Doubled Read online

  “Sit down, Bobs,” he urged, but he didn’t sound casual when he said it. And he used her little nickname, too, so suddenly intimate with Christian there, watching. Only when she turned and sat down, he wasn’t watching. He wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to something that had shaken her upside down and inside out.

  It made her feel silly and reassured, all at the same time.

  “Here you go,” Tobias said, and handed her the slice of cake he’d just brought from the kitchen. Innocent enough, really, but a similar thing happened when his fingers touched hers and their eyes met.

  Her insides finished turning to liquid and slid right out of her body, to form a puddle on the floor. She had no clue how she was going to eat what he’d given her without a stomach—and especially with a slice that big. It looked like a doorstop on her plate, and she had an idea his cake carving had been deliberate.

  She’d have to sit here and polish the whole thing off, after all. By the time she’d succeeded in a hundred years’ time, Christian would be gone.

  And it would just be them.

  “So, Christian. Didn’t you say you had to be somewhere?” Sebastian asked, as she did her best to get the slice of cake into her mouth. It wasn’t easy, however. For some probably equally devious reason Tobias hadn’t given her a fork, and they’d smeared the whole thing with so much frosting she wasn’t even sure if anything actually baked existed in there.

  Her fingers sank in to the hilt, most of it going around her mouth as she tried to seem like a casual cake eater. She really didn’t need Tobias’ incredulous stare to know that she wasn’t succeeding, however.

  “You okay, Bobbi?” he asked, but she couldn’t get the clog of cake in her throat down fast enough to answer properly. Instead, the following choked out of her—

  “Orgsurm.”

  “I don’t think that’s a word,” Sebastian said, and though it stung a little she had to agree. Somehow she’d started failing on all levels—ability to use words, eating like a normal person, controlling of libido…

  Tobias didn’t seem to appreciate his twin’s attitude, however. She saw him snap his fingers and give the sharpest look, before she followed the direction both actions were aimed at to Sebastian, who did not seem happy. He rolled his eyes. Blew out a breath.

  If this went on any longer, he was definitely going to hurl Christian out of a window. With the help of a machine gun. And maybe he’d catch her in the crossfire, just for good measure.

  “Seriously, Christian, we have a lot of things to do,” he said, at which point anyone else would have taken the hint. But not weird, insular, suit-wearing Christian Carter. He even had the leather patches on his elbows, as though he’d hit forty-five before his twenty-second birthday.

  She watched him run a hand through a thick hank of dirty-blond hair—the one that somehow looked like a comb-over, even though he wasn’t balding at all.

  “I’ll be finished momentarily,” he said, but she suspected he didn’t actually know what that word meant. He just carried right on sifting and marking things with his little red pen, for what seemed like forever. She even managed to finish the cake, and then didn’t know what to do with herself.

  Would it piss Sebastian off even further if she just said she had to go?

  “You want to come and get your book, Bobbi?”

  Or maybe he actually wanted her out of there. It certainly felt like it as she followed him into his bedroom, everything so solemn and slow and sort of like a funeral procession. She could feel her heart sinking into her guts as she crossed the threshold, because seriously—what was going to happen now? The conversation out there had been awkward enough.

  In this dark room, with just Sebastian and his crossed arms and his mean upper lip…she wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t mean to not answer your calls for three days? Can we just never talk about this thing?

  Both seemed inadequate, so she just stood in the middle of the room instead. Hands laced tightly together. One shoe scuffing over the back of the other. God, she wished she hadn’t worn a skirt and moderate heels. Did it seem too showy, like this? Like she’d made an effort, in the hopes that things would—

  “I’m sorry,” he said, so sudden and so breathless that she thought she’d misheard. He had the book held out, as if that were the thing he was talking about—though obviously it couldn’t have been the case.

  He meant the other stuff. He was sorry about the other stuff. And he looked so anxious too, so not like himself…it tore her apart. It turned everything upside down—all of her expectations of this, and her worries and doubts. Why had she thought he was angry with her?

  Clearly he was angry with himself, for doing something so impulsive and lust-driven and oh God something was happening inside her. She could feel it rising up, taking sense with it as it went, and by the time it got to her head she’d forgotten Christian Carter even existed.

  She just had to reach for him. Now. Grab something on him, like his big arms or his big shoulders or hell—his big thighs would do. She could see them outlined against the barely there material of the robe, all long and muscular and good, and the sight just made her foolish.

  Everything on him made her foolish. His lips were parted. His eyes were wide and almost black in the darkened bedroom. And the moment she reached out one tentative sort of hand to just touch something on him—anything at all, really—he didn’t move away.

  He didn’t even try to stop her when she gathered a handful of that threadbare material into her fist. Of course, that might have been because she did it somewhere innocent, like his elbow, but she couldn’t deny that look on his face either.

  That hungry, desperate sort of look. The one that made her realize he wasn’t sorry at all. He just wanted her to keep pulling and pulling at him, until suddenly her mouth was on his and her other hand was in his hair and oh God she had absolutely no control over herself.

  She couldn’t be angry about that fact, however. He tasted like peppermint, all clean and hot and sharp on her tongue. And after a moment of crushing his lips with hers, he did something that set every alarm bell in her body going.

