“Kids? Oh my God. It has. It’s happened.”
Michael poured himself a drink, ignoring his father’s not-so-cryptic comments.
And hoping it hadn’t happened.
Because right about now he wasn’t so sure.
* * * * *
Across the ballroom decorated with cherry blossoms and little white Christmas lights, Samantha Reynolds Pillay eyed her big brother’s new girlfriend, who was standing by herself. Not what she had expected. For one thing, the girl didn’t look much older than herself, and Michael had always steered away from younger women. It was almost superstitious, as if he believed the age difference was what had tripped up their father when he married Michael’s mother, his first marriage after staying a bachelor for so long.
And for another thing, this girl was a natural beauty, emphasis on the natural. Michael’s other mistresses may have been gorgeous as well without makeup, but who knew? Most likely no one had ever seen them without it.
And then there was the job. According to her father, who sounded as if he’d done some research rather than getting it directly from Michael, this Vanessa Donald apparently had one. Or had. And not a model or an actress either. A real job. An oil driller of all things. Leave it to Michael, though, to date possibly the only oil driller in the world who looked as if she was a model playing an oil driller on TV.
But still it was a step up from Michael’s usual fare.
Speaking of which, his witch of an ex-girlfriend was heading right for Vanessa.
Time for an intervention.
Samantha reached them just in time.
“Tiffany,” she said. “How nice to see you again. Who invited you to my party?”
“Hello, dear. Finally managed to escape your family long enough to tie the knot, did you? And your new husband looks absolutely scrumptious. All that dark hair and those dark eyes. Yummy. I’ll have to be sure to meet him and give him my personal congratulations.”
“Always on the lookout, aren’t you, Tiff?” Samantha turned to the girl in the plain blue dress, who was silently watching the volley between the two women. “And you must be Vanny. I’m Samantha Pillay, Michael’s sister. He should have introduced us himself, but undoubtedly Daddy tore him away from you as soon as you got here.”
“Yes, I was looking for an introduction myself. I’m Tiffany Fischer. Vanny was it?”
Tiffany probably had every detail imaginable on this girl, including her bra size, which was bigger than Samantha’s but not in Tiffany’s league by any means. So pretending not to know her name for sure was a nice touch. Typical Tiffany.
“Hello.” The tall girl with the golden curls looked from one of them to the other. “Glad to meet you both.”
“Now, did someone tell me you drive a forklift or something? Or was it worked at Walmart?” Tiffany eyed Vanny’s dress and, with her usual brand of candor, said the opposite of what she meant, in just such a way as the other person would realize it. “What a lovely dress, my dear.”
“Thanks,” Vanny said, either genuinely not catching the slight or refusing to rise to the bait. “Yours too, although I’m surprised you don’t get arrested in something like that. Or at the very least propositioned.”
Okay, maybe this girl had caught Tiffany’s gibe.
Tiffany hesitated, apparently not sure how to take that. Samantha had seen Tiffany’s dress on a Paris runway not too long ago, on a model who had none of Tiffany’s assets in the chest department, hence Vanny’s observations. It was probably the exact same dress, same size even, and Tiffany had squeezed herself into it, making her usual not-so-subtle impression on the male half of the population.
Before she could respond, her besotted ex-husband joined the group, kissing her cheek and then Samantha’s. “Congrats, kid,” he said to her.
“Thanks, Jeff. Have you met Vanny Donald? Vanny, this is Jeff Fischer, a friend of Michael’s.”
“Oh hi.” Vanny held out her hand and shook Jeff’s. “Michael’s told me about you.” And she added to his ex-wife, “And you too, Tiffany.”
Before Tiffany could unsheathe her claws, Jeff hustled her away for a drink.
They watched her go.
“So that was Michael’s last mistress?”
Samantha laughed. “That could be a good book title. Michael’s Last Mistress. But yes. It was. And ‘mistress’ is the right word too. Girlfriend seems to imply a level of intimacy I doubt Tiffany or any of her predecessors had with my brother.”
“I doubt it too.”
