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Mara looks down at herself, and then back up at us. She nods slightly and then steps behind us while sliding a spaghetti strap off one shoulder. Then the other strap falls too as she undoes the zipper, and soon, she’s standing before us in nothing but a skimpy lace bra, a thong, and those sky-high heels.

My cock throbs against my pants as I take in her lush curves and generous assets. Fuck. Mara is worth every penny we’re paying. It’s not just that, though. I genuinely enjoy the curvy girl’s company, and I want to get to know her better. But first things first.

“You’re an incredible woman,” Casper rasps. “Now get down on your knees.”

Our woman gasps and looks at us with shocked eyes, but immediately, she drops to her knees on the plush carpet.

“Yes Daddy,” she breathes while cupping her breasts for our pleasure. “Tell me what you want.”

My brother and I share a knowing look, satisfied beyond all measure. After all, Mara’s doing well. Despite her initial hesitation, perhaps the gorgeous girl will be perfect for our business after all.



* * *

Where am I? I sit up with a jerk, my eyes trying to peer through the gray dimness of the room. I sense, rather than see, that the bed beneath me is no humble twin size. Instead, it’s a huge California king and then suddenly, it all comes rushing back. I spent last night with Clay and Casper, and after enjoying ourselves at a dirty party, we came back to their place to continue our sensual liaison.

But this is no ordinary space. Instead, the room is enormous, and easily three times the size of my apartment. There’s a door slightly ajar to one side, revealing a humongous bathroom, and another door to the left, revealing a gigantic walk-in closet. But then, Casper strolls in from the hallway, his black hair tousled in the sexiest way, and my breath catches at the sight of his bronzed chest. How did I get so lucky? Usually our clients are handsome, but not at this level. This is Olympic athlete, Greek god, panty-melting next level hotness.

“Thank goodness you’re here!” I stammer awkwardly. “I was wondering if I fell asleep and woke up in a palace!”

Casper chuckles as Clay comes striding in behind him.

“No, we’re just at the penthouse, sweetheart. Don’t you remember from last night?” Clay chuckles.

I shake my head wryly while clutching the bedsheet to my breasts, suddenly a bit shy.

“Sort of, except we were locked in an embrace when you carried me in, so I didn’t get to look around much. Plus, we went at it pretty vigorously for hours, so no, I wasn’t really aware of our environment.”

Both men smirk.

“Good,” grins Casper. “You were so into us that you couldn’t get your bearings. That sounds about right.”

“OMG, you’re incorrigible!” I giggle again. “You guys made me feel soooo good though, so it was worth it. In fact, the two of you guys have worked me hard the last two nights! I’m not sure I can handle any more of that, and I deserve a prize for accommodating you without a peep of protest.”

Clay leans down to kiss me hungrily.

“Sure honey. How does breakfast sound as a prize? Cooked by yours truly.”

I pull back.

“You can cook?”

Casper chuckles.

“Both of us can cook, and we make goddamn delicious waffles too.”

“Then that’ll do,” I say graciously. “I accept that as my prize.”

With that, I slip out of bed as Casper hands me a white button-down which is so large that it’s laughable. The hem comes down to my knees, and the wide shoulders slip off my frame, but I just smile sassily while fluffing out my hair.

“You look absolutely edible,” Casper growls while bending to kiss my neck. “Maybe we should skip breakfast.”

“Oh no,” I tease. “You promised me waffles and I won’t be satisfied until I get those golden delicious rounds! Besides, I’m way too sore for more,” I wink.

With that, I skip out into the living area, which is luxurious and elegant with white leather furniture, a huge pendant lamp made of crystal and priceless artwork scattered about. My feet skid to a stop.

“You live here?” I ask, a bit stunned.

“Yep,” says Casper smugly while striding past me to start opening cupboards in the kitchen. “Why, are you surprised?”

I nod, breathless, while settling myself on a stool at the kitchen counter. Of course, the kitchen is a full chef’s kitchen with enormous gleaming steel appliances and an island so huge it resembles a flotation device.

“No, it’s just this place is massive and … well, it makes my apartment look like a dump by comparison. Not a dump,” I amend quickly. “But my apartment is in an older building and seems to get mice every year no matter what I do,” I add in a rueful tone.

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