The Dirty Hotel King: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  And I did, glimpses of the twins at least. They were kings of White Plains High, sauntering down the halls in their letter jackets, starkly handsome, their massive forms impossible to miss.

  “Hey Pax, hey Peyton,” cooed one girl I’d met briefly, Summer, if I remembered her name. She was gorgeous, the kind who could wear rags and still look like a model.

  “Hey,” drawled Peyton and I grew red just at the sound of his voice, my body heating.

  “We’ve missed you,” Summer cooed, putting a perfectly manicured hand onto his arm possessively, “Donna and I both. Why don’t you come by my house tonight for some studying? We can help you with biology,” she flirted, batting her lashes.

  I stood, stock still and silent. What was this, some kind of joke? Summer and Donna? Like Donna Summers the singer? Help with biology? That girl couldn’t add two plus two, she was an obvious airhead. But the joke was on me because Pax just nodded in agreement.

  “Yeah, we’ll be there after practice,” he rumbled. “Eight sharp,” he commanded.

  And Summer cooed and giggled again, almost trembling with excitement, her lithe form encased in the tiniest sundress, boobs practically bouncing out with anticipation.

  “See you tonight!” she called as they strode down the hall, her voice singsonging. “Donna and I will be ready.”

  Ready, schmeady. If you meant painting her nails and putting on her sexiest lingerie, than that was ready. Ready didn’t mean cracking a textbook or reviewing notes, no way. Those girls weren’t the studying type.

  Instead, I realized with growing dread, my steps were going to bang Donna and Summer until they were puddles, making them take those donkey dongs with everything they had, drench the females with cum. It’d be the best kind of biology tutorial, a real hands-on experiment.

  Stepping back, I swallowed, my heart in my stomach. What had happened? It was like Pax and Peyton had already forgotten about me and our encounter in the woods. Did it mean so little to them? Was the best day of my life nothing to them?

  But my steps weren’t getting rid of me so easily. With an angry shake, I turned back to my locker and began cramming books into my backpack, unseeing, blinded by anger. Maybe this was a one-time thing, maybe Pax and Peyton hadn’t seen me, there were too many kids walking around, rushing through the halls. But common sense told me it wasn’t true. My brothers were avoiding me for some reason and I stormed to class, steaming, determined to confront them asap.

  But it never happened. In fact, I barely even saw Pax and Peyton the entire semester, they were always at practice, at school, with their friends, at “study hall” with random girls.

  And I was so jealous I could have died. There were traces of them all throughout the house, the steamy bathrooms, the dirty dishes in the sink, the mountains of football equipment cluttering every corner. And I saw them Friday nights from afar, cheering from the stands as Pax and Peyton took White Plains High to the State Finals, finishing the year as Title Champions.

  But me? There was nothing to see. I was invisible, my brothers never there, my mom completely wrapped up with Gordon and her work, new at school with no friends. So I did the only thing I could … I accepted it, the fight slowly going out of me, the sting dissipating a little more each day. Instead, I threw myself into running, finishing my applications, and when year-end came I was ready to move on.

  I was leaving White Plains without tasting my brothers again, can you believe it? Without having their creamy semen on my tongue, in my snatch, shooting onto and into my body. Instead, my bags were packed for the second time in six months and I was moving on … without them.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Pax

  It’s not that we didn’t want our sister. Trust me, we wanted her in the worst possible way, it’s just that there were veiled threats from my dad warning us off. Gordon isn’t usually like this, he’s usually pretty hands-off, the kind of parent who doesn’t ask about personal lives ever.

  But something was different this time. Maybe he and Virginia were smarter than we thought, more observant. Because putting a nubile, beautiful teen girl into the path of two dominant, high-testosterone guys? Yeah, you can guess what was going to happen.

  So Gordon had a talk with us before Ana moved in.

  It was altogether unexpected, my brother and I coming home one day to find dinner waiting. Gordon had whipped up his special Spaghetti Bolognese, a childhood treat. It must have been years since we’d tasted that special sauce and our mouths watered, starving from a grueling practice.

  “So how’s school?” asked my dad mildly.

  “Good,” I grunted, stuffing myself with garlic bread while reaching for another plate of pasta. Carbs were necessary when you worked out as hard as we did.

  “You passing your classes? You know the NCAA has rules about academic eligibility,” he began.

  “We’re fine,” snorted Peyton. “We met with Abigail last night, she helped us with chemistry and French.”

  Oh right, beautiful Abigail. She’d tutored us in a lot more than those two subjects, judging from her delighted squeals as we rubbed her cunny, her fluids running down our fingers. Thank god there had been no one else at the library late at night, we would have been cited for disturbing the peace.

  But my dad wasn’t letting up. He frowned as if reading our minds, and put down his fork.

  “Boys, NCAA rules are the real thing,” he ground out. “Jeopardize your eligibility and it’s on you.”

