Impulse (Book 1 of The Conquest Series)
Aiden Kinsley was an asshole, and he was well aware that he was an asshole. But at least he could consider himself an asshole with some moral code.
The man had no qualms about being honest and open, and had no time for the faux niceties and etiquette that the entitled and pretentious aspired to. One such individual could live their whole life as a lie, but Aiden would not allow himself to do that.
As for morals…they were there, buried deep beneath a layer of arrogance, austerity, and sex appeal. He had deep-rooted beliefs that he strove daily to adhere to.
Ingrained into him by a father who was authoritarian and moody, and genteelly embedded in him by a mother who spent most nights nursing a bottle of booze in her hand before knocking herself out on a cocktail of prescription drugs. The next day she would take another such brew to get her through the day.
Aiden’s mother had been more of a ghostly apparition when he was still living at home. She floated silently from room to room, mumbling to herself absently before taking her place at one end of the dining room table where she drank her supper.
Uppers for daylight, downers for after-hours. It was a routine that would eventually take her life as completely as it had curdled her liver.
When his father decided on an early retirement after being ousted by more vicious competitors in his field, he put Aiden in charge, hoping to give his company new life. Then it was goodbye KinsleyCorp, and hello KinTech, now a leader in the Silicon Valley region of northern California.
Aiden molded the new business to his liking, hand-picking his own management team from trusted friends and colleagues he could rely on whilst ensconcing himself as CEO of the lucrative tech business.
Harrison—or Harry, to his friends—Charles was the CFO and an Englishman of 45 who was grandfathered into KinTech. Aiden was also friends with the older gentleman, courtesy of his father. He trusted him more than anyone else in the company, and had granted him the title of Chief Financial Officer.
The man was worth his weight in gold and had ridden with KinsleyCorp through its roughest patches, as well as gliding through good times.
To Aiden, he was indispensable.
Carlton Smith—better known as Carl—was COO andanother friend of Aiden’s whom he had met briefly on a business trip to New York City.
Having grown wary of the fast-paced life of downtown Manhattan, Smith had befriended Kinsley there, and kept in touch by email and phone. They met again at a convention being held at Salesforce Tower in the SOMA district of San Francisco a couple years after first becoming acquainted.
When Carlton had bitched one too many times about his thankless job in the Big Apple, it had taken little convincing from Aiden to get him to drop his life on the east coast and set up shop as Chief Operating Officer of KinTech.
Ramon Gutierrez was the glue that held their interesting quartet together. He was mild-mannered, yet boorish at times. His job as Chief of Security for KinTech was offered to him after his jobs as a San Jose police officer and then as a private investigator in the Bay Area had become more of a hassle and less of a moneymaker for his expanding family.
He was a marvel with computers as well, and in the security business, nowadays, it was a crucial skill to add to your portfolio.
The four men sat in Aiden’s office that Friday evening in the beginning of what most places would consider Indian Summer.
Living in the Bay Area was always a life of never truly knowing what the next day’s weather would bring. With micro-climates being what they were, you could experience one day that was 110 degrees in the shade, while the next day would bring a high of only 85. It was maddening for those who liked to plan ahead with regards to their attire. Layers were imperative for those people who that let their outfits do the talking for them.
It was 4:30 PM, and most of the office workers had already left to start the weekend early. The quartet of men sat in Aiden’s office, sipping scotch and companionably joking, as was their custom at the end of a busy work week. And for these men, every week was a busy one.
Only a few secretaries and personal assistants were still at their workstations, going over next week’s schedules or wrapping up some last-minute business for the current week. The majority, however, had already scuttled off to whatever weekend dalliances they had been looking forward to since Monday.
Carlton peeked through the blind-covered windows that separated Aiden’s office from the main floor. He watched two women chatting animatedly, while another was immersed in her work.
“Now, that right there…that I wouldn’t mind pouncing on for a night or three,” Carlton said for probably the hundredth time in the past several months. “There is something so fucking sexy about a woman that looks as innocent and strait-laced as your little secretary, Aiden.”
Aiden rolled his eyes at Carl and looked over at his secretary of four months. She had come from a temp agency that he regularly used when in need of fill-ins. His previous secretary had moved to Thailand or some other beastly third world country when she met a man online. Janine had given him exactly a week’s notice and then hightailed it over the Pacific to marry some creep who claimed he was the heir to some family fortune.
Personally, it wouldn’t have surprised Aiden one bit if the man was merely a rice picker or ran one of those odd taxi services that consisted of a tottering rickshaw and a shoeless man wearing a conical bamboo hat.
“Stop eye-fucking my secretary, Carl,” Aiden spat. He had a bit of a soft spot for his little secretary. She was a meek little thing and reminded him a bit of a librarian—albeit a very sexy librarian.
“Well, you certainly aren’t planning on plowing her yourself, so why can’t I have a little taste?” Carl easily replied as he took another sip of scotch. The man became more and more crass in direct proportion to how much he drank. He’d had a few tumblerfuls of the scotch already and had loosened his tie, both literally and figuratively.
“Leave her alone. I don’t approve of you attempting to dip your pen in the company ink,” Aiden accused, desperate for a change of subject. It had not been the first time he’d had to rein Carl in from trying something on with the lady he was openly ogling through the vertical blinds.
“I don’t need my pen dipped. Just my dick.” Aiden gave an irritated exhalation of air through his lips and looked skyward. “Besides, don’t tell me you’ve never dreamt of bending her over your desk, hiking up her skirt, and pummeling her sweet pussy a time or two.” Carl wore a lascivious grin. “I bet under that prim exterior, she’s a tiger in the sack.”
