The Billionaire Brothers

by Victoria Villeneuve

  “Don’t stop...” she breathed to Tom.

  “Oh, I won’t,” he assured her with a lustful smile.

  He knew already that, when her fingers were doing the talking, all Megan needed was a steady thrusting, in whichever place, and her orgasm was as certain as it was overwhelming. He always looked forward to feeling her come while buried inside her ass. The tensing muscles around his cock were heavenly, as was the warm gush from her excited pussy. This orgasm built quickly, Megan twisting her head away as it approached, and gasping loudly into the pillow as her body was taken over by the dizzying peak of their sex.

  “I’m... coming... Tom...” It was a rising, pleading tone, as much an entreaty for him to keep on fucking her as it was an announcement of her climax. Her body tensed for the twelfth time today – or was it the fifteenth? – and just from her pussy dripped down to liberally coat Tom’s already-slippery erection.

  As her spasms eased, she gently led him to let his cock slip out of her ass, and together they washed him in a bedside basin and took a towel from the pile to dry him off. As he did so, he checked his phone. “It’s Andrea,” he announced, reading her text. “She’d like to stay over at Karen Fisher’s place,” he added as though posing a knotty, philosophical quandary. “What do you think?”

  Megan made a show of lengthy deliberation. “Do you know Karen’s parents?”

  “Sure. Her mother is a lawyer for a company we deal with. See her a few times a year. Nice people.”

  “Any downsides to her staying over?” Megan asked conspiratorially.

  “Not a single one,” Tom replied. “But lots of upsides.” He glanced down at his half-faded erection, wrapped in a towel. “All clean again,” Tom declaimed.

  “Good,” Megan said, and within seconds, her mouth warmly enveloped his cock.

  Tom and Megan relaxed with the realization that their sex could be unhurried. They took their time in finding and experiencing their orgasms, trying new positions and combinations. Megan came the hardest when kneeling up to let Tom fuck her and pressing a vibrator to her clit. Tom gave thanks that his house was 60 yards from any neighbor’s property, as Megan wailed through a string of intense orgasms. The last shuddering peak was a mutual one. Megan’s face twisted, almost as if in pain, as Tom exploded inside her yet again.

  He pulled her onto her side as they breathed in tandem and cuddled, still joined, relaxing together.

  After getting their breath back, both drank deeply from the carafe of water Tom had thoughtfully prepared. “What do you think about going out to dinner?” Tom asked.

  Reclining, nude and juice-smeared on his bed, Megan was not full of opinions. “Take-out?”

  “Sure,” Tom laughed. “Although I think we already have stuff to make starters.”

  “Really?” she asked, lazing like a satisfied feline.

  “I’m thinking of having the ‘shaved, aroused pussy’ for my starter,” Tom said, parting Megan’s legs and moving to kiss between them.

  “I think I’ll have a cocktail to begin,” Megan quipped, nudging him until he saw what she desired. A one-eighty degree turn, and their next lovemaking could begin.

  “Ah, the classic ‘soixante-neuf platter’. An excellent choice,” he offered, slipping his penis between her lips. A muffled but contented sigh was his answer. Eyes closed at the sudden warmth and pleasure on his cock, Tom began his own starter, a long and juicy exploration, with his fingers and tongue, of his girlfriend’s ever-willing pussy.

  ***

  She normally hated Boston’s Monday morning traffic, but today felt a little different.

  It was much less stressful from the passenger seat, and Tom bore the burden with practiced ease.

  “There in three minutes, sport,” he called back to Andrea. “Did Mrs. Fisher give you a good breakfast?”

  “Pancakes!” Andrea confirmed gleefully.

  Megan turned to smile at her. “Oh, those sound good!” Her own breakfast had been coffee, bagels, and a quick fuck in the shower.

