His Filthy Game

by Cassandra Dee

  And Stacey immediately sat up, her beautiful face angry, clouded.

  “What do you know about what I do and don’t do?” she asked huffily. “It’s not your business.”

  “It is our business,” growled my brother, his brows lowered, shoulders tense. “You’re our girl, you can’t be doing this.”

  “What do you get to say about what I do and don’t do?” she asked scornfully. “You’ve never seemed to care before.”

  “What Pax means is,” I interceded with a warning look to my twin, “is that we’re worried about your well-being. Is this … how you meet guys?” I choked a little. “How many times have you done a back room special?”

  Realization dawned in the blonde’s eyes.

  “This is my first time,” she said shortly, “I don’t do private dances, not usually.”

  And the admission made me exhale in relief. God, the thought of sharing that hot bod was scary, I wasn’t sure what I’d do if other men were able to touch her, push inside her. Go ballistic, probably.

  But fortunately, we were here and ready to do the deed. I was more than excited to see a girl pulse between her legs, jet like Mount Vesuvius, and hey, if it was our step, all the better.

  But fucking Pax was at it again. The asshole started bundling the girl into a silken robe he’d found somewhere, manhandling those slender limbs in his rush to get her covered. And Stacey was fighting back, a squirming ball of luscious flesh, arms and legs futilely punching and kicking while her assets swung in every direction, pendulous, a creamy display.

  “What the fuck?” grunted my twin as he tried to subdue her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she screamed back. “Why can’t you just act like normal guys and leave me alone!”

  Now I had to step in. “Hands off bro,” I grunted, shooting another warning look his way.

  Pax backed off, both sides panting and huffing, casting glares at each other, but not before I saw my bro eye her boobs which were quivering with indignation. Yeah, it was hard to keep your eyes off such tasty morsels.

  “Listen,” I said soothingly. “What’s this about?”

  Pax held his hands up.

  “Just trying to get her outta here. What girl wants to be at the Donkey?” he said, his brow darkening. “Look at this dump,” he said gesturing to our surroundings.

  He was right, the velour on the sofa was worn thin in places, the shag rug had seen better days. But before I could say anything, Stacey interrupted.

  “I can mind my own business, thank you very much,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “No need to look out for me.”

  Now my expression darkened as well.

  “We’ll always be looking out for you, sister,” I said seriously. “If this is where you want to be, then fine, but just tell us.”

  “Of course it’s where I want to be,” she flung out furiously. “And what do you mean, ‘you’ll always be looking out for me’? You never have before,” she said with an angry look.

  “That’s true,” I acknowledged. “Pax and I, we haven’t been fair to you in the past, but I thought we already apologized.”

  “You mean that ‘sorry not sorry’ apology I got at the Four Seasons? The one where you talked in circles?”

  Now I was utterly confused.

  “Stacey,” I said patiently. “Pax and I are so sorry about leaving you in the woods,” I said. “If we could do it over, we would have picked you up, brushed you off, covered you with kisses. But we were assholes and walked out. Again, we’re apologizing with the utmost sincerity.”

  Maybe it was my somber tone, maybe it was my brother nodding his head in tandem, but it seemed to make an impression. The girl nodded and reached for the short silken robe, slipping into it, sitting up.

  “Listen,” I said seriously, “what are you doing here? I mean, here, at the Donkey? Are you hard up for cash?” I asked, frowning. “You know we have plenty of money, no sister of ours needs to use her body to make a living.”

  “It’s not the money,” she said with a sigh, blowing a long strand of blonde hair out of her face. “It’s the control.”

  With that I frowned.

  “What do mean?” I growled. “You have no control in a place like this. Trust me, two six-four guys like us in a private room? You got no control, honey.”

  “No it’s not that,” sighed the girl. “It’s that my life went spiraling out of control because of the video. My job? I haven’t been on camera in months now, I’m just doing back office work at the affiliate. And every day, I go home hoping to pass out asap. It’s only at the Donkey that I feel good about myself.”

  I shook my head, confused.

  “Is it the audience? Do you like performing?” We could relate. As pro athletes we play in front of huge crowds all the time, the fans are a living force in and of themselves.

  And the girl nodded slowly.

  “Yeah, it’s the audience, kinda. But it’s more than that, it’s guys watching me, thinking of nothing but me. It helps me feel like I’m in control again, that I control them.”

  That kind of made some sense.

  “Dancing at the Donkey is the ultimate escape,” my step continued. “I become someone else, Inga to be specific. I get to hold all these guys in the palm of my hand, knowing that they’re thinking about nothing but my body, my tits, my ass, watching me with nothing else on their minds. And plus,” she said with an arch look, “I make money. So it’s a win-win.”

  I frowned. This was still hard to understand. You take control by turning men into horndogs? But the girl was nodding, as if mind-reading my question.

  “Think of me as an enchantress,” she said. “Mysterious, seductive, my spell cast over the audience. They do whatever I want, whenever I want, and pay me for the pleasure of watching,” she said. “Dancing has made me feel better about myself.”

  And she had a point. Having men eat out of the palm of your hand must be like taking a drug, one that left you heady and warm.

  “Stacey,” I said slowly. “I get it. I get it because we play in front of a crowd every week and it’s amazing, we wouldn’t be pro athletes if we didn’t draw energy from the masses. So we get it, and besides,” here I took a deep breath, “it’s honest work.”

  Our step cracked a smile for the first time, giving me a shy smile.

  “I’m so glad you’re not judging,” she said softly. “I didn’t expect that. It’d be so easy to label me all kinds of things just because I dance.”

  Pax shook his head.

  “No, we get it sister,” he said emphatically. “If this is what you need to heal, then so be it.”

  And with that, she let out a huge sigh, as if we’d just reached a truce.

  “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 cameras 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.”