Aiden ran his fingers through his hair until it stood upright. Carlton was always thinking with his little head instead of the big one, and the list of his conquests grew daily as a result.
Harrison chuckled at the easy repartee between the two friends.
“Have some propriety, old boy,” Harry said. His heavy British accent hadn’t faded in the twenty-some years he had lived in the United States.
Sometimes Harry suspected his friends only kept him around so that they sounded more sophisticated. It wouldn’t actually bother him if they did. Lord knew these men needed someone in their group dynamic that made them look less like a bunch of aging frat brothers.
“Leave the poor girl alone. She looks like she’d split in two if you tried to have a go at her,” Harrison continued as he pointed a long finger at Carlton in a playful manner.
“She’s a woman, not a plaything,” Ramon added. Out of all the men, he was probably the most respectful of women. He had a wife and three children, all of whom he adored. Although Harry also had a family, his marriage to his wife, Mathilde, had been more along the lines of a business transaction than a typical romance. Their relationship had grown from a tolerable union of two families, to a respectful alliance between man and wife. If there were any deeper romantic feelings there, they weren’t ones that could be often witnessed by their close circle of friends.
“Aiden, when is the last time you were actually with a woman? A couple of months ago? You keep holding off and your pecker’s going to shrivel up and fall right off. If you don’t use it, you’ll lose it.” Carlton poured himself a fourth scotch, and Aiden quickly snatched the bottle from him so he couldn’t help himself to a fifth.
Walking over to the window that overlooked the parking lot below, Aiden stared out at the staff’s and visitor’s cars parked there. He could practically see the pavement shimmer with the late afternoon heat. As he peered down, he thought deeply about Carlton’s words.
It had been quite some time since he had been with a woman, and his secretary was a sweet little thing—though possibly a little too innocent for his tastes. She would probably faint if he ever tried to make a pass at her—not that he ever would.
Aiden knew he was a good-looking man, and the growing number of contacts in his own little black book proved it. He stood six foot two with blonde hair and green eyes that snapped and sparkled no matter his mood, and he was in the prime of his life at the age of 30. All he had to do to warm his bed was tip a wink or a smile, and women would fall in line.
However, Aiden didn’t care to harvest from his crop of female employees in order to gain a quick fuck. Because that’s all it would ever be, a quick fuck or two, and then onto the next. Inter-office dating was not something he generally encouraged.
Many of the women he employed had tried to tempt Aiden. Whether it was with words or suggestive clothing, there was nary a single female who hadn’t tried, at least once, to lure the man.
Well—all except one. His secretary, Constance.
Constance did all of Aiden’s scheduling, filing, and a number of other duties; she did them all promptly and with grace, and always addressed him as Mr. Kinsley or Sir. She was professional with him to a fault, the same as she was with all the other employees in the office, regardless of age or rank.
“So, what do you say, Aiden? Care to place a wager on it?”
Aiden had zoned out on his friends, and when Carlton called him back from his woolgathering with that question, it caused him to snap his head to the other three men in the room.
Carlton was constantly finding new ways to make life more interesting. Most recently, he had taken to wagering bets with Aiden. Much to his dismay, they were usually ludicrous or downright sophomoric.
“What wager?” he asked. Realizing he must have missed something big in the conversation they were having, Aiden observed the looks that Harry and Ramon were giving him. The two men were looked disturbed yet resigned about something, while Carl had a smug smirk plastered all over his damned irritating face. At times, Aiden wished he could smack that look right off the prettyboy’s mug. This was, undoubtedly, going to be one of those times.
“I’ll bet you that you can’t get that luscious little secretary of yours into bed within…well, say by the end of the year.” Carl was leaning forward and grinning at Aiden, who frowned back at him in response.
“No, you fool! I will not wager on something like that,” Aiden declared, scoffing in disgust. He may have been relatively loose in his sexual morals, but he didn’t wish to sink that low.
“Why not? She’s only a temp. It’s not like she is really an employee. Her checks get cut from the temp agency, not you,” Carl argued.
That was true. Aiden paid the agency handsomely for their services, and Constance was ultimately getting paid via a third party.
“I’ll pass,” Aiden quipped, though he felt his resolve starting to crumble at the temptation of sex. He blamed it on the fact that it had indeed been months since he had last gotten laid.
Sometimes he hated his friend’s reasoning. Carl, out of all his friends, had the sole ability of getting under his skin by any means. He simply flipped the perspective to aid his cause. Unfortunately, it worked 99% of the time. It was maddening that his friend could persuade him simply with a few carefully placed words.
“Don’t think you can do it? Think she’s too virginal for a man such as yourself?” needled Carl.
Aiden’s patience with Carlton snapped in that instant.
“I could get her to fuck me within a week if I wanted to,” Aiden growled out and watched as Harry and Ramon exchanged a knowing glance. Carl’s eyes lit up as he smelt his future victory over his friend.
“Then prove it. Prove to me that your little secretary out there can be seduced into your bed,” Carl challenged. “If you lose, I get to bed her instead.” He threw that last bit out as if he was supremely indifferent to the wager.
“And if I win?” asked Aiden, internally cursing his friend. “Name your price. You don’t have to tell me today, so think it over. Not that it matters, ’coz I’ll win anyway,” Carl told him. He knew he had Aiden by the balls.
“Fine,” Aiden said. “I will fuck her before the year is out or you can have a go.” He mentally cringed at his own words, coarse as they were.
He put the bottle of booze away. The bet had sobered him up prematurely.
