A Double Dose of Billionaire (Part One) (5 page)

“Too late,” Ryan said. He lost his hot liquid
inside, pumping into me as he did, filling every crevice of my
walls. I arched my back to accommodate him, half-worried, but the
dirty side of me was having too much fun to care.

When I looked up, Riley was sitting across the
room, fisting his member. He was close to coming, too.

He walked toward me and pulled my head back so
I looked straight up at him. “Open your mouth.”

I did and stuck my tongue out like a good,
naughty girl, ready for his cum. He released his semen all over me.
He didn’t aim properly—perhaps on purpose—and some of his juices
landed on my cheeks; it was warm and sticky. Reluctantly, I
swallowed it, knowing that the twins would be unhappy if I spit it
out in front of them. Smiling, he said, “Now my turn, princess.
It’s not fair if only my brother gets to play.”

My eyes widened. The last two orgasms had
completely drained my energy.

It took a few minutes for them to get their
members back up, but once they did—which was very impressive—I was
thrown into a missionary style with Riley positioned at my
entrance.

“I’m too tired. Can we carry on another time?”
I asked, but the thought of us fucking managed to arouse
me.

He slammed himself in, entering my pre-soaked
core. “No,” he said. He pounded me just as hard as Ryan did,
perhaps even harder. I threw my arms to his back, clawing at them,
the sudden fucking causing me to moan.

Ryan positioned his hard-on at my lips. “Don’t
leave me hanging.”

I took him inside my mouth, tasting his juices
mixed with mine.

We rutted well into the night; over and over
again. I couldn’t remember when we stopped—I probably got too
exhausted and fell asleep.

***

I woke up with the twins lightly snoring
beside me. As an early riser, I had gotten bored out of my mind
waiting for them to wake up; they slept like logs. Even after I
pushed Ryan’s arms and legs off me and rolled him over, he hadn’t
flinched at all.

I clothed myself with one of the twin’s
shirts. Wearing their clothes made me feel unusually excited. With
boredom as my main motivation, I decided to explore their large
mansion. Twenty minutes later, I ended up standing in the middle of
their kitchen, working on one of my favorite pastimes.

I waved the scent of my fluffy waffles toward
me—they smelled delectable as usual. I hardly had time to bake or
cook anymore, with work, chores and other pesky responsibilities in
the way. I felt uppity after last night’s awesome sex. Maybe losing
my job was a good thing; I never had so much worry-free time on my
hands. The bills could wait.

I placed the plates on the dining table and
gave myself an imaginary pat on my back. They’d be so pleased with
these waffles. I could imagine their reactions; cheeks turning rosy
with joy. They’d get down on their knees to beg me to stay and cook
waffles everyday—

I frowned. What the hell was I doing? I saw
last night’s sexual escapade as a no-strings-attached thing that
solely existed for pure gratification. Yet here I was taking
liberties in their kitchen, whipping breakfast up for them as if I
were their girlfriend. I just thought about wanting to bake and
surprise them. Damn it, I really shouldn’t have slept with them.
Sleeping with someone always made me develop some sort of
attachment with them, regardless of how much I told myself that I
didn’t.

I’d done it. I had a night of amazing and
rough sex. Now that I had gotten what I wanted, I should cut all
ties and get out of the celebrity drama as soon as I
could.

But I couldn’t help it; I wanted
more.

Ryan and Riley walked down the steps, still in
their boxers. “What’s that smell?” They scanned the kitchen until
their eyes landed on me. “You’re cooking?”

“Your kitchen just seemed really high-tech and
cool. I wasn’t cooking for you guys or anything particular like
that.” I shifted my glance to the ground.

Ryan took some maple syrup from the
refrigerator and poured a bucket load of it onto a
waffle.

I squinted my eyes. “You’re not supposed to
eat it like that. You lose all the waffle flavor and it’s not
crispy anymore.”

