I dug around for the phone and followed the obnoxious sound until I found it beneath a stack of magazines. By the time I grabbed it, whoever had been calling had hung up. I didn’t recognize the number, but there was also a text alert, so I swiped my finger across the screen and went into my messages.
The same number that had just called had sent a picture of my mom’s necklace dangling from a pair of black lace panties.
Found this attached to my thong from last night. Yours?
Thank Christ.
“If Mom could only see her family heirloom now. She’d be so proud,” Corey said over my shoulder, startling the hell out of me.
“Shut up,” I muttered as I went back into my missed call log and hit what was obviously Zara’s number.
“Do you think Mom ever got that necklace stuck on her own thong? Or Grandmom perhaps?”
“You’re sick, you asshole,” I said just as Zara answered the phone.
“Um, what?” she said, sounding taken aback.
“Shit, sorry. Not you,” I said into the phone. “I was talking to my brother.”
Corey crowded close to me, even though I tried pushing him away.
“How is Colton anyway?” she asked.
Corey pulled away so he could look at me, a broad smile spreading across his face and his eyes alight with pure joy. I slapped him on the side of the head.
“He’s good. I don’t know where I’d be without him, actually. He’s basically the only reason I have a job,” I replied with a smirk of my own.
“You asshole. Give me the phone,” Corey said as he tried to wrestle the phone away from me. “Lies. All lies, Zara,” he yelled as we struggled. “My brother tells the biggest lies. You should ask him about them.”
Finally managing to push him away from me, I jumped over my bed and took off for the bathroom. I slammed the door in Corey’s face, locked it, and then leaned against it, trying to catch my breath.
“I’m so glad you guys have matured so much since high school,” Zara said, her voice tinged with amusement. Or at least what I hoped was amusement.
“Sorry. We don’t exactly bring out the best in each other.” Which wasn’t strictly the truth. We goofed off something fierce, but we also pushed each other to be the best we could be. It was a double-edged sword—one side made us morons and the other made us successful. I was thankful for the balance. “So you found my necklace. I was tearing my house apart looking for it. Thank you for calling.”
“Sure. Do you want me to mail it, or…”
“Or…?”
“Or I can attach it to the G-string I’m currently wearing, and you can come take it off.” Her voice was raspy and seductive, and it was making my cock thicken in my sweat pants.
“The G-string or the necklace?” I asked.
“Both.”
“Text me your address. I’ll be right there.”
ZARA
After getting off the phone with CJ, I raced through a shower and tidied up my room. I dressed in a seafoam-green bra and thong set I hadn’t worn yet but stopped short of attaching the necklace to my panties like I’d told him I would. From how relieved he sounded when he heard I’d found it, it was clearly important to him. I wasn’t sure dangling it over my clit would be appropriate.
I contemplated clasping it around my neck, but wearing it didn’t seem right either. Instead, I nestled the delicate gold chain into the cup of my bra so that the pendant, which upon closer inspection looked like some kind of beautiful ancient coin, hung over the lace exterior. This way he’d still have to touch me to reclaim it, but it didn’t feel so…dirty.
Not that dirty was a bad thing. I was hoping to get up to a lot of dirty things with CJ this evening, but I didn’t want to profane something that could potentially be important to him.
My doorbell chimed, and I grabbed a robe off the bed before hurrying downstairs. Running my hands through my hair one last time, I swung the door open to reveal CJ looking hot as hell in a light-blue hoodie and gray sweat pants that did nothing to hide his bulge.
I should say something.
Instead, I stepped back from the door and motioned him inside.
He’d always been a well-built guy in high school, but he’d grown into a man whose presence took over a room. He was solid and muscled, but it wasn’t the kind of physique one procured from spending hours in the gym. It was the kind of body a man got from doing…manly things. Jesus, his hotness makes me stupid.
