Dr. Stud

by Jess Bentley

  When she left, she didn’t say anything she shouldn’t have. She didn’t malign us to the staff or anything. No vicious attacks of gossip.

  It was us. Me and my brothers. We couldn’t hide our pain from the staff. Everyone here knew intimately what we were going through, even sort of went through it with us. They sympathized with us. Many here had grown fond of Sophia already and ached for her loss of her mother while they ached for us losing our partner.

  Yes, it’s a strange arrangement, but no one here would ever be judgmental. Hotel personnel are always selected for their sense of loyalty and discretion. They’re entrusted with people’s belongings every day. People’s secrets. People’s habits and purchases. In a way, they are almost like family also.

  And no one has said an unkind word about Bunny so far. Everyone has been enthusiastic and charming and doing exactly what they should. Some are excited at the possibility that we haven’t given up. Others are perhaps a bit more guarded.

  The driver slows the Rolls-Royce in front of the door, then pops out to open a back door for Bunny. She claps her hands under her chin and gasps in delight.

  “Oh, really? For me… okay! Thank you!” she chatters as she climbs inside.

  I climb in after her, trying to dampen my enthusiasm. It really is difficult to be around her and remain in the foul mood that greeted me this morning. She’s bright. Sunshiny.

  I don’t want to be bright and sunshiny right now. I want to be analytical and cautious.

  But she sits on the edge of her seat, staring out the window as we make the drive to Burnham Harbor. I can see her fingers gripping the leather as she leans forward, drinking everything in.

  “I take it you’re not from a big city?” I ask her.

  “Oh, I like to go all over,” she sighs. “I’ve been to New York and DC… Annapolis… It’s just I’ve never been here. I love to go new places. Trey says you have hotels in fifty countries?”

  “Well… just thirty,” I explain. “Maybe fifty. Eventually.”

  “Have you been to all of them?”

  I nod. When I do the math in my head, it’s kind of a lot. “Yeah, they usually send me to do the negotiations. Spencer is our attorney so he gets to stay here and do everything by email. Trey and Brock like to use the jets to go snowboarding and check out whatever concert strikes their fancy. And Royce likes to stay here. This location is the one our father built, the one that’s dearest to his heart.”

  She smiles broadly. I notice how straight her teeth are.

  “Oh, that all makes sense. It’s cool that you guys all have different roles. You work together and all that.”

  “Do you have a big family too?”

  “I’d like to have a big family,” she answers shyly. “We don’t really have all the advantages you guys have. Everybody’s always stressed out. Working more than one job. Trying to make ends meet. I guess you probably never had to think about that, did you?”

  Her little hand is on the seat, and I want to hold it. I want her hand in my hand. Such a strange feeling. I can’t explain it.

  We swing into Burnham Harbor, stopping just before the slips. A light breeze comes up the lake and swirls her skirt around her thighs as we walk down the pier to our boat. The captain and chef wave from the upper deck. I wave back.

  “Wait a second… is that where we are going? That looks like that cruise ship!”

  “Oh, don’t exaggerate,” I smile, feeling quite proud of myself anyway. “It’s just a yacht. It’s a nice place to have breakfast.”

  Bunny practically skips ahead of me, walking up the ramp and onto the boat. The captain takes her hand to steady her and smiles at her like a grandpa.

  As I climb on board, he gives me a wink of approval. Great. Looks like everybody is on Team Bunny.

  The chef appears to lead the way, looking quite smart in his whites and cloche.

  “Miss Bunny? Would you like to have a seat on the deck?”

  “Oh, thank you!” she singsongs. “This is so amazing!”

  He pulls out her chair for her, tucking it neatly under her bottom as she settles in, then opening her napkin and draping it across her lap. She holds her hands up as though surprised how close he is. He doesn’t have to go all the way to maître d’ service, but I suppose he’s enjoying himself.

  “Coffee here, espresso here,” he instructs her, tapping the different vessels. “Cream and sugar, of course. Then we have blood-orange juice and I’ve made some English-style biscuits. Clotted cream and strawberry preserves. Crêpes will be available in just a moment!”

