The F*ck Book: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  “Oh no,” she gasped. “I think you’re right. My last period was six weeks ago.”

  A grin split my face from ear to ear.

  “Melly,” I growled, protectively circling her with my arms. “You’re going to be a mommy … to our baby.”

  And she leaned back and laughed with me, our joy contagious.

  Things didn’t always look so good. Melly had had some crazy idea of going into porn full-time, as the reputational damage had already been done.

  “Why not?” she asked heatedly. “I’m a feminist and believe that women should own their bodies and not let the media run like wild dogs over something that belongs to me.”

  Stryke and I couldn’t argue with that. We’re pornographers and girls are obviously our trade. But contrary to popular belief, pornographers are often the biggest feminists because our performers should be able to ply their craft without feeling ashamed. So I agreed with our sister wholeheartedly.

  “Of course Mel, it’s not that we have anything against you being an adult actress,” said my brother, “it’s just that we don’t want to share you. You belong to us now, we belong to each other, and I don’t think that any of us should perform anymore.”

  Because yeah, Stryke and I have done porn in the past just to get a feel of what it was like in front of the camera. But honestly, our faces weren’t even shown on film because that’s how little straight guys matter in porn. We’d only shared the secret with Melly so that she knew we empathized, that we knew how it felt to be on exposed and completely naked.

  Plus, the hullabaloo from the Trinity University scandal had died down. It was in the news for a while more and Melly got a ton of book offers and interview requests. Lifetime even wanted to do a movie based on her experience.

  But the story ended because she’d withdrawn from Trinity and was no longer appearing in adult films. Besides, with the pregnancy soon she’d be big enough to fit a house, which didn’t exactly correspond with her image as naughty schoolgirl … unless you wanted naughty pregnant schoolgirl.

  So our little girl was now in a good place, safe with us, pregnant with a much-desired baby.

  It only left the issue of Lauren, that bitch of a roommate who’d outed Mel. We’d revealed the findings of our private investigator, and our sister had been shocked.

  “No brothers, it can’t be,” she said, shaking her head disbelievingly. “It can’t be Lauren,” she said again. “She has nothing to gain and besides, why would she do this? We’re friends.”

  Somehow, our little sister was touchingly naïve when it came to girl on girl betrayal.

  “Baby,” I said slowly. “There are a million reasons why Lauren might want to secretly film you. Maybe she was jealous of you or maybe she wanted to have the film for future blackmail. Who knows?”

  Melly’s eyes had filled with tears.

  “I trusted her,” she said softly. “She was my best friend at school.”

  “I know honey, but some people aren’t what they appear,” Stryke said. “This bitch will never come close to you again.”

  And we’d pretty much ensured that Lauren’s life was going to be hell going forward. We’d demanded that Ralph fire her from the Donkey Club, and due to our connections, she’d never work as a high-class stripper again. Good luck paying that forty six thousand dollar tuition.

  But honestly, no one cared about Lauren anymore. The whore was an annoying gnat that we’d swatted and it was time to move onto more important things.

  “Honey,” I said, stroking Melly’s belly. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good,” she smiled, taking both our hands and putting one on each side of her stomach. “Do you feel her kicking?”

  My brother and I were entranced, the thought of our daughter doing somersaults bewitching and wonderful.

  “Wait a minute,” Sax said slowly. “You know it’s a girl?”

  “I do,” confirmed Melanie. “I went to the doctor today and brothers,” she said in a rush, “I’m thinking about naming her Trinity.”

  Both Sax and I shook our heads vehemently no.

  “That’s a terrible idea sister,” ground out Sax. “Trinity was your porn alter ego. If you hadn’t walked away when you did, Melanie would have become Trinity and we would have lost you completely.”

  “That’s right, sister,” I agreed. “Naming the baby Trinity is a big mistake. You were drowning in a cesspool, there’s no reason to re-live it through our daughter.”

  But Melanie merely giggled.

  “Brothers, I was joking with you,” she teased. “The look on your faces was totally worth it. Actually, I was thinking of naming her Stryxon … after her daddies.”

  Stryxon. Hmmm, not a very girly name but perfect in every way.

