Kendall Vs. Twins Read online

  3

  Kendall

  The hotel I'm at is a few miles from the airfield. But I'm grateful to Derek's generosity, because usually I'd be in one of the motel inns beside the highway, only being a junior at the firm. Sadly I can't take part in the huge buffet breakfast. My nerves are tingling at every pore of my skin and I could well throw up if I do more than drink some hot tea.

  I drive to the airfield where I'll be doing the weekend training and we're shown into a hanger to sign our lives away on what seems like a frighteningly excessive number of waiver forms. There's another catering table with coffee urns and a spread of incredible looking donuts and pastries. With no breakfast, my mouth immediately salivates over a cinnamon cruller but I don't dare. No way I want to embarrass myself by bringing it all back up again.

  “Right then recruits,” a shaved-head man with a huge barrel chest, taut from the muscle pressing at his army tee, calls us to order. “My name's Dennis McCartney, but you will call me Sarge. I'm your trainer this weekend.”

  His accent is British but with a strange tone that must be a slang or dialect. Maybe it's meant to make his 'recruits' more intimidated. A group of girls, obviously on some kind of girl's weekend, giggle as he tells us that we'll be under him for the duration. His eyes land on them and take in their matching pink tee shirts, each printed with 'Shell's Twenty-First' in hot pink script. Twenty-one? They all look about twelve to me. I'm only six years older than them but feel ancient.

  The rest of our training group is made up of couples, looking for a fun activity to share. Probably thinking skydiving together will bond them forever. Something to tell the gran-kids when the “how did you meet?” question arises. Those coupled girls aren't quaking under Sarge's stare. They've got a man at their side to protect them. A man that knows the macho rules and will defend his girl from any intimidation.

  Why don't I have that? I'm perfectly capable of sticking up for myself but sometimes it's tiring.

  “And apparently we've got a celebrity along for the ride.”

  Sarge's eyes swivel straight to me and I shrivel. While not usually a wallflower, or shy to stand up for myself, I guess this entire scenario is just freaking me out. I shake my head no, not me. My eyes stretch wide like a doe in the headlights. I just wish everyone would stop staring at me.

  “Aren't you Kendall Ross? Taking the course for a charity gig on Sunday where all the TV stations will be filming your third jump?”

  Now everyone is gawping at me but none as intense as Sarge. I nod my head in acquiescence. That would be me.

  “If I make it to Monday,” I pipe up, determined not to be repressed by the Special Forces ex.

  “You'll make it, Movie Star,” he barks at me. “No one fails under Sarge's watch.”

  Oh great. Just another layer of pressure piled on top of me.

  “And by the time I'm finished with all of you, you'll be fit enough to parachute behind enemy lines. I don't train in this pussy way you Americans get by on. With me you'll drop and roll like any good special forces man.”

  I have no clue what he's talking about but it sounds ominous.

  “Okay Movie star, you're up,” he grunts.

  He points at one of the four ladders set up in a line at the back of the hut and I look at him stupidly. What does he want me to do? The ladders aren't against the wall, just standing unsupported. And the ceiling is twenty feet high so there's nothing up there to hang on to.

  “Climb,” he orders and I jolt out of my skin and do as he says.

  I reach the platform at the top, hanging on to the triangle struts for dear life and not looking down.

  “Okay, jump,” he barks out.

  He wants me to jump off the ladder? Is he insane? I'll break every bone in my body before we even get started.

  “Just relax as you hit the ground and allow your body to drop and roll over.”

  Ya, totally insane.

  One of the coupled up guys, leaps for another ladder and clambers up. I guess he's eager to show his new girlfriend what a man he is, despite the nerdy beard and plaid shirt. He executes the move perfectly and another of the guys climbs a ladder, quickly followed by one of the girls on a weekend. Pretty soon, they're all taking their turns climbing and jumping and I'm not going to be a little wuss shaking on the top of a ladder.

