Not For Sale

by Tasha Fawkes

  “I’ll be home tomorrow.”

  The call abruptly disconnected. I glanced down at the screen, shook my head, and then placed the phone on the bar as I turned and deliberately slid my cock between her thighs. It was slick and ready. I lifted an eyebrow. Those two were like little Energizer bunnies, always ready to go, seemingly without limits. I grinned and lowered my lips to hers, indulging in a bit of tongue play as I lifted my hands to cup her breasts, my thumbs first brushing over the nipples, then using my fingers to gently tweak and twist those nipples until they grew into hard nubs. Satisfied, I cupped her heavy breasts, one in each hand, testing their weight and then squeezing while my cock slid easily in and out of her thighs, brushing against her lower lips.

  She groaned and broke off the kiss, gazing up at me with soft eyes. “Do you have to leave?”

  I chuckled. “I have no intentions of leaving, at least for a couple more days. I’m having too much fun.”

  Way too much fun, and I wasn’t about to cut my fun short because my overbearing father demanded it. I had long grown tired of him reminding me that I was the sole heir to the Shaw’s billion-dollar oil empire. Tired of my father telling me it was time to quit sowing wild oats and settle down, to learn more about the business end rather than merely reaping the financial rewards of his hard work. Tired of telling my father that I had no interest in taking that business over. At least not yet. No, I was having too much fun? and I wasn’t about to trade the women, the booze, or my jet-setting ways to sit behind a desk pushing papers for the rest of my life.

  My father was one of the most powerful men in Dallas, hell, even Texas, and when he said something, people jumped. I had begun to rebel against that by my fourteenth birthday, right after my mom died—

  Marta or Maria chuckled softly and stroked her hands down along my ribs. A fingernail traced the line of hair from my chest down to my stomach, promoting my abs to contract. That finger continued to descend as it headed for my dick. Her other hand reached between my legs to cup my balls, heavy with desire, while the other gently wrapped around my cock and slowly squeezed as she stroked long, then loosened her grip. Her hand slid downward, her grip once again tightening as she reached the base, only to repeat the movement.

  To hell with my father. I pushed thoughts of him completely out of my mind and focused only on the wonderful things that Marta/Maria was doing with her tongue on my nipples. After several seconds of that unique and exquisite torture, she slowly slid her body downward until she knelt on the floor in front of me, my cock jutting outward toward her mouth. I watched as she took my dick into her mouth and began her tongue play on my head. I reached for the bottle of Scotch and quickly poured myself an inch and then downed it, my attention torn between the heat making its way down to my stomach and the heat burgeoning upward from my groin at the same time.

  I set the glass on the bar and placed both hands on her shoulders, reveling in the feel of her warm and wet tongue slowly sliding over my head. Hers bobbed gently as she gave me one of the most exquisite blow jobs I’d ever had the pleasure to receive, pausing occasionally to suck on my head before she began all over again.

  It took most of my willpower to stand unmoving, reveling in the sensation of her hand manipulating my balls, the other grasping the base of my shaft while her mouth and tongue worshiped my cock. Once in a while her tongue stroked the length of my shaft, wrapping around it like a snake curling around a tree branch. My cock was thick and engorged now, the veins distended. Every new sensation prompted it to respond of its own accord. I sucked in a breath as she paused again to suckle deeply, taking nearly half of my length into her mouth. I couldn’t resist. I tilted my hips forward and shoved myself deeper, and she took me. I tilted my head back and relaxed, feet spread slightly, my fingers resting on her bony shoulders… sinking into physical pleasure that had my blood throbbing hotly through my veins.

  I frowned slightly when she stopped and pulled her mouth away. I glanced down at her, an eyebrow raised in silent question.

  “Your friend… Nick… what if he comes back like he did last night? Should we go back to the bedroom?”

  I thought about that. Had Nick joined in on the fun with the twins last night? No, I would have remembered that. I shrugged. “I’m not expecting him, but if he comes over, I don’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time I shared with him.”