He cut a large piece of it and scooped it into
his mouth. He started chewing, tilting his head back as if
deliberating over the taste. Then, he smiled the most charming
syrup-covered smile I’d ever seen. “Delicious.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Glad you
think so.”

Riley took the bottle of syrup from his
brother and lightly poured it over his plate in swishes. Now
that’s
the way Ryan should have done it. I didn’t think my
waffles were like those run-of-the-mill kinds; they were supposed
to be eaten with style. They were cooked to perfection; crispy on
the outside and delectably fluffy inside.

If I were Riley, I’d also garnish the waffles
with glazed strawberries on the sides first, like I did earlier. I
had a bowl of them on the counter, but they ate the waffles before
I could place them on the plates.

“It’s pretty good,” Riley said. “Ever thought
about becoming a chef?”

He probably meant it as a joke, but I nodded.
“Yeah, when I was a kid. But that’s not important now. Hurry up and
finish, I need to do the dishes.”

“Oh, just leave it; the part-timers come by to
do the dishes in the afternoon.”

I figured just as much. No wonder this house
was so clean despite being the size of a castle. With as much time
as the twins spent fooling around, one could assume that they
barely spent any time doing their chores.

“You don’t mind if I use the shower, right?” I
asked, putting the cooking utensils and the plates I’d already used
into the sink.

Riley shrugged. “You’ve used our kitchen
without asking, so why not the shower?”

“Good point.” I removed the band from my hair
and let it fall. I had tied my hair up so that it wouldn’t get in
the way of cooking.

Halfway up the steps, two hands groped my
breasts from behind.

I took in a sharp breath. “Hey!”

Ryan massaged them through my shirt. “You’ll
let us join you, right? After all, I was looking pretty forward to
morning sex.”

***

My pussy was officially sore. I didn’t let the
twins get into the shower with me, but they somehow convinced me to
join them for another round of epic sex on their bed.

Riley snaked an arm around my waist. “And we
haven’t even gone to the ‘naughty’ room yet,” he muttered, smiling
to himself.

I had never heard about the ‘naughty’ room,
but the sound of it made my insides coil.

We lied down on the bed, basking in our sex
afterglow. The twins looked more rejuvenated than ever, but I was
so tired that I had to stop myself from falling asleep.

“So, about a job,” Ryan said. “We could get
you one, you know.”

I considered the idea. If the press got hold
of an arrangement like that, they’d likely turn it into a
scandal—not that the scandal wouldn’t be true at first, but it’d
without a doubt blow out of proportion in a matter of months, even
days. What about the death threats? The twins had a huge female
following, and some of them should presumably be crazy. I didn’t
want a crazed fan running at me with a knife.

I put my finger on my chin. “Thanks for
offering, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Riley propped himself up. “Why not? Don’t you
have to pay the rent? We were the ones who got you fired,
anyway.”

“The press will make things pretty
bad.”

“We’ll get you a job at another company. It
doesn’t have to be directly related to us. You’ll be
safe.”

“Really?” I perked up, excited at the new
prospect. “That’d be great. I can do anything related to business.
Basic accounting, financing, marketing is my specialty, or even
just filing things will do.” It felt weird trying to pitch myself
to my new bosses while completely naked.

Ryan grinned. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get
it settled.”

We started up small chat. I learned that Ryan
was an adrenaline junkie and spent a lot of his time at the race
track. He went parasailing, bungee jumping, and skydiving, too.
Riley, on the other hand, didn’t like thrills as much as his
brother. He could appreciate the occasional roller coaster and even
followed his brother skydiving, but he preferred the finer, less
dangerous things in life, like watching theatre or simply going to
one of their vacation homes to relax.

“Being so different, the two of you seem to be
very close,” I said.

“We’re the most comfortable around each
other,” Ryan said. “That’s how we were raised. We need some alone
time once in a while, but I can’t stand being apart from him for
too long.”

