"How long do you think I'd need to make you feel what I want to make you feel?" I asked.
He snorted. "Um, in my current state? Ten seconds, max."
"Wow, that's...really fast," I said.
"Yeah, but after that?" It was his turn to wink lasciviously. "Hours, baby. Hours."
"At a time?" I breathed, almost squeaking.
He chuckled. "I might need a few minutes to recover here and there."
"Oh. Good, because I'm not sure I could handle you for hours at a time." I lapsed into a whisper so quiet it barely counted as speech, my mouth moving against the shell of his ear. "It's exhausting coming that many times in a row."
He hooked a thumb in the waist of his jeans, tugging away to further alleviate the pressure, and because I was, um, looking for it, I caught a glimpse of something round and pink and glistening, pre-cum poking out the top, before he draped his shirt back over it.
"You're good for multiples?" he asked.
"Oh god, Cor, you have no idea."
"You keep saying that." He bit his lip and closed his eyes briefly before glancing back at me. "I plan on finding out, though."
I had to swallow hard, seeing that little peek I'd just gotten flashing through my mind over and over. "I plan on showing you." I met his eyes again. "Especially if you play with these," I said, flicking a thumbnail against one of my nipples, which then caused me to suck in a sharp gasp, because I was so turned on. I was this close to shoving my hand down my own pants just to alleviate the ache, Canaan and Aerie be damned.
"What are you two whispering about back there?" Aerie asked, twisting in place.
"Hockey!" I shouted the first thing that came to mind, jerking abruptly away from Corin.
Canaan barked a laugh. "Hockey? None of us give a shit about hockey, T. You lyin', girl."
Corin fell away from me, laughing hysterically. "No, it's true. We were talking about hockey."
"Yeah," I said, and then went into an exaggeratedly breathy voice, as if unbearably turned on. "Pucks...and Sticks...and--and nets..."
"Ice skates!" Corin said in a guttural grunt.
Aerie was laughing now. She tossed her hair and ran her hands down her front, shrieking, "Oh yeah! Jerseys!"
Canaan, I noticed, was watching Aerie very closely as she pretended to orgasm, kind of like Melanie Griffith in When Harry Met Sally.
Then it was Canaan's turn, and he gripped the steering wheel in both hands, thrusting his hips crazily. "Offsides! Icing! Faceoff!" he bellowed, and then let out a comically exaggerated grunt as if coming.
Which, uncomfortably, for me, was hot.
I also noticed Corin's eyes had gone to Aerie during her little display, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I couldn't fault him, because if he was attracted to me, he also had to be attracted to her, as we were identical. Same thing for me and Canaan. Which only raised further complications, because I felt like I knew Cane better than Corin. Growing up, if I ever had a private conversation with one of the boys, it was always with Canaan, and the same with Aerie and Corin.
We all knew who the others had lost their virginity to, but Canaan had only told me that he'd embarrassed himself by coming too soon, that night, and had tried to leave abruptly, but Haley, the girl he'd been with, hadn't been a virgin and had reassured him that it was normal and she didn't mind, and had shown him how to make sure she came first the next time. I think Canaan had only ever told me that story.
Whereas, I had no idea what Corin's first time was like.
Similarly, I'd told Canaan, and only Canaan, not even Aerie, that during my second time with Benjamin--to whom I'd given my virginity--I'd farted on him by accident, and he'd been so weirded out by it that we'd never hooked up again. In my defense, I'd been holding it the entire night, and Ben had made me come and I'd just not been able to keep it in. I'd been so embarrassed I'd gotten up and left right then, and had called Canaan right away. We'd met at a nearby diner and I'd poured out the whole story to him, and he'd laughed--not unkindly, and had then reassured me that it was totally fine and cool and normal, but had then advised me to maybe make an excuse to visit the bathroom beforehand next time. That was good advice I've never forgotten, and I have used it frequently in my life.
There are lots of other examples of this--things I know about Canaan but not about Corin
Which made it weird that although I can see the attraction to Canaan, the intense sexual need I feel is solely focused on Corin.