  I settle across from her, watching her delight as she surveys the table. It’s laden with a little bit of everything, all in crystal and silver. Chef did a marvelous job putting this together on the fly. When Spencer called him, I heard he was not pleased about the emergency appointment.

  But you really couldn’t tell now. He’s absolutely bubbling, bouncing between the crêpe iron and relish table. He prepares a cheese plate and sets it on the edge of our table, then returns to his batter.

  “Okay, this is bananas,” she says through a mouth half full of biscuit.

  “Bananas?” Chef calls out. “Right there, love. Next to the pomegranate seeds.”

  “Oh, he’s just showing off now,” I sigh. “Breakfast isn’t usually quite like this. Close… but not quite.”

  “What’s it usually like?” she asks. Her eyes wander out over the harbor, toward the other boats and then Lake Michigan itself. I see her smiling, drinking it all in.

  “On a day-to-day basis? I’m lucky to get a cappuccino. When we really make an effort… it’s a little more diner food. Eggs, bacon, that kind of thing. Denver omelets.”

  “Hash browns?” she asks me delightedly.

  “Basically my favorite saying,” I admit. “I don’t love all the carbs, but… potatoes are basically the most perfect food in the world, right?”

  “Right!” she exclaims. “I mean, as long as you can keep up enough exercise to work them off. I could eat potatoes fifteen different ways every day. That plus a nice ham and cheddar omelet, some rye toast?”

  “Oh my God, yes,” I groan. “When I was wrestling, I could eat an entire loaf of rye bread. The whole thing. Butter and everything.”

  Chef comes over to deliver the crêpes, scowling at me like I am betraying him by talking about something as humble as rye toast and hash browns. But he doesn’t even realize, that shit is delicious.

  “You used to wrestle?” she asks me, intrigued, as she chews. “Yeah… I can see that. You’re a pretty big fellow. You must be pretty intimidating in business meetings, huh?”

  I hold up my hands, showing her just how big they are. “I usually get my way,” I joke.

  She rolls her eyes and purses her lips coquettishly. “My, Sully, what big paws you have!”

  Chef swoops back toward the table, delivering me a petite slab of grilled ham. Before he walks away, he makes sure that I see his expression. There’s not a word for what he is trying to convey. The closest I can explain it is that he is saying something like, Damn, brother, are you okay?

  We finish our breakfast with a little conversation, some laughter, and a lot of smiling. The longer we are together, the easier it is. I find myself trying to make her laugh, trying to impress her. If we were in high school, I probably would’ve done several flips across the front deck by now. Good thing I am a grown adult male and not prone to such demonstrations.

  “Oh, that was so good!” she groans, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied smirk on her face. “So, are we going to go anywhere? On the lake I mean?”

  “I couldn’t scramble a crew this fast,” I explain. “But we will certainly go another time.”

  She pouts a little bit. “Oh, of course… you told me that already, didn’t you.”

  “But… would you like a tour? It is a pretty big boat.”

  “Oh, yes! Totally!” she agrees, standing up and clapping her hands lightly.

  The chef and captain ma
ke themselves scarce as I guide Bunny into the interior cabin. She rushes immediately to the curved wall of windows to look out over the harbor, dragging her hands along the glossy walnut paneling.

  “I can’t believe this room is on a boat!” she exclaims. “I mean, it’s the size of my third-grade classroom!”

  “We have smaller boats,” I shrug. “I could take you on a smaller boat next time.”

  Her smile widens and she winks.

  “What? What did I say?”

  She points a finger at me. “You said next time,” she answers triumphantly. “You weren’t sure you liked me… but you did say next time.”

  I scrub my hand over my jaw, wanting to laugh. “Yeah, I guess you got me there. That is what I said.”

  She saunters over, swinging her hips dangerously from side to side. Her lips are pursed and she licks the lower one, wetting it. Her fingers drift out and glide across the front of my trousers, tracing the outlines of my hard cock.

