by Avery Aster
Bzz! Her work cell chimed.
The ring was one specifically reserved for her self-made millionaire of a boss, Miss Taddy Brill.
Crap!
“Don’t stop.” Dejon’s grip tightened. “Touch my balls with your tongue. Babe, that’s it. Right there! Look up at me. Let me see your beautiful eyes. That’s my Kiki.”
Miss Brill is gonna kick my butt all the way back to the JFK airport. Blonde locks fell, blocking her view as he fucked her mouth. “Hmmm.” Forgetting about the call, she started touching herself. She couldn’t help it. Dejon wound her up and turned her on just by his very presence. Tasting his beautiful dick was a gift, sufficient to make Kiki come enough buckets to fill the Great Salt Lake.
“Keep your mouth open. Make my cock disappear. Get it all the way in there.” Grunting louder, he impaled her and said he was getting close—whatever that meant.
Salty flavors covered her tongue. Pre-cum.
Ring! The hotel phone rang in unison with her cell. Bzz! Great, Taddy was really trying to track her down.
“Watch those teeth!” Dejon snarled but kept thrusting on.
Yup. I’m dead. Miss Brill will be pounding on my door any minute now. Kiki figured Taddy went straight from the nightclub to the trade show floor.
“Sooo close. Yessssah. Almost.”
Kiki’s cell buzzed. Again, the hotel room’s phone rang.
She pushed him back, withdrawing. “Dejon! Sorry.” A warm tear fell down her cheek.
Kissing her apologetically, he stood off the bed, grabbed Kiki’s cell phone, and handed it to her.
The smile she plastered on to put a sound of excitement in her voice contrasted with the lusty chaos in her mind as she answered, “Morning, Miss Brill!”
“Darling. Where the Hail Mary are you? You were supposed to be—”
“Sorry, Miss Brill. I had a surprise visitor stop by. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
“Visitor, my Kim Kardashian ass. Is your tall, hot-as-fudge Dejon Turay here again?”
“Maybe….”
“Sweet baby Jesus on a candy cane. I swear to Christmas. Every single time we travel for one of Paloma’s jewelry shows, Dejon pops out as if he were Santa Claus.”
“Hmmm. I guess so. I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“Honey, he must love you because wherever you go—Rio, Monte Carlo, and let’s not forget Dubai—he’s spinning his records to see you. Now…are you serving up cherry pie in your room?” Taddy cackled at her own jokes.
Oh, brother. “No cherries, Miss Brill.” Kiki glanced up at Dejon who had no clue what she’d just been asked. For as rich, Ivy League-educated and fiercely decked in Chanel as Taddy was, she spoke with a truck driver’s mouth. She also had absolutely no professional or personal boundaries.
“I’ll be down in ten minutes. Let me get dressed.” Kiki hung up and went to the closet. She pulled out a khaki pants suit with a pair of ballet flats her boss had bought her to wear.
Fuck Vanilla
Dejon
Strawberry creams!
Gobsmacked, Dejon licked his fingers, tasting Kiki. Damn, he was close to making her come without having a panic attack, as he had the last time when they were in Monte Carlo. He’d kept his erection, too. With Kiki around, that was never the problem.
Fuck. Today would’ve been his first at making a girl orgasm without Dash in bed with him to assist. He’d tried over the years to do it all on his own; however, Dejon’s fears always caught up with him. The new medication he’d been taking helped. Close to a full recovery from the Hanzfeld Experiment, he wasn’t quite there—yet.
Screw those horrific telepathy tests they’d undergone as kids. Scientists had jacked up the frequency of light and sound to stimulate his nerves, in hopes the other twin would sense excitement or pain. Dash hadn’t felt shit, only Dejon. As an adult, this caused a severe anxiety disorder. When in bed with a lover, she’d often sense his unease, and neither of them would be able to enjoy themselves. Wound up tighter than any girl he’d ever met, he loved Kiki, and he wanted desperately for her to have fun with him, in and out of bed.
That’s how he’d gotten into spinning trance music. The control over the songs had allowed him to be more at ease. He’d often wondered what would happen if he ate Kiki out on top of his DJ booth. Would he be in tune with her body as well as his own? Would she orgasm then? He loved the control of the music and lights. He didn’t have that as a child at the Telepathic Institute.
