Closer: A Blind Date Bad Boy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  “Thank you brothers, I appreciate it,” she said simply, her hands resting quietly in her lap. “But if I wasn’t mistaken, you were here for a show.”

  That shot a jolt of energy through the room. Sure, Pax and I had been here to see something special happen, but it’d slipped our minds in the seriousness of the conversation.

  “Are you offering?” growled my brother slowly.

  “Well,” returned the blonde, throwing us a sly smile, “it is what you’re here for right? You didn’t even know it’d be me tonight.”

  Pax immediately growled, this time with hunger, the lust igniting in his eyes immediately.

  “Oh yeah, it’s on,” he said, already closing in on her, his big form looming over that tiny body.

  But I stopped him with one hand.

  “We just want to make sure you’re on board,” I said carefully. “After what’s happened the past couple times, we want to make sure that we don’t repeat mistakes.”

  And that caused the girl to pause reflexively.

  “You don’t want me to regret this, that’s what you’re saying right?” she asked

  I loved how she was able to understand me even when I couldn’t get the right words out. Yes, I nodded gratefully. That was exactly what I meant.

  “Then I’m not,” she said with finality. “I won’t regret it,” she said simply.

  We were motionless for a moment before she broke the silence.

  “I promise,” she said in hushed tones. “I promise.”

  And that was all we needed. In a rush, Pax and I were on her, our big hands stroking over those silken curves, removing the pink satin robe, unveiling the flushed body underneath. We needed her, had to have her, and discovering her at the Donkey had been a surprise, sure, but a good one. If this was therapeutic for her, then we were more than happy to be her therapists.

  With ravenous mouths, we descended on that nubile form, licking at her nipples while stroking her ripe vee. She was dripping wet as my hand stroked through those soft folds, running through her cunny.

  Meanwhile, Pax was doing a good one on her behind. She sat between us, my fingers running through her folds as my brother played with her butt cheeks, smoothing big palms over that rounded expanse, squeezing, even slapping, leaving a red handprint on her heiny.

  “Ow!” she shrieked playfully, looking over her shoulder at him with wide, yet hungry, eyes.

  “Little girl, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” he growled.

  Because Pax then dropped his hand to play with her back hole. Oh yeah, ass play is one of our favorites and if you’re going to do twins? It’s a requirement.

  I felt his index finger massage that anus, circling around the little pleats, getting them warm and ready before his index did the dirty. With an insistent nudge, he pushed into her back hole, letting that dry, arid heat surround his finger. And it was all the more nasty because I’d just pushed into her pussy with two of my digits, so she was getting a double-finger, front and back.

  But the little girl loved it, rocking back and forth on our hands, letting us feel her inside, her pussy gushing like the Niagara, drenching both our hands, lubing her up for more.

  Plus, she was just so damned beautiful, her head thrown back, eyes closed, boobies bouncing as she savored our touch, the penetration in both secret spaces.

  “More,” she moaned gutterally, her head falling back with ecstasy, “more, more, more.”

  And we gave her more, burrowing further into those wet depths, exploring her channels, stretching them out with our big fingers. In fact, we set up a rhythm, in and out, in and out, the little girl heaving, panting, and shrieking occasionally as we massaged, building up a crescendo.

  Because there was something we wanted to see, and weren’t leaving until it happened. It was the original reason the Donkey drew us, a show that couldn’t be missed.

  “Oh god,” she huffed, “Pax, Peyton, ohhh….!”

  And it happened. The finger-fucking in both holes got her good, and the blonde began squirting uncontrollably, her pussy throwing out jets of juice, the clear liquid splashing on my chest, landing on the floor, the couch, her thighs, everywhere.

  She trembled and shook between our bodies as we continued to finger her, driving deep into those dark recesses, enjoying the warm rain as we were hit by her fluids, pelted by female juice.

  And finally, the blonde collapsed against us, her pussy nectar fizzling, that tiny cunny worn out and spent from the fireworks. I could still feel her pulse against my hand, a big one and then a small one, and from the look on Pax’s face, I could tell he’d felt it too, deep in her ass.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her temple.

  “Absolutely amazing,” I added, breathing hot warm gusts against her neck.

  And she just sighed languorously, stretching a bit between us, her body flushed and sated, satisfied from its work-out, our hands still embedded deep in that satin flesh.

  “Brothers,” she said with a sly smile. “I got off but what about you? Those dongs look … um, hard,” she giggled, nodding in our direction.

  Because that was an understatement. Our donkeys were at full mast, thirty inches of pure punching power, and you know what? The night was still young.

  “You like, baby?” I growled, my cockpole rising even more, growing even larger if possible.

  Her eyes widened at the sight, breathing fast, those boobs heaving with excitement.

  “Oh yeah,” she gasped, her little puss starting to dampen again, a spot forming on the couch beneath her.

  And just like that it was on. Round Two was never so good … and Round Three would be even better.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Stacey

  “Mom, I don’t know,” I said quietly. “I’m not sure who made that video of me, the police are still looking.”