The look on Harry’s face was disapproving, but Ramon, being the security chief, gave nothing away. If anything, Aiden could read the slight disappointment in his eyes, but that was only because he had known him so well, and for so many years.
“Now get the fuck out of my sight Carl, before I hack off your balls and make this whole ridiculous bet pointless,” Aiden told his friend.
With that, Carl walked out of the office with a smirk. His challenge had been accepted, and although it had irked Aiden, no doubt, he felt that familiar excitement of watching the bet play out. It would no doubt be enough to entertain him for the next few months.
Carl loved to observe the game, particularly when he would be the one waiting in the wings to reap the benefits.
“You really should come out with us one of these nights, Connie,” stated Bev.
“No, thanks. I have oodles of stuff I have to do this weekend,” Constance claimed offhandedly.
And all of them were way more exciting than getting hit on at some business-friendly Happy Hour in this stuffy old valley.
“Man, you never come out with us,” Lila whined, making Constance grit her teeth. She hated Lila’s strident, nasal voice, and often wondered how Harrison Charles could stand speaking to his secretary for more than a minute at a time. Maybe it was his proper English upbringing that kept him from firing her for the mere fact that her voice could peel the paint from the walls of his office.
Constance looked over at Bev, who was the personal assistant of the COO, Carlton Smith. She could understand why he would keep her around. She was buxom and blonde, sexy without meaning to be, and Carl’s playboy image could never have dealt with anything less in a personal assistant. Brains and beauty…or at least enough brains to keep her paws away from his manwhore self. For now. And not that she wasn’t sorely tempted. Carl’s ego would have probably blown a fuse if he had employed a plain secretary.
Lila was also pretty, but more traditionally so. She was thin with long legs and silky black hair, luscious pouty lips, and large doe eyes which looked overly large on her face. It was only when she opened that mouth of hers that her wholesome good looks took a backseat to her obnoxious voice that some may have found childishly endearing, but most found grating.
“I’m convinced she has a secret boyfriend that whisks her away to a new tropical island every weekend,” Bev teased Constance in an aside.
Bev and Lila constantly poked fun at Constance about being a boring homebody. They had concluded that she would be a future old maid with nothing but a houseful of books and a few cats as her constant companions.
If only they knew...
Not that “Connie” would allow anyone to know the real Constance Flaherty. She’d probably have shocked the shit out of even the most open-minded of her coworkers. If they only knew the sexpot beneath the timid secretary persona that she portrayed during her workdays.
“You caught me, hon,” Constance joked flatly. “We plan on going to Bimini this weekend and St. Croix the next.”
She tried to ignore Lila and Bev, but they were both chattering about which Happy Hour they would visit this week. Constance blocked out their mindless blathering and mentally made her own plans while she was finishing up Mr. Kinsley’s schedule for the next week. With the swipe of a finger, she saved the calendar and sent it to her boss, who was literally in the next room having his usual “bro time” with the other Chief Officers.
She figured she could get started on her work for Monday morning while the two Chatty Cathy’s were twittering away, then she could skip out and make her own exit.
Constance always made sure she was the last one to leave.
At least the last one besides her boss.
She suspected that sometimes Mr. Kinsley didn’t leave until way after the office closed for the day. She had even caught him there on a Saturday morning when she’d had to retrieve her MacBook that she had erroneously left behind.
Bev and Lila talked for another 15 minutes before taking off. Constance smiled and waved as they departed. When she looked up to see her boss’ office door swinging open and Carlton Smith leaving, she ducked her head at the suspiciously smug grin on his lips.
She kept her head down until he stepped into the elevator. There was something about Mr. Smith that she didn’t quite trust, and she avoided him whenever possible.
Soon after, KinTech’s Chief of Security and CFO made their way past her a good ten minutes after Mr. Smith had left the building in an oddly good mood.
Constance finished up her work and saved it on her laptop. After powering down and popping it into her large tote bag, she grabbed her car keys and walked the short distance to Mr. Kinsley’s office.
“Mr. Kinsley, I’ve sent you an email with your schedule for this upcoming Monday. Did you need me for anything else before I head out?”
Constance doubted he would need anything further. He had never asked her for more than what she had already completed for him, and he was usually slightly more laid back on Fridays. She figured he knew that everyone wanted to get the weekend started as soon as possible and let his employees go early, so long as their work was done for the day.
Aiden hesitated just a smidge and looked at her. He was sitting behind his desk with his hands steepled, looking pensive.
“No, thank you, Ms. Flaherty,” he said finally after a short pause. “Enjoy your weekend.”
“You too, sir.” And with that, Constance headed towards the elevator banks with purpose.
But she didn’t leave the building immediately. Oh no. She took the elevator to the first floor and, instead of turning left to exit, she strode straight towards the ladies’ bathroom on the right.
Inside the bathroom, she opened up the same tote bag she had stashed her MacBook in. Pulling out a couple of pieces of clothing and a pair of pumps, she then made her way into the large handicapped stall. Constance loosened her stance a bit like she always did in this type of situation.
She took off her pencil skirt and shimmied out of her stockings. After that, she shed her white blouse and popped them into her bag, only to pull out a short jeans skirt and off the shoulder tight, white crop top.
Pulling her hair out of the plain and constricting bun on top of her head, she took her thick-rimmed glasses off and popped them into the bag, along with the rest of her business attire.
She had walked into the stall as Constance Flaherty, and prepared to walk out as Coco; no last name needed.
After popping out of the stall, she bent over and shook her hair out, giving her that sexy just-fucked look that never failed to turn a few heads.