  She offered only the slightest of grins.

  “I don’t want him. I want you.”

  I chuckled and reached down, urging her to stand. Without ado, I lifted her up onto the top of the bar, which made it much easier for me to suckle her breasts. First one, then the other. I wrapped my lips around her areola and teased her nipple with my tongue, reveling in the textures… then I sucked, hard then soft, swirling my tongue over that luscious mound and nipple before repeating the process like she had done with my dick.

  I teased and tweaked her nipples, pinching them softly while she made soft, mewling noises and spread her legs wider on top of the bar. I traced my fingers down her taut stomach, downward along her abdomen, and cupped her mound, massaging until she wiggled with impatience. Only then did I slide a finger deep into her. Her internal muscles closed around my finger, slick and hot as she slowly rocked against my hand, my thumb fingering her clitoris. She gyrated and thrust her breasts upward, begging for my tongue, head arched back.

  I obliged. I sucked on her tongue at the same pace my finger slid deep inside and then withdrew. Soon she breathed hard, gasping for air. My cock throbbed and demanded release. I withdrew my finger from her wetness and wrapped my arms around her torso, my face nuzzling the crook of her neck as I gently sucked the skin there. She moaned and pressed her groin closer. I pulled her off the bar. Her arms reached for my shoulders as she wrapped her legs around my waist. I found her entry point with my dick and surged upward, burying myself deep into her depths. Her back pressed against the wall of the wet bar, I grasped her ass with both hands and pumped hard— two, three, then four times before I felt a surge. She ground down on me, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she met every thrust of my hips with a rotating grind of her own.

  I felt the surge of hot semen erupting and briefly regretted not wearing a cover. While the twins told me last night that it wasn’t necessary, that they were protected, I shouldn’t have been so careless. No telling where those pussies had been before me. No, that definitely wouldn’t happen again.

  I was just coming down from the rush of pleasure, allowing Marta/Maria to slowly slide her feet down to the floor, when I heard a noise. I glanced up and found the other twin standing in the middle of the living room, also naked, the fingers of one hand plucking at her own nipple.

  “You save any of that for me?” She smiled.

  Both sisters giggling, I followed her back into the bedroom. By the time I entered, she was already on the bed, leaning against the headboard, knees bent and spread, offering me an ample view. The twin stepping into the room behind me chuckled softly and then headed for the bathroom. Moments later, I heard the shower.

  I spent the rest of the day literally indulging the obviously insatiable needs of the sisters. By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, I was exhausted. I couldn’t get it up one more time no matter how hard I tried. Which was just as well, because after I treated the girls to room service and steak dinners while I showered, they bid their goodbyes.

  It’d been fun, a welcome distraction as women always were, but after they left a silence settled over the room. It smelled of sex. I roamed the suite for a few minutes, pausing long enough to gaze out the windows at the bright lights of downtown Ibiza, watching the traffic, the airplane lights in the distance, idly wondering where all those people were going.

  I downed another inch of Scotch, not wanting to deal with such insipid thoughts. My God, I had just spent twenty-four hours indulging in nearly endless sex, and that’s all I could think about?

  I turned from the window and used the room phone to call down to housekeeping, requ
esting a change of bedding. The housekeeper didn’t like it, but I would tip her generously for her trouble, as I always did.

  An hour later, another hot shower and fresh bedding awaiting, I collapsed onto the bed and sank into a deep and fitful sleep.

  ***

  The incessant knocking on my door annoyed the hell out of me. The pounding wouldn’t stop. I knew it was Nick, coming up for air from wherever the hell he had been since we’d parted ways in the nightclub the night before… No, the night before that. I had slept well, but I still felt exhausted. I could’ve stayed most of the day in bed and been perfectly content. The knocking came in bursts of three, accompanied by my name.

  “Brady, open the fucking door!”

  With a growl, I threw the covers back and walked to the door in my boxers. I opened it open with a scowl as Nick stepped into the room and headed for the couch, eyeing me up and down.