  So I jump and hit the ground with a jolt, before sinking and forcing my body into a roll.

  “Relax, Movie Star,” Sarge barks at me from across the room.

  I get up, feeling jangled from the impact. Then I stagger straight to the coffee table for a conciliatory donut and to avoid having to go again. I feel Sarge's eyes burn into me because he hasn't called a break, but I don't care. I need sugar sustenance.

  “Babe, relax your knees as you land,” a bar room brawl voice hits the back of my ear, his lips almost brushing the shell.

  I leap almost as high as the ladder I was just stranded on and whirl around to come face to face with the devil. If the devil had black hair flowing down over his shoulders and a skin tight red jumpsuit with flames licking up his thighs around his – you know. I don't even dare to so much as think the word 'cock' right now because my cheeks are already the color of his suit.

  And the zipper that climbs from – down there – all the way up a flexing narrow waist to stop low enough that I get a glimpse of some washboard abs – that zipper is downright X-rated. What sort of guy has dressed like this since those old glam rock bands of the seventies?

  Somehow he rocks the outfit though. On anyone else it would look some some weird Halloween costume but this guy looks like a motorbike stunt rider or any of those daredevil types that confront danger like breakfast. It helps when the body inside the Lycra is all swells and bulges of rippling steel. I feel the 'weekend' girls staring at me with envy as the guy shows me how to bounce lightly on my knees.

  And when I finally give in and try it, just to shut him up, his eyes sear into my tits, buoying up and down in rhythm. I throw him a pointed glare. Note to self – wear jogging bra tomorrow and leave the La Perla at the Hyatt.

  A flare of irritation hits me at the same time a twinge goes through my clit point. I don't want to feel an attraction to this way too confident prick, but it's apparently out of my control.

  “And don't eat that,” he says, taking the half-eaten cruller out of my hand and chomping down on it. “Don't wanna ruin that perfect bod.”

  “Rhino, you're distracting the ladies,” Sarge calls out, with a glare at me like it's my fault.

  “I'll leave them to you, Sarge,” Rhino says.

  Rhino?

  “For now,” he adds and as he heads for the door he throws me a glance that almost has my tense knees buckling under me.

  4

  Rhino

  She is one of the hottest girls I've seen – ever. No, make that the hottest. I cannot imagine how an angel blessed with all that sassy attitude and mouth-watering curves is spending the weekend alone, learning to fucking skydive. But I respect her for it.

  Too many chicks think they can't go somewhere unless a man takes them and just stay home on the couch instead of grabbing life wherever they can. Or they travel in packs like the gaggling bunch of baby geese making eyes at me from across the room. Not interested, Ladies. Get back to me in a couple of years when you've stopped giggling and can handle me.

  I do know that I have to possess her and I don't even know her name yet. A minor hitch that can soon be rectified. I head out to find my brother, still in a ferocious snit.

  Hunter and I got into it last night. He arrived from Manhattan late, all dressed up in a Paul Smith suit like a city boy.

  “Change gears, Bro and we'll head out to Beach Bar.”

  There we were, at the bar and Candace inserts herself between us. It was such easy pickings, even more so than usual. She was clearly up for it, with her hand fucking millimeters off my dick right there in public. Friday night and the place is rammed tight, with singles looking for new friends.


  We were so tightly packed, I could have been inside her and no one would have known. Instead I hiked her short skirt up inch by inch and fisted her bare ass cheek. She clenched tight and ran her tongue up the side of my neck, pressing her tits into my chest.

  “Don't stop there,” she murmured.

  “I wasn't intending to,” I gruffed into her ear.

  I slid my hand around her hip and pushed under her thong, already so drenched it came away from her body easily, from the weight of her juices soaking it. She huffed into my neck as I grazed my fingertips across her hard little triangle, poking out eagerly from between her lips. Her pelvis circled against me, going with the swell of the bodies pressing against us.

