Double Trouble, page 3
So our lives are awesome. This high school reunion is way beneath us now, and we wouldn’t even go if we hadn’t been filming nearby. But I admit … there’s a niggling curiosity that’s gone unanswered for years now. We haven’t seen our stepsister for ages, and her name was on the list of attendees. Kyleigh was pretty back then, gawky and long-legged, like a newborn colt. I wonder what she’s like now?
8
Kyleigh
Taking a deep breath, I walked into the ballroom of the hotel. Yep, this was definitely it. Cheesy balloons floated, streamers waved from the ceilings, and vases of flowers in coordinating pink and yellow were scattered randomly. A big “2019” in glittery all-caps letters was pasted to the wall. Alright, I could already see that they had gone low-budget on the decorations. Hopefully they hadn’t skimped on drinks as well.
I scanned the room, my eyes immediately searching for my brothers, but no such luck. Oh bummer. I felt oddly deflated, although I scolded myself for my disappointment. This event wasn’t supposed to ride on Ryder and Roman, remember? I’d spent five years on my own, and it wasn’t all about my stepbrothers anymore.
But Gemma was on a mission. She grabbed my elbow painfully, hissing, “Come on, I see those bitches Katie and Laney. Let’s go,” she commanded, dragging me over.
Katie and Laney? I didn’t know them but I plastered a fake smile on as we neared two middle-aged women. Oh shit, suddenly it all came rushing back. Katie and Laney were girls who’d been mean to me in Biology, saying things like, “I think it smells in here,” and “Did someone fart?” while sniffing in my direction.
Well, life had definitely worn them out. They were each about thirty pounds overweight, with flabby arms and poochy stomachs straining against way-too-tight dresses. Suddenly, I realized I looked ten times better in my pink dress and coordinating heels.
“Hey Katie, hey Laney,” purred Gemma, her voice like liquid silk. Gemma of course was wearing all black, but she’d punched it up with funky jewelry and accessories. “It’s so great to see you again. You look amazing,” she lied, her voice so smooth it could freeze ice.
The two women looked stunned.
“I’m sorry, you are …?” the blonde one asked.
“Gemma,” said my friend, her tone filled with poison. “You pissed in my Gatorade junior year, remember?”
The blonde’s chubby arm flew to her mouth, her eyes big and round.
“Oh my god!” she gasped. “I’m so … I’m so …”
“Sorry?” said Gemma silkily. “It’s too late for that, but let me help you with your drink,” she said. And with that, she bumped the plump woman, causing her wine to spill and stain her dress.
“No worries, you won’t die, like I almost did from drinking urine,” said Gemma nastily. “A good trip to the drycleaners is all you need,” she sneered as the women scurried off, looking like scared chickens.
“Wow, that was harsh Gemma!” I remarked, wondering if anyone witnessed the incident.
“Yeah, I know,” my friend replied. “But I had to go to the hospital after drinking Katie’s piss! They forced me, putting urine into my bottle and holding me down until I swallowed,” she said, anger and tears darkening her eyes.
I remembered now how awful it was for us back then. There were so many slights and humiliations every day. I’ve forgotten a lot, but slowly, my own memories were starting to come back. I gasped when I saw a familiar face. It was Troy, the guy from the lacrosse team who’d called me a whore that fateful day. I, too, felt an unfamiliar rush of anger. I hadn’t thought about that incident for so long, but now that I was here, in the vicinity of my former oppressors, I too felt a need for revenge, a need to be mean and spiteful.
I sauntered over to Troy, my walk graceful and seductive at once. The washed-out woman beside him was probably his wife but fine, it was just going to make things better.
“Heya Troy,” I purred, running my finger along his shoulder. “Remember me?”
Troy was an over-sized meathead who had probably had too many concussions over the years. It was clear that he remembered nothing, and didn’t even recognize me.
“I’m Kyleigh, Roman and Ryder’s sister,” I said silkily. “You came over to our house during that incredible party where you invited two prostitutes, do you remember?”