“You are beautiful.”
She blushed. “Thank you.”
Aware of Kiki’s self-consciousness, he couldn’t resist watching her dress. Her body amazed him. The first woman ever to hold his attention for more than a few months, Kiki was intelligent and viewed the word in a refreshing way. He loved her. “Why don’t you wear a dress?”
“I didn’t pack any.” Innocent and sweet, on the rare occasions Kiki sported a skirt, the hemline touched her adorable knees. Her conservative ways turned him on all the more.
Long blonde hair flying, perfume spraying, Kiki seemed completely unaware of the hold she had over him while getting dressed. In two short years, Kiki Izatt, soon to become Mrs. Turay, had become Dejon’s everything.
“You smell good enough to eat.” He loved the perfume she dabbed on her tiny wrists.
“We’re testing it for Baden Cosmetics. Their office sent it over. You really like it? Or are you just saying that to be nice?”
He never said anything ‘just to be nice.’ “What’s it called?” He hoped she’d stock up.
“Vanilla ummm…lab sample number five.” A giggle escaped her lips.
“You are vanilla, babe. That’s why I love you. Still, it smells rumpy pumpy.” Regretfully, he stepped back into his boxers.
“Say what?” Her eyes squinted, in the cutest way possible, every time he said something British. Then she’d mock his accent and make herself sound more like Miss Marple than the fetch young virgin she was. “American English, please, Sir Turay.”
“Sexy! It smells S-E-X-Y on you.” He gave her a thumbs-up for the fragrance client. Brand marketing and client networking consumed Kiki’s life. She possessed the ideal personality for her people-person industry but wasn’t pretentious about it. He admired that about her.
Her cell phone chimed.
“Yes, Miss Brill.” Setting it on the dresser, Kiki pushed the speaker button and continued with her hair.
Dejon slid into his jeans, then came up from behind and massaged her shoulders, taking in more of her yummy ‘I can’t wait to marry you’ smell. Soon, they’d be one. Maybe then he could have a normal life without his brother Dash telling him what to do every five minutes. Wouldn’t that be nice? No clue how it might feel, but he was ready to break out from Dash’s shadow, and soon.
“Darling, you hung up before I got a chance to tell you our fierce news,” Taddy boomed from the speaker.
“Sorry, Miss Brill. I’m in a rush to get to you. But if this can’t wait, let’s hear it.”
“Give me a drum roll, honey.” Taddy’s voice irked Dejon. He didn’t know how Kiki worked for a diva. Nice and quiet, Kiki wasn’t anything like the motley crew she hung around.
When Dejon had pried as to why Kiki worshiped them, she’d defended her over-the-top Manhattanites, explaining they helped her make it in the city. And Taddy Brill was their pack’s leader. She’d suggested Dejon spend more time getting to know them. Slowly, they’d won him over. Underneath all their Louis Vuitton, he’d discovered they had heart.
Kiki made a drum roll noise as if the two of them did this all day long. Dejon covered his mouth to stifle a snicker. Bloody New Yorkers.
“Twenty minutes ago, Brill, Inc., that being me, secured the Style Gala contract for their New York City extravaganza.”
“Yay!” Kiki shouted.
Ughhh.
“And to kick off the largest gemology show in North America, we’re giving Y-O-U this project, along with our current Paloma Gems client,
as your first two campaigns to spearhead.”
Fuck no!
“All on my own?” Her feminine hands shot into the air.
“Make your fellow Brill girls proud, darling. Both accounts are all yours.”
Blimey.
“Miss Brill!” Kiki’s body shook excitedly. Jumping, she dropped her hairbrush and turned into Dejon, hugging him above his waist. “I’m so happy. I’ve been waiting since I started working there to get my own publicity portfolio.”
This wasn’t the news he wanted to hear. The Style Gala was his next heist.
Her glassy blue eyes looked up at him, waiting to catch his shared enthusiasm.
“I’m proud of you, babe.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. She wrapped her legs around him as he lifted her up. Holding her close, he hoped she wouldn’t notice the panic swelling in his throat.