“Don’t mind the daggers she was mentally throwing at you. She’d probably do that anyway even if you weren’t with Michael. She hates younger women.”
“I’m younger than she is?”
“By a decade at least, but only her Botox provider knows for sure.”
“Wow. She looks great.”
“Words you will never ever hear out of Tiffany’s mouth about another female. I don’t think she even cares what species.” She glanced around. “So have you met the whole family?”
“No. I was looking around for Michael. He went down to talk to your dad and didn’t come back to our room, so I ventured down on my own.”
“Oh if he’s with Daddy, you’ll be on your own for quite a while. Let me see.” She glanced around. “There are some of my other brothers.” She pointed to her middle brothers talking in a little knot around the bar.
“Those three?”
Samantha nodded.
“Wow. They each look so different. I thought all the boys would look like your father, like Michael does.”
“Oh no, Michael’s the only one who’s pure Daddy, which is exactly how it should be since his sainted mother was the anointed one, as they say.”
“Yes, I understand from Michael she died when he was a baby.”
“And the rest of us are all the product of Daddy trying to find her successor. He never did, other than in name of course. He was old-fashioned about that.”
“Well, you’re all very good-looking.”
“Yes, genes were important to Daddy. So now he’s got a family of tall, good-looking boys to follow in his footsteps, and me.”
“A tall, good-looking girl,” Vanny said with a smile.
“You charmer you! I can see why Michael likes you.”
Linking Vanny’s arm in hers, she led her over to her brothers. The pigs of course eyed Vanny unguardedly before Samantha said, “Hi guys. This is Vanny Donald. She’s with Michael.”
Her brothers laughed. “Figures,” Ryan said, reaching a hand out to shake Vanny’s and kissing Samantha on the cheek. “Hi, kid.”
“Don’t you ‘kid’ me. I’m an old married lady now. Show some respect.” Her brothers all gave her a peck on the cheek and shook Vanny’s hand in turn as she introduced them. “Ryan is right after Michael. Then there’s Christian here and then Andy.” She glanced around. “Where’s Evan? He’s the next youngest, a few years older than me,” she explained to Vanny.
“He’s supposed to be here,” Chris said. “But you know Evan.”
* * * * *
Evan Reynolds had missed his sister’s wedding, so the least he could do was come to the celebration party. Knowing his father, he assumed it would be a typically over-the-top affair. In his chinos and deck shoes, he probably wouldn’t quite fit in. But he had long since stopped caring.
He went his own way. Always had. He wondered if his mother would be here and hoped not. Not that he wouldn’t love to see her. He would. But hopefully not tonight. He only had one thing on his mind tonight.
He’d stop by her estate tomorrow morning to visit her. His father had probably invited her—he had only a few ex-wives still alive, most of them passed away long after he’d divorced them—and he seemed to be getting sentimental about them in his old age. Like they were all one big family. Unfortunately, his ex-wives did not feel the same from what he had heard, which is why he doubted any of them, his mother included, would show up.
His mother was one of the ones w
ho had the least reason to feel bitter. Amanda Evans had come from wealth in her own right and, according to her, had fallen hard for the handsome, much-married Damien Reynolds. While he was still married. Eventually, he divorced the wife he was with at the time, Andy’s mother, and married Evan’s mother only to throw her away eventually for Samantha’s mother.
Evan, like most of his brothers, found himself a little hardened against marriage as a result. Samantha, the youngest and first married, did not feel the same. He wished her the best. Despite the less than four years’ difference in their ages, they had never been close. None of them had been close to Samantha. She had, for some reason, kept them all at arms’ length. But they loved her. And when Evan saw her for the first time after her harrowing ordeal of being captured by modern pirates and then rescued by her future husband Vik, she gave him a big bear hug, startling him.
The episode seemed to have gotten her in touch with her feelings. Whatever. He’d always thought she was a kooky, sweet little thing. He was glad she’d found someone.
