And as I hung up the phone, I realized my mom was right. The real Kristen had been lost in the last year, in a deep spiral of gloom and depression. But she was coming back … even if my brothers didn’t like it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Troy
Things have just gotten more shit with Tyler. I’m sure now that Rachel is a bad influence. More than just a bad influence, she’s an enabler, and I would even go so far as to say that she had some hidden role in the Haley scandal.
“So, how many times did you sleep with Governor Haley again?” I asked.
“Well,” she hedged. “He was so rich and horny, he actually used quite a few of us,” she said.
I tried to think back. It was true, the governor had used quite a few of our girls, but our files had been confiscated before I could figure out which ones. Plus, my brother and I hadn’t been permitted in the court room while other witnesses testified, so we still didn’t know which hookers had turned.
“Rachel,” I said grimly. “How many girls testified against Haley?”
She colored, and looked away, embarrassed. I mean, I wouldn’t want to admit that I’d fucked a sixty year-old man for money either, but whatever, she got paid.
“Troy,” she sighed. “I was the only one.”
“So you were the one who told the feds about Club Luxe then, right? You were the one who led them to us,” I said.
She colored again. “Yes, but I had to! The government wouldn’t grant me immunity unless I told them who I worked for.”
But there was more shit to come.
“Rachel,” I said slowly. “Did you wear a wire when you were working? Not just when you were fucking Haley, but when you were talking business with me and Tyler? Were you recording us?”
She shook her head no, but then slowly nodded yes when she saw the disbelieving look on my face.
“I had to Troy,” she whispered. “They made me do it. I’m so sorry.”
And suddenly I realized how our safe room had been breached, how they’d gotten my fingerprints. Rachel had led them right to the money pot, spewing everything, all the while pretending to be our confidante. The crisis wasn’t her fault per se, but her duplicity was shocking, especially because we’d trusted her. In the end, she’d been protecting her own ass all along, trading us in on a silver platter for immunity from prosecution.
My thoughts must have showed because she started crying and pleading with me.
“Please Troy! I love you and Tyler, and you must know that Tyler’s fallen in love with me!” she said, hot tears trailing down her face, smearing her mascara and blush.
But I didn’t give a fuck. Once a traitor, always a traitor, and I realized we’d been too kind to her. We’d eaten up her story, convinced that she was genuine because of our long history together. But that had been a crock of shit. She’d just been covering her own tracks, her own motives in the Haley case.
And now shit was seriously fucked up. She’d attached herself to Tyler and was convinced that he loved her? Fuck that.
“Get out,” I growled. “Get the fuck out before I throw you out.”
“No,” she whimpered. “Please Troy. Tyler needs me, you know his whole drinking thing has gotten out of hand. Please,” she begged.
“He’s a fucking alcoholic because you made him that way! You provided the booze, you took him out slumming … where the fuck did you guys go tonight? Some seedy little joint that he’d never go if he was sober?” I raged. “Once a street hooker, always a street hooker,” I snarled.
“No!” she screamed. “I’m not! I’ve moved beyond that!” she sobbed, collapsing into a heap on the floor.
But I didn’t care. I grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her to the front door, almost pulling her by the hair at one point, she was screaming and thrashing so much.
“No!” she shrieked again. “Tyler needs me!”
But I didn’t give a shit, this piece of turd was pure garbage. I opened the front door and hurled her onto the street, shoving, not caring that she looked a slutty mess. The old mantra was right. You can fuck the shit out of a girl, but there’s always more shit. Fuck this.
But as Rachel stumbled and gasped, she narrowly bumped into another woman holding a baby. And I looked up into the shocked eyes of Krissy, our long-lost lover, our sister.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Krissy
Troy pulled me in by the arm, manhandling me really, trying to get me to safety.
“Krissy,” he roared. “Get away from that piece of shit.”
I took that he meant Rachel, who looked worse for the wear. Not only was she wearing a cheap, slutty outfit, but her eyes were red and blood-shot, she had serious acne, and her hair was a tangled, greasy mess. What happened to the pretty bartender I had once known?
But it seemed that she’d rubbed Troy the wrong way. Seriously the wrong way.
Once inside, I tried to hush Annie, cuddling my baby close, shushing her wails. Troy looked thunderstruck. He gazed at the little girl in my arms, his eyes taking in the small, bundled form.
“Oh Krissy,” he rumbled. “I’m so sorry …” his voice trailed.
At first I hesitated. I was angry with my brothers and wasn’t about to give up my child to fathers who hadn’t been present for the past year. But I knew I needed to keep this civil. They were my baby’s daddies no matter what, and it was better for Annie to know them.
Gently, so as not to startle the baby, I murmured, “Do you want to hold her?”
And he nodded silently, a huge smile breaking out on his face. Slowly, I passed her over and surprisingly, Annie quieted in his arms. Pretty soon she was gurgling happily, looking up at him, her little hand reaching out to grab his watch.
“She’s beautiful,” he breathed. Looking up at me with shining eyes, he said, “Looks just like her beautiful mother.”
