Giving My Billionaire Stepbrother A Baby 2

“I don’t feel it.”

“That’s part of the problem”, Abbey says. “You need to get your confidence back, and do you know what the best way is to do that?”

“Going out?” Sash guesses.

“Duh, attentions”, Abbey says, pluralizing the word. Sash doesn’t know whether it’s for effect or because she just doesn’t know that it can’t be.

“You want to feel good abut yourself”, Abbey insists, “You need to let people tell you. Agreed?”

“No”, Sash says. She’s turning now, looking at herself again, her eyes going to her chest and down towards her belly. In a week she’s done nothing about it. If she is pregnant, the baby will already be growing. How long before I show? she thinks to herself.

“Wrong answer”, Abbey says.

“I don’t want to drink”, Sash says.

Abbey smiles. She can already tell she’s changing her mind. “Then I’ll do the drinking and you do the dancing.”

Sash doesn’t answer, she’s too busy admiring herself, her hands back over her belly, smoothing the skin above the line of her trousers.

“You’re not fat”, Abbey says, watching her. “Don’t even begin to think you are.”

Sash pulls herself back to reality. “Ok”, she says.

“Ok, what?”

“Ok to going out.”

“It wasn’t up for discussion”, Abbey points out, already on the way to the wardrobe, keen to find something sexy for Sash to wear.

“Whoever he is”, Abbey says, rifling through Sash’s clothes. “He’s made a very big mistake.”

Chapter 5

On the drive into town, Abbey drops the hood and pumps the music up as loud as it will go. Sash watches her squirming along to the high tempo beats, dancing away in her seat without shame, and she can’t help but be pulled along by it. Fuck it she thinks. Forget about Dante. Forget about that useless, lying, good for nothing, ass-hole.

She made a mistake going back to him, but it’s over now. She’s got to move on. She’s got to think about her own life. She’s back to square one, but everything else is up from here on in, and it’s people like Abbey who are going to help her get there. Abbey smiles as she watches Sash loosen up and get her groove on. Together they sing along to the chorus, the words both catchy, and laughably ironic.

“My love has got no money, he’s got his strong beliefs, my love has got no power, he’s got his strong beliefs-.”

Up ahead, the lights are about to turn red. As though they’ve thought exactly the same thing at exactly the same moment, the two girls look at each other briefly to confirm it. With a mischievous glint of solidarity in her eye, Abbey slams her high heel down on the accelerator purposefully. The engine revs and the car picks up speed.

“We’re not going to make it”, Sash says, her body tense.

“We’re going to make it”, Abbey confirms.

Up ahead, cars are already slowing.

“Slow down Abbey, we’re not going to make it.”

Abbey presses as hard as she can on the accelerator.

“Come on”, she says, willing it to go faster.

“Abbey.”

Several meters before they get to the junction, the lights turn red. It’s too late to stop. Flashing past a line of parked cars, they rocket through the intersection just in front of the approaching traffic. Sash grips the door tightly, a burst of adrenaline running through her, as Abbey twists the wheel and spins the car violently to the left. The tires screech wildly below them, clinging desperately to the road, while stunned drivers angrily beep horns in their wake. As Sash catches her breath, Abbey can’t stop laughing.

“Fuck, that was close”, she says.

“What the fuck, Abbey?” Sash complains, before she too finds she can’t stop laughing.

“I told you we’d have fun”, Abbey says. “And this is just the start. You wait until we get to the bars and clubs.”

Sash turns in her seat to look behind her. In the distance, too far to see more clearly than in silhouette, her stepbrother’s office tower dominates the skyline.

In a mirrored private booth at the other end of the city, a semi-naked dancer swings around a table top pole, gyrating sensually to the downbeat music only a meter away from where they are sat. She’s got long hair that falls around her shoulders as she moves, dark, glittered skin and firm, surgically enhanced tits. The way she moves is making Katy horny.

“Is this where you bring all the girls you pick up?” she asks, her eyes roving carefully over the dancer’s contoured body, feeling her own not quite adequate enough in comparison. At times, when the girl leans out or stretches an arm or a leg, she’s that close, that if she wanted to, she could reach out and touch her. Dante could too, but Dante always can if he wants to.