His disc jockey cover had worked so well for the last few months. He and his brother had stolen the blood diamonds to give back to his people in West Africa. It was a modern-day Robin Hood scenario. They couldn’t get caught. Not when they’d worked hard and had come so close to fulfilling the promise made to their late father. After the night’s event, all of the stones will have been retrieved.
“Kiki, you still there?” Taddy asked, then shouted at someone in the background to go through the next traffic light and drive faster. Her directive followed many curse words. Dejon could’ve sworn it sounded as though Taddy puffed on a cigarette. Kiki said she’d quit.
“Yes, I’m here.” Her svelte figure slid down Dejon’s torso ‘til she touched the floor.
“I’m not at the conference but on my way to the airport. Lex called after our dinner last night. Appears Vive escaped Hampton Horizons. Warner sent his jet to come pick me up. He’s so sweet. It should be at the gate any minute. When I land, I’m off to search for her.”
“Oh, no!” Kiki gasped.
“What’s Hampton Horizons?” he mouthed to Kiki, so Taddy couldn’t hear him.
“Rehab,” she whispered.
Dejon noted this drama as another day in the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Escaping from rehab. “Who does such a thing?” he asked.
“Viveca Farnworth, that’s who! She drinks too much.” Rolling her stormy blue eyes, Kiki showed her disappointment in Taddy’s friend.
“At the concierge desk, I left your notes for the day. Paloma is at her booth. When you see her, she’s got news of her own to share with you about her upcoming jewelry collection, so act excited. Paloma thrives on your enthusiasm. You’re both on the red-eye tonight. I’m sorry you’re flying commercial, honey. It leaves after the dinner with that HerSay magazine editor.”
“Got it.”
“Get that journalist loosened up, would ya? She’s been a nasty b-i-t-c-h this entire press trip to Stockholm.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Remember, it’s our job to make the media love our clients, while enjoying themselves in the process.”
“I’m on it.”
Dejon rested his chin on Kiki’s forehead, wrapping her tight in his arms while she talked. Eyes shut, he tried to think of what to do. Quitting the blood diamond missions was a must if he was ever going to marry Kiki. I want my life back.
“Darling, assuming I find Vive and soon, I’ll see you back in the Big Apple. Come straight to my office after you land. We’ll go over the Style Gala, okay?”
“Will do. Please, tell Mr. Truman I said hello.” Her body straightened, “Ah…and Miss Brill…please, let the customs agents know you have a gun when you land at JFK. If not, you’ll be detained. Again.”
He laughed, thinking back to when Kiki had mentioned Taddy carried a handgun in her purse with her at all times. Said it had something to do with Taddy’s teen years, and her needing to feel protected.
“No worries. I got my Fendi right here. Bye, kids. Ohhh, and hello, Dejon. You love-sick puppy!” Taddy snorted then hung up.
Relieved to have Kiki to himself, he inhaled deeply, trying to think about how to handle this disaster. How does one tell their fiancée they’re going to steal from their client? Should he tell Dash that Kiki stepped even deeper into their blood diamond territory? He couldn’t. Dash didn’t even know Kiki was in Stockholm, let alone working at the exhibit. Stay calm.
“Sounds as though you’re on your own today. No one to boss you around. We could order room service and snog, yeah?”
“First shag now snog. Ha!” Turning around, she zipped up her brown roller bag then pushed it to the door. “You don’t let up, do you? I have to attend to Paloma. With Miss Brill gone, this means my day will be spent filling her shoes, as well as walking in my own.”
“I love your walk, regardless of what shoes you wear, babe. But you work too hard.” Dejon couldn’t believe Kiki was representing Paloma Gems and The Style Gala. When they’d met, she didn’t have anything to do with the diamond industry. Hell, neither did he—until a few months ago.
At the time, Dejon had mixed records as one of the world’s best disc jockeys. He still was, but he also spun conveniently at private parties honoring trinkets and baubles to get in the door of famous jewelry designers. And once there, he’d put Banja’s disarming instructions into action, busting into safes, stealing stones, and replacing them with crystal duplicates. It had fooled security for a few hours ‘til he and Dash could fly off to the next soirée.
