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My eyes widened. The last two org**asms had completely drained my energy.
It took a few minutes for them to get their members back up, but once they did—which was very impressive—I was thrown into a missionary style with Riley positioned at my entrance.
“I’m too tired. Can we carry on another time?” I asked, but the thought of us f**king managed to arouse me.
He slammed himself in, entering my pre-soaked core. “No,” he said. He pounded me just as hard as Ryan did, perhaps even harder. I threw my arms to his back, clawing at them, the sudden f**king causing me to moan.
Ryan positioned his hard-on at my lips. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
I took him inside my mouth, tasting his juices mixed with mine.
We rutted well into the night; over and over again. I couldn’t remember when we stopped—I probably got too exhausted and fell asleep.
***
I woke up with the twins lightly snoring beside me. As an early riser, I had gotten bored out of my mind waiting for them to wake up; they slept like logs. Even after I pushed Ryan’s arms and legs off me and rolled him over, he hadn’t flinched at all.
I clothed myself with one of the twin’s shirts. Wearing their clothes made me feel unusually excited. With boredom as my main motivation, I decided to explore their large mansion. Twenty minutes later, I ended up standing in the middle of their kitchen, working on one of my favorite pastimes.
I waved the scent of my fluffy waffles toward me—they smelled delectable as usual. I hardly had time to bake or cook anymore, with work, chores and other pesky responsibilities in the way. I felt uppity after last night’s awesome sex. Maybe losing my job was a good thing; I never had so much worry-free time on my hands. The bills could wait.
I placed the plates on the dining table and gave myself an imaginary pat on my back. They’d be so pleased with these waffles. I could imagine their reactions; cheeks turning rosy with joy. They’d get down on their knees to beg me to stay and cook waffles everyday—
I frowned. What the hell was I doing? I saw last night’s sexual escapade as a no-strings-attached thing that solely existed for pure gratification. Yet here I was taking liberties in their kitchen, whipping breakfast up for them as if I were their girlfriend. I just thought about wanting to bake and surprise them. Damn it, I really shouldn’t have slept with them. Sleeping with someone always made me develop some sort of attachment with them, regardless of how much I told myself that I didn’t.
I’d done it. I had a night of amazing and rough sex. Now that I had gotten what I wanted, I should cut all ties and get out of the celebrity drama as soon as I could.
But I couldn’t help it; I wanted more.
Ryan and Riley walked down the steps, still in their boxers. “What’s that smell?” They scanned the kitchen until their eyes landed on me. “You’re cooking?”
“Your kitchen just seemed really high-tech and cool. I wasn’t cooking for you guys or anything particular like that.” I shifted my glance to the ground.
Ryan took some maple syrup from the refrigerator and poured a bucket load of it onto a waffle.
I squinted my eyes. “You’re not supposed to eat it like that. You lose all the waffle flavor and it’s not crispy anymore.”
He cut a large piece of it and scooped it into his mouth. He started chewing, tilting his head back as if deliberating over the taste. Then, he smiled the most charming syrup-covered smile I’d ever seen. “Delicious.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Glad you think so.”
Riley took the bottle of syrup from his brother and lightly poured it over his plate in swishes. Now that’s the way Ryan should have done it. I didn’t think my waffles were like those run-of-the-mill kinds; they were supposed to be eaten with style. They were cooked to perfection; crispy on the outside and delectably fluffy inside.
If I were Riley, I’d also garnish the waffles with glazed strawberries on the sides first, like I did earlier. I had a bowl of them on the counter, but they ate the waffles before I could place them on the plates.
“It’s pretty good,” Riley said. “Ever thought about becoming a chef?”
He probably meant it as a joke, but I nodded. “Yeah, when I was a kid. But that’s not important now. Hurry up and finish, I need to do the dishes.”
“Oh, just leave it; the part-timers come by to do the dishes in the afternoon.”
I figured just as much. No wonder this house was so clean despite being the size of a castle. With as much time as the twins spent fooling around, one could as**sume that they barely spent any time doing their chores.
“You don’t mind if I use the shower, right?” I asked, putting the cooking utensils and the plates I’d already used into the sink.
