“Oh!” I squealed. Of course, I’ve had my pussy licked many times because customers will taste me when I’m on stage sometimes, tipping me extra for the chance to sample my cream. But this was different. Lance’s tongue was like a sinuous snake, slipping and sliding between my folds, slurping my female juice like it was ambrosia. My nectar ran hard, and he trailed each nook and cranny of my vaginal folds with his tongue, drinking it all up, letting it slide down his throat.
But that wasn’t enough. He wanted to make sure to get inside me, and pushed me over even further, so that I was gripping my ankles, my puss bared to him from behind. Forcing my legs into a wide vee, he held my labia open, so that I was shockingly, daringly exposed. And I’m a stripper and a whore, but I’ve never been inspected so thoroughly. At first, I felt nothing but his gaze, the warm gusts of air as he breathed in my femininity, his mouth so close and yet so far from my steaming twat.
Finally with a growl, he dove in, face-planting himself in my channel, his tongue questing as far up into my little hole as it could go. Desperately he fucked me with his mouth, his tongue a small penis as it penetrated me over and over again.
And fuck, I lost it right then and there. Without any warning, a rush overcame me, starting in the center of my cunny, delicious tingles emanating all the way from that sweet spot to the tips of my fingers and toes. I cried out loudly, squealing “Logan, Lance, aieee!” almost biting straight through my tongue, it felt so fucking good.
And that was my brothers’ cue. They both stood up, their masts heavy as logs, protruding like fifteen inch batons from their hips. Lance took me first. He grabbed my hips in his hands, holding me steady and thrust once into my pussy from behind.
“Aieee!” I yelped, gasping. I’d forgotten how big they were, how those humongous clubs felt in my tiny puss. I was lifted into the air, balancing on my toes, as I was skewered on that massive rod. I struggled, trying to push myself backwards and down, and here’s where Logan came in.
He soothed me, standing in front my body, holding my waist as his brother gripped my hips.
“Ready?” he asked.
Lance must have nodded because suddenly they worked in unison. Logan pushed me backwards onto Lance’s dick, while Lance thrust forward with his hips, and suddenly I was completely filled to the brim, that fifteen inch length violating me in the best way possible, hitting up against the rubbery flesh of my cervix.
“Aieeee!” I screamed, unable to disguise my lust. My tits jiggled and shook, pendulous as they swayed below me. My cunt felt so full, completely stuffed without a centimeter to spare. I moaned again as my puss creamed wetly, my folds giving it up to the massive member.
“Thatta girl,” rumbled Lance, as he began a heavy pound behind me. The strokes were hard and strong, the penetration so devastating that I could feel myself about to orgasm again. My cunny tightened and I must have gushed because Lance gave his brother fair warning.
“Plug her,” he commanded. And Logan pushed his member into my mouth, stuffing it full with his fifteen inches. I choked. It had been unexpected, and I sputtered as the hot pole made its way down my esophagus, almost impossible to speak or breathe. The member was like a fire hose, thick and pulsing, as it wormed its way down my throat, spurts of pre-cum and saliva lubing the way.
“Ohhhh fuck,” groaned Logan, gripping my hair as he edged forward inch by inch. “Come on little girl, keep going,” he urged.
And I did my best. I loosened my jaw as if I were a boa constrictor consuming its prey, and focused on stifling my gag reflex, willing myself to fellate a world-record dong. It must have felt good because even though he wasn’t all the way in yet, Logan released.
“FUUUUCK!” he growled, grabbing my blonde hair, pushing my mouth down on his dick to make sure none of the semen escaped. Spurt after spurt of hot white rushed into me, like a fire hose pulsing its white, steamy spray.
In the meantime, Lance’s rhythm in my cunt had picked up and I guess those soft pussy folds were too much for him because he too gave it up, cumming hard in my vag.
“AWWW FUUUCK!” he roared as he convulsed, ropes of sperm shooting straight up into my twat, coating my ovaries, seeding my fertile fields. His penis throbbed and pulsed as his balls emptied, the hot white viscous and virile in my body.