Banja had left behind cutting equipment to reshape the stones before bringing them back to Africa. It had become pretty clear to him and Dash that Banja had been retrieving blood diamonds for years.
“My schedule is only going to get more intense, but in a good way. To think, I’ve been assisting on the Paloma Gems account, and now I get the reins of the industry’s hottest jewelry brand. Every celeb wears Paloma.”
More like hottest conspirator of blood diamonds. The idea of it all made him nauseous, but he had to be supportive to her. “How can I help?”
“Get to your own room, mister. I’m checking out.” She came over and hugged him. He pulled her in tight for a deep, wet kiss as his cock stiffened against her. “What party did you say you’re spinning at tonight?” For the first time, Kiki looked up at him suspiciously.
“I didn’t.”
“Which one?” she asked, tucking her blouse into her slacks.
“Sweedorvski.”
“Wow! Dejon. That’s the Iced Sherbet Diamond premier party. Very impressive. And here Miss Brill thinks you’re stalking me,” Kiki joked.
“It’s not my fault that wherever you go, there’s a party for me to work.” That much was true. Brill, Inc. held steady as the nuclei of all things fabulous.
“You really are the go-to guy for music and parties for the well-off. Maybe my new client, The Style Gala, should retain you to spin there, too.”
“Already booked for that event.” Bloody fuck. I wish I wasn’t.
“Of course you are.” Kiki hummed a song he’d mixed for her when he’d proposed, called, “I Married a DJ.” She reached for his hand. “So then, in a way, we’ll be working together on the gala.”
“More time for us to be together, babe.”
He’d seen more of his fiancée in recent weeks than he had in the two years they’d dated long-distance. Dejon had rented his own apartment in New York a few weeks back, so their goodbyes weren’t as bittersweet as before.
“My flight isn’t ‘til late.”
“The Sweedorvski’s peeps will be fist-pumping to my trance mixes while you’re up in the air.” He smiled, trying to show some ease.
He was anything but. While the party indeed would be in full swing, he’d have the music set to auto-play while he and Dash stole the Iced Sherbet diamond.
“I wish you would’ve told me sooner. We could’ve made plans.”
“Change your ticket, stay longer. Come to the party. I’ll buy you a dress to wear.” He knew she’d say no.
“You heard her. We have to plan for the Style Gala.” Kiki’s face beamed. “Y
ou know, for my first client.” He loved her expressive face. It was the shape of a heart with big kewpie doll eyes and a small mouth, one he’d just learned was very good at sucking.
“We always have next week. I’m off to Africa for a few days, after here. Then home to New York. I could bring lunch to your office when I get back.” Kissing her on the lips, then on each wrist, he hoped the vanilla scent might stay with him. Dejon didn’t want her to go.
“Thank you, I’d love that. Is your brother still coming to New York?” She slipped on her blazer.
“Ugh.” I hope Dash cancels.
“I can’t wait to meet him.” She stepped into her shoes.
“Right. Next week it is.”
“Jilly was so gracious last month. I loved the jewelry she gave me.” Fingering the trinket around her slender neck, she seemed to put in some thought before saying, “I’d never met a retired soap star before. She wears the funkiest hats and wigs.”
“That’s Mum.”
“I just know your brother will be nice, too.”
“Suppose I’ll set up a dinner.” He couldn’t put off having Kiki meet his twin any longer.
Dash had tried several times to see her when he’d come to town. But Kiki was traveling with Taddy for work. At least, that’s what Dejon had told him.
“Yay! You never talk about him.” Kiki paused as if she’d said his name incorrectly. She hadn’t. “I don’t even know his name or what he looks like. Is he as handsome as you?”
“His name is Siak. And you’ll just have to wait and see what he looks like in person.” Dejon felt his mouth draw into a frown, realizing he’d avoided telling Kiki that he and Dash were identical. He’d learned a long time before not to. Nor would he tell her that his nickname was Dash because women went bananas for that name. They thought it was sexy as hell. His birth name Siak? Not so much.
Every girl who’d found out they were twins wanted to meet the other one. It wasn’t long after that when the girl’s ‘twin-cest’ fantasies ignited like the Great Fire of London. Then, before he knew it, she’d be somewhere between them, orgasming.