by Amy Brent
He’d said, “Us.” But it couldn’t happen. Not even if she wanted to.
Did she want to? And Miles was touching her, now, too, tugging the robe away. “Jaxon—” We have to stop. We can’t.
He kissed her again, with a fierceness that surprised her—her first response was to freeze out of surprise, but then he did something with his lips that sent a bolt of pure pleasure straight through the very core of her being, and her body, still a mess of jangling nerves from the night before, responded by returning the kiss before her thoughts could catch up. He’s your stepbrother—
But then she felt Miles reaching around her from behind, his lips against her throat, his fingers on her breasts, a slow grinding rhythm working its way between them, their bodies swaying in sync against hers, the gentle pulse of one hip against another, the hypnotic swaying that lulled the part of her that was panicking about them being her stepbrothers to sleep.
And then Jaxon dropped to his knees and began kissing her feet, working his way slowly but surely upwards, gently pressing her knees apart when he got there. Miles had shifted to her side, now—he took her leg and held it up against his body, opening her for his brother—the barest touch of his finger on her clit and her thigh glistened with the wetness, the heat perfuming the air with the scent of her—salty, with that trace of muskiness that made Jaxon lose his patience entirely and all of sudden he was lapping away at her pussy and suckling at her clit, sending wave after wave of crazy through her body—a mix of joy and lust and desire, making her want more and more and more even though her body couldn’t take it anymore, and a cry rose up through her at the injustice of it all.
She felt Miles pressing himself against her, his cock twitching anxiously against the fabric of his pants, and for a moment his hand fell away from her breast to free himself. Without him, she fell to her knees in front of Jaxon, who’d also managed to disentangle himself from his pants at some point when he was making her go crazy.
He was big, and she was till tender and raw from the night before, so everything was magnified a thousand-fold, it seemed. Every twinge from taking him inside her became an exquisite, joyous agony, every time he thrust into that spot deep inside her, her body seized around him, clenching him for more, even as she knew she couldn’t take it.
She wanted them to go on forever—she wanted them to stop—the twin desires left her incapable of speaking as Miles shoved himself, groaning and moaning, up her ass. There were no words to describe the feeling of heaviness in her as they both began rocking and thrusting together, gently at first, and then harder, stoking a kind of pleasure that she felt in her bones. On some level she was vaguely aware that she had a body, and that they were doing things to it—Jaxon was nipping at her nipples, sending little squirts of pain to pull her back down to earth—but she was riding a wave of ecstasy higher and higher, and it was too much—one mind couldn’t handle this—
But it can.
She woke up in her bed again, naked again, unsure of whether the threesome with her twin stepbrothers had really happened. God, she thought, as remorse overwhelmed her. I’m such a slut. She’d slept with Ben, and then her stepbrothers—but that couldn’t have been real, could it? They were her stepbrothers, after all—it couldn’t have happened like that.
She took another shower, still just as confused and bewildered by what she’d done. On the one hand, it wasn’t technically criminal—and it wasn’t even really incest—they were her stepbrothers, after all. But they were her stepbrothers, which somehow made it different—
—and oddly enough, special, in its own way. As she washed away their cum, she realized that she hadn’t felt this calm in a long time. Her body felt more like her own, no longer the jangling mess of confused and twinging nerves that she’d been earlier in the day. She felt as if her movements were more sure, and as she put on makeup and a plain light blue button-down and slacks, she understood what had changed: Ben was just for fun—she would’ve been fine if he’d actually stayed for coffee and then left. They might have been best friends in another life but they’d never be anything more than that. But what had happened between her and Jaxon and Miles had been special—confirmation of what they’d known since the day they’d met, at some level—that they were meant to be. That was the only explanation for why, even though she knew it was wrong, it still felt so right. You can only be yourself if you’re true to who you are. The quote popped up, unbidden, in her head, though as she grabbed her keys she couldn’t think of anybody who’d actually said it.
She was getting ready to leave—a night out at the Salty Dog or some other bar was as good a way as any of spending Saturday night, and she could text Ben when she settled on the right place to tell him it wasn’t going to work out—when Miles’s USB stick caught her eye, and his accusation about what Ben had done came back to her.
In the heat of the moment she’d chalked it up to jealousy but now, calmer, she wasn’t quite so sure about that it had been an empty accusation. Miles wouldn’t have given her the USB stick otherwise.
Do you really want to know?
Just a little peek.
She couldn’t see it: Ben, drugging a girl’s drink in a bar that was known to have security cameras—
And then she recalled that they hadn’t had time to put up the “Smile! You’re being watched by the most sophisticated video surveillance system in the world!” signs before they’d opened. “Well,” Jaxon had said, “it’s not as if we’re going to get robbed before we have any money.” The cameras were well-hidden, too, concealed in the shafts in the ceiling that carried the wires criss-crossing the entire club, linking the sound systems and lights. Nobody who was looking for a camera would see them.
She felt a chill in her gut as she plugged the USB stick into her laptop. There were six feeds, one above each bathroom door, one over the bar, one watching the parking lot, and three covering the rest of the club. It wasn’t too hard to figure out which feed to fast-forward through. For ten minutes, then, she watched herself serving drinks to the crowd around the bar. Her glass was sitting behind the bar—where it should have been safe.
