Unconventional the manha.., p.15

Unconventional (The Manhattanites #4), page 15

 

Unconventional (The Manhattanites #4)
 


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  “Wait and see.” Dejon felt his mouth draw into a frown, realizing he’d avoided telling Kiki that he and Dash were identical. He’d learned a long time before not to.

  Every girl who’d found out they were twins wanted to meet the other one. It wasn’t long after that, the girl’s ‘twin-cest’ fantasies ignited like the Great Fire of London. Then, before he knew it, she’d be somewhere between them, orgasming.

  Was it hot? Sure, for her.

  For Dejon, it was exhausting. Dash played up his stud part, while he was the one emotionally available. The good boyfriend while his brother was—well, according to the women they’d shared, Dash was a really dominant fuck who always made the girl’s orgasm his priority.

  “What’s Dash like?”

  He’s no fanny. Impossible to stand up to. An attention hog in bed and in life. Off his nut. A girlfriend stealer. My twin. “Different from your siblings, that’s for sure.”

  When he’d flown to Provo two years back and met the Izatts, they’d put him up in a nearby hotel. Mr. and Mrs. Izatt had made it clear that since he and Kiki were merely dating, he couldn’t stay at the house. Kiki grew up in a conservative Mormon home, and although she didn’t live there anymore, they still stuck by their traditions when she visited.

  “How so?” Kiki asked, slipping on her wristwatch.

  “Dash is adventurous.”

  Sexually, Dash would desire Kiki. Everyone wanted Kiki. Irresistible, she was a rare find. His find, not his twin’s. But he wasn’t sure how Kiki would take to Dash. He didn’t think she was that type of girl, and he sure as hell didn’t want to scare her away finding out. Plus, he and Dash weren’t kids anymore. It was time to grow up and stop sharing everything.

  “You said he’s older. By how much?”

  “Mum had us right after each other.”

  “Ah-huh, my mom did, too. I’d get my sisters’ hand-me-downs. I hated that. But it taught me to share, appreciate new things and make the best of the old ones.”

  “Sharing is caring.” Dejon didn’t mean to sound saucy. He was done with Dash. After this third and last heist in New York, he’d marry Kiki and start over.

  Kiki perked up. “Oh, and Dejon…maybe when you get back, we could finish what you started this morning. You know, the….”

  “Sex?”

  “Oral,” Kiki corrected.

  “How about anal?” He swatted her butt as she walked to the door.

  Turning around, he noticed her cheeks redden. She chewed at her lower lip for almost a full minute. Long enough to hear the shower, in the room next to theirs, go on. “Maybe.” Kiki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at her own response. She opened the door and left.

  “Cheers!” He collapsed on the bed. Cor, love a duck. What’ll I do now?

  His pants vibrated. Pulling his cell from his pocket, he read the text.

  Dash: Dude, WTF R U?

  Err. He couldn’t tell him Kiki was there.

  Dejon: Coffee. Want some?

  Dash: No. Thnx. Got the autodialer to work. :-)

  Ugh!

  Dejon: Great. C U soon. Stop texting me!!!

  He’d told his brother a million times not to message him about their heists. Leave no traces. Indeed relieved the tools their father had given them were working properly, Dejon still wasn’t ready to steal The Iced Sherbet diamond.

  When he slid his phone back in his pocket, he withdrew his wallet, turning to a picture of Helen, but not the one he had before. It was the new one her foster parents had sent him last week. This picture made him feel more ready for the night’s mission.

  Helen waved at him. Her prosthetic arms fit her as if natural. And her smile, wider than the River Thames in England—Helen was happy. The resale of the Tivian Diamond they’d lifted in Dubai had made this possible. To think, it was that very diamond that had cost Helen her limbs and her family by the rebels.

  No longer a mutilated child, it was Helen’s second chance at life. Helen was a special little girl, one who was learning to read and write. Somehow, though, Dejon didn’t think it was enough. There’s so much more we can do for these victims.

  Taddy’s Vajazzled Vajayjay Tastes Like Cherry Soda

  Stockholm Arlanda Runway

  “Pardon me. I’m in a hurry. Move!”