She wiped off the minimal lip gloss she used for work, and applied some matte cherry-red lipstick that plumped her cupid’s bow lips, rendering them utterly kissable.
Constance looked into the mirror. She made a duck face at her reflection and made sure there wasn’t any lipstick stuck to her teeth. As always, she inspected her reflection carefully, accepting nothing less than perfection.
Office Constance was a stuffy and prim librarian-type who didn’t have a sexual bone in her body. After-hours Constance—AKA Coco—was lithe and sexy. With a generous bosom and dirty blonde hair, she had curves to spare and deep chocolate-colored eyes with an aquiline nose over her aforementioned cupid’s bow lips.
Yes, she was mostly happy with her appearance. It was her dueling personalities that had her at a loss.
While Constance played the dutiful secretary at work, her nightlife as Coco was nothing short of sensual. She really felt like she might have a problem.
No. She knew she had a problem.
She never made friends or had boyfriends. Women wanted to chat you up and needed you to bare your soul or talk about your sex life. Men, on the other hand, were just pointless to befriend and, for Constance, almost impossible. She would always end up in bed with her male friends, hence ruining the once-platonic relationship she had tried to maintain.
She was a true-blue sex addict. At least outside of the office.
Inside the workplace, she played the role of submissive secretary like she was slipping on a second skin. Had she tried to become an actress, she may have been one of the most talented on the planet. She had a knack for it as the result of her dueling work and personal life personas. They were exact opposites, and anything in between would be a cinch to portray.
Over the years, Constance had truly tried to curb her sexual appetite to no avail. Support groups and counseling didn’t seem to work, and she could only guess as to why.
Her past. One she couldn’t speak of to anyone.
Constance had a past that she didn’t share with people. And wouldn’t have even if she’d had someone to share it with. It was just too much. Besides, she had already tried on several occasions.
Before moving to California, she had lived in a small mountain town in West Virginia where most folks were related to each other in some way or other, and the ones that weren’t, were probably new to the area or just visiting.
Constance—now Coco thanks to the help of her wardrobe change—shook off the thoughts of her past and walked out the bathroom before throwing on some shades and exiting the building.
She popped open the trunk of her red Toyota Camry Hybrid to put her bag in, plopping her ass into the driver’s seat. After several slight adjustments to the mirrors, she drove off the lot and took the back roads to her adopted city in nearby Atherton.
Coco had made the decision in the bathroom that she would go to a local pub only a few blocks away from her home. It was not something she normally did, as it was too close to home base and she was familiar to and had bedded some of the regulars. She was usually afraid to be recognized—or worse—followed back to her apartment by an admirer.
And she had many.
As Constance drove towards home, she couldn’t help but think of the reasons why she was the way she was, and the people to blame.
She blamed her family. She blamed her parents. She blamed the sovereign state of West Virginia for dropping her on her ass with not so much as a how-de-doo and a blaring now get lost after she hit her 18th birthday.
There was something seriously wrong with a system that could just drop you, leaving you homeless and without a cent to your name. And that was after years with foster families that could give a rat’s ass where she laid her head at night.
“Connie! Get your ass in here, you miserable brat! Your Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Wanda want to say hi!”
She ignored her mother and stayed hidden underneath the front porch. She had slipped under it as she always did through the hole in the trellis.
“Where’s that little bitch gone off to?” Her mother came out onto the aging and ramshackle veranda that, at some point in the very distant past, had a fresh coat of whitewash. Constance thought it was probably last painted circa the mid-1950s, long before her gene pool had been blessed with a brood of crude rednecks who couldn’t give a shit about their children so long as there was cold beer in the fridge and a plump woman to fuck at night.
Constance sat trembling underneath the wooden boards, trying her best not to cry. If she cried, she would make noise. If she made noise, her mother would find her. If her mother found her…well, it was probably a switch to the legs and the inevitable inappropriate touching that went on with her Uncle Jimmy beneath the dinner table. Touching that her Aunt Wanda and mother would only pretend wasn’t actually happening right under their very noses.
Constance watched as her mother’s thick legs made their way off the veranda and onto the steps of the porch.
Please God, don’t let her get off the porch, young Constance thought. Make her go back into the house with Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Wanda. She can’t see me.
Her mother’s feet never met with the grass below the stairs. Her brother Jack called her from the house, demanding to be fed, most likely. The boy practically inhaled the fridge every time he was within thirty minutes of a meal.
Yes, go back inside, Mama, she thought. Feed Jacky.
She heard her mother meander back towards the door. The inevitable creaking of the screen door hinges was like a balm for her nerves.
Mama made her way back into the kitchen, yelling for Jack to shut his hole, while a 12-year-old Constance was finally able to take deep breaths into her lungs.
The first breath was sharp—almost painful—and by the time she exhaled, tears were falling in seemingly unending rivulets down her dirty cheeks.
Constance made it to a parking lot near the local pub called The Taproom. She parked her car in a long-term parking lot where she could retrieve it at whatever time was convenient for her. She slipped out of the driver’s seat after checking her makeup in the mirror one last time.
Constance walked towards the sidewalk with the confidence that was Coco’s signature style, straightening her back and making her breasts more prominent. The last thing she did was slip her wallet in her front pocket.
Not that she ever had to pay for a drink. There were plenty of men that would treat her to cocktails or wine. She would just have to browse and have her pick of which.
Coco sat at the far end of the bar where she could see prospective dates come up to her from all corners of the room. She had her legs crossed, making the distressed denim of her skirt ride up high on her thighs.
