Dr. Travis, I Love You: A Secret Baby Medical Romance Page 19

  “Come on, baby, stay, let’s play some more,” I’d purred throatily. “My roommate’s gone for the weekend, we can party all night,” I suggested.

  Darren gave me a weird glance as he zipped up his jeans.

  “Krissy, get serious,” he said. “We have midterms next week, and besides, I just did you. Isn’t that enough? If you want to be a serious journalist, I’d suggest you start studying and not waste any more time,” he’d said self-importantly.

  I let out a gusty sigh of frustration. Sorr-ry! I was more than a little hurt, but this wasn’t the first time Darren had shot me down for sex, citing all sorts of excuses. It was just that I was getting seriously frustrated … my pussy was positively vibrating with lust, and he wasn’t able to provide the satisfaction I needed. That’s why I was at the club with Amy now.

  I’m not really a club-going type. I mean, I’m not a prude either, but I do want to be a serious journalist and spend a good amount of time working on articles, pounding the pavement on some serious investigative beats. My latest project was an expose of the club industry, focusing on outfits that served alcohol to minors, provided recreational drugs, that kind of thing. So my motive for coming out tonight was two-pronged – relax and party a little, but also do some research for my next project.

  Finally, the bartender sauntered over to us, his blue eyes gleaming as he took in the creamy vees of our breasts, exposed through daringly low necklaces. I blushed a little, but thrust out my chest again. It was part of my strategy – if I wanted to investigate potential crimes, I needed to fit in by looking slutty, you know?

  “Hi,” I purred. “Do you do mojitos?” I asked.

  He cocked an eyebrow at me wryly, taking in my tiny bustier and even tinier mini-skirt.

  “Do you have ID?” he countered.

  Dammit! I’d been hoping my revealing outfit would make me look older, but I guess I still looked eighteen. I sighed, defeated, but Amy took over.

  “Listen, we’re willing to pay double for the drinks, just forget the IDs, okay?” she yelled into his ear.

  But he shook his head, no.

  “Sorry chickies, no can do,” he rumbled, turning to another guest.

  Suddenly, I had an idea.

  “Hey, I have something for you,” I said, almost pitching myself onto the bar so that he could hear me, my boobs just about falling out of my top. “Meet me out back in fifteen?” I asked, nodding to a darkened door that led outside.

  He looked me over again and I smiled sassily, cocking out a hip. I knew I looked good, my hair brushed to a glossy sheen, curves in all the right places. Rolling his eyes, he gave a shrug and said, “Alright, I’m going on break anyways,” he said, this time turning his back to serve another customer.

  Amy grabbed my hand. “Oh my god, Krissy! What are you doing?”

  To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure yet, but I knew I wanted something … intimate … with our gorgeous bartender.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Troy

  It was pretty hilarious. The two girls couldn’t have been a day over eighteen, much less old enough to drink. But they were nubile and flirty, with a freshness that only the very young have. I found myself thinking about the brunette.

  She was voluptuous and curvy, dressed in an outfit that lovingly hugged every inch that delectable body. I’d seen her the moment she walked in the door in that ridiculously short skirt, and waited patiently as she and her friend made her way to the bar.

  Up close, she was even more beautiful. The darkness lent an allure to her lips, and her eyes were a warm caramel color, like melting chocolate. My dick hardened, despite the fact that I flirt with dozens of women every night, and have fucked hundreds in my lifetime.

  You see, my brother and I are co-owners of some very successful establishments. We’re in the entertainment industry so to say. We run a couple clubs, a couple bars, and a couple of “gentlemen’s joints.” But the real money comes from our escort business, a discreet service we offer on the side.

  I know what you’re thinking … what kind of disgusting, depraved pimps run an escort business? I guess Tyler and I fell into it. When we opened our first club, we were working seven days a week, doing anything and everything that needed to be done –bartender, bouncer, manager, janitor … you name it, we did it.