  Virginia was silent for a moment.

  “Are you sure there isn’t someone who hates you?” she asked. “Have you made enemies somewhere, maybe on the job? I’ve been working in banking for years baby, sometimes you have to trample other people to get to the top.”

  That gave me moment for pause. There were a couple girls at work who were jealous, who’d love to cover my beat, but would they go to these lengths? After all, hiring someone to videotape me at my hotel room was pretty hardcore, there was a lot of gum-shoe involved.

  “I don’t think so, Ma,” I said tiredly. “I’m not like you. I’m ambitious at work, but I’m not crazy. I’ve tried to keep good relationships with my co-workers, I don’t think someone would do that.”

  “You never know,” Virginia warned, “it’s always the people you never expect.”

  I nodded my head in agreement. We were sitting at home, the two-story house in White Plains. I’d come here for some relief, just to get away from the stress of the City, the unending public eye that dogged me everywhere now. It was nice being in the living room with its hopelessly outdated chintz furniture, the overstuffed sofas and worn coffee table oddly comforting.

  Just then Gordon came in. He was the same, an older, smaller version of his sons, but still handsome, commanding even with his diminished stature.

  “How are you Ana?” he boomed. “Peyton and Pax tell me you’re on speaking terms again.”

  “Oh I’m good, they’re good,” I said mildly. Speaking terms was an understatement of course, but no need to get into it. The lines we’d crossed again and again were too much for any parent to know, too X-rated, too dangerous.

  Besides, my steps and I had reached a good place. Pax and Peyton were helping with the investigation, hiring their own team of PIs, former cops, security, even PR spinmasters to manage the situation. We’d get to the bottom of this video somehow.

  “Have the police reviewed the hotel tape?” asked Gordon casually. “I know it must be painful to watch, but the perp must have cased your room.”

  “Yeah,” I said slowly, “but that’s the weird part. There were definitely came
ras in the hallway but that footage is missing.”

  That made my mom sit up.

  “What do you mean ‘missing’?” she said with a frown. “Tape like that shouldn’t just disappear.

  “That’s the thing, Mom,” I said slowly. “It shouldn’t because the cameras are going twenty-four hours a day, but the footage is gone,” I said simply. “There’s a missing reel in the archives and the hotel has no idea what happened to it.”

  Virginia frowned.

  “Odd,” she said slowly, “maybe if I put my people on it, we’ll get some answers.”

  “No Mom,” I answered tiredly. “No need. The Atlanta PD are already on it, plus Pax and Peyton are helping out too.”

  “Oh really?” asked Gordon with his eyebrows raised. “Helping, how so?”

  For some reason I decided to be vague.

  “Pax and Peyton just wanted to make sure everything is double-checked, all I’s dotted and T’s crossed,” I said. “So they’re sending their own team of folks to investigate.”

  “And who would these people be?” asked Gordon curiously. “How do your brothers even know who to contact?”

  How did they indeed? But football players with a ton of money had resources beyond the reach of the average man.

  “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “But your sons are on it.”

  “Hmph,” grunted Gordon. “I’m going to have to talk with them.”

  “Stop it,” interrupted my mom, “Why are you fixating on your sons when it’s Stacey who’s hurting? And don’t call her Ana, she’s Stacey now.”

  Both Gordon and I looked at her with surprise. Ever since their wedding, Virginia had fawned over her husband, it was always “Yes Gordy this, yes Gordy that,” so it was strange that she was suddenly angry. My stepdad looked surprised too. He was so used to having her at his beck and call that this was new.

  But his face remained calm and he gave no indication that he’d heard my mom’s outburst.

  “We care about you Ana, I mean Stacey,” he corrected himself. “We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Thanks Gordon,” cut in my mom coldly. “Your care is noted. I can take care of my daughter from here on out.”

  And I turned to her again with wide eyes. This was so out of character I didn’t know what to think. After all, Virginia had moved us from Manhattan to White Plains five years ago, forcing me to transfer in the middle of senior year all so she could get hitched to this guy. Her sudden turnabout was surprising.

  But their marriage troubles weren’t my business.

  “Thanks Mom, thanks Gordon,” I said politely. “Trust me, Pax and Peyton are on it, they’re working with the police, with hotel security, with everyone to figure out this missing video thing. We’ll figure out who it is,” I said with a tired smile.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me,” I said slowly, “I’d like to take a nap. Mom, can I stay in my old room?”

  “Of course baby, of course,” she said. “I’ll be downstairs reading.”

  I shook my head.

  “Mom, you guys should go out and do things, go to work, keep going with your regular lives,” I protested. “No reason for life to grind to a halt.”

  “No honey, as long as you’re here I’m going to stick by you,” she said firmly. “If you’re in this house then I’m going to be too.”

  And I gave her a puzzled look but shrugged my shoulders. It wasn’t like Virginia not to go into work, but she was a professional and could make her own decisions.

  “Okay,” I said, already headed up the stairs, trudging with slow steps. “Don’t wait for me for dinner.”

