by Alina Jacobs
“No. Just stay away from her.”
Wes looked at the floor unhappily. “I’m sorry, Mark.”
“She could have been the one,” I said, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “She’s the only woman who I’ve had a connection with who didn’t want something from me, who wasn’t trying to play a character. She was who she was—take it or leave it.”
“You just need to buy her a nice present,” Carter suggested. “Something she’d like.”
“No,” Grant cut in, “don’t listen to him. Try to make her something. And send her cute pictures of yourself.”
“I’m not sending her anything,” I said.
“You can’t just give up,” Carter protested. “You have a dog! Pimp that puppy out. Shirtless photos! Fancy imported cheese. A surprise rooftop brunch. Go all out! If she’s worth it, you have to fight for her.”
“And we promise we’ll stay away,” Wes said.
I looked out the window. “I have work to do,” I told them.
After my cousins and brother filed out, I sat in front of my computer. The strings of code and charts of stock prices rolled in front of me. It was a good distraction from Brea. I looked around my empty study. I didn’t have any knickknacks or personal touches, even though it had been a couple years since I had moved here after the fire. I had been stunned, heartbroken, and betrayed. My mother had wanted me close to family, and I hadn’t had the energy to protest. Now the condo didn’t feel like mine. Besides, I didn’t know if Brea would even want to live here. She hadn’t seemed impressed the last time she was here.
Once I finished rebalancing my various portfolios, I started looking for a new condo. I pulled Beowulf up into my lap. The puppy’s head nodded, and he slumped against me as he fell asleep.
Even though it was late, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I kept replaying the last words Brea had said to me.
It had to be my crazy family, I decided. Then a horrible thought sent a chill through me. What if she had found out about Rhonda? Maybe Brea didn’t want to have a relationship with someone who had been too stupid to anticipate my ex-girlfriend’s deadly plot. Or maybe she just didn’t like me as a person.
There were too many unknowns.
What I did know was that I couldn’t live here anymore. The condo was constraining. My whole family was in my business. I found a number of penthouses available for purchase. Several were close to my office headquarters in Frost Tower.
In fact…I peered at the address of one luxury condo. There was one on the market in that building. The space was bright and airy. Brea would probably like all that natural daylight. Not to mention, the Gray Dove Bistro was located at the base of the tower. It was also closer to Brea’s office than her current apartment.
I leaned back in my chair and stared up at the ceiling in my dark study.
“What am I doing?” I said aloud. “You blew it. Stop looking for a place Brea would want. She doesn’t want you. You have to move on.”
But I didn’t want to.
The next morning, after I had exercised Beowulf and fed him his breakfast, the doorbell rang, and I jumped up.
“If that’s my family….” I swore.
But it was the concierge of the building.
“Package came for you, Mr. Holbrook,” he said, handing me the box.
I opened it with a knife from the drawer, unsure of what I had ordered. When I saw the blue-and-white fabric, I remembered and grinned. Maybe I could use this as a last-ditch ploy to hopefully win Brea back.
I set the fabric, the fabric scissors, the pattern printed on tissue paper, the thread, and the needles out on my dining room table. Then I watched the stuffed dinosaur tutorial video again.
“This will be a piece of cake,” I told Beowulf, pouring myself a scotch.
Five hours and half a bottle of scotch later, I was seriously wondering why I couldn’t handle it. First I had cut out the pattern wrong because for some reason there were like five different-sized dinosaur patterns printed on extremely delicate tissue paper. I was supposed to follow the microscopic text to know which pattern to cut out. I accidentally ripped two of the pieces then cut along the wrong line on others and had to tape everything back together.
The amount of hard liquor I had been drinking hadn’t helped things any. The actual fabric piece I was cutting out kept slipping when I tried to cut it out following the pattern.
Piecing the thing together was a whole other torture, and when the creature was finally done, somehow it looked like it had three tails, one foot, and a tentacle sprouting out of its head. I tried to arrange it as nicely as possible and snapped a picture to send to Brea. Then I waited for a response, paced around the apartment, and drank some more.
“Fuck, what was I thinking?” I asked myself.
I swept all the sewing supplies back into the box and threw the stuffed dinosaur down for Beowulf to rip up.
“It’s fine,” I said dejectedly to my reflection in the dark window. “It’s late at night. She just hasn’t responded.” But I knew she wasn’t going to respond.
“I never liked her anyway,” I lied, resting my head against the glass. The cool material eased my slight headache. I had basically only drunk alcohol all day, and I really needed to eat something.
My shirt was covered with fuzz from the fabric, so I pulled it off over my head, careful to not let the fibers blow all over the condo. I was done with sewing, and I was done with seamstresses.
The doorbell rang. I almost hoped it was my family just so I wouldn’t have to be alone. There wasn’t anyone at eye level when I opened the door, so I looked down.
Brea smiled up at me and said, “First of all, that dinosaur looks like a tumor.”
A lazy grin spread over my face. “Did you come here to give me a lesson?”
“You make it sound so dirty,” she said. Then she wrinkled her nose. “I was at a wedding all day, so I missed your message. But it sounds like you were hard at work.”