His wife gasped, a pasty white hand covering her mouth. She was dowdy in a blue floral dress, with greasy, greyish hair. The perfect complement to Troy, who was your typical former athlete – still refrigerator sized, but a refrigerator of fat, not muscle.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he slurred. Judging from his blood-shot eyes, he was already drunk on the weak punch. “Besides, where yer brothers anyways? Those motherfuckers are on TV now, they gotta remember their old friend Troy.”
Man, what a sad sack of shit this guy was. His belly was like a huge mound of jello straining against the seams of his button-down, and the broken capillaries on his nose marked him as an alcoholic. But I’d heard something that piqued my interest.
“Roman and Ryder are on TV?” I asked curiously. “What show? What do they do?”
I didn’t have a TV, so this was new to me. I popped a glance at Gemma, but she shrugged, saying, “I only work with A-list stars.”
Exasperated, I turned back to Troy.
“What do you know about Roman and Ryder?” I demanded impatiently.
“Aren’t you their sister?” he slurred, eyeing me up and down, draping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Shouldn’t you know?”
“No, I don’t,” I said coldly. “So tell me.”
Troy looked like he was about to walk away, but maybe he had a lucid moment.
“Roman and Ryder are reality TV stars!” he crowed. “They’re on every week on some home and garden-type shit, planting weeds or fixin’ dinners or somethin’.”
Okay, clearly this wasn’t going to get me very far. I was about to whip out my phone to do some digging, when suddenly the double doors opened and a hush descended across the ballroom.
In walked my gorgeous, arrogant stepbrothers … and their eyes found mine immediately.
9
Ryder
“Hey buddy!” I said with fake enthusiasm, slapping Troy on the back.
We’d immediately seen Kyleigh. Or Kyleigh Version Two, would probably be the more appropriate description. She was completely different from the beanpole teen we’d humiliated so many times. Instead of a toothpick frame, the woman before us had gorgeous curves, a full, bodacious bosom narrowing to a tiny waist, plus hips that swung and taunted a man. And shit, but that dress hugged every inch of her figure, making us pant for more.
I’d heard Roman gasp involuntarily when we saw her because she was so gorgeous. Even now, I could feel blood rushing down, filling my prick so that it was semi-hard. Fuck, I’m around beautiful starlets all the time, and yet one look at my stepsister and I was getting a stiffy in public?
“Hey Roman, hey Ryder,” greeted Troy. “GO BEAVERS! BOOYA!” he yelled, pumping a fist, looking for other members of the lacrosse team. It was sad, really, how some people peaked during high school. But Roman and I weren’t here to re-live lacrosse memories.
“Hey Ky,” I greeted Kyleigh, letting my gaze run over her figure again. She flushed, a beautiful pink staining her cheeks, her complexion a perfect peaches and cream.
“Hello,” she said quietly.
“Hi!” interrupted a plump girl at her side. “I’m Gemma,” she said, sticking out her hand.
Oh right. I remembered Gemma now, the girl with bad skin. Well, at least that’d cleared up, although she was dressed in a black garbage sack, no doubt from some famous designer.
“Hey hey hey!” boomed Troy again. “How are the reality TV stars?” he roared. Farmingdale was already getting on my nerves, and we’d only been back two minutes.
“TV is good,” said Roman smoothly. “I’m a licensed real estate broker. I help buyers find homes which they then renovate under my brother’s guidance. It’s a good gig and our clients come out really happy,” he added.
“Any cameras here?” chuckled Troy, ducking his head in weird directions as if to avoid a camera lens.
“No, we’re not shooting today,” said Roman. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to pass out liability waivers to everyone,” he added, nodding to the gathering crowd.
“I wanna be on TV!” thundered Troy. “You owe it to me! Thunder buddies for life!”
Okay, at this point, it was getting out of hand. Troy was clearly really drunk, and even his wife was trying to get him to calm down by grabbing his arm while whispering ineffectively.
But before anyone could hustle him away, Troy went overboard.
“Yah fuckers, remember that party we had at your house with the whores? The whores you fucked? And then her …” he said pointing at Kyleigh. “She fell on the ground with her panties down, her fingers buried in her pussy. Remember that?” he yelled, loud enough for the crowd to hear.