  “We will, honey,” called my mom, her voice wafting up after me. “We will.”

  Did she mean they’d wait or wouldn’t wait? I didn’t know because my mind was so fuzzy, so tired, that I fell into bed, asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  PART III

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Stacey

  “Get out,” growled Pax into the phone. “Get out of the house now.”

  “What?” I gasped. “Why?” The ring of my phone had woken me from my nap and it was dark outside now, the twinkling of evening stars just visible from my window.

  “Where are you?” he rasped. “Where are you exactly?”

  “I’m in my old room,” I said puzzled. “You know, down the hall from your old room.”

  “Stacey,” growled Peyton into the phone. “Don’t bother to pack up. Just get your purse and make your way out like nothing’s wrong. Say goodbye to your mom, our dad, and then get yourself to the airport. Come home,” he commanded.

  I was speechless. I’d come to White Plains to relax, to escape from the strain of the big city, there were no paparazzi here, no one to treat me like a leper. But now my steps were on the phone telling me to get on a flight asap. Why?

  “Brothers,” I said slowly. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s happening. I’m not a little girl anymore,” I said firmly.

  There was silence from the other end.

  But finally Pax answered.

  “Stacey, we found your perp,” he said in a low voice.

  “You did?” I asked, suddenly limp, dropping to sit on my bedspread. The strength rushed out of my body and I felt suddenly drained.

  Taking a deep breath I asked, “Who is it? Just some random guy?” I choked out. “An obsessed fan?”

  Silence. And then Peyton’s voice came on the line again.

  “An obsessed fan of sorts,” he said. “It’s our dad, Gordon.”

  This time the phone dropped out of my hand. Gordon Jones, my stepdad? The guy who was married to my mom? The guy who was probably downstairs right now, eating dinner at the kitchen counter?

  I could hardly believe it and slowly, I picked up my cell again with trembling hands.

  “How do you know?” I asked, my voice trembling.

  “Sister,” said Peyton woodenly. “We wish it weren’t true, but it is. We found the missing tape and it’s Gordon in the room next to yours. He filmed you in the shower at your hotel.”

  “But how?” I gasped. “How did this happen?”

  “That’s the thing,” said my brother. “We got a hold of the hotel logs and a maintenance guy went to your room to fix the A/C around that time. That guy was Gordon,” he choked. “He filmed you.”

  I came to life suddenly.

  “Brothers,” I choked into the phone. “I have to go. I have to get out of here.”

  “Go,” they agreed. “But be careful, sister. Don’t let him know we’re onto him.”

  “I won’t,” I promised, my hand trembling as I hung up. Frantically, I began to pack an overnight bag, throwing things in haphazardly and then stopped, breathing hard. I couldn’t believe it. My own stepdad had filmed me nude? How could that happen? Was he filming me now? The realization made my skin crawl and feeling suddenly dirty, I grabbed my purse and ran down the stairs, coming to a halt in the kitchen.

  “Honey what’s wrong?” asked my mom, taking in my flushed face and messy hair, still tangled from the nap. “What’s wrong?” she asked again.

  “Nothing,” I said, craning my head, looking around furtively for my stepdad. Where was he?

  Noting my distraction, my mom answered.

  “Gordon went out to run some errands,” she said. “Why what’s wrong?”

  And despite my promise to my steps to act normal, it all came pouring out.

  “Mom, it was Gordon who made that video of me in the hotel!” I cried. “He posed as a maintenance man and came in and filmed me when I was in the shower. Your husband!” I almost screamed. “He did this, your filthy, disgusting husband, I hate him, I hate you. How could you?”

  I expected my mom to be shocked, maybe even to fall into a faint. But she was silent, her eyes pleading with me.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry,” she said slowly, her voice small. “I suspected.”

  Instead, it was me who almost fell down.

  “You suspect
ed?” I gasped, my breath coming in short, sharp pants. “How? Why? What?” I could hardly believe my ears.

  “Please baby, just sit for a minute, just listen,” pleaded my mom. “Please just listen.”

  I couldn’t even reply, remaining stock still at the kitchen table, too stunned for words.

  “Honey,” she said slowly, “when I married Gordon I was desperate. I was getting older, but older just means less opportunity for a woman of my age,” she said, her eyes begging me to understand. “When I met Gordon it seemed too good to be true. A handsome, intelligent widower with a good job, who was okay with my busy schedule. I was desperate to get married again, to feel loved and wanted.”

  “And he made me feel that way, honey, he made me feel desirable, like I was eighteen again. So I married him as quickly as I could, rushed him to the altar, made him take his wedding vows without really knowing him.”

  “But the joke was on me,” she said bitterly. “Gordon,” and here she choked, “hadn’t gotten dating out of his system. He was used to being the man about town and still wanted to live that lifestyle.”

  I was completely thunderstruck. Gordon had always seemed nice, but really boring. I knew he’d dated around before settling down, but I hadn’t realized he was a heartbreaker. My stepdad had to be at least fifty, for crying out loud. Wasn’t that too old to be a player?