  “You look like shit,” he commented.

  “What do you want, Nick? I was sleeping.”

  “Front me some more money?”

  I turned to my friend, who didn’t look any more rested than I did. Bloodshot eyes, hair mussed, cheeks stubbled with whiskers. That’s how Nick always asked for money, as if he always intended to pay it back. He never did. Most of the time, I didn’t really care. I enjoyed hanging out and partying with Nick. Only sometimes did I grow annoyed at my friend.

  “What for?” I grumbled.

  “Blow.”

  Figured. “Let me get dressed.” Nick nodded as I stepped past him and entered the bedroom. I quickly donned clean jeans and a T-shirt, then yanked on a pair of tennis shoes sans socks. I headed for the wet bar and pulled my wallet from one of the drawers under the counter top and gestured toward the door. “Come on.”

  We left my room and took the elevator downstairs. Outside, the air was thick and balmy with midsummer heat. Not as humid as Texas, but close to it. I headed for the ATM on the corner. The banks were closed, but the €600 limit would be adequate for the both of us.

  Nick and I exchanged small talk, though I refused to indulge most of Nick’s questions about the hours I’d spent with the twins. I didn’t ask Nick where he had been. I was tired, my head was pounding again, and I was in a foul mood. I wasn’t certain why.

  I slid my card into the ATM, punched in my password, and then selected the maximum withdrawal. My hand hovered near the money slot, waiting. Nothing happened. I looked at the screen and knew enough Spanish to translate. Card declined.

  “What the hell?”

  “What’s the matter?” Nick asked, peering over my shoulder.

  “It declined my card.”

  “Try another one.”

  I did but got the same message.

  “Maybe it’s broken?”

  I returned to the main dashboard, but everything seemed to be working all right. I was able to access my balances. I certainly had enough money to cover the withdrawal. I tried another credit card with the same result.

  “What the fuck?”

  “That one too?”

  I tried one more card before realization hit. “Dammit!” My father had found out where I was. Mumbling under my breath, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed Frederick, my dad’s lawyer.

  “What the hell is going on?” I demanded the moment Frederick answered the phone.

  “I think you already have a pretty good idea,” the lawyer replied.

  I scowled. I had nothing personal against Frederick. The man had been my dad’s lawyer for over thirty years and was extremely loyal. “What’s going on, Frederick?”

  “Your father wanted you home today. You didn’t show. He put a hold on your accounts.”

  I strove to retain hold on my temper. “And how the hell am I supposed to get home without any money?”

  “You didn’t tell your father you were in Spain, did you?”

  For a second I wondered how Frederick knew and then remembered that as my dad’s lawyer, Frederick had access to just about every financial aspect of not only my father’s life, but mine as well.

  “I booked a flight home for you. British Airways, with a connection in London. Flight thirteen-fifty-two. It leaves at nine o’clock this evening, your time. You’d better be on it, Brady.”

  The words were not spoken as a threat, but the tone was unmistakable. I cursed under my breath. I didn’t take my frustration out on Frederick; it wasn’t his fault. Poor Frederick was often caught in the middle of the power struggle between father and son. Not the kind of power struggle that occurred in the business, but the kind of power struggle that was prevalent in my relationship with my father. The more my father tried to keep me under his thumb, the more I rebelled.

  “Fine, on one condition.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You have to buy a ticket for Nick too. He’s with me.”

  Silence for a moment. “Of course he is,” the lawyer sighed. “There will be a ticket waiting for him too. See you tomorrow.”

  Nick watched warily. “What’s going on?”

  “Party’s over,” I said. “Get your stuff. We’re headed for the airport.”

  Read the rest at: https://tashafawkes.com/mybooks/knocked-up

  VIP: Taken By the Billionaire

  Chapter One

  Daniela

  Another day, another dollar.