She was sipping on a Manhattan that a possible “date” had bought her. The man said his name was John, and he was just as boring as his name had suggested. She listened to him as he waxed poetic about his job. Constance had caught something about real estate, and now he was talking closing costs and points.
Riveting. This man would most likely bore her to sleep with his talk of equities and foreclosures.
He was pleasant enough to look at, but Coco had a feeling her weekend pleasures lay elsewhere. She only ever looked as far into the future as her next lay. It was how she had lived her life for years, and she was used to it.
Coco unobtrusively looked around the bar, searching for better company as John prattled on about the hassles of working in real estate.
The bells at the front door signaled a new face had entered the establishment. They jangled loudly over the music, and Coco turned her head towards the sound expectantly.
Holy hell, she thought.
Twins. She had never been with twins before. Stepbrothers, yes. Two close friends who didn’t mind sharing for a night? Definite yes. But she had never had the pleasure of twins in her bed, and the thought both intrigued and aroused her.
I must have them.
She made herself more prominent by tossing her hair back behind her shoulder with a whip of her head.
Now to get rid of the dead weight.
Downing her drink, she excused herself for the ladies’ room, taking leave of the monotonous man before her. She would not be coming back to dull John, whose idea of a good time probably included open houses and meetings with lenders.
The man was as dull as dishwater.
After quickly freshening up in the ladies’ room, she headed towards the aging jukebox that was the unlikely centerpiece of the establishment. She bent over to peer into the clear glass to pick out a song. At this angle, her skirt rode up just enough, exposing smooth creamy skin previously covered by the faded fabric of her skirt. Most of the men seemed to take notice of the newly exposed flesh, and turned their attention towards her.
Putting in a few quarters, Coco stood there with her hips twitched to one side and waited for Closer by Nine Inch Nails to start up.
The volume was set to low, as if attuned to be more for background noise. The sharp electronic beat of the song and suggestive lyrics were more subliminal, at first, than an outright statement. The statement was Coco herself.
She smiled slowly as the words and rhythm invaded her body. It was a perfect song for a conquest such as this. She only turned away from the machine when she felt a large presence behind her. Actually, two of them. She pivoted on her heels and smiled slowly up at the two identical faces.
“I didn’t realize I’d already had enough to drink to be seeing double,” she said, smirking. She, in fact, had only drunk two cocktails and was far from being intoxicated.
The twins smiled back at her and parted a bit so that Coco could pass between them. She sauntered over to a new spot, far away from John the Realtor. She didn’t need an encore of her previous encounter with the man.
As she made her way across the bar floor, she felt eyes on the back of her head. Or ass. It didn’t matter which asset got her the desired attention; it was merely a means to an end.
She climbed effortlessly up onto a tall bar stool next to a high-top table. It was where her legs would be on display at eye level to many of the interested patrons. As she settled into her spot, she saw that the twins had followed her until they were about ten feet away. She cocked her head and smiled at them invitingly. They smiled back, mimicking her like the puppy dogs she suspected they were.
Moving towards her, they stopped near the edge of the table and spoke. The twin on the left had a pleasant, rumbling voice.
“Hello there. My name’s Cole. This is my twin, Spencer.” He had a faint British accent. It was subtle, like he had spent most of his time in The States.
“Twins. You don’t say,” Coco purred rather sarcastically and rolled her eyes.
This was not an impressive introduction. Twins. Well, my stars. Their bedroom banter had better be of higher quality than their small talk. Not that she planned on conversing a lot with them.
Or at all.
But Coco did hate boring personalities. They made for mediocre sex and little to no dirty talk between the sheets.
“Yes, twins,” Spencer piped up, hoping for the save. “Well, we’re actually step brothers, but no one believed us so we started telling people that we’re twins.” He gave her a decisively crooked grin.
Coco smiled, happy that at least one of them had a sense of humor—or at least a single, functioning brain cell between them.
“Is he your wing man then?” she asked of Spencer.
“I could be his.” Spencer shrugged. “That all depends on you.”
“Hmm,” Coco hummed. “And what if neither of you needs a wingman?”
Spencer and Cole looked at each other, brows raised. They seemed to be having a silent mental dialogue between themselves. After a few wordless seconds, they both took a seat at the table, Cole gliding into the seat next to Coco, and Spencer across from them.
“What’s your name, gorgeous?” Cole asked.
“Coco,” she said with no hesitation.
“You live around here?” Cole questioned. Her smile faltered for the briefest of moments.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she replied smoothly back at him. “What about you two? Are you local or here on business? Or perhaps a little pleasure?”
She eyed their suits. She suspected they were businessmen of some sort, in town for the week or a single weekend.
Spencer spoke. “We’re from back east. Baltimore, actually. We’re here for a meeting with a tech company looking to expand. They are interested in utilizing some of the hardware we produce.”
The way he said hardware, it was obviously an innuendo, and Coco brightened a bit more.
These two are going to be fun, she thought to herself.
A server came over to take their drink orders. Coco ordered another Manhattan, and the two men requested beers before the server left to get their drinks.
Once the server was gone, Cole turned back towards Coco and leaned in close. Coco didn’t look at him, letting his warm breath skim over sensitive skin as he spoke.
“We have a lovely suite nearby if you would care to join us.” He spoke softly. “We’re here until Monday, and I think you would look stunning with your thighs wrapped around my head.”
Coco pinched her legs together subtly so he wouldn’t see that his words had the desired effect on her.
“It’s an interesting proposition,” she said with a subtle quirk of her lips. “Why don’t we have a few more drinks and see where the evening takes us?”
She smiled serenely at the two of them, her eyes giving a promise that her words alone couldn’t voice.