  But part of running a club is sheer luck. Sometimes a club is up, sometimes it’s down for no fucking reason whatsoever. And despite our hard work, we’d been losing money for the first three months, hemorrhaging a hole in our bank account. So we’d taken a loan from a shark, expecting that he’d break our legs and smash our faces if we didn’t pay back the money.

  Except after a private conversation with his boss, the front man came back into the room with an odd proposition. He said we could have the money, upfront, no strings, no ties, if we consented to a very special arrangement … we had to fuck his boss.

  Tyler and I refused on the spot. Fuck another guy? No fucking way, there wasn’t enough money in the world to make that happen. Except the monitor on the wall had flickered on suddenly, the flatscreen coming to life with an image of a beautiful blonde, her cheekbones as sharp as razors, her mouth a lipsticked cherry red.

  “I’m Margot,” she’d purred throatily. “I understand you need about $100k to keep your little project going on,” she’d laughed.

  My brother and I stiffened. She was treating us like puppy dogs, when we were professionals. Plus, “our little project,” as she called it, would turn a profit, so long as we could hang on a few more months. I frowned angrily, and my brother turned to leave.

  But Margot softened on-screen and her expression became alluring, even predatory. “I’d like to make you a very simple offer,” she’d said.

  It was a sweetheart loan, financially. Zero interest, indefinite term. But so long as there was an outstanding balance, my brother and I were to report to her apartment once a week to fuck her.

  Now before you ask about my brother and I, it’s probably better just to tell you up front why women love us, craving our bodies, worshipping our dicks. My brother and I are identical twins – handsome ones. I’m not a stuck-up guy, but after twenty-five years on the earth, I know we’re good-looking, and frankly, neither Tyler nor I have any trouble trading on it. Margot wasn’t the first woman who’d propositioned us, and she wouldn’t be the last.

  So we’d dutifully showed up every Monday night at her apartment for three months, fucking her every which way, violating her holes while we paid off the loan. And the second every penny was returned, we never saw her again.

  Except … through Margot, we were introduced to one of the most lucrative trades in the business. That’s right, pimping girls underground. It can be vicious and cruel, if you don’t play it right. There are seedy dudes from Russia who import girls and keep them almost like animals in cages, filming them, renting them out in deplorable conditions, uncaring if the girls get sick, throwing them away like trash once they’re used.

  But that’s not the type of establishment we run. Our girls are discreet, beautiful, and charming. A lot of them are from middle-class backgrounds and are just looking to make some cash on the side as they get their lives together. Some are students, some are single moms, some just need some extra money to tide them over. So it’s a pretty penny so long as you’re careful – and my brother and I always watch our backs.

  The bartender stint was just a front. I use it to keep an eye on the customers, to watch as my girls circulated, scoping any potential high rollers. But the little girl who’d come begging had caught my eye. And what the hell? I was feeling horny. A quick fuck in the back wouldn’t hurt.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Kristen

  I stood in the darkened corner of the club, slightly hidden from view behind a velveteen curtain. It’d been more than fifteen minutes and I tapped my foot impatiently. Was the bartender going to show? Maybe I could interview him, get some insight into the liquor business.

  I sighed, glancing at m
y watch again, turning to see if he’d arrived when suddenly big masculine arms grabbed and pulled me into a secluded spot. I could hear the pound of house music all around us, but we were shielded from the gaze of the partygoers, the bartender’s breath hot on my neck. Without any pause, his lips crashed down onto mine, his tongue a sinuous snake in my mouth, filling me, making me moan with pleasure as his hands roamed my body.

  Unerringly, his clever fingers found their way under my skirt, and traced the curve of my pussy through my panties.

  He pulled back for a moment, those blue eyes gleaming.

  “Wet now, aren’t we?” he chuckled. I flushed hotly, hoping he couldn’t see my rosy cheeks. The fact was, he was so handsome, so domineering that I’d moistened as soon as he pulled me into his arms. I scrabbled with his t-shirt, pulling the soft grey cotton over his head to reveal a sheer wall of muscle, covered in the most beautiful tribal tattoos, swirling and sensuous over tanned skin. Reverently, I pressed my mouth against his chest, sucking that male flesh, feeling the hot silkiness under my lips.