As for himself, however, marriage or even long-term commitment was not for him. Any commitment actually. Unfortunately, also like all his brothers, he seemed to have inherited his father’s sexual appetite. He indulged it much less than his brothers did, isolated as he was out in Maine, but he could only hold it off so long. He used his trips into New York to indulge on that front. At first, he had done the proverbial “booty call” with girls he knew from college, but he felt like a real jerk about it after a while and now was much more straightforward about the whole thing.
He called a high-class escort service.
Pig that he was, he even arranged to have the girl meet him here tonight. It was a little risky, but he liked to at least spend a modicum of time with a woman before he went ahead and fucked her, even if he was paying for it. If that made him a pussy, so be it. He had to come here anyway. Might as well treat the girl to a drink or two. Maybe some of the ridiculously expensive caviar his father always had out.
As a matter of fact, he was looking for the girl now. She was supposed to be in a bright pink dress, which in this sea of black gowns should not be hard to find, and her name was Ally. Or was it Annie? Oh shit, he fumbled in his pocket for the slip of paper he thought he’d written it on, but couldn’t find it. She was a brunette though. He liked brunettes.
Suddenly, he saw her. There she was. He was certain of it. A cool brunette, tall and slender, her hair wrapped in a sleek coil. Very tasteful. And in pink. Pale, but it was pink. Besides, she seemed to be looking for someone.
“Hi.”
She turned around. “Oh hello. Let me see. You must be Evan Reynolds.”
Yep. It was her. “And you’re…ah, Annie, right?”
One smooth brown eyebrow went up. “Andrea actually.”
Her neckline was not very low at all, scooped just enough to show her collar bones, not a hint of cleavage. He liked that, not falling out of her dress like so many women thought they had to in order to be attractive to a man. To most men, they pretty much just had to be breathing.
She smiled and he felt it in his groin. It had been awhile.
“Actually, I was wondering—” she began, but he cut her off, leaning in to whisper, “I was going to wait and show you around and then take you back to the hotel with me, but seeing you, I think we should cut to the chase.”
He ran his thumb along her collar bone. “You have beautiful skin.”
She leaned back and stared at him, then said, “Ah, thank you.”
He took her hand. “I can’t leave yet though. I’ve only just gotten here. But we’re going to make do, okay?”
She started to say something, but if she was going to ask for a drink or an hors d’oeuvre he didn’t want to take the time. He was getting a boner just thinking of fucking this poised, beautiful girl. And there were about twenty bedrooms upstairs. “Wait until we’re alone, okay? Most of these rooms have mini-bars. And we can eat later. Don’t worry about it.”
At first it seemed almost as if he had to tug her along, smiling and nodding his head at people he didn’t know who seemed to know him, but at a certain point, halfway up the deserted stairway, most of the guests milling around the banquet table, she started to follow him more readily.
When he pulled her into one of the back bedrooms and closed the door behind them, locking it and flicking on the lamp, she regarded him with a small smile.
“Mr. Reynolds—” She laughed, shaking her head. “Lord, it feels funny to say that to you.”
“Then don’t. Call me Evan.”
“Evan. I’m not sure who you—”
He pulled her into his arms, his hands snaking around a very tiny waist for such a tall girl, and kissed her, coaxing her mouth open to take his tongue.
She pulled away with a jerk.
“What?” he whispered, bringing one hand to the front of her dress and cupping her sweet, high breast, flicking his thumb against the hardening nipple. She took in a deep breath.
“Nothing.” And she pulled him back into the kiss.
Maneuvering her toward the bed as they kissed, he felt around the back of her dress for buttons or a zipper, but finding none, simply yanked it up to get at her high, firm ass. He fondled it eagerly, sliding in underneath the panties to the warm bare flesh, loving the feel of a woman’s ass in his hands before he even fucked her, shaping it, pulling her into his hard-on as she groaned, before he let her go reluctantly.
Breathing hard, she stood at the base of the bed as he felt into his pocket for the string of condoms. He threw them on the night table and pulled his sweater over his head, baring his chest. When his hands went to his belt, she said, “Wait!”