A couple of hours later, just as the last bit of sunlight was dipping behind the horizon, Coco left the bar with the twins in tow. A Lyft car pulled up after a few moments, and the three slipped into the back seat of the small, gray Prius. It made for an exhilarating situation. Thighs pressed tightly against each other with a practically purring Coco settled in the middle of the two men.
“Where to?” asked their driver, a young, Hispanic man of about 25 years of age.
“The Palo Alto Sheraton, please,” Spencer told him before bringing his hungry gaze back to Coco.
Coco had noticed the more the twins drank, the more pronounced their accents became. It was lovely to listen to. She couldn’t wait for them to talk dirty to her with those delightful lilting brogues.
“You know, one of you can sit in the front if you like. Up to you,” said the driver before pausing and pulling away.
“We’re fine,” Cole said curtly and faced Coco. His right hand ran up her leg slowly, drawing perverse patterns on the skin as it crept towards her inner thigh.
As if not one to be undone, Spencer lightly dragged his fingertips across Coco’s bare stomach and laid his hand across the flat of it, his thumb dangerously close to the bottom swell of her breasts.
They sat like that for a while, whispering into Coco’s ears and nipping lightly at her earlobes and neck while the awkward Lyft driver sat in the front seat, sneaking furtive glances at them in his rearview mirror.
The driver eventually left them at the front of the Sheraton, and Coco giggled as she heard his tires squeal as he drove quickly away.
“I think we made that man slightly uncomfortable,” she said as she walked casually towards the lobby of the Sheraton.
“He’ll either have to find himself a cold shower or—more than likely—have a wank on the side of the road.” Spencer chuckled at Coco’s observation.
All three went through the revolving doors in the front and made their way to the bank of elevators to the right side of the lobby desk.
Spencer lifted his brows at the man behind the desk when he stopped his work to stare at the swing in Coco’s hips. The man caught Spencer’s look and swiftly started shuffling papers and looking down. Spencer smirked at the man’s back and followed his brother and Coco into the lift.
The two did indeed have a suite on the top floor of the building. The room had a magnificent view of the garden with its large koi pond. It housed two large bedrooms with a dining and living area. One of the two bathrooms had an inset jacuzzi that screamed luxury.
Coco went into the living quarters and took her cell phone and wallet out of the pockets of her jean skirt and set them down next to the room’s landline. She sat down on the couch and crossed her legs slowly, letting the skirt ride up to show her bare creamy thighs. The two men both loosened their ties and undid their cufflinks. They shed their jackets and put them on the backs of the dining room chairs, finally looking semi-comfortable.
Moving towards the couch almost in tandem, they sat down on either side of Coco. When they went to reach for her though, she smoothly evaded their touches and walked flirtatiously over to the mini bar. She looked back at them while grabbing a few mini bottles of booze from the small fridge, some tonic water, and a few glasses.
Raising a brow, she asked, “Mind if I make myself a drink?”
Without waiting for a response, she poured herself and each of the two men a gin and tonic.
Whilst placing the freshly made drinks on the table next to the couch, she leaned down slowly, letting her crop top hang low and giving the two men a peek at her cleavage.
She perched herself on the arm of the sofa with ice clinking in her glass and gave the two men an amused glance. Lifting a well-manicured brow, she took a minuscule sip of the beverage.
“Well then, boys,” she said with a purr. “Where shall we begin?”
Coco placed the slick tumbler on the small table next to Cole. Or was it Spencer? Without them speaking, she had a hard time deciphering which was which.
Again—no matter, really.
They were the ones that would be calling out her name as they came. It was never the other way around. That would give her lover—or in this case, lovers—too much control, and Coco couldn’t have that. She was the one who had control. Always.
After releasing her grip of the glass onto the dark wood, she slid her fingers up Twin #1’s arm until they brushed across the fabric over his collarbone. With one slick move, she knotted his tie into her fist and pulled. The ensuing tug brought his face close to her and she licked his bottom lip suggestively.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned and pressed his mouth to hers in a clash of teeth and tongue. There was no prelude to this kiss. It was open-mouthed and hungry.
Twin #2 reached up from his seated position next to his brother and pulled Coco down so that she was sprawled across both of their laps in a soft, sensual heap.
Spencer, who happened to be the one pulling her down upon them, started to kiss and nip the soft flesh across her exposed stomach. He continued to gently pull at her top, slowly peeling the taut fabric above her white half-bra. He kissed every inch of fresh flesh he exposed, licking tiny swirls up to the cup of her bra. With the nimble fingers of his right hand, he reached around to Coco’s back and unhooked her bra within seconds.
Tossing the flimsy piece of fabric off to the side, he licked and sucked his way up to her pebbled nipples as Cole continued to clash tongues with the temptress.
Spencer used his left hand to grip one breast and pinch its hardened peak while using his mouth to lavish the other puckered bud.
With his free hand, Cole drew irregular patterns while slowly sliding up the white skin of her calf, knee, and inner thigh. His fingers pushed aside the fabric of her damp panties and he slid a thick finger between her wet folds.
Coco let out a deep moan and pushed her pelvis towards the warm finger that was now circling her aching clit.
Spurred on by her actions, Cole thumbed the bud in slower, torturous circles as he eased another eager finger down her slit. He finally settled it near her wet entrance and slowly dipped one of his fingers inside.
Coco immediately felt herself clamp down on his thick digit and ground her hips onto his hand, seeking more friction. He added another finger and she let out a soft, feminine grunt as he began to thumb her clit while twisting his fingers inside her, stretching her walls gently. She had to admit, it was an action full of promise.
