Falling for My Boyfriend's Dad(42)

"Sister," I said. "Landon is going to love your gift."

Morgan giggled and wiggled her ass again, bumping against me.

"Always happy to serve," she cooed, and I knew I'd married the right woman.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


Landon




Fuck, the g-string smelled good. Cole had returned from his conjugal  visit smiling like a Cheshire cat, and damn if I wasn't jealous.  Although Morgan married him because it made more sense, it didn't mean I  was happy about it. Every nerve in my body needed release, and I would  have assaulted my brother had he not slipped me the sopping panties.

I planned on fucking the material asap, maybe wrapping it around my dick  as I rubbed myself, but first, we needed to discuss the planned prison  break. Cole and I had formed an allegiance with the warden, who  sympathized with our plight. I mean, who wouldn't? The girl we'd  allegedly raped was now married to my brother. It was a case of justice  gone seriously awry.

Anyways, the warden was arranging for a ride on a prison bus, at which  point one of our friends would ram the vehicle as the beginnings of an  escape. All of the details had been planned, down to the make and model  of the getaway car.

"Did you tell her?" I asked.

"I did," Cole confirmed. "She's on board."

I sighed with relief. Morgan is the most important person to my brother  and I, the mother of our child, and we planned on whisking her away to  somewhere safe, away from the clutches of our father. So long as Gerald  was alive, we'd always be in danger. As a rich and powerful man, he'd  find some way to make our lives miserable, either through the legal  process or merely finding some way to keep our little sister away from  us.         

     



 

So the next morning, Cole and I filed into the cafeteria per usual,  until our names were called. "Kingsley, Cole! Kinsgley, Landon! Report  to the transport area."

Cole and I looked around, but no one even noticed. Prisoners were always  being transferred, moved around the penitentiary system like unwanted  children. The warden put handcuffs on our wrists, and locked them, but  stealthily handed us a piece of wire which we could use to jimmy free. I  hid the thread in my palm, keeping my face expressionless.

The doors slammed ominously after we'd been loaded into the back of a  transport van. What the fuck? I thought we'd be going in the prison bus.  But as we drove off, Cole gave me a tense nod, and I looked out the  grated windows. Sure enough, there was a vehicle tailing us, although  our driver hadn't noticed yet.

With a sudden screech, the van ground to a halt, and a vehicle t-boned  us. If Cole and I hadn't been tethered to the walls, we would have ended  up in a pile on the floor, but fortunately our restraints held us safe.  The guard was knocked unconscious though, and the back door to the van  flew open.

"Come on man!" cried Jesus. "Get the fuck out!"

It was our henchman from the club. We hire guys who work as bouncers cum  detectives cum jack of all trades, and they're more than happy to move  in and out of gray areas, plying their skills. Cole and I worked  quickly. We jimmied out of our restraints, pulled masks over our faces,  and fled into the waiting getaway car, crouching in the back.

The car flew into motion before blending with traffic, settling into a  silent ride. There was a tense moment as we crossed a bridge, as bridges  in New York are fitted with all sorts of cameras and sensors, intent on  tracking violators. But after a long drive, we stopped and Jesus thrust  plane tickets and false IDs at us.

"Sir," he said. "Tickets to the Republic of Cabo Verde."

Ah, Cape Verde, an island paradise off the western coast of Africa. One  of the few times Violet had saved enough to take us on vacation, we'd  wandered to Cap Vert, a former Portuguese colony recently independent.  The weather is balmy and serene, and there's a great party scene  populated by affluent Europeans.

Just as important is that Cape Verde has no extradition treaty with the United States.

"Come on," said Cole harshly, "Let's go." We boarded the plane after  changing into non-descript clothes and sat grimly in our seats. I was  nervous all throughout the five hour trip, believing that the plane  would be raided by air marshals or ordered by traffic control to turn  around at any moment. But the flight was eerily calm, and I even managed  to smile at the flight attendant once or twice, trying to seem normal.

"Loosen up, brother," said Cole, deadpan. "You look like a criminal, just sitting there."

I tried to relax, pretending to read the in-flight magazine, but knew I  wouldn't be able to rest until I saw our beautiful bride.

After a grueling trip, we landed, and the door to the plane opened to a  dry, hot heat wave. We'd definitely left New York. Cole and I were  loaded into a car which drove into the jungle for hours, before pulling  up before a villa.

And who was there to greet us but our beautiful wife cum stepsister,  Morgan. It seemed she'd gotten even bigger since the wedding, and her  bump was now visible, barely covered by the stretchy swimsuit she wore.

"Brothers," she greeted, her arms open. "Welcome to Villa Verde."

I descended on her, kissing her ravenously, losing myself in the skin at her throat while gently stroking her burgeoning bump.

Cole stood on her other side, protectively caressing her back, kissing her hair as he breathed in our sister's fragrant scent.

"Morgan," we said in unison. "You're ours forever."





EPILOGUE


Morgan




The baby gurgled, his hair as black as soot, his blue eyes a bright,  sky-colored aquamarine. He looked just like his daddies, and reached out  a hand, crying "Mama!"

"Thank you," I cooed, reaching to take the toy giraffe from his chubby  fingers. Isaiah is the center of my life, save for his two fathers,  Sergio and Eduardo.

Yes, we've taken new identities, and Cole and Landon have assumed  Portuguese names to better blend with the local population. We're all  learning the local language, and my brothers have started a party  promotion business here, catering to wealthy Europeans looking to spend  major bucks. They've done well, already referred to as "Rico Suave Dos"  around the islands for their good looks, charming ways, and wildly  successful business enterprises.

But what's most important to me is the way they dote on little Isaiah,  and the way they pamper me, showering me with love and affection.         

     



 

"Morgan," they say. "Come rest. Come relax, and keep us company," they beckon, patting the space between them.

And that's how I've come to be pregnant again, with number two due in a  few months. No one here knows that we're siblings, and no one has even  heard of Gerald Kingsley or Palingsworth. But I still remember  …  the  police leading my brothers away in cuffs, the rape exam, how scary jail  was.

Sigh! How much has changed. It's not that I never think of the past  anymore, but each day memories soften and fade. After all, I never  thought I'd end up marrying my twin stepbrothers, enjoying their minds  and bodies in an African paradise. There are problems sometimes, such as  the crazy large mosquitoes, and I'm worried about getting Isaiah into  the right schools when he's older. But for the next few years,  everything's set, and what more could a girl ask for? I adore my twin  steps, and our secrets are mine to keep.



THE END