She smiled, and for the first time, it wasn’t tinged with any of her confusion. “You’re saying that like being a slut is a bad thing?”

  He frowned. “Isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps with certain people. But not with us, right? Like you said, I’m yours. Inside these walls and behind our closed front door…”

  A laugh escaped him. “Yes. You’re right.” He licked his lips, nuzzled his nose against her throat, making her squirm in his hands from the ticklish feeling the gesture provoked. “Like I’m a pervert for watching, and Devon is weird for enjoying sharing…”

  She reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers. “Exactly.”

  It settled into place. The relief, the resolve. She wasn’t a slut. Had no idea where the word had come from when she was in Sawyer’s care that day when he’d spanked her ass with a wooden spoon and he, Kurt, and Andrei had made her cum, writhing against the kitchen counter like a bitch in heat.

  The words had appeared, popped out to play. Like her subconscious wanted her to think about the way she was viewing herself. How low her mindset had dropped because of her new circumstances.

  Good girls weren’t raised to be shared by five men. Nor were they raised to enjoy it, to love every moment of what those five could give her, to love them.

  She nuzzled her forehead against Kurt’s cheek, silently thanking him for being her sounding board as she’d processed her feelings.

  Each of her men brought something to the table where she was concerned. Before this, she’d known vaguely what Kurt was, but hadn’t been able to put a name to it.

  He was her rock. Emotionally.

  She thanked him the truest way she knew how, “Kurt?”

  He hummed under his breath, and she smiled, knowing his eyes would be closed. He was tired from an all-night marathon session, and she’d just put him through the emotional wringer with their talk.

  “I love you.”

  Tension flooded him, but a second later it had disappeared. “I love you too.”

  She settled into his arms, knowing full well they’d nap like this. His back to the corner of the sofa, her settled between his legs, his chest to her back.

  Feeling loved, safe, and cherished, she allowed herself to relax.

  There would be doubts. More would come along the way as she tumbled headfirst into the maelstrom of emotion they made her feel, a maelstrom that would become clouded with pregnancy hormones. But she couldn’t run from them, nor would she be scared.

  There was no need to be when she had five men willing to chase her monsters away for her. No need to fear her sexual needs would make her a bad mother. She was who she was. They loved her for that. And so would the child they’d gifted her.

  Chapter Nine

  The one advantage to money, Devon knew, was it let a person do whatever they wanted. Anything, be it for good or ill, became an option. Accessibility was the downside to wealth. There were no limits when the sky was close to hand.

  So, when he overheard Sean telling Sascha a stipend from her inheritance had trickled into her account, he’d been on the alert.

  Not for anything bad, per se. She could do whatever the hell she wanted with her money. He didn’t care if she never touched it and used his for the rest of her life. Money didn’t matter to him.

  For himself, money accessed a lifestyle he’d never be able to live otherwise. He was free. Had the liberty to putter on the projects he wanted to concentrate on, needing approval from no one.

  Well, he kind of needed it from Sawyer. But he didn’t count.

  He wanted Sawyer in his life. Sawyer was his sanity sometimes. Sascha too, come to think of it. She slotted into his life, taking up the sentinel position opposite Sawy
er. Because of that, because of their hyper-vigilance with him, his own brain tended to slide away from that particular problem.

  Some might think him selfish. Unobservant about the important things. But he always made sure his household was well. Always made sure the members weren’t ill at ease over something.

  With Sascha and Sawyer however, he made doubly sure. It was why he was in Sascha’s Cadillac today.

  Having watched her make breakfast this morning, he’d sensed her edginess. Had known something wasn’t right.

  Two days ago, Sean had given her the news. News she’d accepted with a marked lack of interest.

  Sean was handling her inheritance for her; well, Sean and Andrei. They were sorting out the accounts she’d need to contain the amount of money coming to her, were arranging her finances so that she was forever protected.

  She declared she didn’t want to use the money now. But when she realized what it would do, Devon knew that would change.

  He didn’t begrudge her the hypocrisy. Didn’t judge her for suddenly wanting to access what she’d never had. He’d known she’d do it; that her opinion of the blood money would change when she realized the doors it opened. He’d just wanted to circumvent the danger of that. Make sure they weren’t suddenly unnecessary because money wasn’t a problem anymore.

  “Devon?” Sascha mouthed his name as she came to a halt in front of the car.

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “What are you doing in there? Again? This is getting to be a damn habit!” she declared, heading to the driving seat, stacking her hands on her hips and glowering at him through the glass.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “Where?” she demanded.

  “To the prison.”

  Her mouth worked, and he knew his supposition was correct. A smile played about his lips at how well he’d judged her—she was like Sawyer, surprisingly easy to read.

  Sean was the hardest. Then Andrei. They kept themselves to themselves when it came to their emotions. He figured that was because Sean was the epitome of a British man—the stiff upper lip was a shield. And Andrei’s past prevented him from being as free with his emotions as he might have been without a murderer for a father, a murder victim for a mother, and a Mafioso for a granddad.