  The second Taddy saw the Truman Enterprises jet at the airport terminal, she was fast on her feet through security. Parked at the gate, the plane was where Warner had promised it would be, and on time.

  Her cell phone rang. The screen read, ‘Garrett.’

  A while back, Blake had hired Garrett Lochte to follow his first husband. When Garrett had uncovered his unspeakable sex crimes, it had sent Blake’s now ex-husband to prison—for life. After Lex had called the night before with the news of Vive’s escape, Taddy had put Garrett on the case to track their friend down.

  Panic welled in her throat when she realized it was four in the morning in New York. Not a good sign. “Garrett! Tell me you tracked Vive down and she’s all right.”

  “I found Miss Farnworth and yes, she’s okay, for now.” All too used to this, Garrett spoke without an inflection and sounded as if he chewed gum.

  “Where?” Relief broke from her lips.

  A bubble popped. “North Fork Winery.”

  “Sweet baby Zinfandel in a box.” She attempted to laugh to cover her annoyance, but couldn’t. Frustrated with Vive’s disease, Taddy stomped her stiletto on the cement as she made her way outside into the summer sun and toward the plane. Vive’s addictions had been going on since childhood. “How on this green earth did she get there?”

  “Hampton Horizons said Miss Farnworth snapped in group therapy yesterday and…walked out. By foot, she went from Bridgehampton north to Sag Harbor, boarded a boat east to Shelter Island, and another to Greenport.”

  “Where did Vive sleep last night?”

  “The winery’s inn, where she rented a room. Who’s coming for her?”

  Knowing her friend was safe gave her some peace. Nevertheless, the demons from Vive’s past terrified Taddy more than anything.

  “Lex is on bed-rest with her pregnancy. Blake is in Brazil, baby shopping. That leaves me. Text me the address. I’m flying direct into JFK. I should be in New York in less than nine hours. Then I’ll drive to North Fork.” She felt as hollow as her voice sounded, realizing Vive’s torment. Vive had been doing so well in therapy. Contemplating on what to tell Garrett, she didn’t want to scare Vive off with any confrontations. “If that inn has a room available…rent it for yourself. Watch her. And put it on my bill.”

  “Will do.”

  “Don’t let Vive see you. I’ll call you the second I land.” Before she hung up, the ugly gossipy side of being famous struck a chord. “And Garrett, when you do go to the front desk, please tip the staff and kindly ask them to overlook Vive’s arrival.”

  “Of course.” His gum crackled into the phone.

  “If you spot any reporters lurking around, pay them off, too. Understand?”

  “Gotcha, Miss Brill. The last thing a Farnworth Liquor heiress needs is media coverage on escaping rehab.”

  “Exactly. Bye, darling.” She slipped her cell into her bag and walked faster to the plane.

  Traveling for Paloma Gems drained Taddy Brill. She looked forward to Kiki taking the reins of all things trade show-related. Thankfully, it appeared Kiki’s mastery for their craft would make it sooner rather than later.

  As far as Taddy was concerned, her life belonged back in New York, playing mom to her furbaby Shih-Tzus, aunt to Lex’s son, Massimo Junior, and was over the moon that Blake would be picking up his adopted baby that week. With too many things to love on back home, it had pained her to be away from them, especially her man.

  The tallest hunkadoris she’d ever met, it made sense that Warner Truman dated a girl who stood at six feet, as Taddy did. He lived in one of New York’s highest buildings and never did anything small. Not even his planes.

  As the third richest man in
the world, he’d bought a fleet of commercial planes, had the seats removed, and then refurbished the cabin into what any New Yorker would call a junior one-bedroom apartment.

  “Morning, Miss Brill.” The jet’s co-pilot greeted her as she walked up the narrow stairs into the glitzy interior.

  “Hey there, Zahn. You’re looking pretty awake for someone who flew all night to get here.” Quickly, her eyes scanned the cabin for Warner. He didn’t come.

  “I slept. Kerri flew. I’ll be flying us back. Have a good time in Stockholm?” Zahn asked, glancing out the open door, probably hoping he could’ve stayed longer than a few minutes.

  “Ja,” Taddy replied jokingly in Swedish, since she knew very little. “Am I the only one here?” Her voice broke with a twinge of disappointment. Warner hadn’t flown over. She couldn’t blame him, though. Busy and important, the notion of flying roundtrip for eighteen hours just to cuddle with her probably seemed silly to him. She’d catch him in Manhattan.