In the bar, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She knew he had money, that was why she went over in the first place - the expensive suit, the chunky gold watch, he hardly attempted to hide it - but she didn’t know who he was, or that they’d end up here. For Katy, a girl who considers gold-digging to be a career choice, and the conquering of a billionaire the pinnacle of that ambition, this feels like an interview for the top paying position, she wouldn’t forgive herself for fucking up.

Dante takes a sip of his drink, the ice cold champagne tingling pleasurably as it creeps down to his belly. Unfortunately for Katy, he can already feel himself getting bored of her.

“I don’t remember picking you up”, he says, just to get a reaction. “I thought it was the other way round”

“Hey”, Katy says lightly. “I told you all I wanted was conversation. The rest was up to you. You invited me here, after all. We could have had the conversation in the bar across town.”

Dante regards her carefully. His look is intense, almost debilitating. Katy can’t help but feel herself weakening, as though the longer she looks the harder it is to resist him.

“It helps me think”, Dante says. He doesn’t need to specify for Katy to know what he is referring to.

“What does it help you think about?” she pries.

“Getting what I want”, Dante says firmly, as though that should have been obvious.

“That doesn’t look like something you have trouble with”, she observes.

“You’d be surprised”, Dante says.

The dancer lowers herself to gyrate the stage, her legs open now, inviting. Dante’s cock stirs as he watches.

“You like dancers?” Katy asks, her eyes going to where he looks.

Dante doesn’t take his eyes off the dancing girl’s crotch, mesmerized by how the thin fabric of her near see-through panties clings to what he knows is a perfectly shaved pussy. He can’t help but think of Sash, how she danced for him so perfectly, how this girl is a poor imitation even of that memory and how Katy, who’s doing a terrible job of hiding how much she wants to fuck him, will pale so much in comparison if he ever lets her get the chance. Every single girl has, of course, but Dante always knew they would. Sash was one of a kind. She was absolutely irreplaceable.

“I like risk”, he says, his eyes sparkling like rough cut diamonds. “The higher the risk, the greater the reward.”

He reaches for the bottle, filling up his own glass before he fills up Katy’s. The dancer has finished her set. Without looking at either of them, she disappears off stage, only to be replaced quickly by another girl. Dante watches her curiously for a while. She has a vacant look that suggests a long time in the industry, and a young face that indicates the opposite.

“I like dancers”, Katy says. “I like the way they move. It’s sexy and confident.”

This one regards her from her elevated position. She runs her hands over her small tits, taking her nipples briefly between her fingers. She gives the impression that somehow they are permanently erect. Dante watches the two girls regard each other.

/>   After a moment, he turns his attention to Katy.

“So let’s talk”, he says. “I’m listening.”

Katy’s face softens. He knows that look. He’s seen it a million times from a million different woman. It’s a look of confidence that says, “See, I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me. I knew you’d give in eventually.”

Dante can feel his cock harden at the thought of it.

There is a gap between them and Katy closes it. As she folds herself into him, sliding her hand carefully over his thigh towards the swelling bulge in his trousers, Dante stops her. She looks up to him, confused.

“Not like that”, he says, nodding towards the stage. “I want to see you dance.”

Chapter 6

Empty shot glasses litter the faux modern, plastic table. Abbey and Sash are wedged into the booth, surrounded on both sides by a double helping of hot men keen to impress them.

There is nowhere you can go in this city as a woman, without a man attempting to latch himself onto you, whether with noble intentions or not. These four men, fresh from the University rowing team, certainly fall into the latter category. Sash is drunk despite her intentions not to touch alcohol, and Abbey’s not far behind her. The men watch the women like lions waiting for the right moment to bring down a gazelle. Glances are exchanged between them, that speak of a special code of shared experience and thorough, licentious knowledge. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this, and it won’t be the last.

Abbey stands up.

“I have never”, she says, pausing briefly to create anticipation. “had anal sex.”

“You liar!” Sash calls out.

“Cross my heart”, Abbey swears, making an X across her chest. “I’m a nun, I swear to God.”

“Jeez”, Lanton says with a smirk. “I thought everybody did that in freshman year.”

“Giving or receiving?” Abbey jokes.

“Yeah, whatever”, he says. “Just tell me when you’re ready.” He stands up and drinks. Cole joins him, and then Parker too. All eyes go to Sash.