“’Fraid not, Andrea.” He unbuckled it and got naked quickly. “I haven’t been laid in quite some time and you are just what the doctor ordered.”
She stared, open mouthed, at his erect cock, as if she hadn’t seen one before or something.
For one wild second, he had the panicky thought that maybe he’d made a mistake. But it passed quickly as her hands came to his hips and then in front and she put her long white fingers around his cock, looking down at it. He sucked in a breath and let her tug at the head for a second, swirling a bead of pre-cum around it with her thumb, before he batted her hand away with a laugh. “None of that. I can’t take it right now.”
He tore off one condom package from the string and ripped it open. “Take your dress off. I like to fuck naked, if that’s okay with you.” He rolled the condom on, but when he glanced up, she was chewing her lower lip, still dressed, a slight flush on her delicate white cheeks.
He was used to a little more cooperation from a professional, but she was so hot he was willing to overlook it. “Come on, babe. We’ll have more time for playing around later at the hotel. We’ll have all night. Now I want up your pussy. Right now.”
The slight flush was beet red. So much so that he said, a little petulantly, “What?”
She shook her head and her hand went to the zipper—on the side as it turned out—under one arm. Gracefully, she slid it down and stepped out of the dress.
He smiled. For this, he could forgive a lot. “Look at you.” And he did. High apple-sized breasts, the pink nipples peeking through the white silk of her bra, and a tiny waist giving way to long, long legs. The panties were white too, some kind of sheer thigh-high stockings on those great legs, her pink heels still on. He wondered what the agency had told her about this party, she looked so sweet and demure.
Like some kind of incredibly sexy virgin bride. He didn’t remember saying anything about this type when he booked the girl, but it worked for him. Big time. He was surprised how much.
He slipped one arm around her waist, the other pulling down a bra strap to let that ripe little tit pop free, and then he tongued it, sucking on the sweet clean nub until it was wet and dark rosy. He did the same to the other, while she let out slight, almost stifled groans, her hands on his shoulders, but that was all the foreplay
he could afford. He pushed her back onto the bed then climbed over her, ripping her panties off as he did and flinging them on the floor. She could go commando the rest of the party. It would give him a very nice sense of anticipation for the rest of the night until they could leave to go back to the hotel.
Kneeing her thighs open, he ran an appreciative hand along her slit to ensure she was nice and wet and then shoved his aching dick inside her in one hard thrust and she gasped.
“Christ, you’re incredibly tight,” he muttered, forcing himself to stay still for a minute because of it. Her eyes were a blue so dark they almost looked black, although maybe that was because her pupils were so big.
“It’s been a long time,” she said quietly, even as she was relaxing underneath him, his cock sliding a little deeper at it, causing him to groan.
A long time? “You’re not a regular?” he got out.
“A regular what?”
But she was leaning up to kiss his cheek now, making her way to his mouth, he hoped.
“You okay now?” he asked breathlessly, and she thrust her tongue in his mouth.
Oh fuck. Okay, that was that. The pleasure of it roaring in his ears, he pulled out almost to the tip of his cock and rammed into her wet tight cunt again as she opened her legs wider and he was off. He couldn’t have stopped the relentless flexing of his hips, driving his cock in and out of that warm cradle, for anything.
Her fingertips wound in his hair as they kissed, refusing to let go, and the touch, intimate though not necessarily sexual, pleased him for some reason. As for his hands, they were firmly underneath her beautiful ass, tilting her up to take each thrust of his long-starved and greedy cock. Fucking, kissing, gripping each other, it wasn’t long before they were sweaty, their bodies slapping against each other in the warmth of the guest room and conducting a veritable symphony with their low moans of pleasure.
When he came it was so hard he vowed he would not wait so long next time. Christ, he vowed he’d get out of this party and take this incredible lay back to his hotel room right now.
He collapsed on top of the girl for a second, unwittingly making her take his full weight in the exhaustion of his release, before he realized it and rolled over to let her up. He got up from the bed himself, pulling the condom off and tossing it in the wastebasket before he turned back to her. “Do you come?”
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