  He was just as desperate because he yanked my panties off, the soft silk tearing with an audible rip. His hands roamed my pussy, trailing through my folds, and I could feel another chuckle deep in his chest as he sampled how wet I was, my cunny dripping with female juice.

  “Please,” I moaned, grinding against his hand. “I need it!”

  “No worries, girlie,” he rumbled. “It’s coming … umphf!” he grunted.

  And with that, he plugged me with his dick, his cock so fast, hard and enormous that I shrieked in surprise, completely airtight and overtaken with his maleness. He was so big that his cock literally lifted me up into the air, my little cunny struggling to fit him, stretched and pulled uncomfortably against that massive glans. But I kept trying, wriggling, moaning and writhing against him, and with the help of my juices, soon he was fully seated in me, that monster cock buried all the way up to the balls.

  I wish I could tell you this was a soft, delicate fuck as we sweetly explored each other’s bodies. But it wasn’t. We were strangers, and I didn’t even know his name as he fucked me like an animal, his hips lifting me with each thrust, my cunny forced to accommodate, drooling with arousal.

  And I came harder than I’d ever come before. My body splintered in his arms as a wave of tremors ran through my snatch, stars popping beneath my eyelids as I moaned into his mouth. My breasts were painfully sensitized and I crushed them against his chest as I twisted and jerked in his arms.

  He swallowed my moans, his mouth in a deep kiss as his penis erupted in my vagina, shooting virile pulses of man milk into my cunt. I was too aroused to count, but there must have been at least six jets, six deposits of sweet cum in my snatch, the white hot heat searing me, spraying my fertile fields.

  As I slid back to consciousness, I gasped. I’d just fucked a gorgeous man and my body was completely attuned to him, waiting for his next move, expecting to be petted and stroked in the aftermath of our lust. But no such aftercare was forthcoming. Instead he pulled out, pulled down my mini-skirt, and slapped me on the ass, giving me a brief kiss on the cheek.

  “Well met, little one,” he whispered in my ear as he walked away. I gaped. Suddenly I felt curiously alone, cold and empty, even as his sperm slipped down my thigh. Fuck, what had just happened?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kristen

  I fumed as I yanked on a bustier, adjusting the strings to pull my waist tight. I wasn’t exactly the skinniest girl, but I wanted to show off my curves, make myself irresistible. As I struggled into a matching tube skirt, Amy looked at me doubtfully.

  “Seriously, Kris, what were you expecting? You were a hot fuck in a club, nothing more. You can’t exactly expect anything,” she reasoned.

  I was silent, checking my make-up in the mirror. The bartender had walked off, leaving me without a second glance. But things weren’t that easy … or so I told myself.

  “I want to interview him,” I said airily. “I’m doing a piece of bars and clubs in the city, an expose of sorts, and I just want to talk,” I said.

  Amy spluttered. “Oh please, Kris. You want to give that hot bartender an earful for walking off on you, plus you want to ride that dick again, admit it.”

  And I paused, unable to hide a small smile. Yeah, if he fucked me again, I wouldn’t object. After all, Darren wasn’t doing the job, and if I got some good orgasms in, maybe I could concentrate better, do better in school, launch my career, who knows.

  “Don’t worry about me, I’m a reporter,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh I’m not worried about you,” said Amy pointedly. “It’s him I feel for.”

  As I sashayed into the club, I saw him immediately, standing against the wall surveying the scene. Odd, I didn’t know bartenders moonlighted as management because tonight he was definitely part of the executive staff, dressed to kill in a suit, the perfectly cut fabric hugging his muscular frame. My mouth started to water just looking at his patrician profile, the strong chin, those gleaming blue eyes penetrating and sharp.

  And I wanted him, there was no doubt. My cunny started dripping again, my panties moistening, and I craved another ride on his member, pressing myself against that muscular hard body. I sauntered over.