The realization that we’d had unprotected sex made me come, and I squealed again as my cunny clenched down on Lance’s pole, pumping his dick for the last traces of semen, each contraction drawing his tiny swimmers closer and closer to the final target.
It was the most mind-blowing fuck I’d ever had, and I felt devastatingly sexy and sated as my brothers slowly withdrew. Their penises were coated in my cream, glossy and semi-erect still, dripping with liquid from the tip. Trails of white oozed down my thigh, and I licked my lips saucily, making sure that not a drop of semen escaped my mouth.
“Dirty little girl, aren’t you?” asked Logan as he watched, eyes glued to my panting figure.
I nodded, opening my mouth to show him the bit of goop on my tongue, and he chuckled.
“Here give it to me,” he said, leaning forward for a kiss, and I did, snowballing him and letting him taste his own cum as we frenched for a minute.
But Lance wanted cream pie as well, and he knelt in back of me, kissing the trail of liquid that was escaping from my cunt. I felt his warm, wet tongue lick wetly at my thigh, tracing up to my pussy lips, lapping the moisture there, cleaning me up as he sampled my vaginal secretions mixed with his own virile juice.
Fuck, my brothers were perverted … and I loved it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Logan
Three months later …
“So what’s been going on at Lance’s? Why are you there so often?” asked Patricia. It was the fucking inquisition again. Okay, so I’ve been hanging out at my brother’s place a lot … and it’s because Kacey’s moved into his apartment, sharing his big bed. It drives me nuts that he gets to fuck her whenever he wants and to make up for my lack of access, I’m over there a lot, burrowing into Kacey’s warm folds, making sure I get my share of that twat and ass.
But Patricia isn’t dumb. She knew something was up. And the thing was, I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it. I realized that I’d been caught in some kind of downward spiral. After Kathryn died, I’d been seriously depressed and unfortunately my illness had been untreated. I was like a high-functioning dead man … walking, talking, doing my job, making it rain financially, but inside I was a fucking mess.
I’d begun sleeping with Patricia because she was the opposite of Kathryn. Mean, vengeful, vicious, she was a cold viper but I wasn’t looking for warmth, love and laughter back then. If Patricia wanted to take, then I wasn’t going to stop her even if it included my body. And when she’d announced a miscarriage last year, I’d gone through the motions of consoling her, letting her move in, saying nothing as she quit her job and began living off my money.
So I wasn’t surprised she was all over me like a bloodhound, sniffing suspiciously. I mean, this woman wanted a ring on her finger and I’d stayed mum on that subject despite her obvious hints.
“Baby, doesn’t this one look so nice?” she’d ask, pointing to a DeBeers ad in a magazine. Or, “Honey, my girl friend just got one of those cushion cut diamonds and it’s gorgeous.” Shit like that. But I’d always mumbled something inconclusive in return and so far had managed to stay out of the line of fire.
Plus, the time I spent with Kacey was amazing, like a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stagnant existence. The girl was funny, irresistible, curvaceous and warm. We’d tried to convince her not to go back to the Donkey Club but so far hadn’t succeeded.
“Brothers, dancing is the only skill I have,” she’d said softly. “I can’t keep taking from you.”
“Why not?” asked Lance. “We have more than enough and you’re paying us in your own way,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. Of course, he meant the abundant sex we’d been getting, the easy access to her luscious
tits and twat.
“Oh Lance,” she said, giggling. “You’re ridiculous. But seriously, dancing is how I make a living. I can’t be a hundred percent dependent on you guys, it just doesn’t feel right.”
And you know what? I respected her for that. I liked the fact that Kacey was trying to stand on her own two feet, that even though we were offering a free ride she wanted to be an independent woman. Plus, I liked the fact that she knew herself – that stripping and her body were major assets she could bank during her twenties.
But we wanted to make sure she had a future too.
“Honey, how about if you just dance, and don’t whore? Is that possible at the Donkey Club?” I’d asked.