  He slipped one big hand around her waist, as sure and steady as she was not, and yanked her body flush against his.

  She didn’t mind admitting that the move made her gasp. Mainly because it seemed so forceful and demanding, but also because of one rather obvious fact—it put him immediately and arousingly close to her.

  She could feel the solid press of his chest. The slide of his thighs over hers. And then after a moment something even hotter and more electrifying than both those things put together—the insistent push of something heavy and hard against her lower belly.

  He had an erection. They’d barely made it past making out like teenagers, all frantic tongues and muffled groans, and he had a great, big stiff one in his underpants. Not even in his underpants, really, because by that point she could pretty much tell he had nothing on beneath his robe.

  If she felt so inclined, she could have just reached right down and pulled the whole thing open. Seen him in the way he and Tobias saw her three nights before. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea—even with Christian right there in the next room—but she hesitated all the same.

  And he took the initiative when she didn’t immediately go for it.

  Of course he did. He was Sebastian, captain of the swim team, winner of bets, person who wore a robe when expecting company. He couldn’t be expected to wait when she’d already given a green light.

  He simply grabbed a great handful of her ass instead, and groped it until she felt like fainting. Then just as she teetered on the brink of lust-driven unconsciousness, he urged her toward the bed. Spun her around until she faced the neat blue coverlet and matching pillows, and forced her to bend at the waist.

  He did it so abruptly that she had to put her hands out to stop herself from falling. Though really, doing so only made her position ruder, and more wanton. Somehow she’d ended up wit
h her palms planted on the bed, ass almost in the air, legs spread before she’d even intended to do so.

  All he’d have to do to see how wet she’d gotten was lift her skirt. She could feel it soaking through the material of her panties, all obvious and frankly mortifying. She didn’t even understand how this was happening, how a kiss and a quick grope was swelling her sex and making her slippery, but she couldn’t deny it.

  It aroused her, to get lost in something like this. To just do, instead of waiting and thinking and worrying. She could hear Christian’s voice now, through the walls, but it couldn’t compete with Sebastian’s rough breathing, or the sound of the moans she stifled against her fist when he slid a hand under her sweater.

  Nothing could compete with that. He did it so slowly, so deliberately—just like he had with her jacket and his knuckles on the back of her neck. And then when she shivered to feel his cool touch, he lifted the material and kissed all the places his hand had just been.

  Oh, it made her slicker. Hotter. She had to bite into the back of her hand just to stop herself calling his name, because although his fingertips felt good they had nothing on the coil of his slippery tongue. He didn’t even have to caress a proper erogenous zone. He just lapped over the curve of her spine and a sweet burst of sensation went through her.

  If he ever reached the tips of her tits or her little swollen clit, she was going to die of something or other. Lust, maybe. Desire, possibly. It certainly felt like dying of something when he started ruffling up her skirt, all rushed and hungry.

  She thought of saying reasonable words, like don’t. Stop. Someone will hear. But by the time they’d reached her lips he had his hand tangled in the elastic of her panties. He didn’t even pause before yanking them down her thighs either, that rough panting breath of his now almost a guttural groan.

  Any second now. Any second someone was going to come in and catch them. Any second…

  “Oh fuck you’re so wet.”

  Her face heated automatically, even though she’d known. How could she not? She could feel it every time she moved, and even more so when he slid those thick fingers through her slippery folds. He practically skidded in the mess she’d made, rubbing over her clit before he’d probably intended to.

  Though she couldn’t say she wasn’t grateful. It made her push forward into the bed, teeth deep in the flesh of her palm. Entire body humming and humming, for that one little touch. God, if he only rubbed a little harder, whispered something a little dirtier…she knew she’d come.

  She’d reached the end before passing the middle.

  “Yeah, you like that?” he murmured, but unfortunately he did so just before he slid those two maddening fingers down, down, and finally all the way into her creaming pussy.

  She couldn’t answer after a thing like that. He didn’t even pause to let her get used to the thickness, he just stroked back and forth, back and forth, one hand now pressing on her hip until said strokes started to feel very different.

  Tense, she thought. Like he’s trying to force an orgasm out of me.

  Though she suspected he wouldn’t have to try very hard. He kept separating those two fingers and every time he did he said something filthy and delicious, something that pushed her closer to that great and glorious edge.

  “God you’re tight,” he told her, then followed it with something better. “That’s it. That’s it, open up for me.”

  Of course her mind immediately went to one possible intention. He was going to fuck her. He’d had enough cock-teasing the night before, and now he wanted to have what he’d been denied then—her wet and willing cunt.

  But the second she pushed back on his slowly working fingers, he decided that now was the time to ease up. Now was the time to just caress the edges of her pussy with his fingertips, all deliberate and easy. And when she complained, when she spread her legs wider like some shameless harlot and pushed back against him, he clasped her hip tight.

  Held her steady, so he could work her better.

  Or worse, depending on your point of view. It certainly felt worse to have him circling her outer lips, everything there just as slippery and swollen as the folds within. Those fingers of his like some sort of torture device, getting ever closer to her swollen clit but never actually touching it.