Cole had abandoned her lips to suck on the crease of her neck. The wealth of sensations the men were lavishing on her was pulling moan after delicious moan from her throat. She felt herself giving way to pleasure instead of controlling it.
She sat up abruptly, taking both men by surprise. Cole’s fingers were still inside her and she almost groaned when he reluctantly pulled them from her. She stood and started making her way towards one of the bedrooms in the back, shedding the rest of her clothing as she went. She had almost let her control slip, and she needed to re-forge her dominance in a different setting.
Both men, who were still fully clothed, trailed after her with purpose, stripping themselves of all but their underwear as they went. Spencer was a boxer briefs kind of guy, while Cole kept it loose in simple boxers.
By the time the two men had made it into the bedroom, Coco was already sprawled out on the king-sized bed with nary a stitch on her sinful little body. That is, unless you counted her 6-inch fuck-me heels as clothing.
She was laid back on the bed, one knee bent and the other crossing it, looking bored. The men joined her there, one to each side. Coco looked up expectantly as the bed dipped around her.
Cole and Spencer looked down on her body and were delighted with what they saw. Firm, perky breasts with light rosy nipples that stood at attention in the cool air-conditioned atmosphere. There was not a hair on her body, except for her head.
They both positioned themselves parallel to her, and in an almost simultaneous movement, each bent towards her. Spencer devoured her lips while Cole’s mouth enveloped the tight peak of one of her breasts.
As one mouth set to grinding its teeth around her nipple, the other assertively sucked and kissed down Coco’s neck, leaving faint purple marks in its wake. Marks she would no doubt have to cover up with makeup come Monday.
“So fucking sweet,” groaned Cole as he teased Coco’s nipples with his lips, tongue, and teeth. He looked up at her and said lowly, “I need to see if all your flesh is just as delicious.”
He trailed hot, wet kisses down the slope of her breasts and across her stomach, stopping just above her folds. He took a finger and spread her, teasing her gently with heavy breaths against the apex of her sex.
Coco moaned as Cole descended, darting a smooth tongue over her clit, flicking it a few more times before eventually settling in to devour her. He sucked and added a near painful friction with his teeth, soothing it away while he circled her with his tongue.
As Coco groaned out from the tantalizing motions, she started to rock gently against his mouth, yearning for more. Cole was glad to oblige, and he pressed a finger to her entrance before plunging one, then two digits inside, massaging her walls as he teased her bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue.
Spencer had abandoned her neck to taste her breasts. He was laying soft, wet kisses around her areola before biting her nipple hard. This caused her to gasp out and grind her mound onto Cole’s face, nearly drowning the man in her cream.
“Fuck!” she cried out as the pain and pleasure traveled in a straight line to her core.
“Mmm...too busy eating, baby,” she heard Cole mumble as he teased her. She smiled and looked at Spencer, who was taking turns sucking at her nipples and leaving behind purple hickeys as he nipped his way between them.
“Get naked, both of you,” she moaned lustily out as she rocked faster against Cole’s face.
Both men slid out of their underwear with impressive speed, seeing as how their mouths were busy worshiping her body.
She looked down at their erections.
“I see you’re identical in more ways than one,” she remarked as she stared at their impressive lengths.
With their cocks both standing at attention, Cole started to slowly stroke himself as he bent down and continued to eat her with rapidly building urgency.
She whimpered and looked down at Spencer.
“Fuck my mouth with that dick,” she told him lewdly. “I want to see if you taste as good as you look.”
Spencer groaned out as he got up, quickly positioning the tip of his cock at her expectant lips. She angled her head and opened to take him in. Coco slid her tongue over the tip, sampling a bead of precum before he could thrust his manhood into her. He hissed out at her touch and slammed his length down her throat, thoroughly amazed that she could take him in fully on the first try.
Coco had to calm her gag reflex, but it was a chore she was used to. The first several thrusts into her mouth had her choking, but she finally relaxed her throat by the fourth or fifth, allowing him to set his own pace.
Cole continued licking up and down her slit as his fingers fucked into her nonstop. She was coming extremely close to exploding around his fingers. Her thighs began to quiver as the coiling in her stomach intensified. He knew she was closing in on her climax and he bit down hard on her clit, sending her body reeling in an explosive orgasm.
Crying out from her release, Spencer’s dick popped from her mouth. He kept the motion of his hips steady, and her mouth started to suck at the underside of his dick as it sawed back and forth across her swollen lips.
Cole continued licking at her through her orgasm, sucking up any cream that he could as he groaned into her sex. His one hand was splayed flat on her stomach to keep her in place, while the other was stroking his dick in quick, steady jerks.
If she didn’t stop him, he would orgasm soon, and by his own hand. She wanted him to come at her own hands—or pussy in this case.
Spencer also seemed to be enjoying himself a bit too much as she saw his balls tighten against the underside of his shaft.
Coco decided foreplay for this round was done. She nudged Cole away from her playfully after nipping at the underside of Spencer’s cock to cease his movements.
Sitting up with her hair a messy, sensual pile around her shoulders, she made her way to her knees facing Cole. She surprised the hell out of him when she started to lick her own juices off his chin and then suck on his bottom lip. It elicited a long, drawn-out groan from him.
Spencer came up from behind her as his hard length prodded at the small of her back. She kissed Cole’s mouth as she reached around to grab Spencer’s stiff length in her hand.
“Mmm, you did such a good job at eating me, I’m giving you the choice.”
Cole looked a little confused, but Coco smiled at him before speaking.
“Front or back?” she asked.
