by Alina Jacobs
“It’s not garbage,” I protested. “They found a very nice antique rocking chair that they sold for five hundred dollars on eBay last week.”
My sister peered at me over her designer sunglasses. It might have been a scowl, but there was too much Botox in her face to really give the full effect.
“And that is one of a number of reasons I highly doubt that those two are our biological fathers—or at least mine.”
I collapsed on to the couch.
“Beau isn’t our father? But how? That’s what we were told; that’s what I believed my whole life.”
“Wilder says they couldn’t be. His brother has done a lot of work in genetics, and he says he is highly suspicious that I am related to either of the gays. But you,” she said, looking down her nose at me. “He thinks that you’re exactly like Beau. You know, short and chubby. But me? I am too attractive to be Beau’s daughter.”
“Of course we’re twins,” I protested. “We have to be. I saw the hospital pictures.”
That had been such a big part of my life, having a twin. Even though she was prettier, had better hair, had a nicer figure and more money, it was part of my identity to have a twin. If we had different fathers, she would be what, a half twin?
“We’re barely twins. At best, we would be fraternal, obviously,” Memphis said.
“Why are you telling me this?” I said, starting to cry.
“Stop whining!” my sister barked. “You’re such a messy crier. You’re slobbering everywhere. Now,” she said, taking a DNA kit out of her purse. “When are the gays coming back? We need to get a cheek swab for a DNA test to rule them out.”
“You can’t tell them!” I said, horrified. “It would kill Beau; he would be devastated. He loves being a father!”
“Does he? Because he has you living in squalor. You aren’t even wearing any underwear. It’s like a 1920s tenement house.”
I hurried into my parents’ bedroom. Todd was bald, but Beau still had a thick mane of hair. I picked one of the brown strands off of his pillow and came back into the living room.
“What is that, an insect?”
“No, it’s DNA. You cannot tell Dad your suspicions,” I said. “It would break his heart. Run the test, but I’m sure he’s our dad.” I placed the hair in a plastic baggie and handed it to Memphis Eve.
“And if he’s not?”
“He will be,” I said stubbornly.
“I have my doubts. Which is why we need to find Mom.”
“I haven’t seen Mom since high school, when she called me a fat little goldfish.”
Memphis Eve smirked. “She always did have a sense of humor. That’s why men flocked to her. Which is why I’m certain that I am from different, far superior stock, and I will claim what is rightfully mine. I have no father listed on my birth certificate. When I find my real father—and I will—I’ll make him acknowledge me or at least pay me off to leave him and his family alone.”
“There is no way that Dad isn’t really my dad,” I assured myself several days later as I tried to put on a pleasant face for Liz and Wes’s couples shower. “Everything is going to be fine. The test will come back positive. Memphis Eve will go back to Boston with that obnoxious Svensson brother. It will be fine.”
Grace was snapping pictures of the table settings as I fussed with them.
“Can you keep that still for once?” she said.
“Sorry. My life is in the toilet.”
“I know,” Grace whispered back. “Your baby daddy issues. Just enjoy the event. I checked Memphis Eve’s Instagram earlier, and she and that Ken doll are off gracing Los Angeles with their presence.”
“I hope that lunatic Svensson burns in the sun out there,” I said.
“Signature cocktail?” Elsie offered, coming by with a tray. She was catering the event.
“It’s nice being a guest at one of these things for once,” I said, taking the cool alcoholic drink. Then I walked around the space to make sure everything was perfect. The event was being held in Mark’s brother Carter’s condo so Liz wouldn’t have to travel far.
The bride huffed over to me, her belly a good foot in front of her.
“I’ve given up on wearing nice fashion,” she said, crunching a piece of ice from a cup. “I’m wearing muumuus and Crocs until my wedding day. You have to promise me you’ll squeeze me into my dress as much as possible.”
“I left extra room to tailor it to you the day before,” I assured her. “You’re going to look stunning.”
Elsie handed Liz her own plate of snacks.
“Bless you,” Liz said. “I’ve been craving a lobster roll all day.”
“I have a whole tray just for you saved in the back,” Elsie assured her.
The couples shower was half wedding shower and half baby shower, though really, Mark’s family seemed to use it as an excuse to drink and chat. I tried to stay out of the way. These were high-society types; they had time and money to spare. There were a number of Wall Street bros, who must be Wes’s friends, talking loudly about whatever business deal they had just made.
Mark was politely listening to a group of them. He caught my eye across the room, excused himself, and came over. He bent down to whisper in my ear, “I think I found your panties. Do you want to come down and get them?”
34
Mark
Brea seemed uncomfortable at the couples shower. Granted, I wasn’t feeling that great myself. The guest list consisted of people who were more business acquaintances and corporate alliance partners than actual trusted friends. The couples shower was more a show of the strength of our family than anything else.
I had no patience for it. Usually I skipped such events whenever my parents hosted. My mother could usually guilt trip me into showing up at the Holbrook Foundation functions because they were for charity and a good cause. But these events that were purely to show off how much money we had and what nice real estate we had were too much.
