Which makes me wonder if she has a man. Truth is, I’ve been wondering that all night. She left early, before midnight, like someone might be waiting for her or she had somewhere to be. It’s not like I could bring it up while I was fucking Destiny. “Hey, so what’s the deal with your twin sister? She seeing anyone?” But fuck, I feel myself bristle at the image of Lilah riding some lucky shit who’s not me.
That girl tugs at me on so many different levels, my stirring cock being the most evident. I fish it out of my boxer briefs. The rasp of her voice wraps around me as I stroke and I’m instantly hard. I close my eyes as her voice invades me, makes me vibrate to her frequency. I tense, my whole body sinking into the fantasy, and growl as I feel a hard rush tighten my balls. And when I come like a rocket all over my stomach and chest a few minutes later, I hiss “Fuck!” between my teeth.
I am a fucking douchebag. Destiny’s in the other room, in my bed, and in my mind, I’m fucking her sister on the couch.
I had the whole convo again last night with Destiny before I brought her home. She says she’s on board with no strings. But something about the way she clings when I climb off her makes me think she’s only saying that because she knows it’s what I want to hear.
I grab a dirty T-shirt from the floor and clean myself up, then go for another mug of coffee. Several hours and at least a hundred repeat Lilah clips later, the room pinks with a new day. About the time I’m deciding to drag my ass off the couch and brew a second pot of coffee, Destiny comes out of my room, poured back into the tiny black dress she showed up to the bar in last night.
“Hey,” she says when she sees me. “You couldn’t sleep?”
Telling her I never sleep will only lead to more questions, and it’s not like I can tell her the specific reason for my insomnia tonight, so I just shrug as I pull myself up from the couch. “Woke up early.”
She drops her heels to the floor with a clatter and climbs into one shoe. “Everything okay?”
As okay as ever. “Sure. Want some coffee?”
“Sorry…” She glances toward the door. “I need to go. But I’ll see you later at work.”
“Yeah, right.” I should probably move to see her out, but I don’t.
“So…thanks for last night.” She offers a smile with all kinds of innuendo buried in it as she slips on her other shoe. “It was great.”
“Sure.” Fuck, I hate this awkward shit. Which is why I vowed after the last time I did this not to fuck anyone from work anymore. Because shit like this is inevitable. “See ya later.”
Once she’s gone, I go to the kitchen, brew a new pot, and bring it back to the couch with me. I should just mainline the shit. I refill my mug and take an enormous gulp of the scalding liquid, then lift my phone and replay the Lilah clips again, trying to find in the sound the drug that has me so fucking addicted already.
?
Destiny is on days, getting her bearings so she can make the jump to nights fulltime when Carol goes on leave for the baby in a few months, which means our shifts only overlap by an hour. Mom comes in at nine to do all the admin, then takes the bar from opening at eleven to when I show up at five. Destiny usually clocks out somewhere around six.
I told Lilah to come in at seven. For some reason, I really don’t want Destiny here when she arrives. Not because I don’t want Destiny to know I’m into her sister. At the gym this morning, I decided I need to be up front with Destiny and tell her what we got going on just isn’t working for me. More, it’s just fucking awkward.
Because the other thing that became glaringly apparent when I couldn’t shake her sister out of my head, no matter how hard I worked out, is that unless Armageddon comes, I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop myself from fucking Lilah eventually.
Mom is at the bar when I clock in and I wipe everything down while she finishes up the tray for Destiny’s only table—a group of college guys in the corner. Mom likes to think of Sam Hill as a restaurant that has a bar, but the state of California has decreed we are a bar that serves food. What that means is our servers are technically cocktail waitresses and have to be twenty-one. And as much as Mom disagrees, it’s really true. The kitchen doesn’t even open until five. We get a few tables every night looking for dinner, but Jim, our cook, is mostly busy putting together plates of nachos or chicken wings for drunk Sierra State students when they get the munchies at ten. It’ll be another few hours until things really start to pick up.
Mom hands the tray off to Destiny, who smiles at me and then turns for the table. I watch as the five guys eye her appreciatively. She is totally scorching, which probably makes me the stupidest fucking moron on the planet, but I’ve always gone after exactly what I want and her sister is no exception. I might be a douche, but even a douche has limits. I’m not going to fuck them both at the same time.
Unless they want me to.
The thought causes my dick to stir.
“Your drawer was another forty short last night, champ,” Mom says, pulling my attention back to her. “You gonna tell me what’s going on?”