  Hunter was behind her, elbows on the bar staring into his MacAllan. Not his usual position in a situation like this, leaving me to do all the work and gather the spoils. I shoved one finger inside her pussy, just to reassure myself she was nice and tight. She grasped my swollen mound as best she could. The beast is more than a handful and it was filling my jeans to bursting point.

  “I'm so wet for you,” she mewled into my skin as she urged me further into her.

  “I noticed,” I said and withdrew my finger to give her clit a pinch.

  “I need to get outta here,” Hunter said, standing up behind Candace pushed up against her back.

  Usually we'd be caressing the woman from both sides and I know Candace is up for that. She's as much as told me outright she wants both of us in her at once.

  “What is it, Bro?” I asked him.

  “Maybe he wants to be alone, just the three of us.” the little minx purred.

  “It's too claustrophobic in here. I may as well stay in the city if I wanna be this rammed up against humanity.”

  “It has its purpose, but lets get out of here if you're ready.”

  We left and headed back to our beach house, with Candace hanging off me the entire way. We're hardly through the front door and she's climbing up me, wrapping her thighs around my hips.

  “Why don't we take it to the bedroom?” she purred.

  I shot a look at Hunter but he shook his head and went to the freezer for ice. Then poured himself a drink and disappeared to the library, shutting the door on us.

  When I called the girl an Uber around five, he was still there.

  “What the fuck is with you?” I asked, not harsh. That's just the way we talk to each other.

  “I wish I knew,” he grunted, taking another hit off the tumbler. “There's this girl -”

  “And?”

  “And nothing.”

  “What you fucked her and now she doesn't wanna know?”

  “No I haven't even touched her. Unless you count a brush of fingers as she passed me a card.”

  “A brush of fucking fingertips? What is this a romance novel?”

  “Fuck off.”

  “So you haven't fucked her but now you're a monk already. Self-inflicted celibacy?”

  “She's not like other women.”

  “Yeah none of them are until you bed them. What is wrong with you, pining over a girl?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “You just want what you can't have. It's why you insist on this double life. Uptight money manager by day, daredevil weekends and holidays. But sooner or later you're gonna have to choose.”

  “Yeah maybe you're right. Just so long as sooner or later I can get this one in my bed and out of my head.”

  “I gotta see this girl. She must be some angel – and I mean Victoria's Secret Angel, not the holy innocent kind.”

  “She's hot. No doubt about that.”

  “You know I'm right. You're leading the life of a double persona, working at that investment house by day and diving on the weekends.”

  “What's wrong with that? he snapped, so I left it alone. I know my twin well enough to recognize when to drop it.

  Now, from one day to the next, I figure out where he's coming from. A girl like the one I just had a run in with could get under your skin and stay there. I'm not gonna tell Hunter I understand, he'll just blow me off.

  He thinks I'm a complete dog and he's the good guy – it's a little game we've had since kids. When I was always assumed to be the 'bad' one, the rebel, while he was too good to be true and used me as his beard. None of it malicious of course. There's a dynamic in every family, just that much more intense when you're born from the same cell.

  I'll let him know when he's less pissed about last night. But if the girl he's all hankering after has the same sexy curves and sassy mouth as the one I just met, sign me up as a believer in a monk's life. Because she's enough to make any man go celibate for the rest of his life just for one sensational night licking, caressing, ramming every last inch of her.

  A girl like that though, you don't just wanna slam into and give her the best fucking night of her life. One she won't ever forget. One that will last longer than the week she won't walk straight. A girl like that you want to take into your arms and hold her there while you kiss her forehead, her nose, her lips. Only when she's relaxed into your hold do you work down her neck and across her chest to take each tight bud into your mouth.

  I'm not becoming some sentimental dick. I'll leave all that romance shit to Hunter. It's just that this girl, I know exactly what I want to do to her and I've got the weekend to make that happen. And I'm pretty sure that this is a woman I'll be glad not to share with my brother.