  “Oh… actually it seems like you really like me,” she murmurs.

  I can’t say anything. She is enchanting, it’s true. My body responds to her like… like I want to pick her up by the waist and plant her on my cock. I want to screw her until she screams. I want to open her ass cheeks and…

  “Is this okay?” she asks me quickly, dropping to her knees in front of me. Her fingers deftly work the buckle of my belt and then the button, dropping my trousers around my knees before I have a chance to answer. Then she pauses, looking up at me. She’s waiting for me to nod. She’s waiting for me to say yes.

  I nod.

  At that, she plucks my dick from my boxer briefs, widening her eyes in delight. It’s true, I’m hung like a twenty-ounce Coke bottle, from the fat end. She uses both hands and smacks her lips before opening that beautiful mouth and letting that little tongue come out.

  Her tongue swirls around the head of my cock, dousing it in thick spit that mixes with my pre-cum. I’m glossy, laminated.

  Hanging onto the ledge behind me, I force myself not to start fucking her sweet little mouth. I want to knock her down and jackhammer that hole. I want it so bad that I…

  “Fuck, yesssss. Unnnhn,” I groan, transported when her mouth closes around me. That sweet, hot mouth, sucking at the head, working the shaft. She arches her back so my balls dangle over her tits. After just a few seconds, I’m overwhelmed, unable to figure out how she’s doing what she’s doing. Her lips flutter and suck, her tongue slides along my sensitive slit.

  “Come for me, Sully!” she says, her voice muffled by my big dick.

  Jesus, I can’t help it. I unload into her sweet face, unleashing months of pent-up seed. She gags and chokes, but forces herself to suck it all down, swallow it, and then suck me dry the rest of the way. Even though I’m done coming, she is still sucking me, making sure that she’s gotten every last drop.

  Knees weak, I crumple to the floor in front of her and finally get my arms around her. She folds up on my lap, nestling against my chest and crossing her arms behind my neck. Fighting to stay conscious, I just hold her for a long time, aware that she fits into a void I have that I was trying to ignore.

  Chapter 10

  Bunny

  Everyone at the hotel is so damn nice. After breakfast with Sully, I head back to my room to relax for a little while and find two dozen pink roses and an American Express Black Card on my table. Underneath is a handwritten note:

  Sorry we missed you this morning. Mr. Worth would like you to use this card to do a little shopping for yourself. Please come to the front desk if you would like an escort. Signed – Mrs. Webster.

  Mrs. Webster… I wonder if that’s the woman that I saw when I first came in? The first one to call me Miss Bunny? I sort of like that. It sounds like I am the host of a children’s show.

  And an American Express black card… Wow. They are not skimping.

  Without a moment to waste, I dash for the elevators and down toward the lobby. As I cross the marble, I wave toward Mrs. Webster, somehow communicating that I don’t need an escort, and thank you, and good morning! From the way she smiles, I think she got all that.

  Michigan Avenue is everything you think it’s going to be. And more. It’s just around the corner, so I don’t bother getting a taxi or anything. I just walk. The late morning sun is glorious, reflected a million times by all of the windows on all of the high-rises. Here and there are artifacts of old Chicago. The actual water tower from the actual Chicago fire? It’s not a tower. It’s a limestone building the kind of looks like a church. In the middle of all these buildings and pedestrians and everything else, it’s like a park. It just comes out of nowhere, reminding you that the city is actually pretty old.

  The shops are amazing. Boutique after boutique, with designer name after designer name. I look through all the windows, urgently aware that there is a Black Card burning a hole to the bottom of my handbag. I really need to whip that puppy out and make it do its job.

  “Now, what would make these guys lose their ever-loving minds?” I ask myself in front of a shop with handmade boots. Balenciaga, if I’m not mistaken.

  Probably, not boots.

  But I don’t have to decide. I walk around for as long as my feet are happy in the shoes, staring in windows, trying the ideas on as much as I am trying the clothes on.

  Could this be my life? Shopping without limits? Shopping to find something to please and inspire my billionaire harem?