  “Baby, that’s a great idea,” rumbled Sax into her ear.

  “Perfect,” I agreed, closing the circle of trust.

  We kissed her slowly, our hands rubbing her tummy in anticipation of the baby to come. Because our sister had morphed far beyond merely schoolgirl Melanie or porn star Trinity. She had become Saxon and Stryke’s lover and Stryxon’s mom.

  THE END

  DOUBLE BANG

  A Twin Stepbrother Sports Romance

  (Erotic Romance, PI, Massive Size, MFM Ménage)

  © 2016

  By Cassandra Dee

  A SNEAK PEEK

  And the men, seeing the wet spot under me, chuckled deeply, their eyes sweeping over me with satisfaction, nude for their gaze, filled with their seed.

  “We’ll see you back at the wedding,” teased one, zipping himself back up.

  “Oh yeah,” agreed the other, shaking off his dick before covering it up, the droplets hitting me, that special, warm jism a memento.

  And suddenly they were gone, disappearing into the woods with a flash. Oh god, oh god. The men were guests at my mom’s wedding, and I was going to have to get up in front of them and read a poem about eternal bliss and the sanctity of marriage … with the taste of their sperm in my mouth.

  PROLOGUE

  Stacey

  The hotel room was amazing. I’d been upgraded to a luxury suite, a two-bedroom with a private kitchen to boot. But I was most excited about the bath. After a long day at work, a hot shower was just what I needed to wash away the stress of the day.

  With a delirious sigh, I stripped, dropping my clothes in a heap in the hall. It was so nice, the deep pile rug sinking with each step, the coolness of the air causing a slight shiver run over my skin after a hot day on the field.

  Suddenly an unexpected gust of cold hit me. Damnit, hotels always blast the A/C, it’s almost like they expect Santa as a guest. I crossed my arms over my breasts, goose-bumps pimpling, the little hairs on my legs standing up from the unexpected chill. Vigorously rubbing my arms, I scampered over to the thermostat and saw that it was set at eighty. What the? The room was sixty at most, this thing had to be broken.

  I’ll step into the shower and warm up, I thought to myself. It’ll only take five minutes. But common sense took over. Once I got out of the warm water, it’d be freezing still and I’d probably catch cold. I couldn’t afford to get sick, a sick day means your stand-in’s called up and I hated Pepper Jones. That bitch is after my job and she’d leap at the opportunity to shine. Better to call maintenance now.

  Dressed in nothing but my birthday suit, pink bits gleaming, I found the hotel phone and picked it up.

  “Ms. Light, how can we help you?” chirped a voice into my ear.

  Oh right. I’d forgotten that the hotel phone doesn’t even need to ring, the operator’s right there. Plus their caller ID is fantastic and recognized me from the computerized guest records.

  “Hi, I’m calling about the temperature in my room,” I said quickly. “It’s way too cold in my room and I tried adjusting the thermostat, but I think it’s broken. Can you send someone up please?”

  “Of course,” replied the disembodied voice. “You’re in Suite 301, right?”

  “That’s
right,” I confirmed. “Thank you so much.”

  “Is it okay for hotel maintenance to come into your room if you’re not there?” the voice spoke again.

  “Of course,” I replied. With work the way it was, there was no guarantee that I’d be in my room at any given time. Besides, my stuff would be safe, I wasn’t worried about that.

  So with a hop, skip and jump I hung up and dashed into the en suite, shutting myself in the marbled luxury. Oh wow, a tub and a shower, I hadn’t expected that. But no time for a bubble bath right now, my agent was waiting downstairs for a late dinner.

  Instead, I blasted the water in the stall, admiring the gold trim on the doors, the clear glass looking out onto a mirrored expanse. Stepping into the small space I could see my image refracted again and again, like funhouse mirrors, and I watched, distracted, as my nude figure picked up the shampoo and began massaging my hair. Man, just seeing myself from so many angles made me dizzy.

  But I shook my head and closed my eyes, willing the headache at the base of my skull to dissipate. Luxuriating in the steam, I began soaping up, running the scented bath gel over my smooth limbs, my body slippery and wet, toned and tan. It’d been a long day and I could definitely use a rib eye at dinner, maybe a glass of wine, and then early to bed for my four a.m. call time the next day.

