The Good Twin's Baby

by Vivien Vale

  I fucking understand.

  In hindsight, I should’ve made it one of the questions of the interview, I guess.

  “So, tell me June, are you a virgin, or have you fucked someone before today?”

  “Mm, no.” June’s voice is tentative, hesitant, yet honest.

  “But...” Her voice is still a little shaky. “I’m ready. I’m ready for you.”

  Suddenly, she looks even smaller to me than before. Small and vulnerable.

  “Mmm,” I murmur and let my hand move toward her pussy.

  This time, instead of entering her with my finger, I simply rub against her clit. It’s as if I’ve sent tiny electric shock waves through her body. The merest touch of her clit has her arch her back and thrust her pelvis upward.

  She’s electrified.

  My own cock is vibrating with anticipation. I ignore it and keep my attention on her clit.

  Gently, I let my finger draw small circles over it and then lightly brush backwards and forwards as if I was painter trying to make sure a particularly stubborn spot gets a good coating of paint.

  Her body is quivering and tensing. I can tell she’s never experienced anything like this.

  This ex-fiancé of hers must have been a total dope. I don’t know how he could hang around June for longer than a day without wanting to fuck her. I’ve only been with her for half a day, and I’m finding it incredibly difficult to exercise restraint.

  With her increasing moaning and her fingers digging into my back, I know she’s about to have her first orgasm.

  To make sure she gets as much pleasure out of this as possible, I slow my rubbing down gradually—almost to a stop—before I move back in the other direction increasing rhythm and tempo.

  This is enough to tip her over the edge and send her on a joy ride of gigantic proportions. Her body tightens, shakes, and then relaxes again.

  Looking at her face, I see her cheeks are flushed and her eyes have a faraway look in them.

  “What…you…”

  In reply to her incomplete sentence, my cock points straight up, and I feel her fingers gently touch it.

  Now it’s my turn to be engulfed in electric shockwaves.

  This is going to be one of the hardest things I’m going to have to fucking do tonight: not fuck her.

  Instead of a reply, I roll on top of her. Nothing wrong with letting my cock at least touch her wet pussy.

  I’m confident I can pull away before I do anything stupid.

  At least, I think I can.

  Chapter 10

  June

  I feel his hands on my bare skin, touching and stroking and teasing me in ways that my body has never known.

  I’ve never known a man like this. I’ve never felt this way before.

  Back in Wheatfield, a kiss with too much tongue would have felt unchaste and inappropriate. Too fast. Too much.

  But I’m not in Wheatfield anymore. If the things Carter is doing to my body right now are too much, then too much is exactly what I want. What I need.

  Maybe I’ve always needed this. Maybe I’ve always secretly wanted to feel this way deep down.

  Or maybe Carter has awakened something inside me with his lips against mine and his hands roaming my body with such reckless abandon.

  My preacher wouldn’t approve, and I wouldn’t want my daddy to know…

  But Carter’s touch doesn’t feel wrong. It doesn’t feel sinful or naughty, and it doesn’t make my body feel dirty or impure.

  In fact, I feel like every place he touches me—my neck, my collarbone, my hip, the curve of my breast—every one of those places is glowing golden just from feeling the warmth of his bare hands.

  I feel more connected to my body than I knew was possible, every nerve I possess singing out at his touch.

  I’m beyond thought, beyond question. I know with certainty that I need more. I need all of him.

  “I want you.” I say, my voice surprisingly calm, full of conviction.

  I lean even closer to him, desperately trying to narrow the gap between us. Every inch, every centimeter feels like the most cavernous of voids.

  “I need you. Be with me.” I say, again in that voice that seems not quite my own.

  I don’t know this woman, so certain and bold. I have never even suspected her existence. But here she is, bubbling up out of me, somehow awoken by his touch.

  He shakes his head, and I swear my heart skips a beat.

  “I want to,” he says. “Believe me, I want to.”

  “Then what’s the matter?” I ask, fear creeping through me, disturbing the passion.

  Back to my old self then.

  He looks down the length of my naked body, his eyes seeming to touch me almost as much as his hands do.

  “I just can’t.” he says, “There’s a bigger picture here.”

  His eyes roam back to my face, halting to lock with my own. Tiny electric sparks fly between us.

  “Besides,” he says, voice full of restraint, “this day hasn’t been easy for you. That’s the last thing you need.”

  My disappointment is palpable. I can feel it radiating through me, threatening to overwhelm even my most rational thoughts. Where seconds ago there was a raging inferno, there is now but a tiny flicker of a flame. He sure knows how to dampen my spirits.

  He doesn’t know what I need. The five-year-old in me is coming to the surface.

  How could he? I’m only just figuring it out myself.

  I imagine him leaving, strutting out of the room like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. And where will he go? No doubt straight into the arms of another woman.

  Typical man.

  I wonder what their child will look like and realize that I’m not longer thinking about Carter.

  My face, shamefully unaccustomed to secrets, must betray me. His face grows serious.

  “Hey,” he says with concern in his tone, “don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Leaning in, he kisses me again—slowly at first, kindly. It quickly becomes more.