The confusion comes in when you add in the little game we'd just played, pretending to orgasm to hockey terms. It was funny, hysterically funny--I was still laughing at all of us--but when Canaan had pretended to come, I'd had an uncomfortably erotic image of him orgasming. It had been an involuntary flash, a brief, vivid vignette: Canaan jerking himself off, his hand sliding roughly up and down his thick cock, head thrown back, eyes closed, shouting a grunt as he came, a white stream of cum shooting over his knuckles.
Conflicted arousal is a strange thing.
Glancing sideways at Corin, I noticed his expression was somewhat shuttered, his brows drawn, his gaze on Aerie, as if he was experiencing a similar moment of disoriented arousal.
God, this was complicated.
Corin's eyes shot to mine, and I think we exchanged an unspoken understanding: yes, this was very complicated indeed.
After a good thirty-some minutes of driving, we reached the cabin crunching and bouncing down a rutted two-track path through the thick Alaskan forest away from the highway. It was early evening, now, the sun low in the sky, still bright and yellow but going golden, shedding a magical glow on the forest. The leaves shimmered and twisted and sent dappling light onto the forest floor. Canaan parked up next to the cabin, shut off the truck and we all piled out, scattering in different directions, staring up at the ceiling of leaves, smelling the summer in the air, listening to the steady whispering susurrus of the leaves in the gentle warm breeze.
The cabin was a snug little old thing, made from hand-hewn logs, topped with a red tin roof, a hand-stacked stone chimney, three wood plank steps up to a small porch, with a big picture window to the right of the door. The two-track path led into a clearing about a hundred yards in diameter, with a grassy patch in the center. Off to one side of the cabin was an old red pump with an upturned wooden bucket sitting in the grass beneath it, and behind the cabin I could make out the occasional glitter of sunlight on a pond or small lake.
"Oh my god," I said, extending my arms and twirling in a circle, absorbing the beautiful, picturesque serenity of the spot, "This place is incredible!"
Corin was standing in the middle of the grassy patch, turning in slow circles, admiring the view. "Wow, no kidding, man. It really is fuckin' amazing."
"Bax really scored when he got his hands on this place," Canaan said.
Aerie glanced at Canaan. "This place belongs to Baxter?"
"Right?" Canaan said. "I would never in a million years have pegged him for the type to own a cute, rustic little cabin in the woods like this."
"He bought it?" I asked.
Corin shook his head, trotting up the steps and lifting the corner of the woven-rope welcome mat, revealing a key. "He accepted the deed to this place in exchange for a fight."
I frowned as Corin unlocked the door and led the way inside. "What do you mean, in exchange for a fight?"
"Oh, I guess you have no way of knowing, huh?" Canaan said, from the very back of the line trooping inside the tiny cabin.
It was picture perfect. The back right corner was dedicated to a kitchenette, with a tiny sink, an antique olive-green refrigerator, a stovetop oven, some counter space, and a couple of cabinets. Beside the kitchenette was a postage stamp-sized bathroom, and then the back left corner of the cabin contained a hand-carved four-poster bed, complete with a knitted quilt and pristine white pillows. There was a quaint, rustic-scene oil painting on one wall, some crossed snowshoes on the other, a jackalope head on another, and an antique oil lamp hung on the wall
above the doorway to the bathroom. It was a warm, cozy, rustic little space, and I was in love with it.
"He's an underground MMA fighter, now," Canaan continued. "Undefeated, and getting pretty big in that particular world. Makes pretty solid bank at it, too."
"Baxter beats up people for a living? How shocking!" I joked.
"Oh, stop," Aerie said, "he's a big old teddy bear and you know it. Remember how he used to work with special ed kids? He was so sweet with them!"
Corin glanced back at me in shock. "He what?"
I laughed. "You guys don't know this? His whole senior year--our freshman year--he volunteered his last period of the day working with the special ed kids. I don't think very many people know that about him, and the only reason Aerie and I do is that we had a woodworking class in that same wing that same hour, and we found out. He made us swear not to tell the rest of you, or anyone else."
"But that's so cool of him!" Canaan said. "Why would he make you promise not to tell anyone? Was he embarrassed or something?"
Aerie shrugged. "I think it had to do with his reputation and football. I don't think he was embarrassed, per se, so much as it was just something he did for himself, because he wanted to, and it didn't need to be public knowledge. He was the cool kid at school that year, and it would have complicated his rep if people knew what he was doing."