I tugged Brea by the hand and led her downstairs.
“So where did you find them?” she whispered as I unlocked the door to my condo.
I closed the door behind us and immediately was on top of her, pushing her against a wall and enjoying the taste of her tongue writhing against mine. Hearing her pant, her bewildered voice as I touched her and ravished her, was an aphrodisiac all in itself. She panted, and I quickly led her over to the sofa.
“Think I haven’t been watching you walk around in that skirt? Just tempting me every single second?”
“What, by just standing here in it?”
“Your existence turns me on, and every moment I don’t have you wrapped around my cock is absolute agony.”
“Melodramatic much?” She giggled.
“Only because you drive me crazy. I was never like this before I met you.”
I had her in my arms, spinning her around, holding her close from behind. Even the scent of her hair was driving me wild with lust now. I kissed her, pinching her sweet cheeks, my hand going down her back to that wonderful, plump little ass of hers that I always yearned for.
“You’re really going to fuck me right here and now?”
“Are you objecting?”
I heard no objections.
My hand went under the skirt and felt her pussy, her heat, her wetness, and how much she desired each and every thing I did. I took her panties into my fist, drew them down her legs, and tossed them somewhere. I didn’t care where. I just wanted her hot, wet pussy before me.
Undoing my belt, bringing out my cock, I knew I couldn’t strip her to her much more beautiful state of total nudity. We had to keep some semblance of being reasonable and sweet, as well as not make it too obvious we had fucked one another’s brains out.
I pulled a condom out of my pocket, and the metallic packaging must have caught her eye, because she snatched it away from me. She tore it open, and soon enough, that skillful seamstress hand of hers was rolling it up my cock as it throbbed with need for her. She made even thi
s as sexy as all hell.
I took hold of her, threw her skirt up so I didn’t make a mess of it, and buried my cock in her.
Fuck, she’s too damn perfect. Every second of being inside her was an absolute marvel. Hearing her moan and shudder as I started to fuck her was only icing on the cake, the thing that just made all of this somehow more intense, more perfect than it was.
She bucked into me, becoming more and more into it all, as I was. She was bent over the sofa, letting me fuck her harder, fuck her deeper. The rhythm we set let her moan for me louder and louder. Her moans became stronger as I wiggled my fingers between us, found her clit, and stroked it with every thrust.
We both needed to get off now. We both needed to reach our highest highs, to stave off the lust we had for one another for just a little bit longer. It didn’t take long. It never took long with her. She was my weakness, and I strongly believed I was the same for her. I gave her everything, her hot little pussy taking my full length. I shuddered my orgasm, and she was right there with me, her back arching, her ass jerking against me, her voice crying out in absolute pleasure.
All of it was damn near enough to get me hard and ready to take her again.
I held her tightly and enjoyed the serenity of the moment, the aftershocks of our bliss rolling through the both of us. Fuck, I wished I could have just held her forever.
Brea twisted away from me and looked down at the couch. “Oh,” she said breathily. “There are my panties. You washed them?”
“Of course.”
She smirked at me. “I would have thought you might sniff them and jerk off.”
“Why would I when I have the real thing right here?” I kissed her hard.
“We should probably get back to the party. I’m sure they’ll be missing you,” she said, going to the door.
I grabbed her, cupping her face. “Brea,” I said. “I’m serious about you. I want to be fully committed to you. You don’t have to answer now, but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The only problem with being serious with Brea was my family. Wes and Liz were opening the mound of presents people had given them when Brea and I snuck back into Carter’s condo.
“And we have a…what is that?” my mother, who was taking notes on who gave what gift asked as she peered into the bag Liz had opened.
“It’s for after childbirth,” Ida said loudly. “You use those to clench everything back up. You just stick those balls up in your cooch and follow the exercises on the video. Once you get really good, you can shoot them out at a target. I’m thinking of starting a sports club just for that.”
My mother was silent for a moment, then my grandfather piped up. “I’ve seen her do it. It’s quite something. Dana!”
My cousin raised an eyebrow.
“You should do sex sports for your next reality TV show,” my grandfather suggested. “I know it couldn’t be on network TV, but I bet you would have a lot of people on internet pay per view!”
35
Brea
Thoughts of my paternity issue and of Mark were out of my mind for the next few days. Liz’s wedding was coming up, and I needed to finish her outfits. I sewed as much on the dress as I could without knowing Liz’s final measurements. I was going to fit the dress a few days before the wedding to make sure Liz looked her best. It was unfortunately dark outside when I sewed the last of the seed pearls on the hem. I blinked, my eyes dry from the artificial light.
I looked longingly at the luxury condo that a couple was touring on HGTV. So much natural daylight!
After carefully packing the dress away from the Roombas that were whirring outside, I browsed through my lingerie collection. I liked to gift a little extra something to my brides for the wedding night, and I was trying to decide which pattern I should make for Liz. Since Liz was pregnant, she probably wouldn’t want a sexy corset. However, the ruffled bridal bra-and-panty set might be fun. I pulled out the example set and examined it. It was super cute. There were embroidered phrases on it like I don’t have a dirty mind, I have a sexy imagination and If you rip this off of me, you’re paying for it…with your mouth!