  The traffic seemed to open for them, like a wave receding from a tranquil beach. Perhaps, she mused, just being around Tom helped her relax; she certainly felt amazing this morning. Her body had a glow, an inner contentment known only to those who have tested the upper limits of sexual pleasure, and not once but many, many times. She couldn’t but notice a slight ache between her legs – certainly not from lack of lubrication, Tom had joked earlier. She attributed it to having come so hard and so many times that her g-spot was urgently in need of a rest. She planned on giving it until after dinner tonight to make its recovery; Tom had already promised a swanky dinner out together, after which he announced his intentions to take Megan’s pleasure receptors, once more, to their outer limits. It made her slightly wet, just to imagine it.

  Andrea disappeared, squealing her goodbyes, into the mass of little people beginning a day at school. Megan’s more relaxed, post-exam schedule allowed her the morning at home, but Tom was due at the lab in Cambridge, and then for a sequence of meetings downtown.

  “I should be done at around 6:30,” Tom said. “Shall I pick you up at 7:30? Sophia’s going to look after Andrea again.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Sounds great. But make sure you spend time with her, as well as with me.”

  Tom nodded, grateful once again for Megan’s unselfish kindness. “Wear something fabulous tonight,” he requested.

  She grinned and stroked his knee seductively as the car pulled up outside Megan’s apartment. “Any special requests?” she asked, turning his face and giving him a deep kiss.

  “Yeah, two. First, wear the red lacey panties tonight, OK?” Megan nodded and kissed him again. “And second, please don’t give me a boner when I’m going to be thinking about science all morning!”

  Megan giggled naughtily, a sound Tom found he adored. “You sure you don’t want to come upstairs?”

  “Megan!” he complained. “Look at the time! I have to get going. Please.”

  She resisted the temptation to squeeze his growing erection, which would surely have led to him chasing her up the stairs and enjoying a quickie, all the more delicious for being so inappropriate. Instead, she kissed him goodbye and took a long, hot shower, narrowly deciding to give her slightly sore clitoris a break, despite how amazing the shower-head felt when sprayed directly on her exposed bud.

  Dressed and feeling on top of the world, Megan decided to clean up. Throwing open the windows and shoving laundry in the machine, Megan brightened and cleaned the little apartment, throwing away old flowers and going so far as to finally unload the dishwasher. She was just relaxing on the sofa, admiring the neatness of her work, when there was a knock at the door.

  “Hi Megan,” Jake said. He stood in bright sunshine, tall and handsome. “These are for you.” He proffered an expensive-looking bouquet of flowers with a hopeful smile.

  “Jake, I really don’t think you should be here,” was her disappointing reaction. “I think you know why, and I hope you respect me enough to give me space.” It came out confidently, smoothly, almost as if rehearsed.

  “At least,” he argued mildly, “let me come in for a moment? I’ve got something for you.”

  “The flowers are more than enough,” she said warily, “by way of an apology.”

  “I can do better than flowers,” he promised.

  Megan folded her arms, standing impassively in the doorway as though deliberately blocking it. “A man with your resources can do anything he wants,” Megan replied. “That’s not the point. You need to understand that things have changed.”

  He ignored her, like a salesman who only wants to hear one answer. “Come to Paris with me. Tonight,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes as if somehow trying to hypnotize her.

  Paris?

  She stared at him in shocked confusion. “Jake, be serious. You know I’m with Tom, now.”

  Why is it that the only guy ever to invite me to Paris has to be this childish idiot?

  “Three nigh
ts. The opera, the Eiffel Tower. The Louvre. The best wine in the world. What do you say?”

  Megan frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re not listening to me. And I find that really rude. You can’t just dangle things like this in front of me, and expect me to beg like a hungry puppy.”

  Jake was still the salesman. “The best hotel in the city. Already reserved.” He grinned. “A four-poster bed.”

  Paris? A nice big bed and amazing sex with Jake? How can you refuse?

  Megan refused. “I’m not going to Paris with you, Jake. Or anywhere else. Please try to understand.”

  His confident, nonchalant smile began to fade. “I hope you reconsider.”

  “No, Jake. I’m seeing Tom tonight,” she advised him. “And tomorrow night, hopefully.” Her strength of feeling surprised her, emerging in a rush of words. “And many nights and days and months and years after that.”

  He was glaring at her now, his expression darkly telling. I am not used to being spurned, young lady. He said nothing, but Megan knew it was time to close the door.