  Holy cow. This could totally be my life!

  I flip through the memories, one by one, biting back a smile when I see an older woman raise her eyebrows at me. Can she read my mind? Probably. I hear that I am very easy to read.

  Every one of these brothers has been better than the last. Every one has offered me their beautiful—and they’re so beautiful!—cocks to taste. Everyone has looked at me like I might be good to eat. And then Trey actually did eat me and…

  I gasp, stopping with my hand out for balance. The memory rushes through me, making my belly twang with longing.

  It’s definitely not enough. I would have thought that five guys was too many, and now I am thinking five guys is going to be exactly the right amount. Just being around them makes me so horny I can barely control what I’m thinking. I sucked off Sully so hard this morning, I was afraid I was going to hurt him. But he didn’t seem to mind. That giant bear cock must need a lot of attention.

  And how long has it been since they had someone? The way that Royce explains it, they’re not allowed to have anybody unless they can all have that somebody. I get the feeling that Brock and Trey try to find ways around that rule, but not on the regular. They’re all starving. They need somebody to really get them back on track. Sometimes they look at me like a pack of half-wild dogs, ready to eat me alive.

  I like that the best.

  A dress? Not sure what I need to wear, to be honest. I brought five or six dresses with me, anyway, since they’re so versatile. I mean, you never look wrong in a dress the way you can look wrong in jeans or a tracksuit or scrubs or whatever. Also, you only have to pick out one thing instead of two or three. And, hey, sometimes I don’t even bother with the bra.

  Hmmmmmmmmm. This shop appears to be lingerie.

  I push open the door and swing inside, breathing deeply the lavender- and vanilla-scented air. I’ve never seen a lingerie shop like this. The most glam I’ve ever seen is Victoria’s Secret, but this is something else. Delicately I finger the stack of silk drawers on the table. They’re decidedly old-fashioned, yet completely alluring. Next to them is a camisole with peekaboo lace over the bust. Tiny pink flowers dot the straps.

  “May I help you?” comes a voice.

  A giantess strolls over to me, her hands folded in front of her crotch as though to accentuate it. My eyes travel over her outlines from toe to top. She’s a superhero. My mouth goes dry.

  “Um? I don’t know?”

  She tips her head and stares at me kindly.

  “Many things here are French. Everyth
ing is handmade. We have several designers who will work with you if you have… Special requests. Do you know what you like?”

  I nod dumbly, dazzled by her beauty. Her caramel-colored hair hangs like a fringe over her unlined brow, tickling the tops of her eyelashes. Jeez.

  “I know what I like, but… I’m not sure? What he likes?”

  She tips her head back and laughs, a musical array that sounds like it was composed for her especially.

  “I understand completely! Now, let me get a look at you, darling. Just to size you up. I will find you something irresistible.”

  Irresistible, I repeat to myself. Yes. That’s exactly what I need.

  In the dressing room, I just stare at myself in awe. Everything fits perfectly. Even the garters, which I never thought I was tall enough to wear. Even the brassiere, which apparently I have been doing wrong my entire life. This thing actually holds my breasts like a couple of sentient hands. It’s magnificent.

  I swish my weight from side to side, watching how the black lace glitters subtly. I can imagine swaying like this in front of the brothers, mesmerizing them like a cobra, enchanting them like a witch.

  “Miss?” the woman asks me through the heavy velvet drape over the dressing room door.

  “Oh, I’ll take it all,” I breathe, tasting how delicious that phrase is in my mouth.

  I’ll take it all, I repeat to myself silently. I’ve always wanted to say that!

  “Wonderful!” she coos.

  But when she rings me up, it still burns a little bit. Six thousand dollars? For underwear? I feel bad. Is it too much? I mean…

  “You’re going to be so beautiful, no man will resist you!” she says, holding her hand out as I place the Black Card into it.

  But my heart is racing just a little bit. I figure I can return it all, right? I mean, it’s got to have tags on it and a receipt and stuff. I am sure that rich people return stuff all the time!