It was so fast she’d have missed it if Miles hadn’t told her when to look: Ben leaned behind the bar, looking like he was reaching for a napkin—and then his hand drifted over her glass and that was it. That was all it took. Five minutes later she watched herself take another sip from the glass—and at fifteen minutes past midnight, she was dancing on the bar.
She ran into the bathroom and threw up.
When she came out of the bathroom she was so furious she was shaking. That man had made her do those things—that man whom she thought she liked so much—that man had slipped something into her drink. A part of her knew that the right thing to do would have been to call the police, but the part of her that screamed for revenge wouldn’t let up. She drove to the Azure Code, trying to think of (legal) things she could do to Ben to get back at him, but her anger made it impossible to think straight. She wanted to drug him, to hurt him—maybe flay him and have him walk down the streets stark-naked. That might be justice. Or maybe walk him out to the overpass above I-95 and make him balance across it—if he lived, she’d forgive him. If he fell off…well.
The darker angels of her soul were still having a field day with what she wanted to do to Ben when she arrived at the Azure Code. She put those thoughts out of her head for a moment: first there was the matter of admitting that Miles had been right—a task that was, for some strange reason, always harder than it should have been, given that he was literally a rocket scientist. Or rather he had been, until he bought and turned Azure Code into something that made it rain buckets of money.
“You saw it,” Miles said, when she walked in. It wasn’t a question. He was wiping down the bar, while Jaxon was mopping up the floors.
“What are we going to do about it?” she asked, taking a seat at the bar.
“Oh, it’s ‘we’ now, is it?” Jaxon asked, grinning.
She swallowed her
pride. It was hard to do, but after a moment’s silence she finally said, “I’m sorry I blamed you for everything. I should’ve listened to you.”
Miles shrugged. “It’s like I told you when I first started this thing,” he said. “All for one, one for all.”
Jaxon came over to her, bouncing with glee: “You have no idea what we’ve got planned for Ben if he ever comes back again.”
Jaxon wasn’t the kind of guy who harbored grudges or killed other people, but then again, neither was he the kind of guy who put much thought into the consequences of his actions, and Cerise felt a little twinge of apprehension as she asked, “Do I want to know?”
He shook his head, suddenly much calmer. “I’m just playin’ with you,” he said. “Ain’t nothing to do. Everything fun is illegal, everything legal ain’t fun.”
“Not everything,” said Miles.
“Are we going to kill him?” asked Jaxon.
“Of course not.”
“Then it is everything.”
“No,” said Miles. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. Cerise, you text Ben, tell him that you’re filling in for this one night. You make yourself two drinks, keep one hidden behind the bar, and leave your drink out there, in the same place as last time, and Jaxon will be watching Ben like a hawk from the moment he walks in. As soon as Jaxon sees Ben doing something funny, he’ll text you.
“Now, here’s the hard part: Cerise, you’re going to have to switch the tainted drink for the one that you made earlier. You’re going to have to be seen drinking from the untainted one—and then carry one with business as usual. If you can, keep at least one drink under the bar, out of sight.”
“What’s the play?” asked Jaxon.
Cerise nodded, understanding now: “Ben is going to flip at some point when he thinks I’ve been drinking his shit all night, and when he does, we’ll have video cameras watching his every move.”
Jaxon whistled. “Damn bro,” he said. “That’s one hell of a good plan.”
Miles grinned. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s finish this fucker once and for all.”
Cerise had to smile as she donned the apron and began setting down the coasters as the first customers walked in. This was where she belonged—with her stepbrothers, through thick and thin. And, she had to admit, making Ben Harmon see red was going to be fun, as well. They could do anything, as long as they did it together.
And not everything that felt so wrong was actually wrong – their together now seemed so right! They were going to be like that forever – together forever – “All for one, one for all.”
DOUBLE DARE
CHAPTER 1
I sat in the chair and let the makeup artist work her magic as I listened to the activity around me. I remembered asking my agent if I really needed to do this fashion show since I was an established plus sized model here in New York, but she assured me that it was a charity of sorts by a well-known architecture company and for a great cause, helping the local hospital in the interest of sick children. I would be walking the runway in fashions by an up and coming designer who’d recently graduated from Parsons at the top of her class.
I think her name was Valerie something. I wasn’t interested in work that didn’t pay cash, but Monica assured me that this would be fantastic
exposure, and my agent hadn’t steered me wrong. I’d forgiven her for the calls that were for skimpy barely there lingerie a few years ago since they presented themselves as a legitimate clothing store.
I was a bigger model at size eighteen, but my curves were firm and sexy. My favorite look that I had was the highlighted loose curls that I’d given in to when I was young, highlighted in a soft honey shade, completely natural and wild. My sister shared my hair and taught me how to treat it and what products to use, and so far, it had done well for my modeling career. I also had some green eyes that while dark, could lighten depending on my mood. I wasn’t good at hiding my feelings about too much, and they’d flash as my voice started rising when I was irritated.