He pushed up the sleeves of his hoodie, and my gaze was drawn to the movement. I wanted to map the corded muscle in his forearms with my tongue. Knowing from experience just how capable his large hands were, wetness flooded south, and my clit pulsed with anticipation.
“So you found my mom’s necklace?” His voice rumbled through me, making me shiver.
I nodded. “It’s beautiful.”
He flexed his hands by his sides, as if he was struggling to keep them where they were. Which was the last thing I wanted. “My mom wore it all the time. I was always fascinated by it. It’s an ancient Chinese gaming chip made from mother-of-pearl.”
Which meant it was probably super expensive and shouldn’t be dangling from my bra, but that ship had sailed.
“Can I see it?” The huskiness of his voice made me relax. He was clearly hoping it was somewhere on me.
Or maybe I was hoping he was hoping that. Either way, I unfastened the belt tied at my waist and pushed the robe off my shoulder, letting it fall to a heap on the floor.
His eyes drifted to my thong first, but when he didn’t see the necklace, he let his gaze slowly drift up my body until he settled it on the necklace. Stepping closer, he slowly placed his hands on my shoulders.
The roughness of his hands against the softness of my shoulders felt amazing. He slid his fingertips down over my collarbone and to the swell of my breasts. Then he stopped their course and looked into my eyes. “I’ve never seen that necklace look more beautiful.”
I don’t know who moved first after that. Suddenly his lips were on mine or mine were on his, and we both moaned into the kiss as our hands explored each other greedily. The kiss was consuming, like an inferno sucking all the oxygen from us both to sustain itself. Feeling his tongue caress my lips, I instantly opened for him, letting him drag me deeper into the moment.
He pulled back slightly, and I chased his lips, too intoxicated by the taste of him to stop.
“I just,” he gusted out before putting his lips back on mine where they belonged. “I… We need to talk.” He managed to get the words out in between deep, probing kisses.
I gently removed the necklace and placed it in his hand before reaching back to unclasp my bra and let it slip down my arms and join my robe on the floor. “There are much better uses for your mouth than talking,” I said.
He zeroed in on my hardened nipples, and he moved his hands up slowly to cup my breasts. The coolness of the coin felt amazing against the heated flush of my skin. He grazed over my nipples with his thumbs, causing me to arch toward him.
“But I really—”
“CJ.”
He brought his gaze back up to my face and waited for me to continue.
“Make me come.”
Bringing one hand up to my nape, he pulled me to him and kissed me hungrily. This was what I needed. Talking was for people who were interested in dating and getting to know each other. That wasn’t what this was. This was need, pure and physical. And it seemed he was finally fully with the program.
He put the necklace into his pocket before sliding his hands over my hips and then gripped my ass, pulling me against him. His hard cock pressed into my belly, and I wanted to see it, touch it, feel it.
“Bedroom?” he asked.
I pointed up the steps without moving my body away from his. He looked where I’d gestured for a second before lifting me by the backs of my thighs and carrying me upstairs. Since my room was the first door at the top of the stairs, it wasn’t hard for him to find, and he carried me i
nside, his lips still fused to mine.
Lowering me onto the bed gently, he then stepped back and tore his hoodie off, revealing bare skin beneath. When he shucked his sweat pants, his erection sprang free. CJ had come prepared, and since I was prepared to come, I was supremely thankful for his choice to not wear anything under his pants. He moved toward me, grabbed my thong, and pulled it off me.
“I have condoms in the drawer.” My voice was breathier than I’d ever heard it, and I was momentarily worried what this man might reduce me to before this night was done.
His long, thick cock bobbed as he made his way over to the drawer and opened it, removing a condom, tearing it open, and rolling it over himself. He seemed ready to pick up where we left off the previous night, skipping the foreplay neither of us needed. Crawling between my spread legs on the bed, he lowered himself so his chest touched mine.
As he kissed me deeply, his cock slid over my clit, collecting the moisture that had gathered there. I was beyond turned on, and I arched into him so my nipples rubbed against skin that was taut over firm pecs. Just as I was about to take him in hand and guide him to my entrance, he did it himself, positioning the blunt head of his cock against me and pushing steadily inside.