  “Jake, I’m going to go inside now. I’m sorry to waste the flowers. Please let me be.”

  Megan pushed the door closed but, just before the lock could connect, the door was shoved back, hard, almost knocking her off her feet. “Jake, stop!”

  “I’m sorry!” he called out. “I didn’t mean to push so hard...”

  She grabbed the edge of the door and flung it closed. Unbalanced from his efforts, Jake was tipped back and very nearly caught his fingers in the door as it slammed shut, the frame shaking. Megan yelled through the door. “Go away or I’ll call the cops!”

  “I’m not going anywhere!” Jake replied, suddenly much angrier, his fist pounding on the door as though trying to punch through it. “You come out here and talk to me!”

  Megan fled up the stairs and grabbed her phone. “Tom? I’m sorry to call at work... No, not quite alright... Listen, can you come over right away?” There was another, insistent pounding from the bottom of the stairs. “Yes, right now. I’ve got Jake on my doorstep and he won’t leave.”

  Megan closed the inner door at the top of the stairs and retreated to the sofa. Even from the living room, Jake’s yells and intermittent banging on the door were all too audible. Megan debated calling the police, as she had threatened, but something stopped her: the thought of Andrea’s sad, confused question, “Megan? Why does the Internet say uncle Jake was taken away by the police? What did he do wrong?”

  Instead, she sat and tried to breathe deeply, letting the minutes pass. The noise abated as Jake began to realize his pounding was having no effect, but he began calling up to Megan’s living room window.

  “Megan? I’m sorry I got angry. Can you please just let me in?”

  She sat up straight and took deeper breaths, focusing only on them. The noise outside receded, out to the periphery of her attention. Soon, she found she could ignore it, as the sound and sensations of her breathing became the only things in the world.

  In.... Out....

  “Megan? You can’t just lock me out. We’re great together, you know that. And you know I make you happy.”

  In.... Out....

  “This is ridiculous, Megan. Please open the door. At least let me give you the flowers. Then I’ll go, I promise.”

  In.... Please, Jake, just fuck off.... Out....

  “I’m serious about Paris. We’ll take my plane,” he called out. “Remember?”

  In.... I did really love joining the mile-high club.... Out....

  Then he was quiet. There were voices, quieter and less distinct, and Megan couldn’t tell whose they were. She finished a final cycle of deep breathing and rose to go to the window.

  Tom was standing by his car, having just arrived, speaking intently with Jake. The younger brother, bunch of flowers still incongruously in his hand, was gesturing to the house, then to himself. In turn, Tom pointed strongly to Jake’s car, seemingly ordering him away. Tom’s face became angrier as Jake refused, becoming the petulant teenager Megan had previously taken him for.

  When it came, Megan was as shocked as she was horrified.

  Jake lifted the flowers and swiped them down at Tom. Petals and leaves exploded around them. Jake followed with a strong right hook which thudded against Tom’s skull, but seemed to hurt Jake more than his brother. As Jake shook his hand back to life, Tom bruised the younger man’s solar plexus with a hard upper-cut. Winded, Jake was sent staggering back.

  Megan was at the door even before the last petal hit the ground. “Stop it, both of you!”

  Tom followed the sound and quickly raised a hand to warn her away. Using the distraction, Jake tried again with his right and this time thumped Tom hard across the face. When he staggered to his feet, Tom was spitting blood.

  “Stop it!” Megan screamed.

  Jake lunged in again but Tom stepped back to avoid him, using the forward motion to trip him. Jake recovered too slowly and, while still on his knees, couldn’t avoid a savage, direct punch, right in the center of his face.

  It was like watching a house of cards collapse. Jake tipped heavily over onto his back, sprawled in an ungainly heap on the grass, and was still.

  ***

  Megan sheepishly nodded a hello to yet another passing nurse. There was little chance of keeping this embarrassing debacle on the down-low if classmates and their friends kept passing her in the waiting room, and after the third time, she simply accepted that her whole class would soon know all about it. She hid behind a copy of House & Garden and pretended to be invisible until the doctor returned.

  “Miss Peterson?”