  “Mr. Truman said your departure time was moved up from tonight to right now. We’ve refueled and will be taking off shortly.” Zahn took her overnight bag and toiletry case as she passed.

  “Damn.” She heard him close the cabin door behind her.

  “Ahhh, Miss Brill?”

  She plopped herself on the sofa and pulled out her laptop to get some work done. “What is it, Zahn?”

  “Mr. Truman is in the back bedroom, waiting for you.”

  “Yippie!” Her body sang with naughty euphoria as she pushed her work papers to the side. “Thank you, Zahn. You know the rules—no distractions unless this aircraft catches fire.” Excited, Taddy made her way through the leather recliner seats.

  At the bedroom’s door, she stopped and tried to forget all the Paloma work stressors and Vive friendship drama going on in her jumbled head. Focus! She put all of her energy on the one man she cared about most, Warner Truman.

  Stepping out of her Pradas, she bent at her waist, dropped her head between her legs and allowed the blood to rush to her face. With a pinch of her cheeks, a lick of her lips, and a head toss of her long, spicy-colored hair, she came back up and smiled. I need my anaconda fix.

  “Big Daddy…” she called out seductively, opening the door to the bedroom.

  From her little toe, through her vajazzled vajayjay, up to the tips of her ears, she tingled with intense desire at the sight of him. His six-foot-five stature, fifty-something-inch worked-out chest, eight-pack, hands strong enough to carry her back to Manhattan if he so desired, and his eyes, the ones that flashed green then hazel—it was all on display for her to kiss, lick, suck, and fuck!

  “Good morning, Red.” Naked, he greeted her with his pet name for her while he stroked himself. The thick, bulbous head of his cock already verged on eruption.

  Dang!

  Fact, she was tempted to call the Guinness Book of World Records on Warner Truman. He had the biggest penis Taddy had ever seen.

  “Someone didn’t masturbate while I was gone, did they?” Closing the door tightly, she locked it and forgot about everything going on in the world. When she was alone with him, they were in their own paradise, filled with raunchy, kinky, dirty, jaw-dropping, pelvic-thrusting, geyser-imploding lovemaking.

  “The agreement was you’d drink every drop if I didn’t jack off without you.”

  “I love making your anaconda suffer.” Convinced if a snake could go a few days without eating, Warner didn’t need to masturbate daily as if in puberty.

  “I have a day’s worth built up, all for you, Red.” He loved to see her swallow.

  The jet taxied down the runway.

  A girly show started with Taddy as the main attraction. She baby-stepped toward him, allowed the scarlet dress to hit the floor, and strutted back to the door.

  He had no idea what she’d done the day before to her pussy at the Stockholm Spa. A treatment to remind him of the first night they’d met.

  Tested a while back, monogamous and on the pill, no preparations were necessary, just her bare skin and his hot, fat, naked cock.

  “Hello there, Red.” Warner grinned devilishly from the bed.

  Her lover had found a new way to sleep on the long flights from Europe to the States. No longer taking Ambien, Warner’s solstice was in-flight sex. A must-do for takeoff.

  A sterling silver tray framing two flutes filled with Don Perignon Rose sat at the foot of the bed. The green-glassed bottle chilled in the bucket on the nearby table. Wrapped in metallic paper, a small gift box sat beside him.

  “So sweet of you.”

  He was already hard.

  She was already wet.

  The engines picked up speed, gunning for takeoff.

  “You better take your seat, young lady.” Warner brushed his large hands at his eight-pack then grabbed both drinks before they had a chance to tip over.

  Onwards and upwards, the jet lifted toward the sun. A kaleidoscope of white and yellow streaked through the windows, giving them a pastel glow.

  “Isn’t it a little early for champagne, Mr. Truman?” Taddy held on to Warner’s broad shoulders as the jet soared higher into the sky.

  “No. Is it too early in the morning for sex?” He toasted her as she kissed him and then took a shallow sip savoring the effervescence.

  “Never.” She felt her lips curl into a smile. Toying with the ribbon in her fingers, she hadn’t the slightest idea what he’d gotten her.