I shivered slightly, remembering Mark’s mouth on me. He had been working late the last few days, and I had had wedding planning and sewing to do, and I missed him. I didn’t just miss him for sex; I missed being around him and the banter and teasing and how protective he was.
“Girl,” I told my reflection in the mirror, “don’t go down that road.” As much as Mark had said he cared about me, I still wasn’t wholly convinced that this was going to be more than a fling. I had seen the type of women who were at that couples shower: well-dressed and from good families. They all knew Mark, and he knew them.
But he didn’t know me. I couldn’t even imagine him meeting my parents. As much as I loved my dads, I hated to admit it, but Memphis Eve was right…they were eccentric. An outsider might call them crazy.
I let my mind wander and tried to envision a wedding between me and Mark. On his side would be well-dressed, well-groomed, rich high-society types. On my side would be my very loyal friends and fellow businesswomen of course. But there would also be my two dads. Todd, to his credit, did own a suit. However, it was bedazzled in sequins in a gold-and-black tiger-stripe pattern. He’d found it at a thrift store, fallen in love, and begged me to restore it. There was only so much I could do to patch moth holes and cigarette burns, but I’d done it. My other dad had taken to wearing capes and robes. He had recently read the Harry Potter books and had gone all in. Memphis Eve and my mother obviously wouldn’t attend. So that left the army of Roombas to fill out the bride’s side of the chapel.
“Yeah, that’s never going to happen,” I told myself. “This thing with Mark is just going to be about me living out my romance-novel fantasies. Good-looking billionaire, hot, steamy sex. Yes please!”
I wriggled into the lingerie set and snapped some quick selfies. I did my best Betty Boop pose—butt out, tits up, kissy face, and bedroom eyes. I sent them to Mark.
Brea: Here’s my little sewing project.
I smirked as I sent Mark the picture. He had tried so hard with the dinosaur. It was adorable.
Ugh, stop getting attached to him. You’re setting yourself up for heartbreak.
Brea: Help!
Sophie: It better not be a bride requesting a cupcake dress. Because after the last one, never again!
Grace: But that dress was all over the news.
Sophie: It was a holy terror to try to get all those cupcakes to stay together. And then having to make the crown of cupcakes. I still have nightmares of a bird coming down and snatching the tiara off of the bride, leaving an explosion of icing.
Elsie: You need to stop eating so late at night.
Amy: Sooo…Grace says you and Mark are getting it on…ahem excuse me…getting along!
Brea: I need to be talked back from the ledge. He sewed me a stuffed animal.
Sophie: Awww! That’s so sweet!
Ivy: When’s the wedding?
Brea: There can’t be one!
Amy: I thought you told him the truth?
Brea: It was a partial, sugarcoated truth.
Brea: Besides, we would never work together. His family is old-money eccentric, and mine is just crazy.
Grace: Is his dick giving you a religious experience?
Brea: I mean he definitely makes me scream, Oh my God! a lot.
Grace: That’s what’s important. Slake your sexual thirst. It’s just lust.
But after all that texting, I hadn’t received as much as an eggplant emoji from Mark.
“Guess that means he also doesn’t like you that much either,” I grumped as I turned off the TV, put on a sheer robe, and ventured out into the kitchen.
As I was contemplating whether I wanted marshmallows in my cereal, there was pounding at the front door.
“If that’s Memphis Eve,” I snapped, “I swear!”
I peeked through the peephole. Mark was on the o
ther side.
He pushed his way in and wasted no time in jumping on me. He took in my lingerie, raised his eyebrows appreciatively, and was already unbuttoning himself.
I was thinking maybe I would tease him a bit, but here he was, going from three to ninety-five in an instant. Not that I minded. I grabbed him by the tie and dragged him into my bedroom before he could start shucking clothes every which way.
He scooted me back to my desk, pushed my hair out of my eyes, and kissed me all too strongly and suddenly. He ran his hands down my curves, over the lacy lingerie. My nipples poked through the sheer fabric, ready for him.
“Assume the position,” he growled in a playful yet commanding tone.
I bent myself over the desk. Mark pressed his mouth against the silky panties, his hot breath making my pussy soaking wet. He slapped me on the ass then continued to mouth and tease me through the fabric. I ground back against him, and he reached up to stroke and pinch my nipples under the lacy bra.
I looked back over my shoulder. He was undressed. His cock was hard and throbbing and pointed right at me. Mark gave me a smoldering look. He had come prepared, rolling the condom out on his cock, denying me my playful way of practicing safe sex. Then he tangled a large hand in my hair, pushed my panties to the side, and plunged his cock into me, filling me, washing me with pleasure. The electricity jolted through me wonderfully, and my toes curled from the sensation of his thick cock moving in my pussy.
The pace he set was strong and powerful; he wasted little time in turning up the heat and intensity. I gripped the edge of my old desk tightly and thrust myself back against him, meeting his intensity with my own, his cock pounding into me again and again.