Kyleigh’s lower lip started to tremble and her eyes to fill with tears. Fuck this shit. Seeing our stepsister vulnerable and humiliated … I don’t know, it really disgusted me now.
“Shut up,” I growled, my stance threatening. Beside me, I could feel Roman tensing as well. We’re six-four and muscular, so it wasn’t exactly an empty threat. “Shut the fuck up,” I said for emphasis.
“Yeah, yeah,” replied Troy. “We’re leaving,” he muttered, turning to go. I calmed, thinking the storm was over. But at the last moment, Troy reached over and slapped Kyleigh, his hand hitting her face with a loud SMACK.
“That’s for being a whore,” he raged.
It was too much. Roman and I launched ourselves at Troy, pummeling our former friend. The loser was nothing but a bag of flabby, sickening fat. At first, he tried to fight back, but he was simply too out of shape, and we began beating him, knocking his head to the floor, kicking his ribs, and punching wherever possible.
“Stop! Stop!” shrieked Troy’s wife, trying to pull us off. Maybe it was the fact that the tiny woman literally put herself in harm’s way, or the fact that Troy was on the ground cowering, not even trying to fight back. But my brother and I pulled off, straightening our clothes as we caught our breaths, looking with disgust at the pathetic figure curled on the floor.
“Shut the fuck up, motherfucker,” I grunted to his silent form.
Troy twitched a bit, his teeth broken and jagged as blood streamed around him.
“Fuck you pretty boys,” he mumbled, barely understandable. And that just made me kick him again.
10
Kyleigh
I awoke in a hospital room, the hum of machines in the background. Gemma came into focus slowly, her image sharpening from a blur.
“Honey are you okay?” she rushed. “You’re going to have a shiner,” she said, shaking her head and clucking.
What in the world had happened? And then I remembered. We’d gone to the reunion to dazzle, but it had completely backfired. Instead, it was like re-living the worst nightmare of all time. Not only had I been called “whore” in front of everyone, but it had gone down in front of my stepbrothers for a horrible first impression.
“Oh god,” I murmured. My head pounded and the left side of my face hurt, but otherwise I was okay. “Hand me a mirror?” I asked.
I looked at myself and fortunately, it wasn’t so bad. Yeah, I’d have a bruise, but right now my eye was just yellowish-green. I could go to work on Monday.
As if reading my mind, Gemma said, “No way you’re going to work! Your brothers paid for a private room at the hospital and want you to get the best medical care.”
I looked around and realized that I was in a plush suite reserved for VIPs. There were flowers in a vase and the walls were a pale peach, instead of institutional green or hospital white. Soothing music played, and the sheets were soft with a high thread-count, and not stiff, starchy linen.
“Oh god,” I moaned again. “Where are Roman and Ryder?” I asked.
“Outside,” said Gemma. “They’ve been waiting for you to wake-up and wanted you to have a bit of privacy. But Kyleigh,” she said in a whisper. “I think you should be nice. After all, they’re paying for all this and they’re gorgeous and famous!” she said with a wink.
“Oh my god, you’re gross. They’re my brothers!” I said hotly, my face flushing.
“Whatever, it’s not like you’re biologically related,” Gemma said breezily. “Anyways, I’m gonna roll now. Roman, Ryder!” she called down the hall, opening the door. “Kyleigh’s awake!”
The big frames of my brothers filled the doorway, massive and imposing. It was my first chance to look at them, really look without the crush of the crowd around us. If they’d been good-looking as teens, then they were drop-dead beautiful men. Jade green eyes flashed, coupled with hair as dark as night. Plus, they’d filled out, their perfectly cut suits hanging off muscular frames. My brothers had become alpha males, dominant and imposing.
“Hey Ky,” said Ryder. “How’re you feeling?”
“I’m good,” I mumbled. Suddenly I felt compelled to apologize. “I’m so sorry about what happened, I can’t believe … after so many years …” My voice trailed off.