I knew this wasn’t true. After all, I have brown hair and brown eyes, so Annie’s coloring was definitely from them. But I guess … if you’re in love, then you see your partner’s features in your child.
Wait a minute. Full stop. Was I kidding myself? Was Troy still in love with me?
He could see the question in my eyes, and nodded slowly.
“Krissy, I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened,” he said. “Tyler and I, we weren’t there for our baby and we never called you, I know. But shit here has been bad … even worse than when the trial was going on,” he said.
What could have happened? And where was Tyler?
And Troy slowly started filling me in on what I’d missed …
EPILOGUE
Krissy
Six months later …
These past months have been tough. Really, really tough. Troy told me about Tyler’s alcoholism, how the combination of stress, a high-profile trial, losing their business, and losing me had caused him to drink. Throw in a bipolar woman, a person who’d conned them really, pretending to be their friend all the while delusional about her love for Tyler, and it was a toxic brew which drove him over the edge.
The first thing we’d done was to check Tyler into rehab. He hadn’t wanted to go, but Troy wouldn’t back down.
“Shut up brother, shut the fuck up,” had been his parting words. And it had worked, fortunately. Without Rachel’s influence, Tyler was able to break his addiction and come back to us within a matter of weeks. He was now baby Annie’s biggest fan, playing with her, giving her baths and meals when he wasn’t busy doing deals.
Because Troy and Tyler are back in the entertainment business. I don’t think it’s easy for them, especially Tyler because he’s around booze constantly, but their new business ventures have really taken off. Seems that the twins haven’t lost their touch, high-rollers flocking to their glitzy venues, the money rolling in, their past notoriety a boon, making them even more popular.
But the twins are much more careful now. I don’t think they’d ever let a teenager sit in coat check again, not the way they let me. And they�
�re on the right side of the law, careful to dot every i and cross every t, unwilling to relive the pain of the past year.
And I’m nervous about the past too, but determined to live in the present. I haven’t slept with my brothers since my return, I was just jumpy and … I didn’t trust them for a while, you know what I mean? There was good reason for what had happened, but I couldn’t forget that quickly.
But tonight, I’ve decided, is going to be a special night. I’m almost over the edge with lust, my cunny constantly wet, dying to be touched, my nipples stiff and aching. Tyler and Troy haven’t made a move recently, knowing that I needed time to forgive them, to let my heart re-open after they’d neglected me and our baby for so long.
But after six months of recuperation, the time has come. They’re good with Annie, our baby soaking up the attention of her doting daddies, and it’s time to explore sex once again, sex with these men who love me, both as brothers and as husbands.
Because yes, we got married today. We had a civil ceremony where Troy and I were united, Tyler looking on as best man with Annie in his arms. So even the law can’t pull us apart now, and we’re public about our relationship. Yes, I married my stepbrother, and I love them both very much.
A knock came on the door.
“Baby, are you ready?” growled Troy.
“I know we are,” rumbled Tyler through the door.
Ah, my husbands were here for their wedding night. Quickly, I checked my reflection, giving my hair one more brush, before throwing open the door.
The twins’ collective gasp was worth the wait. I’d decided to greet them … in the nude. My body as on full display, from my mocha-colored nipples, stiff and begging for their attention, to my glistening pink slit, ready for male penetration. I’d worn only white high heels, a nod to bridal tradition.
Troy and Tyler were on me at once, their hands stroking my curves, worshipping me, ravishing me.
“Sister,” Troy rumbled. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“Yes,” Tyler moaned before adding, “Fuck I’ve got to come.”
And just like that, it happened. The first time was so hard, so fast, that I gasped, unprepared. They drove their dicks into me desperately, unable to wait, Tyler into my cunt and Troy into my mouth, pumping only a minute or two before they ejaculated, the hot cream as tasty as ever, me swallowing in hungry, needy gulps.
“Fuck sister!” roared Tyler. “Fuck fuck fuck!” he gasped as he shot load after load of hot sperm into me, the pumps seeming to go on forever, each deposit massive, sticky and hot in my body.
Troy was the same. Evidently, they hadn’t had sex during our separation despite Rachel’s wily ways, and we were all suffering from serious withdrawal. Troy spurted for what felt like five minutes in my mouth, my throat overfilling with cream, the hot sperm spilling from the corners of my lips before trailing down my chin to drip onto my breasts.
And that was only the beginning. Tyler crept up my body to lap at Troy’s semen on my breasts, smearing it around on my creamy flesh as he sucked hungrily at my nipples, playing with the delicacies, rolling them around in his mouth like candy. Troy joined him, shaking his penis off on my face, droplets of ejaculate hitting my cheeks and mouth, before diving into my cunt, sucking and licking at my clit, probing deeply with his tongue into that channel he’d missed for the past year.
But my brothers hadn’t forgotten what I liked either. Did I mention that I’ve become an anal aficionado? That’s right, pleasing two men takes more than one hole, and I like it in my butt now, just as much as my vag. As if reading my mind, Troy began licking lower, lower, until he was at my back pucker, tonguing that secret space, running his tongue up and down my crack, deep between my fleshy cheeks.