  But my mind kept wandering, the water so hot, pounding on my body, making me dream about an alpha male who’d give it to me good … or maybe two alpha males.

  Because twins are my thing. This is going to sound so wrong, but I’ve been obsessed with twins ever since my mom married Gordon Jones. Or married into Gordon’s family, more accurately. My new stepdad had two sons, Pax and Peyton, and I’d had a crush on them since … well, about forever actually.

  It’s crazy to be fantasizing about your twin stepbrothers, but did that stop me? Hell no, they can’t put you in jail for dirty thoughts. Instead, I lathered up, luxuriating in the warm steam, letting water pound my body sensuously. Droplets ran down my curves and I pretended they were the twins’ fingers, sensuously tracing the curves of my breasts, running over a sensitive nipple, tickling my tips, tweaking, pulling until they were hard and pointy.

  Oh god, that felt good and I moaned, parting my lips slightly, closing my eyes, letting my thoughts run. My hands drifted up and down my belly before caressing the curve of my hips, gently massaging my thighs before dipping down between my legs, brushing against that intimate part of me.

  And what do you know, I was running already, sweet nectar already pouring from my inner sanctum, oozing as I ramped up the heat, stroking myself while dreaming of Pax and Peyton.

  My nub hardened immediately, that little clit tensing with energy, begging to be stroked, to be touched and caressed by a man’s massive hand. And for kicks, I imagined four hands stroking, lifting a leg for better access.

  Oh yeah, that was it! Parting my thighs, my channel came into full view, the dark pink moist and engorged, steaming with its own sensuous, private heat. With a sigh, I reached for the shower head and yanked it off its setting. It was my favorite kind, a goose head that you can manipulate this way and that, twisting and turning for your pleasure.

  With zero hesitation, I pulled that baby close up to my twat, blasting the spray so that it pointed straight at my pussy, pounding my clit with the warm water, letting my cunny get a liquid massage, squealing a little from the tickling sensations, panting and heaving as the pound did its work.

  My knees went weak and I almost collapsed in the shower but I wasn’t done yet … not even close. With a sly smile, I pulled the shower head closer and began stroking my clit with it. Oh god, yeah. It felt so good, that warm, hard metal against my little nub, smooth and slick, firm strokes making me cream as the water pulsed.

  It was so delicious that I almost passed out but I wasn’t done yet. I wanted to come, hard with no mercy, my little cunny clenching with jerks, and there was a plan. I’d brought my friend into the bathroom. Oh yeah, I’d packed a wall dildo for the trip, the kind with a suction on one end, perfect for mounting on a glass shower partition.

  At first, I licked the rubber, sucking it a bit, running my tongue up and down that massive shaft before massaging it with my fingers. Technology is amazing now, it was just like real cock, hard and yet soft at the same time, a stiff rubber base encased in the softest spongy material, bouncing back against my questing fingertips. It even smelled slightly musty, like a real cock and balls, hard yet loose in all the right places against my tongue. This would be amazing.

  With shaking hands, I plunked it onto the wall about waist-high, maybe a little higher. I’ve always liked my men taller than me, a lot taller actually, so when they fuck me standing I’m on my tippytoes, trying hard to balance, to stay upright while a monster goes at me from behind. And this was no different. I measured a couple inches up from my pussy and smacked the dildo against the wall, sticking it with a loud suck. Oh yeah, showtime.

  Turning, I spread my legs, cuddling that penis between my thighs, rocking a bit, moaning, letting it rub against my snatch, pretending it was the real thing. Oh yeah, fifteen inches … just like my stepbrothers.

  But I was too turned-on to wait much longer. Leaning forward at the waist, I braced my hands on the shower seat and began backing my pussy up against the toy, feeling the hot, spongy head probe my lips, pressing up against that puffy, engorged flesh. Oh yeah, it felt good, real good. With a deep sigh, I began slowly pushing backwards against that hard length. Damn, it was so realistic I could almost feel a hard vein pulsing, like a real man about to blow his load.