  She had to bite down hard on her fist, and not to stop anyone else from hearing. To stop the pleading that wanted to come out of her, the desperate and embarrassing pleading over something so slight.

  Anyone would think she’d never had an orgasm. Either that, or they’d assume that Sebastian was the only person in the world who knew how to give her one. Though right at that moment, she had to say—it kind of felt that way.

  All the muscles in her belly had tensed. Her clit felt immense, swollen, and every time she shifted against his frustrating touch, little pulses of sensation ebbed outward from that one too-aroused point.

  And then he let her have something—just a tiny something, just his two fingers easing into her slick cunt—and oh Lord, oh Lord. How had she stayed away for three days? She could hardly believe how this felt, how hard it made her shudder and buck and want to say his name.

  “You want it like that?” he asked, and suddenly he was shoving into her hard, those knuckles of his like hubcaps and everything too much, too much. Yes, she thought, yes, but of course she couldn’t say it. Saying it might make him actually carry on, and if he did she was going to die of orgasms.

  Or at least she thought so until he found just the right spot and rubbed over it hard. After which she wasn’t really sure about anything—her own name, where she was, what sort of disaster she’d gotten herself into.

  She simply blurted what occurred to her most clearly.

  “Oh Jesus, that’s so good.”

  He seemed to appreciate it, at least. She heard him make a sound, low and obviously turned-on, and his thrusts sped up. Now they seemed jagged and out of control, hitting that amazing place over and over until the pleasure started to break.

  “You gonna come, baby?” he asked, just as she felt certain she might. Her legs were trembling and threatening to dump her across the bed, her hands had made fists in the coverlet. It was definitely almost on her, oh definitely almost, almost…

  “Are you crazy? What the fuck did we say?”

  She went still the minute she heard someone else’s voice in the room—though of course she recognized said voice immediately. It wasn’t anywhere close to Christian’s reedy tone, and even if it had been she could tell by the choice of words.

  Christian would have said something like, Does it matter to you which one you do it with? And he wouldn’t have seemed somehow affronted, when he did so. He would have smirked as the words spilled out of him, then left laughing.

  But Tobias didn’t seem anywhere close to good humor. She didn’t even have to turn her head to know he was pissed, though Lord knew she couldn’t have done so if she’d tried. Her body had somehow locked itself in one position, hands still gripping the sheets too tightly, every inch of her poised on the brink of orgasm.

  Of course, the intense flood of embarrassment didn’t help matters either.

  “I’m out there trying to get him out the door, and you’re in here doing exactly what we talked about not doing?”

  She wondered if that meant Christian had left, but couldn’t complete the thought. Mainly because Sebastian chose that moment to twist his fingers in her still clenching, greedy pussy.

  “You would not believe how wet she is.”

  “Don’t do that. We said we were going to talk first. About…things.”

  “And she’s sooooo tight. It’s like she’s trying to pull my fingers inside herself.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “And when I do this—” He twisted his fingers again, this time in a slow, incredible corkscrew. “She shivers all over. I think I can make her come just by fucking her like this.”

  He sounded surprised, she thought. Surprised, but pleased. She
couldn’t blame him, however. She felt surprised and pleased to discover the exact same thing, after years of attempts with vibrators and interchangeable boyfriends.

  “Just…stop,” Tobias said, but oh this time he didn’t sound so sure. There was a hint of hoarseness to his voice, and she could tell without looking that he’d stepped a little closer.

  Maybe to see. Maybe to touch.

  “Why, when she wants it so bad? You want it, don’t you, Bobbi?”

  She could hardly say no. She’d look like the biggest liar on the planet.

  “God, please—”

  “See?” Sebastian asked, but after a second of obvious internal debate she saw Tobias jab a finger at his brother. Mind obviously made up. Tone as hard and clearly resentful as he could make it.

  “I’m gonna go clear up the mess Christian’s left behind. You two can stay here and…do whatever this is.”

  It was the little whatever this is that made her grab for him. Mainly because it should have seemed mean, but somehow didn’t. Instead it made her think of him always hanging back, uptight and unsure, ready to apologize before he’d done anything wrong.

  With Sebastian it meant a lot to even hear him say the word sorry, but Tobias was the opposite. You wanted to stop him before he got there, drag him back from bitter words he didn’t really want to say.

  So she got him by his sweatshirt, and pulled him down into a sloppy, heated kiss.

  Of course, he didn’t resist. Not even slightly. The minute her lips touched his he seemed to crumble, limbs turning loose and lax. Mouth open and eager, devouring hers as hungrily as Sebastian had done.

  It made her feel a queasy sort of triumph, though she couldn’t hold on to it for long. Everything was still too weird for her to hold on to it for long, and especially so when Tobias’ hands roamed down over her body and Sebastian’s fingers rocked slowly in and out of her pussy and oh God, she could hardly stand it.

  She had to press her face into Tobias’ shoulder just to keep herself anchored to the bed. He didn’t seem to mind, however. The moment she pushed herself against him, hands bunching in his sweater instead of the sheets, he groaned her name into her ear.