"I feel like there's so much about you brothers we don't know," Aerie said.
I laughed. "Oh my god, there's so much."
An awkward silence stretched out, then, as we all stood in the cabin, none of us sure what to do next.
Corin, still holding the alcohol, barked a laugh. "There's nothing to break the ice like doing some shots, huh? Who's in?"
6
Corin
* * *
I set the case of beer on the counter, slid four bottles out, twisted the tops off, and handed a pair to Canaan and Aerie, and then one to Tate. I cracked the top off the Johnnie Walker Black Label, took a long pull, and then handed it to Tate. She took a swig, hissing as she swallowed it, and passed it to her twin, who swallowed and grimaced, and then handed it to Canaan who took a long swig.
"So." I held up my beer. "Here's to the truly bizarre and utterly confusing amount of multi-directional sexual attraction in this room, and us four figuring it the fuck out before we make even more of a mess of things than we already have."
"Multi-directional sexual attraction," Aerie echoed, her eyes on me now. "I'll drink to that."
"Me too," Canaan and Tate said in unison.
I laughed as we clinked bottles. "Oh, yeah, this is gonna get even weirder before we figure things out."
There was a silence as we all sipped beer and tried to pretend the silence wasn't awkward or filled with sexual tension.
"So. Anyone want to play cards?" Aerie suggested. "I have a couple of decks in my purse."
Hours later, we'd played countless hands of gin rummy, war, poker, and twenty-one. That had led to some kind of cockamamie drinking card game the girls had picked up in Thailand, which involved Aerie's extra deck of cards, lots of shouting, lots of drinking, and lots of chaos. By eleven, the four us were pretty wasted.
We'd eaten all the snacks, and had just finished the last of the beer, and the whiskey was half-gone.
And that was when a really drunkenly brilliant idea hit me.
I gathered the cards up, separated the decks, set one deck aside, and shuffled the remaining deck. "How about poker again?" I suggested.
Tate waved a hand. "Nah, it's boring unless you play for actual stakes. Playing for quarters and spoons just isn't challenging."
I winked at her, and then shifted my gaze from her to Aerie, and then my brother. "That's why we up the stakes."
Aerie snorted. "Up the stakes, meaning strip poker?"
I just shrugged, quirking an eyebrow.
Canaan shoved the half-empty bottle of Johnnie into the center of the circle; we were sitting on the floor by the fireplace since there wasn't an actual table. "I'm in. But I say we make the stakes even higher. If you have to strip, you have to do a shot."
I laughed. "You're nuts, bro. We're already half-wasted."
Tate blew a raspberry. "Psssh. Lightweight."
"Oh, like you're sober?" I teased.
"Maybe not sober, but I'm not wasted either." She shoved her feet back into her sneakers, which she'd kicked off hours ago, and then shrugged into her hoodie. "I'm in."
Aerie followed her sister's lead, putting her shoes and sweatshirt on, which meant Canaan and I had to do the same, donning extra layers, including a slouchy beanie for Canaan and a backward fitted hat for me. It was Aerie's turn to deal, so she shuffled the deck again several more times and then dealt the cards.
We spent a few quiet minutes examining our hands, and then we went around the circle, hitting or staying.
"All right," I said. "We're playing for shoes this round."
Everyone agreed, and we showed our hands; Aerie and I lost our shoes.
Next round, Canaan and Tate lost their shoes, and soon after Aerie and Tate ended up barefoot.
We'd decided to skip the shot lost bet, by unspoken agreement, and instead opted to do a round of shots when we dealt a new hand.
Within an hour, Canaan was down to his T-shirt and underwear, Tate was left in underwear, shirt, and bra, and Aerie was in just her bra and underwear; I was winning, thus far, being in jeans and T-shirt still. I kind of had to win, though, because I could only lose two hands or I'd be naked, since I was commando under my jeans.
"How far are we taking this?" Canaan asked. "Is there an endpoint, or are we going 'til everyone is, like, totally naked?"
We were all hammered by this point, but at the stage of drunkenness where everything is fun and hilarious and a great idea.