  Yeah yeah, this was old news. Gordon did well at his job, but he couldn’t foot the bill for two tuitions at State. So Peyton and I had to do our part by maintaining our scholarships, meet the baseline GPA, something about the college not being able to take below a 2.0. Lame but we’d be able to cross that bar, no problem.

  But Gordon was dead serious, intent on driving home his point.

  “Listen, this is no joke, you screw up and get your scholarships withdrawn, you think you can afford to stay in school? Think again,” he warned.

  “Don’t worry Dad,” responded my brother. “Trust us, we’re fine, we’ve been doing way better in school this year. Besides, the year’s almost done and we’re in no danger. But how about Ana? You think she could lend a hand?” he slipped in. “I hear she’s brainy, maybe she could tutor us.”

  My dad should have leapt at the opportunity, after all having a ready-made tutor who worked for free was the stuff of dreams right? One way to help your twin boys maintain their grades at no cost to yourself.

  But Gordon took us by surprise and shook his head vehemently.

  “No, Ana’s off limits,” he stated.

  My brother and I looked up, surprised. Our dad’s a mild guy and any sort of strong emotion is rare for him.

  “Really?” asked my brother. “What, is she not the teaching type?” My twin shot me a look, our glances knowing. We’d be teaching her a host of things, doing a lot more than hitting the books.

  But my dad was stubborn as a mule, shaking his head.

  “No, Ana’s not doing any tutoring,” he stated flatly. “She’s got her obligations just like you have yours,” he reiterated.

  “What obligations?” I asked curiously. “She’s transferring senior year, what possible obligations could she have?”

  “I don’t know either,” replied Gordon shrugging. “Listen,” he said, “Virginia has made it clear that her daughter’s off-limits to you.”

  I sat back.

  “What does off-limits mean?” I asked curiously. “Why would your wife even say that?”

  “I dunno,” said Gordon seriously, “Her words, not mine. But Virginia’s made it very clear that her daughter’s out of bounds. So cool it with your new sister, okay?”

  This was ridiculous, our parents had no idea what had happened at the wedding as far as we knew.

  “Sure Dad, no prob,” I said casually, taking another huge bite of noodles. Yeah, that hit the spot, the spices just right, tangy and tasty.

  But Gordon sprung the ki
cker next.

  “Virginia has offered to pay your college tuition so long as you behave,” he said quietly. “So careful, okay? Just six months under the same roof.”

  Peyton let out a low whistle.

  “We fuck up and Virginia won’t write the check?” he asked bluntly, his eyes narrowing.

  I half expected my dad to pshaw, to talk around the issue somehow, but he was startlingly direct.

  “That’s right,” he confirmed. “Don’t mess this one up, this is real money that we can’t afford to lose. Your new sister is taking the room down the hall from you, don’t get up to your nightly shenanigans.”

  And I stifled a laugh, managing not to spit out the red sauce. Because yeah, Peyton and I often took girls upstairs, the noises raucous, the moaning, sighing and gasping going on throughout the night, we’d probably woken my dad a couple times. Not to mention the morning-afters when there’d be a beautiful girl wandering downstairs with a dazed expression, her hair a mess, gingerly sitting down, perched on the chair because her cunny was sore from the double pummel she’d gotten the night before.

  So that was what my dad was saying, in his own roundabout way. Bring our evening activities elsewhere. Otherwise, we’d lose the support of our new stepmom and be totally dependent on the generosity of State taxpayers. Given the way public schools were being defunded now, there might be no scholarships at all.

  “Sure Dad,” I said. “We’ll keep it down, no worries.”

  And Gordon nodded, satisfied.

  “Boys, it’s worth a nice check over the years. It’ll let you focus on football instead of worrying about your scholarships.”

  And Peyton nodded, catching my eye across the table. We were headed to the NFL and college-level play was merely a stage for us, something we had to do before declaring for the draft.

  But yeah, life would be easier if Virginia’s money paved the way.

  “No worries, Dad,” growled Pey. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

  And we were silent for the rest of the dinner, three hungry men eating our fill. But my mind kept flitting to our stepsister. Could Peyton and I really keep our hands off of her?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Peyton

  Our graduation ceremony was winding down and staff was already sweeping up, moving folding chairs out, clearing plates and hauling trash.

  It’d been a good four years at White Plains High, Pax and I have had a great time. Of course, it helps if you’re the stars of the football team, the unquestioned MVPs, an unstoppable force on the field and adored by the student body.

  But no matter. We’ve made a lot of friends, known a lot of these kids since we were young, and there was nothing to regret. Besides, it was time to move on, this city was getting small and Pax and I? We’re headed to the next stage, playing for the Alabama Crimson Tide. After that, nothing but pro ball.