“Why me, though? There were so many girls at
the club who would have willingly slept with you. Why get a drunk
girl?” That question had been lingering in my mind for some time,
although it went more along the lines of ‘
why couldn’t they find
another girl to bother?’
I thought that they just picked a girl
at random and I was, in some strange way, their type.

Riley snuggled his face into my neck. “Because
you can tell us apart.” His breath tickled me and sent a tingle
down my back.

Confused by his unexpected answer, I said,
“Huh?”

“No one can tell us apart. It confuses people,
which is fun, and it throws the paparazzi off. That’s why we keep
our hairstyles this way.” He pointed to his hair. They both wore
the same trim cuts. “Not even our own mother can do it. She used to
make us wear our hair differently but when we changed to this, she
had trouble.”

“And then you came,” Ryan continued for this
brother. “That day at the club, after we introduced ourselves, you
ran to us calling out our names, gesturing to us
correctly.”

I assumed that he toned down the details a
lot. I doubted that I did only that when drunk. A more likely
scenario was me running after them while puking at the same time,
and when I gestured to them, my gesture was quite possibly a middle
finger.

“How do you do that?” Riley asked.

“Tell you apart?” I wasn’t sure. Come to think
of it, I could easily tell them apart since the very beginning. “It
just feels natural, I guess.”

They laughed. “Unbelievable,” they said in
unison.

“Well, on top of telling us apart,” Ryan said,
“we really like this butt of yours.” He slapped my ass
again.

I didn’t think that I’d ever get tired of
that.

***

Apparently, the twins did more than just laze
around and make smartass comments all day; they actually had to go
to work. I was in slight disbelief when they mentioned it. Then I
thought about it—they were grown men. Sitting on their butts all
day fooling around probably wasn’t very healthy, regardless of how
rich they were.

They tried to convince me to stay at their
place, but I wasn’t going to linger around like some forsaken wife
waiting for her husband to come home. They called in another one of
their drivers to fetch me home.

When leaving their mansion, I had to face the
paparazzi.

They camped outside the gates like a pack of
wolves, cameras ready and flashes set to standby.

I had a pretty lame ‘master’ plan. My first
idea was to put myself in the boot as the driver drove me through
the gates, but I wasn’t quite ready to let myself fall so low yet.
So all I did was duck beneath the car’s windows when we
crossed.

“Ma’am, we passed,” the driver said. I poked
my head out and glanced through the rear window. The paparazzi
continued to stand at the gates, acting bored and
docile.

I couldn’t believe my plan worked.

The driver dropped me at Kristie’s house. She
couldn’t have been home from work this early, but she told me she
left an extra pair of keys in her potted plants that one time she
forgot her keys. I wanted to avoid the paparazzi, and I figured I
wouldn’t bump into any if I went to her house instead. Another
horde of them was probably waiting at my doorstep.

My apartment was a pigsty compared to
Kristie’s.

Everything in her apartment gave off a cozy
feel. She decorated her windows with pink, spotted drapes, filled
random corners with synthetic roses, and kept her cute stuffed toys
on her couch. She named her unicorn, teddy bear and piglet Ms.
Pinky, Mr. Teddy and Oinky, respectively. Who did that after
growing past the kindergarten stage anyway?

It was too lovely for my liking. Too clean and
pretty. But then again, that’s what I loved about my friend—that
caring, beautiful, love-till-you-bleed side of her.

I took off my heels and neatly placed them
inside the shoe cabinet, knowing that Kristie would complain if I
didn’t put my shoes away properly.

Bored, I went to her bookshelf and chose one
of her DVDs to watch, ignoring the classic literature she had on
there. Kristie was an English Literature and Business
Administration double major. She had always wanted to become a
playwright, but life’s circumstances brought her into sales. She
told me she didn’t think she’d use her business degree at all but
took it to have a safe alternative. Unfortunately, she ended up
having to use it after finding out the only job opening related to
her English Literature degree was an English teacher.