  “Hey stranger, remember me?” I said with a cheeky smile.

  His eyes swept me from head to toe, appreciating my lush curves, but he didn’t confirm or deny. “You look great,” he growled.

  “Thanks,” I smiled. “Meet me in the back?”

  His eyebrows flew up but he nodded. “Sure, just give me fifteen.”

  Fifteen minutes, just like last night. I found our little hidey hole again, this time pulling off my clothes in anticipation. Last night, I’d been fully clothed and he’d ripped my panties off for access to my pussy. This time, I wanted to be prepared, and left only my high heels on, my body bare for his gaze.

  And it worked. When he stepped in, he came to an immediate halt, his eyes glued to my form, taking in my Double D breasts, my ample hips and my pretty pink cunny. Tantalizingly, I reached between my legs and spread my lips, baring that hot pink channel to his gaze.

  “Like what you see, big guy?” I cooed.

  He was on me in a flash, his dick out, his glans probing hotly at my hole. With a shriek of pleasure, I gave myself up to him again. His member rubbed against my clit and then fucked my little vagina, pushing me up in the air with its massive length, forcing me onto my tippy toes as I struggled to accommodate his girth.

  “Oh fuuuuck!” I cried, voicing my pleasure, my juices squirting everywhere, lubing his shaft.

  His only reply was a grunt as he positioned me to take more, angling his hips, thrusting so that he could get inside. And just like last night, with a bit of writhing and gyrating, he was balls-deep again, his pubes pressed up against my pelvic bone.

  He began fucking me without abandon, trashing my little cunt, using me like a fuckdoll. And despite my resolution to talk, to make him hear me out, I completely forgot what I was there for, and let him take me, my pussy hot and tight, swallowing his member, stretching and pulling against that hot shaft.

  He let out a guttural cry and with a loud “FUCK!” came in my body, again spurting that sweet, hot cream all over my insides. As the deposits landed, my snatch started shivering, the orgasm building in my spine before rolling through my cunt, my pussy muscles clenching down on him as he ejaculated, pulling that sweet man milk into my depths.

  With a sigh, I let my head drop against his shoulder, like a flower too heavy for its stem. I was panting, breathing heavily as he pulled out, his dick covered in my juices, sperm smeared all over his pole. I caught my breath to speak but he sealed my mouth with a deep kiss.

  “Later, little one,” he growled, tucking himself back into his pants. And as I gaped, naked with his sperm spilling from my pussy, he left me, striding back out into the club.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tyler

  “Troy, come on!�
� I yelled down the hallway. My twin appeared, handsome, cocky, freshly-showered, his hair slicked back. I rolled my eyes. He was such a freaking pretty boy, but then again, we were going to a fancy restaurant to meet my dad’s new girlfriend.

  I wasn’t looking forward to it. My dad had dated a couple women over the years, most of them okay, dull but okay. Their idea of a good time was a sedate lunch at the local family restaurant, where early bird specials attracted octogenarians.

  This dinner, however, seemed a bit more elaborate. Evidently his new girlfriend had expensive tastes because she’d booked us a table at Le Fleur Elyse, a swanky restaurant downtown.

  “Come on asshole!” I hollered again.

  “Shut your trap, I’m ready,” said my brother good-naturedly. I admit, he looked good. We’re identical twins, so I say that without any jealousy or vanity – after all, I look exactly the same. We inherited our mom’s striking looks, the jet black hair, the sapphire eyes, and we take care of what we have. As members of the entertainment industry, it’s important to present well, and Troy and I make sure to work-out, eat healthy, and wear clothes that fit us properly.

  As we entered the restaurant, a sense of foreboding came over me. My brother and I had been unusually promiscuous this past week. Don’t get me wrong, we’re always fucking girls, but this week we’d both taken a young girl bareback, without even getting her name. When we discussed it later, we realized it was the same girl … evidently she’d fucked Troy first at the club, and then returned the next night and fucked me, thinking I was him. With a nonchalant shrug, I slammed the car door. Such is the depraved life we lead.