Dr. Stud

“That’s not Trey,” I correct her with a smirk. “That’s my brother, Brock.”

It always amuses me when people get us confused for one another. Or, actually, it amuses me how they try to back out of it. We know that we are identical. We are not embarrassed about it—but it sure seems a lot of other people are.

Brock is still blissed out and half-stupid as we all try to negotiate this awkward situation. But she is stubborn, somehow making a stab at being dignified even while my brother’s cum is drying on that pointy little chin. She stands on her wobbly legs, looking around while babbling through some inane attempts at conversation.

I really do admire that.

Eventually we all get put back together and I finally ask for her name.

“It’s Bunny,” Brock answers.

She nods to confirm, one eyebrow quirked in challenge.

I don’t take the bait: I’m not going to tease her about her name at all. Not yet.

“Would you like to see your room? Maybe take a nap?” I ask her. I am vividly aware that Brock would probably like to take a nap right about now. I got her room info from Royce earlier and instructions to show her around. Little did I realize it was going to be the creature from the plane, who happens to be Bunny.

I don’t know why I find that all so wonderful, but I do.

“You read my mind,” she smiles.

“I’m getting pretty good at that,” I observe.

She slips her little hand around my bicep and I guide her from the room. She’s graceful, but a little wobbly. Then again, it sounds like she’s had a vigorous day so far.

We are going to have to work to get her stamina up.

“This is your kitchen?” she asks in a sleepy voice.

I look around, seeing it through fresh eyes. It’s the size of a commercial kitchen, with top-of-the-line everything. When it was built in the early 1900s, it was just this size. Large kitchens were standard protocol back then, to accommodate a large number of staff. In the 1940s, it was downsized. In the 1970s, it was restored to its original size so that the caterers could use it. The space is wonderful for parties and has a breathtaking balcony view.

“Well, it’s not my kitchen,” I murmur, just to pass the time. I don’t think she’s actually really listening. “Brock likes this apartment, but I prefer to just have a simple, smaller suite with a nice view.”

“Is that where you are taking me?”

“No,” I chuckle, wondering why she’s so amenable to the idea. “Your things have been sent up to one of the other penthouses, and Royce asked me to show you there. You’ll see. It’s very nice, and if you don’t care for it I will find you something else.”

I take her through the service elevator, down one floor, then back up one floor to get to her suite. In our newer hotels everything is more connected, but in the antique buildings there are some charming navigation quirks like hallways that end nowhere, and elevators that only go to specific floors.

She walks along beside me, saying nothing, holding my arm like we are old friends. I am sort of enjoying our cordial stroll through hundred-year-old hallways. Perhaps even a bit too much.

“Here we are, Bunny,” I say after opening the door with a swipe of the key card. “Home, sweet, temporary home.”

“Oh, wow,” she sighs, breaking away from me. She kicks off her shoes immediately under the hallway table and walks diagonally across the room to the windows.

“I assumed you would enjoy a lake view.”

“Yeah… this is amazing! I feel like I can see all the way to… what is that? Indiana? Michigan?”

“Maybe a little of both, on a clear day,” I answer.

The sunlight illuminates her, rendering her clothing almost sheer. She was beautiful on her knees, and she’s beautiful now, up on her toes. My balls clench painfully, and I suddenly remember that I still haven’t had a chance to release myself after she worked me up on the plane yesterday.

“This is completely perfect. This is what your life is always like?” she asks breathlessly. “Or do you guys live together somewhere? Like in a big house?”

I shrug. “We have properties in dozens of cities, in seventeen countries all over the world. It is sort of like we live everywhere, you could say.”

She purses her lips and hugs her shoulders. “No, but I mean where do you live? Where is your home? And is it all together or in separate suites or something?”