Beowulf carried the sewing monstrosity over to her.
“Oooh, it’s droolly now.” She gingerly took the stuffed dinosaur from the dog.
“It’s not that bad, right?” I asked her.
Brea made a face. “I mean, you did it, and that’s what’s important. Your next project will be even better.”
I took her in my arms. “I will never ever do another sewing project again.” Then I kissed her. She didn’t jump back or push me away. I deepened the kiss, letting my hands roam over her curves.
Then Brea did push me away. “There’s something I need to tell you…” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at me. She picked at her nails.
“You know that night when I, uh, kissed you?” she said faintly.
“It was shocking but not unwelcome.”
“It was because of Memphis Eve.”
A smile played around my lips. “You were jealous,” I deduced.
Brea nodded. “She just—” She looked up at the ceiling. “Memphis Eve is my sister. My twin sister,” Brea confessed then crossed her arms defensively. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think I was a freak show with weird family issues.”
I barked out a laugh. “I have weird family issues. My uncle has illegitimate children coming out of the woodwork. My grandfather forced us on a double date at a bar with dismembered dolls. I’m shocked you didn’t file a restraining order against me.” I tipped her chin up. “I was worried I had done something to hurt you or make you afraid or angry.”
“You’ve been perfect,” Brea said. “Well, except for the nacho cheese fountain. Honestly. We’re going to have to have Grace perform a ton of camera tricks to make sure that isn’t in the photos.”
“Hey, it’s not just the fountain. It’s going to be a whole nacho pavilion. I didn’t ruin the wedding; I made it better. Though if it will keep you from trying to dump me, I’ll restrain the rest of my wedding-planning impulses.” I grinned down at her, and she smiled up at me in relief.
“So that’s it?” I prompted. “You were afraid I would be mad because she was your sister?” That doesn’t make any sense, the rational part of my mind said. But then Brea licked her lips then parted them seductively.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I do have a way to make it up to you.”
My dick told the rational part of my brain to shut the fuck up as Brea unbuttoned her dress, shrugged out of the arms, and then shimmied out of it, letting the fabric pool to the floor. She was wearing nothing but the corset and panties.
“I think I was a bad girl,” she said. “But I have a very nice apology planned.”
32
Brea
Here we go. Now that I was fully committed, I wasn’t going to let him by with just those masterful fingers or another skillful tonguing. No. I needed it all, and I was making it abundantly clear that I wouldn’t settle for anything less.
The little bit of skin was all the invitation Mark needed to try to take what he wanted. He scooped me up and carried me over to the bed, laying me flat down on it and embracing me with another powerful kiss.
His hands trailed down my body, sending shocks through me, my skin hot and my pussy aching for his touch. I reached back and pulled loose the binds of the corset and let my breasts flow out freely for him. He was quick to enjoy them, taking a handful of them, massaging them, and stoking the fire inside me.
Mark was dealing with his own lust boiling over too. My eyes roamed over that buff chest and those washboard abs that rose and fell with his erratic breathing.
“I need you, Brea. I’ve been putting it off too much, too long. I need to bury my cock in you. Feel you around me. That I’ve waited this long without bending you over a table and just taking you right then and there is a testament to the discipline I have.”
“Then stop waiting,” I coaxed him. “Take me.” And do it soon, while I’ve still talked myself into this being a good idea.
His response to my words was to pull loose his belt, kick off his shoes, and push his slacks down his legs, revealing his cock tenting against his black boxer briefs. I licked my lips at the sight of it, playing up my reaction, making sure he was watching and paying attention. He purred with desire, ready to properly take me.
Mark was back on top of me, his cock poking against my thigh. His hands caressed my curves to my panties, writhing in, touching my hot pussy. A sudden lightning bolt of pleasure shot through me as he rubbed a finger along my slit.
“I want to feel your hot, wet pussy around my cock. I’ve been imagining it for so damn long now,” Mark said, his deep voice sending more shivers through me.
“I didn’t come here wrapped up like a pretty package for no reason,” I reminded him, running my hands along the ridges of muscle on his strong back.
He answered by rubbing my clit especially hard, sending a blissful wave shuddering through me. He then grabbed the fabric of my panties and pulled them down my legs. I wriggled my hips in a desperate desire to be free of them.
Mark paused a moment to look down and over my body, taking in the sight of me. His look of amazement was unexpected, as if he couldn’t believe a woman so sexy was in front of him. I never expected a man to ever truly look at me the way he did. I suddenly felt strongly vulnerable and undeserving. Why would a man who looked so damn good himself, someone who could have any woman on the planet if he so desired, look at me like that?
Stop overthinking this! my inner sex goddess shrieked, throwing her shoes at me. I forced my attention back to Mark. It wasn’t difficult.
Now that I was naked, he was eager to join me in that state. His boxer briefs went down, his cock jutting out and throbbing hard, all for me. With nothing more in between us, he wasted little time before getting back on top of me, his naked form pressing against mine, igniting me head to toe with sensations and feelings for him.
He delivered another long kiss as sensual and exciting as the first one had been.