Cole thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
“If I go with one, can I have a taste of the other later?” he asked between deep, wet kisses.
“We have a long weekend ahead, so I’m sure I can oblige you.” Coco’s eyes sparkled as she spoke.
“Hmmm…since my mouth has already tasted your front, I think my dick would like to savor it as well.” His eyes were heavily hooded with desire as he began to leisurely stroke himself again.
“Lay down then.” Coco pushed at his chest to get him moving in the right direction.
Spencer took out two condoms from the bedside table and Coco raised a questioning brow. He had the grace to look sheepish and smirked a little, passing one of the condoms to his brother. Apparently, they had been expecting—or at least hoping—to get lucky this weekend. Coco was more than happy to oblige. And for both of them.
She straddled Cole’s hips as soon as he had rolled the condom down his considerable length. She could hear the foil packet being ripped from behind her as well, but before he could get his dick wet, she halted him.
“Let him stick it in first or my ass will be raw from no lube. If that happens…well, there’s no ass for either of you tonight. Or tomorrow.” It was a crudely accurate remark, but it made sense to both of the brothers, and Coco bent flush against Cole’s body, ass in the air for Spencer to get a glimpse of what he was in for. Coco playfully reached back and swatted at him.
“My pussy is yours next. Keep to the original agreement.” She wiggled her ass enticingly and centered Spencer at her entrance.
He slipped into her slowly until he was halfway home and then thrust hard the rest of the way with a satisfied grunt.
If this bothered Coco in any way, she kept it hidden and simply moaned out as he nestled himself deep inside her, brushing her cervix with the head of his shaft. Coco didn’t need any ass foreplay, and she looked down at Cole who was stroking himself through the condom.
After a few runs of his fingers over his cock, Spencer pulled out and placed the head of his dick at her puckered hole before thrusting forward so the tip was fully encased in her tight ass. She hissed out with both pain and pleasure, and moved her pelvis slowly down his length, encouraging him to delve deeper.
Once Spencer was submerged fully in her, she panted, and Cole slipped himself inside her, cock straining at the extra-tight pussy cradling his cock. The men were soon seated balls deep, and Coco gave a satisfied whimper at the deliciously full feeling.
“Oh, God yes!” she cried out as both men started to stroke her slowly, letting her get used to the fullness and wanting to savor this initial tight clasp of being inside her.
They continued fucking her slowly at first, then harder with more vocal encouragement from Coco.
“Fuck, yes! Harder!” she cried out, on the cusp of coming. They felt her clench around them and both nearly lost it.
“Shit. I’m going to come!” she moaned out, and both of the men started to increase their pace.
They felt her spasm around them and slowed their movements, enjoying the pulsating cock massage she was giving them—and trying their best not to come as well.
“Fuck!” she screamed as her orgasm slammed through her body, wracking it with a shivery sensation that seemed to make her whole form tremble from the inside out.
Spencer bent down from above her and kissed her shoulders as she lay there, still moving inside her. Cole lifted his head to nibble on her hard, rosy buds. When they felt she had come down from her high, they both switched up their assault.
Like the world’s most sensual seesaw, Spencer would thrust as Cole would recede, giving her the sensation of constantly being filled to the brim. It was a tricky rhythm which somehow worked between the three of them.
“Fuck, your pussy is so wet and tight,” Cole growled as he started to lose what little control of his arousal he had managed to maintain from her last orgasm. His thrusts became sloppy as he felt his balls tighten while she clamped down on him in fluttering little pulses. His words had made her clench her muscles, and Spencer moaned out and started a similar haphazard rhythm.
They felt that this woman was temptation itself. There was no other reason she could have slowly, silently convinced them to both fuck her at the same time. It was not something they had ever done together, even while sharing a dorm room at college.
“Keep fucking this pussy then,” Coco bit out. She was close to coming, and she knew her men were as well.
“Shit!” she cried out as she tightened around them both, gripping the shit out of them as she came in tight, pulsing squeezes.
The sweet contractions of her cunt sent Cole flying over the edge. One moment he was jerking and thrusting, and the next he groaned out loudly, emptying himself into the condom.
Spencer was also close to the brink. He thrust a few more times, bottoming out in Coco until his dam broke. He felt he had never come harder, even without a condom the few times he hadn’t been careful.
“Fuck, gorgeous. That was amazing,” Cole breathed into Coco’s hair as she lay splayed across his chest, breathing heavily. Spencer was atop her back, sandwiching her between them.
“Mmm...I’ll give you boys some time to recuperate,” she said slyly, a smile in her sultry, teasing voice. “Then there’s that inset jacuzzi we have to christen,” she finished. “I hope you two don’t mind bubble baths.”
Coco rose up and tilted her head back as she sat back down on Cole’s lap. She could hear the water spill over the sides of the jacuzzi, even over the sounds of lusty groans.
They had made significant use of the bed and inset jacuzzi that weekend. She didn’t think either one of the rooms could ever be truly clean again. She pitied the housekeeping staff that would have to clean up the mess they had made over the last 48 hours.
Maybe they should ask the hotel staff to douse the room in holy water for good measure.
To find the book in full in digital (e-book), please download or go to the Dream app.
For the fully-edited paperback version, search for it by my name R.K. Knightly in the US, UK, Germany, France, Spain, Italy, Japan, and Canada. It is easier to search by author name than book name.
I will also be uploading the full book in its edited version on my patreon account at https://www.patreon.com/RKKnightlybooks starting in mid-October.
My apologies. I would give you the actual links to everything, but Inkitt does not allow it so I was forced to do it this way.