  My body responds to him as if nothing has happened, already trying once again to eliminate the space that opened between us.

  He pushes gently on my shoulder, guiding me until I am lying on my back, him half on top of me. His mouth leaves my own, traveling down the length of me with a confidence that speaks volumes about his experience.

  First at my neck, his lips brush gently back over my collar bone, kissing their way down to my chest.

  My breath catches in my throat as he first takes one nipple into his mouth, then the next. He takes his time, licking and sucking in turn, until I’m fairly squirming with frustration.

  Just as I feel I can no longer take it, he again starts to move. In anticipation of what’s to come, I try and thrust my pelvis toward him, making it easy for him, but his strong hands resist my move.

  My ribs, my stomach, my hipbones—his mouth explores every inch of me. By the time he’s made his way between my legs, I’m shaking with anticipation.

  I feel his breath, hot and inviting, as it washes over me in the instant before his mouth finally reaches its destination.

  I gasp as his tongue finds my spot of pleasure.

  Hot and wet, it slides over my clit.

  He groans, a sound full of frustration, and I find myself wishing desperately for his resolve to break.

  His hands find their way to my thighs, pushing them apart, further opening me to him.

  I don’t resist. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.

  With every flick of his tongue, I grow more and more entranced. I moan, I cry out, I cling desperately to his hair.

  His name finds its way to my tongue, and I moan the word repeatedly, like a chant, almost a prayer.

  My body rises up to move in time with him, hips thrusting harder with each passing moment.

  I begin to go rigid, muscles tensing in the enormity of pleasure.

  I feel his hand, wrapped firmly around my thigh, fingers almost digging g
rooves into my bare skin. I can feel the desire in his touch, the restraint he’s trying so badly to uphold.

  “Carter!” I yelp as I reach my orgasm.

  My hands, already clinging to his hair, tighten in reflex. My body, already tense, goes completely rigid.

  I shout, wordless, voiceless expressions of pure ecstasy as I am utterly carried away in the most intense pleasure I have ever known.

  Moments later, I lie, breathing heavily, looking down in amazement at the man before me.

  His grin is all I need to know that he’s not quite finished with me after all.

  I watch, as he lowers himself back down, that smile never faltering.

  At first, he teases my pussy. His face hovers, barely touching me.

  A gentle kiss is placed on my clit before he lets his teeth take a little nibble. It’s gentle, as if he’s taste testing.

  Then, without warning, his tongue pushes all the way into me. His face is now buried between my legs.

  The flame inside of me, barely extinguished from my orgasm a few minutes ago, is turning into a raging inferno.

  My mind has turned to mush. I’m unable to think coherently. I’m lost in a world of absolute pleasure.

  As his tongue laps at my pussy, I feel it’s mere moments before my next orgasm. Volcano-like, I erupt and come harder than ever before as his tongue moves frantically against me.

  As I come, I am completely certain that this is absolutely the most intense orgasm that any human being could have.

  It’s a certainty that remains with me for all of five minutes.

  Until the next one.

  And the one after that.

  By the time I again find Carter beside me, my entire body shakes with exhaustion. Never in my life can I remember being so completely worn out.

  Or so content.

  He pulls me, wordlessly, over to him, my head resting heavily on his chest.

  With one hand pressed against my back, he runs the other across my head, fingers raking gently through my hair.

  A sound comes from me—half sigh and half purr.

  My own hands can’t get enough of him. I let my fingers draw tiny circles on his muscles, reveling in the moment. I can hear his hear beat loud and clear.

  Despite my resolve to stay awake for as long as possible, my eyelids start to flutter.

  “Don’t fight it, sweetheart,” Carter says.

  Cat-like, I push further into him, making sure as much of our naked bodies touch as possible. And then, as I’m still fighting the weariness, everything fades to a beautiful darkness as I drift off to slumber.

  Chapter 11

  Carter

  It’s like waking up on Christmas morning as a kid again. I feel that same kind of excitement—that same raw, unbridled energy, like there’s something magical about to happen the moment I open my eyes and rouse myself from my dreams.

  Only this time, I’m a grown-ass man in my own fucking apartment.

  This time, there’s no floozy drunk on eggnog strutting around wrapped up in my father’s robe.

  This time, the present I’m looking forward to is worth so much more than a toy helicopter or a classic car.

  And this time, the angel that belongs on top of the tree is actually nestled here in my arms, still sound asleep…

  And drooling on my chest.

  I smooth her hair away from her forehead and place a gentle kiss on her temple—before she can wake up and ruin this moment for both of us.

  That’s the beauty of June being asleep, naked, in my arms. I can be as sweet as I want to be to her when she’s like this, and I don’t have to hear any fucking sass from her about it.

  Of course, it doesn’t take long for the moment to be spoiled.

  June wakes up.

  Instead of reveling in the afterglow with me, she opens her eyes and bolts upright, instantly disturbing the peace that only seconds ago surrounded me.

  I sigh.

  “What—” she cries just before her frantic eyes find me.

  Luckily, as soon as she sees me, she relaxes.