  And here’s where my second friend came in. I’d brought along my massive black dildo, my favorite ten-inch toy. Mr. Mongo has been with me a long time, carried me through many a lonely night, coming with me on multiple business trips. As I backed my pussy onto the wall shaft, I slowly licked Mr. Mongo, my mouth encasing that monster length, the width stretching my lips tight, making me gag a little before I forced it down further, almost choking myself, my cheeks growing full before my throat opened and I swallowed the hard pole.

  Because this is what gets me off. I can’t come from just one dick, I need two. I need Pax and Peyton with me, their double dongs doing me, probing, penetrating, making me sigh and shudder. I need a double bang to get the magic going, and this time was no exception.

  With the water blasting, I pushed my hips back until I was fully impaled on the wall dildo, that massive dong reaching up my inner channel until it bumped my cervix, hitting me again and again as I fucked it, going in and out all the way with each stroke.

  Meanwhile, I began tonguing Mr. Mongo, forcing it in, in, in until I’d swallowed the monster, fully embedded so that only its base stuck out between my lips. It must have been obscene, I know, to see that massive black length in me, its outline visibly moving down my throat as I opened my esophagus, struggling mightily as I pummeled my behind against the wall.

  And slowly, the sensations built and began to surge. With a rhythmic swaying motion, I rocked up and down, my pussy beginning to shatter while mouth-fucking myself, the cream dripping down my thighs, rising up against that hard shaft while my lips stretched and pulled, the better with which to take acreage.

  And my cunt began to burn, a slow, relentless slide, starting with a tingle in my clit to become a shake in my pussy walls, electric jolts running up and down my spine before exploding in my twat, causing my knees to weaken, my arms losing all power as my puss spasmed and clenched, clamping down on the dick inside like it was the tastiest popsicle, the huge rod the source of all ecstasy.

  I choked out a scream, my voice muffled, my screams drowned out by the pounding beat of the water, droplets running into my eyes as I double-fucked myself, dreaming all the time of twins with charcoal hair, deft, agile fingers, and massive cocks that pleasured me until I was a screaming mess.

  Oh god, oh god, oh god. The release was like a nuclear blast, my juice shooting out, coating the glass in my personal nectar, the sweet ambrosia copiou
s and flowing. My pussy gave it up, spasming and shaking, sending shivers through my spine, tingles all the way to my fingers and toes, my whines of ecstasy high-pitched and hoarse.

  Slowly, I began to come down from heaven as my breathing evened, pulling the cock from my mouth, inch after inch appearing, glossy and appetizing, so huge yet mouth-wateringly delicious.

  And as I straightened, the wall dildo pulled out of me on its own, a loud squelch signaling its retreat, drenched in my personal juice, sweet and tangy-smelling.

  And me? Well, I was done for now, my breasts heaving, my cunny still twitching after the massive pound. The only problem? My climax wasn’t enough, I needed more. I needed Pax and Peyton, my stepbrothers … in the flesh.

  PART I

  CHAPTER ONE

  Pax

  I sat back on the sofa, aimlessly flipping through the channels. Lounging, I spread my arms along the backrest, stretching my legs out.

  “Wanna beer?” asked my brother.

  “Sure,” I grunted and wordlessly Peyton tossed me a Coors.

  Yeah, we’re not fancy dudes. Even with NFL contracts we’re still simple guys, a can of beer hits the spot, no need for a magnum of Dom. Not that we’d pass on the champagne, it’s just there was no need to be P. Diddy. No way I’d be caught in an all-white get-up, white shoes, white shirt, white suit, although traveling by helicopter is pretty sweet.

  So it was with a grunt that I lay back on the couch, thinking back to our last game. It’d been a blow-out, the Chargers rolling over the Dolphins like a bunch of high school girls. That was how bad the Dolphs were, their defense pathetic, their offense even worse. I wouldn’t be surprised if their head coach was fired, it was downright embarrassing to score absolutely nothing in a game.

  But now, time for relaxation. I flicked through channels randomly, bored by most things. Reality TV, Jeopardy, the Real Housewives, damn this sucked. No way was I watching some middle-aged hags screaming at each other over the latest designer bag, I’d rather claw my eyes out first.