  So it was with a clear head that my bro and I sauntered the grounds of the high school one last time. We were headed out the next morning, training camp started early for student-athletes. This was a last nostalgia tour as we strolled around slowly, breathing deep, the stadium lights dim, the green grass almost fluorescent in the rays of the setting sun.

  “It’s been a good run, hasn’t it?” remarked my brother. This had been our kingdom for the last four years and we’d always have fond memories.

  “Oh yeah,” I rumbled. “Oh yeah.”

  We were just about to turn around and head to the parking lot when we heard muffled sobs from a grove of trees by the west side. That was odd. It was almost like a kid crying, someone lost in the woods.

  With perplexed frowns, we wordlessly began heading over in that direction, our legs eating up the ground, following the noises. Fighting through underbrush, pushing tree limbs out of the way, we followed the sobbing noises. Weird, but the sounds seemed to be disappearing deeper into the forest. Was it a kitten of some sort, separated from its mother and mewling for help?

  And to our surprise, it was a kitten … if you counted attractive girls as kitties. Because there was our beautiful step, bawling her eyes out, her hair halfway covering her face as she wailed, sitting on the ground, her dress spread around her.

  “Ana,” I frowned. “What’s wrong? What are you doing here?”

  She looked up for a moment, her tear-stained face glimmering in the low light, only to drop her head again and start crying when she saw us, the tears coming even harder.

  Okay, we’ve made girls cry before but usually it’s from pleasure, the ecstasy so great that they literally lost control, shrieking as the tears rolled and their bodies spasmed. But this was weird. We’d just graduated from high school, so there was no reason to be bawling in the forest. In fact, it was doubly strange because Ana had finished with honors, radiant as she strode across the stage, her slim figure enveloped in a billowing blue robe, the mortarboard perched jauntily on her head, golden honor cords hung around her neck.

  But the outfit was gone now, discarded in a heap by her side and Ana merely sat on the ground, refusing to acknowledge us as we towered over her small form, baffled by the sight.

  “Girlie, how can we help?” rumbled my brother. He looked at me but I had no idea either and just shook my head.

  She ignored us, turning her head away piteously.

  “Ana, please baby,” I said. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

  That got a response at least. She jerked her head up and glared at us with blazing eyes.

  “Don’t call me baby!” she spat. “I’m not your baby!”

  Of course she wasn’t, but she was in a way, if that makes sense. She was our younger sister, living down the hall from us, someone that we cared about although we’d barely spoken to her in the past couple months.

  Lowering ourselves to our knees so that we were eye-level with the girl, I reached one big hand out to tip her chin our way, the hair falling free from her face, revealing those beautiful blue eyes, still swimming with tears.

  “Ana,” I began softly.

  But she interrupted again.

  “Don’t talk to me!” she shrieked. “I hate you.”

  Now Pax and I rolled back on our heels, surprised. Hate is a strong word for someone we’d barely had any contact with. I mean, after our explosive meeting at the wedding, we’d taken our dad’s advice and steered clear of the girl. Her mom had already cut checks for our first semester’s tuition and we didn’t want to jeopardize the financial lifeline.

  But didn’t Ana know this? I started to explain as best as I could.

  “Baby,” I said gently. “There’s no reason to hate us. We’ve maintained our distance from you …”

  But she cut me off again.

  “Because you’re self-centered bastards, that’s why,” she spat. “All you care about is football, you don’t give a shit about anything else.”

  I could see why she thought that. Our days were consumed with practice, training, agility and strength conditioning, and after that, we had study hall before lights out, falling into bed dead tired. Sure, there were various encounters with willing women, but those had been growing more and more scarce as the season ended, our energies focused on the State Championships.

  So I tried again to explain.

  “Listen Ana, we’re not ignoring you,” I began.

  But the girl couldn’t be stopped. She shot me a frigid glare, her mouth rigid.

  “What else would you call it?” she spat. “I’ve been living in your house for four months now, and we’ve had all of what? Two conversations? Three? Tell me that isn’t ignoring.”

  Pax and I sat back because of course it was. I could have tried to play it off as being busy, we had a lot of commitments, but that was bullshit and she didn’t deserve it.

  “Listen,” interjected Pax this time. “We ignored you but it was for a reason.”

  “Oh really,” she said sarcastically, “and what could that be?”

  “Virginia,” he said simply. “Your mom didn’t want us to come within ten fee
t of you,” he said darkly, “so we agreed.”

  “But why?” she asked plaintively. “Why? Why why why? When we’d already had explosive sex, when I’d already tasted you and I wanted you so badly.”

  A rush of heat circled my groin at those words before settling in my balls, my dick growing hard as I looked at her. It was hard to explain. We wanted the money from her mom, and the bribe of free tuition had been enough to draw a line between us, to erect an invisible wall between Virginia’s daughter and the Jones boys.

  But it seemed so lame that we’d given up a relationship with our stepsister in exchange for cold, hard cash. So instead of trying to explain with words, we let our bodies do the talking.