“Your skin is amazing. You look about nineteen!” The cute blue-haired artist told me as she brushed something over my broad cheekbones. I was twenty-six, so I liked that. “I barely need any foundation with this gorgeous caramel tone and I never say that.”
“Thanks,” I told her as my eyes darted to the mirror to make sure I didn’t look awful. I’d been zoning out since I got here, tired from staying out late with my roommate at a club opening the night before. We had stayed a bit later than necessary and enjoyed the free drinks more than I normally did.
I looked good, and she’d added some highlighter on my skin that popped out in an alluring way. It would look great with the slinky red dress that I was wearing tonight, and she’d done a great job darkening my eyes with smoky colors and great blending. “Ah, thanks. I like this. Can you do my face on a regular basis?” A lot of them took away from my skin color, and I would have to have them fix their errors.
“I’d love to. What do you think about a glossy red on these full lips? I hear you’re wearing a red dress tonight?” She asked, and I nodded as I raised an eyebrow. She giggled. “They tell me this stuff before the models come in.”
“I thought you were psychic,” I replied with a smile as she shook her head and grinned. “I like that idea.”
I was done within a few minutes, and I thanked her and headed to wardrobe as I tugged on the low messy bun that the man had done in my hair. It showed my curls but suited the dress, and I smiled as I pushed the door open and watched the madness for a moment. Models were running everywhere with clothes in their hands, and people were barking at them as I shook my head slowly. This was the reason I preferred solo work and photo shoots. I ran my hands down my yoga pants and stepped forward to the platinum blonde I’d spoken to earlier, who looked completely frazzled by this point. “Hi. I am here for my dress,” I told her as she asked me my name. “Trina James.”
Her tired brown eyes searched the paper on her clipboard, and she glanced up at me and pointed to the corner of the room. “Over there, number fifteen. There’s a place to change right there.”
“Thanks,” I told her as I smiled and turned to search the room with my eyes. The little curtained off areas weren’t the best conditions for getting some of the clothing that I’d worn on, but it was the nature of these events. I walked over to the spot where my dress was hung and stepped inside of the thin blue material as the noise level increased around me. I was quick to slide it on, and I made sure that it was covering everything before I stepped out, thought it was cut in such a way that it showed off all of my curves. I looked in the mirror and slipped my feet into the Louboutin heels that brought me from five foot nine to over six feet tall.
I needed some quiet, so I left the room to put on the black choker and earrings in the hallway as I reminded myself to never take a job like this again. Models were hard to deal with on a smaller scale, and this was chaos. I walked over to where we’d be entering the stage area, early enough to be on my own and find a seat as I prepped myself for this. These things were always bright lights and loud music, usually with a rambunctious audience that was drunk from the cocktails and little food they’d eaten over the dinner they paid top dollar for. I smoothed my hands over the top that was tied around my neck and cut daringly with a good tease of my cleavage. I knew not to mess with my face or press my lips together from the near ten years of experience that I’d gained, but I was nervous about this evening. I wasn’t sure just why, but my stomach fluttered as I heard other models approaching.
They were all dressed up in revealing dresses of various colors, and I had to admit that the designer had a good style about her. I’d opted to wear only one and be out of there since I wasn’t fond of the quick changes and Monica had grudgingly agreed. I might stick around in the back and check out some of the other clothes, but that was my limit. I wasn’t getting paid for this.
CHAPTER 2
The announcer stopped the music that was playing to announ
ce the fashion show and the designer, Valerie Bacceli. She bounced by us, tiny and young in a black dress with an edge. She looked happy, and I smiled as she walked out and waved to everyone before answering the questions the man asked her. She was flustered and nervous and absolutely adorable. The crowd cheered obnoxiously, and I waited as they started calling our names to walk the long runway. I was the sixth model and walked out to a Sade song that I favored.
I walked to the sensual beat; shoulders raised and eyes forward as I let them pass over the vague crowd as if I could see them. I wanted to make Valerie look good, and I knew damn good and well how to own a dress. I flirted and swayed before making a turn at the end to show off every part of the dress from every angle. I paused for a moment as I felt someone staring hard at me and blinked before I started back towards the exit. It seemed to take forever, and I was happy to step into the dimly lit hallway as the next girl took the stage. I was done for the night, but I figured that I’d change back into my clothes and watch a little more from the back just to see more details in the clothes.
Once I was changed into my yoga pants and sweater, I was surprised when the blonde handed me a bag in the changing room. “What’s this?” I peeked inside to see the dress I’d modeled as well as the heels and I stared at her. I was only in the bathroom for a few minutes rinsing off my makeup. “Why are you giving this to me?”
“I was told by my sponsors to give that to you since they thought you looked so beautiful in it. There’s some paperwork that you’ll want to read as well.” She gave me a bright smile, and I tilted my head as red flags showed up everywhere in my mind.
“Who might the sponsors be?” I inquired as she laughed.
“Brighton Architecture, among other businesses all over the world.” That’s right. My agent told me about them, but I’d hardly paid attention.
“Do they do these kinds of things often?” My question seemed to fluster her, and she shrugged mysteriously. “Have a good night.”