  Since becoming a silent partner at Paloma Gems, Warner had developed a new fetish for all things adornment. In recent weeks, he gifted her rubies and emeralds from only the best jewelers.

  She looked up at him curiously, gauging his level of excitement. Warner’s face was clearly a ten. Tearing the paper off, she shook the box. No rattle. It’s not earrings. She already had one of the largest earring collections in the country, anyway.

  “Mr. Truman,” the airplane’s intercom chimed. “Sorry to bother you. We’ll be reaching altitude in a few minutes. We’ve just got word of a very serious storm ahead. In about thirty minutes, we’re going to have to ask you two to come to the front and buckle up.”

  “Thanks, Joe.” He frowned.

  Warner grabbed the box from her hands. “That can wait.” He pulled her naked body on top of his cock. “This cannot.”

  “Think we can manage this in thirty minutes?” Playfully, she kissed his neck then lowered herself down by his crotch.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  With a nip at his long cock, she held his balls, the ones she’d shaved a few days before, in her hands like jewels.

  “Who needs rubies or emeralds when I have Warner Truman’s nuts?” Sucking on his dick, his girth filled her mouth. Hard and thick, she bobbed her head back and forth, working him over as if she owned it. Her tongue lapped up his excitement. She traced her fingers with his pre-cum then massaged her pussy. In her favorite position, cowgirl, she straddled him.

  The head of his cock disappeared against her folds.

  Leaning up then forward on her palms, she arched her back, slowly lowering herself down over him. Locks covering his face, she dangled her hair over him, knowing it made him wild.

  “I love your tuberose smell.” Filling her, she finally felt complete. He sat up, kissed her on the lips, and leveled his mouth at her right nipple. He always started there first, stimulating it with the flick of his tongue, grazing the areola with his teeth, sucking hard ‘til she begged. She couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Oh, God,” she cried out.

  “What was that, Red?” He tortured her, studying her face, waiting for her to cream. Close, so close. His focus switched to her left nipple, repeating the blissful movements all over again.

  “Lay back,” she instructed. Warner was alpha, but so was she. It had been a fine dance of power exchange since the first day they’d met.

  “I love you, Taddy.” He grabbed at her ass, kneading her flesh in circular motions. A rhythm between them started. She glided herself up on his shaft, be
gging him to thrust deep and hard inside her. Coming down hard on his cock, she allowed her body to sink further as the walls of her cunt contracted, milking his cock.

  Loving him as only she could.

  He cupped her breasts and pulled her face to his. “You feel so good.”

  “Please. Please. Fuck me harder,” she begged. It had been three days since they’d had a moment like this. It was a shame it took a plane to make this possible. But she’d take it. She’d take anything Warner would give her. She loved him more with each passing day.

  “Red, I hate it when I can’t look at your face.”

  “Big Daddy, you promised one hard fuck every so often.”

  “That I did.” He sat up, grazed his teeth against her right nipple, and then stole his final kiss.

  “Hard,” she begged again.

  “Turn around, little girl. Face the wall.”

  She repositioned, crawling to the edge of the bed on her knees.

  Warner got off the bed, stood and came up behind her.

  With a toss of her head over her shoulder, she looked back at him. “Make me come.”

  “Take a deep breath.” He stabbed her pussy with his cock then pulled back and slid in again. Fisting her hair in his hands, he drilled and pounded his flesh against and into her.

  Screaming in ecstasy, a wave of pleasure built up high and fast inside of her.

  “I’m going to—” Her body spasmed.

  “You’re going to come all over my cock, Red. Is that what you want? Tell me.” He thrust in and out of her, stretching her walls. “Throw that pussy back on me, baby. Give it to me.”

  She knuckled the sheets in her hands. Fighting off the urge to orgasm, trying to hold out just a little bit longer, she pushed her backside into his front and fucked him.

  “That’s my girl. Come on, Red. Come for your Big Daddy.” He slapped her ass.

  She whimpered. As a sound of an erotic moan built up through her, Warner’s fingers came wide and filled her mouth. She bit down, stifling the scream. Moist and wet, she came on her final push onto his cock. Kneeling on all fours, she paused, for only a second.

 
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