“Brothers!” I screamed, unable to contain my lust, my cunny trembling, my body almost shaking with desire. I needed them, always and forever, and was willing to do whatever it took to get through hard times.
With a roar, Troy took me from behind, running his dick deep into my rectum, making me gasp with pleasure. And Tyler took me in the pussy, pushing his cock into my vaginal channel, squeezing me tight, filling me with my second dick.
Like clockwork, they began drilling me, in and out, in and out, in syncopated rhythm, one brother pulling in as the other pulled out. I squealed, shrieked and moaned, not caring who heard, losing myself to them as they lost themselves to me. With a mighty crescendo, we came together, their hot jism spurting into my body, coating both my chambers, drenching me with cum as I clenched and spasmed around their dicks, my pussy and ass clamping with ecstasy, my orgasm almost painful in its intensity.
Later, as our breathing calmed, my brothers stroked me gently, wanting to touch me everywhere as if to reassure themselves that I was really, truly theirs.
“Sister, thank you,” they breathed. “You are our everything. You and Annie both.”
“And you are mine,” I promised in return. After all, my twin stepbrothers had been revealed, laid open to danger, crossing the most terrible of bridges in the public eye. But we’d learned our lesson, and would be sticking together from here on out … never to be exposed again.
THE END
The Dirty Virgin
A May December Forbidden Romance
(Erotic Romance)
© 2016
By Cassandra Dee
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DEDICATION
To all the ladies out there who were once dirty virgins …
Aren’t the memories delicious?
CHAPTER ONE
Cleo
Drake Markham has been watching me. I feel it more and more lately, ever since I turned eighteen. It looks like he’s eating breakfast or reading the newspaper but actually his eyes are trailing my body, taking in my every move.
I think it has something to do with my newly developed figure. Just six months ago, I was as skinny as a beanpole and looked like a boy. I had no boobs, no butt, no hips, straight as a ruler, yes sir. Add to that a terrible haircut and braces, and I was pretty much an ugly Pippi Longstocking complete with flaming red hair.
But I’ve changed these last few months.
“Mom,” I whispered, cheeks hot. “I need a bra. I can’t keep going around without one.”
It was so embarrassing to be talking about this at the breakfast table, but it was the only time I saw Lorena now. My mom was constantly disappearing, usually with our pool boy Carlos, and I could never catch her alone. My face colored, the heat rising all the way to my hairline, and I could barely move I was so humiliated.
But I’d seen Drake look. Despite the fact that I hadn’t glanced his way, I’d sensed his awareness of my words, of me. His eyes had flicked in my direction instinctively and then away, shielded by the rustle of his newspaper.
But Lorena knew no discretion.
“Oh honey, of course I’ll take you,” she singsonged, not bothering to lower her voice. “My little girl is growing up,” she trilled. “How delightful!”
And it was true, I did need a bra now. My girls were Double D’s, they’d puffed up overnight from invisible A’s and I could no longer go around without some support, my jugs were now so juicy and pendulous that they strained against my baby tee, the nips poking out like pebbles.
“Can you go this weekend?” I asked tightly, my voice strained. There was no point in whispering anymore, Drake could hear everything.
“Oh honey, this weekend is so soon,” Lorena replied, waving her hand at me, blowing at her nail polish. “How about a month from now? I have so much going on,” she offered as an excuse, although not saying exactly what. Probably lying by the pool watching Carlos, or him watching her, whichever way it went.
But our conversation got my stepdad’s attention. He snorted before growling, “Lorena, I think you should take her this weekend.”
I
looked at him with grateful eyes, gazing into those dark blue irises. When had Daddy become so handsome, so arresting? My skin sizzled as he looked back at me, the intensity in the air electrifying, almost buzzing with our shared heat.
But Mom was immune to it all, sensing nothing.
“Oh alright,” pouted Lorena. “I’ll take her this weekend. Fine, since you guys are ganging up against me.”
And it was then that my stepdad got up, scooting back his chair and standing, his massive frame dominating the tiny breakfast nook.
“I’ve got to get to work now,” he rumbled, elegant in his thousand dollar suit. “Lorena, Cleo,” he nodded before striding out, his gait smooth, the long steps swallowing the distance in seconds.
And I sighed. Drake Markham … successful businessman, pillar of the community, handsome, charismatic, a man about town before he met my mom. How did Lorena snag him, when women everywhere were drooling, throwing themselves in his path?
But it’s not that hard to understand because my mom is really pretty with a bubbling, engaging personality. She used to be one of his cleaning ladies, someone the agency sent to sweep and vacuum every weekend. After six months at the estate, Drake noticed her. Not that I was surprised. My mom is a bombshell, the kind who has curves busting out in every direction, lots of pizzazz and juice.
And I saw the way she flirted with him, the way she always happened to trip and fall into his arms when he was around, the way she made herself available in the most obvious manner. And Drake was a man, he noticed too. He liked her curves, the way her ass was round and juicy, and pretty soon they were getting it on on a regular basis despite the fact that Lorena scrubbed his bathrooms.
“Mom, where were you?” I’d ask from the dining table after Mom had another late night. “Was it the Markham Estate again?”
Dr. Travis, I Love You Page 28