I reached down between us, grabbing his cock, stroking it, ready to guide it in. Then reality caught up and temporarily interrupted my dream. “Condom,” I whispered.
Without a single protest, he pushed himself up, went to a side drawer, and pulled one out.
Then, in a flash, he was back on top of me. I stole the package from him, tore it open, and reached down around his cock, rolling it onto him, feeling him shudder under my touch.
“Fucking hell, Brea,” he growled softly right into my ear. “I don’t want your hand, I want your tight little pussy.”
I smiled and resumed guiding him toward my slit, rubbing his cock in the wetness. The tip of his cock poked at the edge of my pussy, spreading me as he took over, pushing himself in bit by bit.
The tide rolling into me was incredible. I nibbled my lip as the feeling overtook me. My body squeezed him, the friction between us intense.
“Fuck, I haven’t been able to think about anything other than fucking you,” he said as he stroked my hair, tickling my head ever so slightly and giving me that marvelous smile of his. He kissed me hard again, and then his strong arms wrapped around me as he started to fuck me. The gradual pace sent vibrations through me, forcing the littlest of moans out of me.
It didn’t take long for me to get into it too—bucking into him, fucking him back, setting my rhythm with his. We were becoming one, building a greater and more intense pleasure between ourselves, fully dedicated to both of us getting the absolute most out of the encounter.
Our pace quickened, and our desires intensified then spiked up higher. My moans became louder and higher pitched, my words barely coherent. “Fuck, so fucking perfect, Mark....ohmygod.”
Mark kissed me hard. We were fully and completely into one another, running our hands over each other, rolling around the bed, laughing in between our moans of lust.
In the chaos of the moment, he fucked me fast and hard with one of my legs damn near pinned over me. Once we had learned one another and what the other wanted, we found it quickly. Our bodies were quick to work in concert to create something amazing.
This cannot be the only time we do this!
It was the beginning of an addiction. I wasn’t going to be able to let Mark go. Harder he fucked me, every thrust sending a roar through me so goddamn powerful and strong. The bliss shook through me, its epicenter my clit, echoing out to my core, my chest, my entire body.
It wasn’t long before I couldn’t take much more of it, before I had to give in, unable to contain the pleasure he was giving me.
Only a few more strokes, and that’d be it for me. Him? He was right there with me, his teeth gritting, trying to endure it all just a little bit longer, to wring a tiny bit more joy from it.
A last kiss, a last thrust, and that was it.
I came for him once again. Powerfully my entire body shook for him, and I cried out loudly and incoherently for what he had done to me. The sensory overload of this climax, everything just being about Mark for that very second, was absolute sex heaven.
His hands dug into my hips, holding me tight, thrusting deep. His groan was long and serene, telling me that I was just as good for him as he was for me.
My only regret at that moment was that it couldn’t have lasted even longer.
My inner sex goddess was already planning the next encounter, but I could only lie there.
Mark half sprawled on me, his large body draped between my legs. I carded my fingers through his hair. I wanted to push him back against the bed, trail my fingers over his chest, and luxuriate in that perfect male body just because I could, but I was tired, and my limbs felt like jelly.
My phone went off in the other room.
“Just ignore it,” Mark said, eyes closed.
“I wasn’t planning on moving.”
Puppy paws clacked against the hardwood floor, down the hall, and into the master suite. The dog dropped the phone on the floor. I reached down and fumbled around then grabbed it.
“You have a smart dog.”
“We’ve been workin
g on training,” Mark said smugly.
I peered at my phone. Then ice water poured through my insides.
Memphis Eve: We have to talk about our father. I think Mom has been lying to us.
33
Brea
I jumped off the bed and crashed to the floor. Mark peered at me in concern.
“My leg was asleep; you were lying on it,” I explained, rubbing my legs and pulling myself up using the nightstand.
Mark swung out of bed. I paused for a moment in my anxious search for my clothes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied. How could I explain? My dads were supposed to be my dads. Well, Beau was my biological dad. I wasn’t good at science, but I did know that much. What was Memphis Eve talking about?
Brea: Explain.
Memphis Eve: I’m at your gross little apartment. Hurry up. Chop chop.
“It’s just a wedding emergency,” I lied to Mark. Just because he had said he was okay with my crazy sister did not mean he needed every insane detail of our relationship. I had to keep some mystery in the relationship.
I gave Mark a quick kiss as I fastened my corset. I couldn’t find my underwear, but my dress and heels were in the hall.
Mark padded behind me. “I think the dog probably put them somewhere.”
“Or you put them somewhere.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
Mark grabbed me and kissed me, his hand finding his way under my dress. I gasped.
“Stay,” he growled.
I wanted to, but I needed to talk to my sister.
My twin was waiting impatiently in front of the apartment door when I arrived.
“I guess the gays aren’t in,” she said.
“They’re out antiquing,” I explained as I unlocked the door.
“Yes, because they just have to cram more garbage into your house,” Memphis said, making a disgusted noise as she brushed past me into the apartment. She scowled at one of the Roombas that chugged by. I had made it a little sweatshirt that read, I was going to tell my girlfriend about the vacuum cleaner I bought today, but it sux!