  5

  Kendall

  Perfect body? That's something I've never thought of as having. I can't stop smiling inside that he said that, even if he is a cocky ass.

  When we're finally allowed to go for the lunch break, I don't see Rhino anywhere. I mean, not that I'm looking for him or anything like that. I'm really curious though about what he's doing here. Clearly known by our trainer, perhaps he owns the company that runs the sky-diving weekends. But I do know he doesn't ruin his body with eating any more than stolen half donuts, what with it being completely on display in that skin tight suit.

  My cheeks are suddenly hot with the memory of his hot breath on my ear, his solid chest lightly grazing my back. And then that filthy grin as he walked away, the perfect ass cheeks, high and round flexing the stretchy material of his suit. When he turned to throw me one last glance, I couldn't help but flick down and connect with the bulge at his thighs. It was beyond large. Even massive wouldn't do it justice. No doubt in a suit like that, he was wearing some kind of sports jock and probably a bunch of porn star padding to build his already robust ego.

  I hate men like that. So cocksure and full of themselves and strutting around like peacocks. Although if he does own this place, he's entitled to I guess. It doesn't mean I'm going to get all giddy gaga over him. Because he's absolutely not my type at all.

  “Hey, Movie Star,” Sarge's brusque voice at my side jolts me out of my dream world. “You up for the challenge this afternoon?”

  “Yes of course,” I insist. “I'm not good with heights to be honest but -”

  “No excuses. You'll never make the Force if you allow your night sweats to get in the way.”

  I open my mouth to tell him I have no intention of 'making the Force' but clearly this dude is operating under some delusion of the past where he's back in his glory days.

  “May the Force be with you,” I mutter, under my breath.

  Beside me, there's a sudden rash of ooohs and ahhhs. I'm sitting on the edge of the 'weekend' girly group because it was the only choice between that or at a picnic table totally alone. The couples are hanging out one-on-one, like their bonding depends on no one else breaking the spell. Not that I want to be a third wheel for a lovey pair that are busy making memories.

  I don't need another reminder that I'm seriously uncoupled. I get enough of that from my friends. It seems like as we rush headlong toward thirty like bullet trains on a suicide mission. Everyone I know is magically meeting the love of their life. Carla, Kim, Alicia. Three of my besties have settled into forever in the last little wh
ile. And me – well I'm not sulking, but sometimes it seems like the well has run completely dry.

  “Ohmigod, that'll be us tomorrow,” one of the girls beside me squeals.

  I tip my head up to the clouds, following the set of upturned heads. Although there isn't a single one and the sky is an impossible shade of clear bright blue. And ruining the pristine beauty is a blaze of red smoke trailing downward like a plane is plummeting out of the sky. A plunging object emerges out of the smoke fog, and it isn't a plane, its a circle. A circle of people coming closer to earth.

  They form a tight ring, heading straight at each other, until they reach out and grab hands. Then they pull on their connection and create a perfect circle, all except one that appears higher up in the sky as the smoke clears away. A red dot on the blue background, it suddenly points downward and dives like a bomb released from its housing.

  There's a gasp at every table, we're all stretching straight up to the sky to watch the figure plummet, arms pointed above his head as he dives for the joined circle. I'm so spellbound I forget to hunt my phone out of my purse to catch this for Insta. He reaches the group and a hold breaks in the circle. The union is broken until the figure flies in, catches the loose hands and pulls it back in. The red circle is blurred as it hurtles through the air and we all sit faces agog and breath held locked in our chests.

  Nothing can save them now, they're so close to the ground. My heart is beating a hole through my chest so fitfully, it's painful. And then, at the last moment we all thought had flown past, a slew of red parachutes unfurl against the sky.

  Twenty minutes later, he's here. They all are, a coven of red devils swarming between us, grabbing drinks and food. They're lit up with adrenaline, chattering too fast. They settle at their own table. Only one woman in the swarm of guys.