But Roman shushed me and rested his hand on mine, the contact electric. I could feel tingles all the way down to my toes, my nipples hardening at the brush of those massive fingers. What would they feel like on my body?
“Kyleigh, we wanted to,” he said simply. “What Troy was saying? It simply wasn’t true. Plus,” he said, “He’s just jealous as fuck that he doesn’t have a sister as pretty as you,” he smiled.
This again? I remembered how five years ago they’d soothed me, telling me that I was cute, and that pretty girls got away with everything. Were they remembering that incident as well?
I shook my head, hopelessly confused. “Roman, Ryder,” I said. “I appreciate your generosity. You didn’t have to pay for a private hospital room,” I began, holding up my hands when they started to protest. “But I have to ask: is this all a part your reality TV empire? Was the showdown with Troy scripted?” I said. I felt so awful even questioning them.
The twins exchanged glances.
“We are on TV a lot,” said Ryder. “But no, there were no cameras at the reunion and we definitely didn’t script that fight. Good thing because we may be facing legal action, seeing how beat up Troy was.”
“The cameras take some getting used to,” he continued. “But you’ll get used to it,” he said confidently.
“What does ‘getting used to it’ mean?” I asked. Why would I need to get used to having cameras in my life?
“Well, we’re in the public eye all the time, and it’s distracting, I admit, to always have the camera guy and a crew of dudes following you. But you do get used to it, and it just takes some practice,” murmured Roman. “Like this.” Before I could speak, he bent his head for a gentle kiss.
It felt so good that I started kissing him back, my lips falling open under his. I was yielding, soft and sweet before I came to my senses.
“Wait, stop, stop!” I shrieked softly, pushing against his massive shoulders.
“Why?” said Roman. “We’re not really related.”
The whole camera thing was still puzzling to me, but there were more important things at hand.
“Yeah, but still,” I protested. “We’re stepsiblings, and ….” My voice trailed off.
“What?” asked Ryder patiently. “We haven’t seen you for five years, so we’re practically strangers. What’s so wrong with slipping a kiss to a beautiful stranger?”
Hmmm. It’s true I hadn’t spoken to them for years now. But I was unnerved and tried to distract them. “But what does this have to do with the cameras?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” said Ryder with a sly grin, bending his head to kiss me again.
This time, I didn’t try to fight it. The kiss was breathtaking. Ryder’s tongue slipped into my mouth, deepening our contact. I gasped against his sculpted lips, my chin tilting sweetly and my arms circling behind his neck to pull him closer.
“That’s a good girl,” said Roman from the other side. His hands, which had been gently stroking my hair, began wandering over my body, taking liberties with my curves. He weighed my breasts, stroking the S of my waist before trailing gently over my hips. I arched under his touch, my body sensitized and coming alive with a million flares as sweet liquid gushed between my legs.
“Mmm, I think I know what’s happening,” murmured Roman as the unmistakable scent of female arousal filled the air. His hands became bolder, tweaking my nipples, pulling and tugging at the sensitive tips as he pulled my hospital gown away. A cool waft of air causing my nipples to stand alert.
That brought me to my senses.
“Wait! Stop!” I cried, scrabbling to pull the gown over me. My brothers shared an amused glance and pulled off for a moment, pausing.
“It’s not that I’m shy exactly,” I said. “It’s that I’m a virgin,” I finished in a whisper, barely audible.
Thankfully my brothers didn’t express shock that I was a twenty-three year old spinster. Instead, they stroked me reassuringly, caressing my warm curves, as Roman said, “Baby, we don’t have to have sex now. Maybe we’ll just do something a little less intense,” he murmured.
A little less intense? What did that mean?
As if reading my mind, Ryder answered, “It just means some fingers here and there, and some licking and loving. You’ll enjoy it, I promise,” he said. “Plus, it’ll help you get used to the cameras.”
Again, cameras. But this time, I was too far gone to reply. Ryder had pulled my hospital gown off, and I lay before my brothers nude and exposed, my breasts heaving, my little pussy winking and pink, virginal yet wet in its desire.
Both men stopped for a moment, gazing at my body, drinking their fill.