“Brothers,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “I stopped riding other men’s dicks the minute I took yours. I mean, no one else has fifteen inches so how could they compare?” she said with a shy smile. And entranced by her provocative teasing, we’d pounced on the little girl, engaging in another deep, diligent round of pounding.
And so I’d taken to showering at Lance’s after sex, but that’s almost just as suspicious to Patricia’s keen eye. I mean, why would I need to shower at my brother’s apartment? He had air conditioning and it wasn’t like I was using his gym.
But she was willfully ignoring my clues, and instead asked, “Logan, what do you want for dinner? I ordered in two of your favorites: spare ribs and steak.”
Patricia had never cooked as long as I could remember. In fact, even ordering in was a signal that she wanted something. But I just mumbled something inconclusive, passing her on the way to the bedroom.
She followed me, her silhouette painfully thin, like an x-ray moving through the apartment. Did she get enough to eat? I wondered for a moment if she was starving herself. In fact, I was starting to doubt that she’d ever been pregnant, truth be told. You can’t possibly be fertile if you never eat.
But Patricia didn’t say anything, instead brushing off my suit jacket, picking off some stray lint. I thought I saw a long blonde hair fall to the floor, but it could have been my imagination. I turned to her impatiently and barked, “Quit with the caring wife routine okay? You’ve never been particularly domestic or warm, so I find your efforts hypocritical and fake. Stop,” I commanded.
The viper hissed at me, literally hissed, her black eyebrows rising like evil points.
“What do you want?” she said nastily. “I was there for you when you were feeling down and now you don’t reward me?”
“Reward you with what? An engagement ring?” I growled. “Listen, any number of women would have put out even if I was a drunk, depressed mess back then. Hell, I could have gone to a professional and gotten my needs taken care of, so don’t overrate what you offered.” Looking back, I wish I had used a professional, it would have been easier considering the mess I was in now.
But it was too late.
“You’re going to regret it,” hissed Patricia again, her green eyes freezing with cold, dead heat. “Trust me, you will,” she said before flouncing off into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Because we’d actually never shared a bedroom, I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping next to that ice princess, she might stab me in the heart as I slumbered. And I sure as hell hadn’t fucked her in months, certainly not since Kacey had come into our lives.
So I walked back into the kitchen, helping myself to the spare ribs as I contemplated my future. The thing is, interacting with Kacey had clarified so much. The blonde was warm and loving, everything I was looking for in a woman, with a sweetness and light that lit up my world. Patricia was the opposite, a dark, shadowy presence that brought out the worst in me. I wanted the bitch out of my life, and the question was how to do it pronto.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Logan
My phone rang, the shrill sound banging against my ear drums. Impatiently I glanced at the screen. Fuck, it was Lance again, and I picked up.
“What?” I growled. “This better be good.” We had a developer coming in today to discuss a collaboration on new construction in Tribeca. The sell-out would be around $300 million, making our commission a cool $9 million.
“Brother, where’ve you been?” asked Lance, his voice curiously neutral. “We’ve been trying to reach you for a couple hours now.”
“Working, what else? Sorry if I haven’t taken your calls, princess, but we have a major meeting today or did you forget?” I snapped.
“Brother,” said Lance, ignoring my ill temper. “It’s about Kacey … and Patricia.”
“What?” I gasped. WTF? They didn’t even know each other.
As if reading my mind, Lance spoke dryly.
“You didn’t think you were going to keep our affair with Kacey hidden, did you? Patricia skunked it all out and came after our girl today.”
I was speechless. Sure, I’d figured Patricia was going to do something reckless like tear up the apartment, maybe knife all my clothes and slash my car tires. But I didn’t think she’d hurt someone, much less go after our younger sister.
But I guess male arrogance had clouded my judgment. A woman scorned is the worst type of enemy and by dumping her, I was leaving Patricia high and dry. Of course, if she’d been resourceful like Kacey she could’ve gotten a job at the Donkey too, but I guess Patricia was too good for work … any type of work.