  “Well, good morning gorgeous,” she says and leans toward me.

  Tempted as I am to watch her overcompensate, for I’m sure that’s what she’s about to do, I grab her by the shoulders and kiss her.

  “Indeed it is, June. Indeed, it is.”

  Hungry for more, she wraps her arms around me, and, for a while, time just slows down. There’s nothing else in the world except her sweetly delicious mouth and my tongue exploring it.

  As wonderful as that is while it lasts, eventually nature calls, and I need to get out of bed.

  I feel her eyes on me as I make my way to the bathroom. My massive cock is standing straight up in the air, as if it’s been summoned into action by some ineffable force.

  Her gasp is beautiful and loud as she takes in the sight.

  When I’m done, I offer her the bathroom.

  “How about a shower?” I suggest.

  “Sounds nice.”

  I meet her with a massive bath sheet, and lead her to the main bathroom. It has one of those massive overhead showerheads and two additional ones coming out of the wall at shoulder height.

  Her eyes widen as she takes in the enormity of the room.

  “This is bigger than my bedroom at my dad’s house,” she tells me, then turns on the hot water without hesitation.

  “Don’t make it too hot,” I warn her, and she grimaces.

  “I can shower on my own you know,” she says and steps into the massive cubicle.

  As if trying to add some weight to her words, she trips on the lip of the shower on the way in.

  Briefly, she’s unbalanced. Her arms flail, and she struggles to find something to grab onto.

  Quick as lightning, my reflexes kick in, and I catch her just before she falls against one of the glass panels.

  I turn her towards me. “You were saying?”

  I step into the shower with her. For a few minutes—more like a few seconds, actually—she’s silent.

  “I would have been alright,” she finally says and turns her back to me.

  Instead of a spoken reply, I slap her on the ass.

  Then I grab some soap and start washing her back. I pay particular attention to those butt cheeks.

  And I’m sure she needs help with her pussy.

  When I’m satisfied she’s clean, I start working on myself.

  Now, it’s her turn to intervene in the bathing process.

  “Excuse me?” she gasps. “You think you can have all the fun around here?”

  Without a word, I hand her the soap. Slowly, she glides it down my back, over my ass and toward my front. Her fingers find my pulsing cock and gently massage the soap on it.

  Suddenly, I think having a shower together may not have been the best idea.

  Instead of reveling in her touch, I turn around, kiss her, and take the soap away from her.

  Silently, I rinse myself off, then I turn off the water.

  She stands there, hands on her hips, and pouting.

  “We’ve got a job to go to, remember?” I ask pointedly while stepping out of the shower.

  With a sigh, June slowly leaves the shower.

  “What am I going to wear today, after...” June doesn’t finish her thought.

  Of course, I know what she’s referring to.

  We haven’t really spoken about last night, about my small discovery about her.

  “I...” I start but am not quite sure what to say. “Your skirt...”

  Her expression brightens.

  “Of course...” She claps her hands. “I’ll wear my skirt and the shirt you brought me last night, at least until...”

  She lets the words hang in the air. She’s probably too embarrassed to tell me she can’t go shopping until she gets paid.

  “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in five,” I say and kiss her.

  My own clothes are in my room.

  When I go to the kitchen, June’s already there. It
smells delicious.

  “What are you doing?” I inquire, picking up two mugs.

  She turns and fills them from a freshly brewed pot of coffee.

  Okay, this is nice. I can work with this.

  I grab a carton of milk from the fridge.

  “Sugar?” June asks.

  I shake my head. “You?”

  “Nope,” she smiles. “Sweet enough as it is. At least that’s what daddy dearest always tells me.”

  I chuckle. Daddy dearest sounds delightful. I think I’d like to meet him one day.

  That thought came out of nowhere.

  “Plates?”

  “To your right,” I point, touching her shoulder.

  June picks up the frying pan, and my eyes widen when I see what’s sliding onto the plate.

  “Hope you like omelets,” she says and hands me my plate.

  As she does so, our fingers touch. I feel a warm sensation. She’s smiling.

  “It’s my favorite,” I confess and kiss her on the tip of her nose.

  When I’m finished eating the most delicious breakfast I’ve had in a long time, I make sure to start clearing the plates and washing up before she gets a chance.

  It feels natural to do the dishes since she cooked. The chef doesn’t clean. That’s my philosophy.

  It should be, at least.

  I’m amazed at myself. I can’t recall the last time I washed up.

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re walking to work.

  The second she sits behind her desk, the phone goes crazy. I linger a little longer than necessary, watching her work.

  “No, I don’t think you will need to speak to Mr. Abraham about that.”

  I pause. I try and catch her eye, but to no avail. She’s looking at her notepad.

  “You heard correctly. I know Mr. Abrahams is not interested. Thank you.”

  “What was that about?”

  It feels strange for her to be making decisions on my behalf.

  June gives me her biggest smile before she replies.

  “Some charity, which I think, by the way, was really a fraud, asking you to donate some money for some weird event coming up.”

  Wow.

  She’s fucking brilliant.

  “Carry on,” I tell her and go inside my private office.