"Quitting is for quitters," I said. "We play 'til we're naked as jaybirds."
Tate and Aerie exchanged glances. "We're in," they said in unison.
Canaan and I exchanged glances next, and we both understood that the game was on. "Naked it is," I said, and handed the deck to Canaan to shuffle and deal.
"Shirts," Tate said.
I exchanged cards, and ended up with a killer hand, while Canaan, if I was reading his tells correctly, was less than thrilled with his hand.
"I see you shirts, and raise you bras," I said, with a quick glance at Aerie.
Aerie chewed on her lower lip, staring at her cards, and then tapped the floor, seeing the bet, and Corin, after a hesitation, did the same.
We showed our hands, and that's when things got interesting.
Aerie had three of a kind, Corin had two pair, and Tate and I both had straights.
Which meant Aerie, with a laugh and a curse, threw her cards down, and Canaan just snorted a laugh.
Canaan ripped his T-shirt off and tossed it aside, leaving him in just his tight black boxer-briefs. And then it was all eyes on Aerie, and the question of whether she'd keep playing or quit. She gazed at each of us in turn, and then at Tate again, and then drew a deep breath.
"Fuck it," she murmured. "But I need another shot first."
She tipped the bottle back, took a quick swallow, and set it down. Then, biting her lower lip and eyeing each of us in turn yet again, she unhooked her bra and let the straps sag off her shoulders.
"If I keep playing," she said, hesitating before taking it all the way off, "just know I'm going to get the rest of you naked with me."
"So far your poker luck hasn't been too great," Canaan said.
She just stuck her tongue out at him, and then with another sigh of nerves, straightened her back and tossed the bra aside, leaving her topless, wearing nothing but her lacy white thong.
It turns out that identical twins aren't one hundred percent identical.
That's a joke, because obviously, being an identical twin myself, I know this.
My point is, Aerie's tits weren't a carbon copy of Tate's. Equally hot, just...slightly different. Hers hung a little closer toge
ther, with slightly darker areolae and smaller nipples, and her left breast was more noticeably larger than the right.
I confess I stared openly, and Aerie just lifted her chin and kept her back straight.
"All right, boys, you've gotten your stare in," she snapped. "Tate and Cor, you need to do a tie-breaker."
"Does a tie mean we both lose the original article of clothing we bet on?" Tate asked.
"Fine by me," I said.
"I don't think that's how it works," Canaan said.
"Shut up and do a shot, Cane," Aerie said, handing him the bottle.
Canaan drank, and I finally ripped my gaze from Aerie's tits, meeting Tate's gaze. She had an eyebrow quirked, and her face reflected amusement; clearly she knew I'd been staring at her sister's tits, and found it funny. Or something.
"So we both lose shirts?" Tate asked.
I nodded. "Yep. And then we each draw a card from the deck and whichever one of us has a higher card is the winner, meaning the other has to lose an extra item."
Canaan laughed. "You better hope you win, bro, because if you don't, you're the first one naked."
"First one naked is the first one in the lake?" Aerie suggested.
"I'm in," all four us said in unison, and then we laughed.
"Fine," Tate said, and stripped out of her T-shirt.
I took mine off next, and then Aerie was shuffling the cards. I was torn between staring at Aerie as she shuffled, each slight movement made her breasts twitched and swayed and shimmied, and staring at Tate in nothing but bra and panties.
She was wearing a matching set, which I hadn't noticed the first time around. Deep, rich red, the bra was a half-cup, leaving most of the upper portion of her boobs bare, and it had sheer lace and opaque lace in a complicated pattern, revealing flesh and hiding her nipples. The underwear was little more than a strip of red silk around her waist and a tiny triangle over her core.
And shit, I was hard inside my jeans. Dammit.
A glance at Canaan told me he was fighting a similar battle. My gaze slid from Canaan to Aerie, and her eyes met mine, and I found my gaze traveling down her body. She was sitting cross-legged, revealing the tendons on the insides of her thigh, her thong tugged tight against her core, revealing the shape of her pussy, and a darker patch against the white lace; she was turned on by this, staring at me, at my straining zipper, at Canaan and the obvious bulge in his underwear.
Badd Luck Page 9