“What is it?” I sighed. Fuck, I’d fucked up. But the news was even worse than I thought.
“Logan,” said my brother slowly. “Patricia must have stalked Kacey for a while and put two and two together. Remember Dyke Bridge?”
My chest constricted. Of course I remembered Dyke Bridge. It was the location where I’d driven into the pond, leading to Kathryn’s drowning.
“Patricia took your car this morning, Logan,” said my brother slowly. “Somehow she convinced Kacey to get in and she drove them over the bridge and into the water, reenacting your accident. The car landed upside down, and Kacey managed to get out, but she’s in critical condition at the hospital. Patricia died, brother,” he said, his tone stark.
Holy fucking shit. All the blood drained from my body and I sat as still as a stone at my desk. Patricia had gone much further than I’d envisioned. Shit, that dead bitch was malevolent.
And the worst part was that she’d purposefully mirrored my tragic accident from seven years ago. She’d wanted the publicity, I realized. She wanted our parents to know that her death was on our hands, and that we’d fucked her over by screwing our stepsister.
I didn’t know what to say other than, “Where’s Kacey at?”
“Sloan-Kettering,” said my brother. “You better get to the hospital quick.”
And I bolted from my desk, desperate to see my love again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lance
This was a fucking nightmare. I knew that bitch was going to cause our demise and she had indeed. Patricia was a fucking whore, a whore too smart for her own good who’d ended her own life in some kind of misbegotten revenge.
But the thing was, it wasn’t an accident. She’d somehow convinced Kacey to get into the car with her, and the bitch had driven them off the bridge, purposefully crashing the car into the water. I ground my teeth at the evilness that ran in that witch’s veins.
But as I looked at our stepsister, my heart was filled with remorse. For whom, I don’t know. For Kacey, who was in critical condition, her form pale and motionless under the sheet. For me and my brother, who’d survived the death of Kathryn, only to have the incident repeated now. And even for Patricia, whose misplaced jealousy and hatred had fatal consequences.
Logan burst into the hospital room, his eyes wild, his suit askew. He immediately took in the situation and knelt at Kacey’s side, taking her lifeless hand in his big fist.
“Please baby,” he pleaded. “Please wake up. I’m so sorry I got you into this.”
How Patricia persuaded Kacey into the car, we’ll never know. But we were in for the shock of our lives.
“Are you Ms.
Donagan’s next of kin?” a doctor asked, coming into the room.
“Yes, we’re her brothers,” I confirmed. “Our parents are currently unavailable, she has no one other than us right now. How is Kacey? Is she going to be okay?” I demanded. Logan growled, determined the rip the medical charts out of the doctor’s hands if necessary.
“Mister … I’m sorry, what was your name?” the doctor asked.
“I’m Lance Phillips and this is my twin Logan,” I said quickly. “Kacey is our sister. Now about our sister, is she going to be alright?” I rushed.
“Mr. Phillips,” said the doctor slowly, nodding at both of us. “Kacey will likely be fine … as will her baby.”
Hearing the words, both Logan and I fell back, stunned. Our sister was pregnant! With our baby, holy shit. And suddenly everything shifted, it was like shapes coming into clarity, colors becoming brighter, more vibrant. Because I realized that the most important thing in the world wasn’t Patricia’s evil revenge, grieving over Kathryn, or any fall-out from the imminent discovery of our pseudo-incestuous relationship. Instead, the rightful focus was our sister and the impending baby on the way … our son or daughter.
“Doctor,” I said roughly. “How long before Kacey wakes from the coma?”
The doctor looked at me strangely. “She’s not in a coma,” he replied. “She’s merely resting. The car crash and swim to safety exhausted her. We gave her fluids, but she’s fine,” assured the doctor.
Blood rushed back into my body and I swore to the heavens that I’d do my best by my sister and the child. I’d never been so grateful to hear such words.
“Thank you,” said Logan fervently. “We’ll take good care of her.”
#BABYMACHINE: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Page 55