Gasping, I grasped hold of his back, my fingernails no doubt leaving scratches behind. He rocked into me gently at first, letting me get used to how thick he was. But as his mouth moved down to suck on the tender skin on my neck, his thrusts picked up speed and intensity.
“Yeah,” I groaned. “Just like that.”
Shifting so his weight was on his palms, he looked down at where we were joined and pulled almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward and driving back in. I could feel every ridge and vein on his cock as it massaged the walls of my pussy. All I could do was hold on for the ride and make unintelligible noises of encouragement.
“Fuck. Feels so good,” he gritted out as he threw his head back, clearly giving himself over to sensation. But he quickly refocused on me, moving one hand down to rub my clit.
Part of me wanted to tell him to stop. My orgasm was already building low in my belly, and with the way he was working my clit, this was going to be over sooner than I wanted it to be. But the bigger part of me wanted to get off. I had a feeling the explosion was going to be nuclear, and I wanted it.
He seemed to be on the same page. “Close,” he ground out before quickening his pace even more, chasing the release he hadn’t let me give him the previous night.
I wanted to watch him get there. Wanted to see his face as his orgasm took him over. As his finger continued to work magic on me, my clit nearly ached with pleasure, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. My body went rigid as I came, but I forced my eyes to stay open. I went pliant beneath him but still met his thrusts, even as they became more erratic.
His hips flexed as he pushed deeply into me, his cock seemingly trying to burrow inside. After a few hard, long thrusts, he groaned and dropped to his elbows, his body quaking as he no doubt flooded the condom with come. His whole body was taut above me as he rocked gently a couple more times, probably trying to milk his orgasm for all it was worth.
Eventually he came back to himself. He looked down at me and pecked a kiss to my lips before rolling to his side and getting up to deal with the condom. When he came back, I was still lying on my bed, my body content to ride the wave of satisfaction a little longer.
“Did I break you?” he asked, amusement and a trace of smug pride in his tone.
I laughed at his ridiculousness but answered honestly. “Not yet. But you’re welcome to give it another try.”
Chapter Six
Colton
“You guys doing anything today? I could use your help at the restaurant this morning.” My dad handed me a cup of coffee before pouring one for Corey too.
“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip. “And sure. What’s up?” Neither one of us had worked at the restaurant since we were in high school. Even when we came back on college breaks, the place was usually staffed well enough that Dad didn’t need us for anything.
“Could just use your input on some repairs I need to make. It shouldn’t take long.”
“No rush,” Corey said. “We probably won’t head home until later tonight.”
Dad looked at Corey and then back to me. “I can make a tee time for tomorrow if you boys wanna stay one more night. You know… Like we used to.”
The hope that lit up his eyes sent a pang of guilt through me. We used to golf every Thanksgiving weekend, starting when Corey and I were in high school. And truthfully, I missed it. But with the bike shop requiring so much of our time, the tradition had died off sometime over the last few years. “Sure, that’d be fun,” I answered, and Corey echoed my sentiments.
“Great! I’ll call later on.” My dad’s excitement was audible, and he reached a hand out to squeeze my shoulder in appreciation before doing the same to Corey.
We finished our coffees, and Dad suggested we grab something to eat on the way. The fifteen-minute drive from Dad’s place to the restaurant was shorter than I remembered since I’d driven it last—maybe six years ago. It reminded me of going back to our old elementary school and thinking how small the hallways had gotten since I’d left.
As a kid, the drive to the restaurant had seemed to take forever, especially after a long day at school. By the time we got to our “office,” as my mom had dubbed the booth closest to the kitchen, Corey and I were ready for anything except homework. Video games, TV, bed. Just about the last thing we wanted to do was hang out in our parents’ restaurant on the nights they both had to be there.