  That’s what I tell myself as I clean a glass and place it carefully underneath the bar at Trinity, a local dive in Chicago. I wash another one, doing my best to ignore the creep who continues to edge toward me from his side of the bar.

  “Hey, baby, come on,” he says, cocking his head, his hands straying closer to me. “When do you finish your shift? We could get a drink.”

  “I’m good,” I respond calmly, but I’m starting to get pissed. He’s been at this for the last half hour, and since I’m the only bartender on duty right now, I’m an easy target. At this time of day, there’s only a handful of other people scattered around the room. The odd couple having a conversation in hushed tones next to the window, and a woman drinking alone at the other end of the bar.

  “What can I do to convince you?” he whines, sounding like a toddler denied his favorite toy.

  Okay, now I’m getting seriously pissed.

  I slam down the wine glass I’m cleaning on the bar between us. “I’m not interested. Okay, buddy?” I lower my eyebrows, giving him my best glower. “Either cut it out or go to another bar.”

  Of course, the universe immediately punishes me for standing up for myself.

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, he raises his hands in a defensive gesture and knocks the glass off the edge of the bar. Even as I reach for it, I know that I should just let it smash, clean it up, and use it as an excuse to kick his ass out. But instead, on instinct, I try to catch it. As I lunge forward, it hits one of the shelves beneath the bar, cracks into several pieces, and a large fragment spins off, landing a deep cut between my thumb and forefinger.

  “Motherfucker!” I yell, too annoyed with myself to register the pain as blood begins to drip steadily from the gash in my hand. My eyes shoot up, and the guy’s face goes white. He quickly looks away, pretending he doesn’t see the chaos he created.

  “Asshole,” I mutter to myself as I grab a towel and head toward the employee bathroom to clean up.

  As I run the water, I’m so focused on my hand that I barely notice Tina enter the room. She must have just gotten in to join me for the evening rush. She’s been mixing drinks here at Trinity Sports Bar for as long as I’ve known her and is actually the one who recommended me to the manager.

  “Shit, Daniela!” She takes my wrist and pulls it towards her. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I mumble, but she’s already leading me through to the staffroom.

  “I’m getting you bandaged up,” she says firmly and reaches for the first aid kit. I feel my head start to swim as I watch her try to fix me up. The blood doesn’t seem to want to stop.

  “Wha
t’s going on in here?” Dennis, the manager, appears at the door. He sounds even more pissed off than usual.

  “Uh, there was a guest out there.” I nod toward the bar. “He was hassling me, and–”

  “He says you went crazy on him.” Dennis raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms. “Says you threw a glass at his head.”

  “Jesus Christ, Dennis. Can’t you see how badly hurt she is?” Tina snaps. Dennis shoots her a look, and she quiets down. She needs this job as much as the rest of us, no matter how much of an asshole our boss is.

  “Is that true? Did you throw a glass at him? Is that how you got that cut?”

  “Bullshit!” An unfamiliar voice enters the equation. “That’s so not what happened.”

  We all turn, and Dennis steps aside to reveal the only other woman in the bar standing behind him. She’s taller than she looked sitting down.

  “I saw everything,” she continues. “That asshole was the one who shoved the glass off the counter. She went to catch it, and that’s when she got hurt.”

  She shoots me a conciliatory look, and I nod back with a grateful smile. With only a few words, my ass is officially saved.

  The woman steps into the room. “He’s really drunk. I don’t even think he should be in here, but yeah...it was totally that guy’s fault.”

  “Thanks for your help.” Dennis plasters on his prime customer-pleasing grin. He turns to me with a rare look of apology on his face. “I’ll get him chucked out,” he mumbles and then gestures to my hand. “You should get that looked at. Take the rest of the day off.”

  ***

  After the nurse practitioner at the urgent care center dumped a glob of what looked like superglue in my cut and steri-stripped it together, I’m on my way with a warning to keep the wound dry for a couple of days and watch out for signs of infection. A nice tetanus shot rounds out the visit, and I know I’ll feel that muscle for a while.