  Megan rose to speak with the young, black doctor tasked with repairing the two brothers. “How are they?”

  The doctor, at six foot six, perhaps the tallest medic she’d ever seen, led her into a quiet corner. “It seems to have quite a fist-fight,” he offered. “Jake was knocked clean out, and you did everything right by putting him in the recovery position and calling for an ambulance.”

  Megan shrugged. “I’m a trainee nurse practitioner.”

  “Well, you helped a lot. He’s mildly concussed and will need a couple of stitches. Right now he’s got a thumping headache, so you might want to wait until his mood improves a bit.”

  Megan couldn’t suppress a broad smile at the idea of Jake snarling at the medics as they tried to help him. “What about Tom?”

  The doctor flipped to another page in his chart. “Doing better. His nose is broken, but it’s a relatively clean break, across the bridge. We’ve got ice on there to reduce swelling and he’s on painkillers. We’ll know more once the swelling has come down and we can get Tom in for a CT scan. We do suspect that he might have damaged some cartilage, but we won’t know until the scan.”

  Megan frowned. “So, how long will you need to keep him in?”

  “Two or three days, at the most,” the doctor replied. “Just to be sure. But you can see him now, if you want to.”

  Megan followed the doctor through a half-dozen hallways, all with the same light-blue color scheme, and found Tom sitting up in bed. His room had two beds, though the other was empty. A nurse was taking his vital signs and he tried to smile around the electronic thermometer stuck in his mouth.

  “Looking good, Tom,” the cheerful, young nurse said brightly. “And you’ve got a visitor. I’ll leave you to it. Call if you need anything.”

  “They just took the ice off,” he explained, the blue cold pack still in his hand. “It felt amazing. How are you?”

  Not, ‘how’s Jake’, but ‘how are you’? Is this one concussed, as well?

  “Oh, just thrilled to be the reason for a fight between two brothers.” She was being only half sarcastic, as Tom well knew. Whoever had started it, and however it had happened, Megan didn’t deserve to witness this fraternal fallout.

  “I’m sorry,” he said glumly. “It’s all so stupid.”

  “You got that right.” She sat on the bed and held his
hand. “Jake’s woken up and is shouting at people. They say he’s got a concussion.”

  “No surprise, really,” Tom commented. “I did hit him pretty hard. Just the way it turned out, I guess.”

  Megan hated violence. It spoke of a loss of control, and a lack of imagination. For two brothers to raise their fists, communication must have been particularly poor. And for them to commit to hurting each other, in front of a woman both professed to love and respect... It beggared belief, the more Megan thought about it. And, though Tom was hardly the aggressor, neither had come out of the incident covered in righteousness.

  “You knocked him out. On the front lawn of my apartment building.”

  “Yes, I know.” Tom was downcast, despite feeling a certain pride in his undoubted victory.

  “People saw, you know. I can’t believe the cops didn’t show up until after the ambulance did. Thankfully, Jake isn’t pressing charges.”

  Tom sat up even straighter in bed. “Jake isn’t pressing charges? What about me?” He gestured to Megan. “What about you? Threatening behavior,” he checked off the crimes on his fingers, “public disorder, invasion of privacy, assault...”

  “Being an asshole,” Megan ventured.

  Tom stopped his legal harangue and smiled at her as best he could until pain from his nose made him wince. “You got that right. But, still, I’m sorry you had to see that. When I get out of here, which I hope is soon...”

  “Two or three days, they told me.”

  “Shit... Well, once I get out, I’ll make it up to you.” He thought for a second. “Could you pass me my phone? I need to speak with Sophia.”

  “Already taken care of,” she said, leaving his phone where it was, among his clothes on a chair by the bed. “All you need to do is relax. Andrea’s going to visit a little later.”

  Tom’s face fell with worry. “What does she know?”

  Megan had called her even before their arrival at the hospital. “That Uncle Jake and you were driving through town to a meeting and a tourist hit you with their car.”

  Tom nodded gratefully at the hastily-built subterfuge. “Nice. Although you could just have blamed one of Boston’s drivers, and not a tourist.”