But after our mom’s passing, I never entered the restaurant with the same perspective. And today was no different.
The sign still said Maggie’s. There was just no Maggie. No dark-red hair, no sweet smile surrounded by freckles, no one to tousle my hair before giving me a kiss on the top of my head and telling me to get back to work.
The last time I’d been at Maggie’s was when we threw our dad a sixtieth birthday party two years ago, and now, as I wandered around the dining room, I scolded myself for not returning sooner. For not even asking Dad if he needed any help.
Because he clearly did.
It was true the food was always the draw, not the decor or the building. But Dad had always been able to keep on top of things. But that didn’t appear to be the case anymore. “What the hell happened to this place?” I asked, eyeing wallpaper that was peeling off walls and a chair rail that was missing in places.
Corey ran a hand over some of the remaining wallpaper—a textured navy blue that had been on the walls since Maggie’s opened twenty years ago. My mom’s choice. Seeing the bare walls behind it felt wrong.
Dad shrugged. “Started some renovations last week. I figured the place could afford to be closed over the holidays.”
“Can it?” I asked. The idea seemed ridiculous—irresponsible, even. This was Dad’s only source of income. “How’s that possible? Did you find a celebrity to blackmail or something? You have a Kardashian sex tape you’re not telling us about?”
“Don’t look at me,” Corey said when I glanced at him for an explanation, even though I figured he wouldn’t have one either. “I’m as confused as you are. When’s the place supposed to reopen? This is gonna take a while. The walls are in horrible shape behind the paper. I thought you said this would take a few hours.”
“Not the repairs. Those’ll obviously take a long time. I just need help picking some stuff. The color blindness doesn’t make this kind of thing too easy.”
“Right,” I said, thinking back to when Mom used to have to match his outfits for him if he wore anything other than black pants or jeans.
Dad sighed and took a seat at one of the wooden chairs at a table in the middle of the room. He looked tense, burdened. Like Corey’s question was more complex than providing us with a date. It scared me. “Take a seat, boys. I need to talk to you about something.”
Corey sat, slo
wly, across from our dad.
“I think I’d rather stand for this,” I said, already sensing a gravity to the conversation.
Silence hung between all of us for a minute, making the tension thicker than a morning fog.
Finally Dad spoke. “I need your help with a few repairs here because I agreed to do some. It’s not for sure yet, but the potential buyer wants to see some things done around here before they’ll make a formal offer, and I haven’t had any other interest.”
“Potential buyer? You’re selling Mom’s restaurant?” I never thought this day would come. It hadn’t ever crossed my mind, and my tone showed it.
“It’s not Mom’s restaurant anymore, Colt,” my dad said. Unlike mine, his voice was quiet, somber. It was full of a sadness that was the result of more than just the mention of my mother. “It may be her namesake, but she isn’t around anymore. And I just don’t want to do it without her anymore.”
How could I not have noticed how much Dad had begun to struggle? “We’ll help you.”
“Yeah.” Corey reached a hand to Dad’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze like Dad did so often with us when we needed consoling. “We’re here now. We can be here again.”
Dad nodded but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t know what to say or because he was scared of how his voice might sound when he spoke. He never liked showing any sort of weakness. I hadn’t even see him cry at Mom’s funeral. I’d only heard him one time after Corey and I had gone to bed and he assumed we were asleep for the night. I remember how I’d been staring at the nail pop on the ceiling above my bed for hours, willing sleep to come to me but never finding it.
Not until I heard my dad sobbing on the other side of the wall, anyway. Until that night, I’d thought crying yourself to sleep was just a saying—an exaggeration used for effect and not grounded in any sort of reality. But as the first tear rolled down my cheek and found its way to my pillow, I realized just how real the possibility was. I wasn’t sure if I was crying for the loss of my mom or for my dad’s loss of his wife. But the reason didn’t matter. I’d woken up the next morning with my eyes puffy and red and no memory of falling asleep.
Misadventures with a Twin Page 4
