CourtesanTales Masterfile Read online

  Burying his cock deep in her pussy, he surrendered himself to the love and affection of the only woman in the world worth having. The woman who would soon give him and his best friend the greatest gift any woman could give a man—a child he could love and adore almost as much as he did its mother.

  To show the depth of his affection and devotion, he shot his knot into her pussy.

  Feeling it force its way into her, he struggled to hold off his climax. Pussy this delicious should be savored for as long as possible before being filled with seed.

  “Oh, yes! Yes! Knot me, Del,” she whimpered with pleasure, digging her nails in his ass.

  With their genitals locked together by his swollen knot, he could feel Renas’s huge phallus fucking her ass with a delight and pleasure he suspected might mean his lovely courtesan had managed to enchant them both into falling in love with her.

  After all the grief she’d endured in her young life, he decided she was entitled to have both their devotion and affection. In fact, the idea intrigued him. He looked forward to an exciting life with her with Renas making an infrequent third. Once she gave them both a son, their lives would be prefect. But how could it be otherwise now that he was finally home and in love with a woman who valued him as much as he valued her?

  Secondhand Lover

  Marilyn Lee

  © 2011 Marilyn Lee

  All Rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. All service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Copyright laws prohibit trading, selling, and or giving away ebooks.

  Secondhand Lover

  I never intended to fall for Mila. I objected to everything about her. It’s true that her beautiful face and lithe, shapely body left very little to be desired, but the mere fact that she’d left a perfectly good job as a computer technician on the West Coast and come out East all on Jason’s word, told me she was irresponsible.

  Of course, that’s probably what attracted her to Jason, Mr. Irresponsibility himself. Or maybe I should say one of the things. Jason and I are identical twins. But for as long as I can remember, the looks we share have always seemed more attractive on him than on me. At least, all the girls we knew seemed to think so. All through high school, Jason went out with the prettiest girls while I stayed home and studied.

  I used to assure myself that I didn’t mind being referred to as “the smart one” while Jason was called “the gorgeous one.” But of course, I did mind. And I couldn’t quite understand the different way females perceived us. I mean we looked exactly alike. Sometimes Mom would even get us mixed up. So why wasn’t I as gorgeous as he was in addition to being more intelligent than he’d ever be?

  But I’m straying from the subject, which is Mila. Or, more exactly, my falling so unexpectedly and so hard for her. By the time she arrived in Philly, I owned a growing computer repair and maintenance company in Center City and was doing well. Each year I made more money. Once I became comfortable with my success, I’d bought a big Victorian house near the city limits, which I hoped to one-day share with that special woman and a kid or two.

  I had very little contact with Jason. He and I hadn’t been close since he’d won my first girl away from me when we were 13. He’d repeated that offense many times over the ensuing years. I began to get used to having him waltzing in and out of my life, after stealing the affection of my woman of the moment. Most of the women he took hadn’t meant much to me. I finally reached a point where I considered any woman who could be lured away from me to him as not worth having.

  Sharon had been the exception. The moment I looked into her warm, dark gaze, I felt an instant connection with her. Our first date had been so magical I’d practically felt as if I’d been gliding on air when she lifted her face for my kiss at the end of the night. That kiss and gone on and on until we were both so aroused we ended up making love.

  The next morning, when I rolled over and found her smiling at me from the other side of her bed, I felt as if I were on top of the world. We made love again before I left. On the way home, I tried to tell myself I was going too fast but I knew even then that she was the woman for me.

  Sharon and I liked the same things. We shared similar life goals and both wanted to settle down with a few kids. And it goes without saying that we were good together in bed. Despite all my attempts to control my feelings for her, three months after we’d started an exclusive dating relationship, I bought an engagement ring.

  I held it for two weeks, intending to propose during a long weekend we planned to spend in the Pocono Mountains skiing. Three days before we were due to leave, Jason waltzed back into town and turned my world upside down.

  The moment I reluctantly introduced the two of them, I knew I was in trouble. Jason immediately set out to charm her. And watching the way her eyes never left his face, it was clear what was happening. In the past, once I saw the writing on the wall, I usually bowed out gracefully. But my feelings for Sharon ran so deeply, I did something I hadn’t done with any of the other women he’d taken: I fought for her. I gave it my best effort, but she called off our skiing trip. For two or three weeks, Sharon and I saw each other erratically.

  I knew she was seeing Jason at the same time. I tried not to mind, but it hurt like hell. Finally, she arrived at my apartment one night and told me it was over. After she left, I looked out the window and saw her getting into Jason’s car.

  Jason taking Sharon was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back and led to our estrangement. He hadn’t really wanted her. He’d only taken her because he could. Once she’d fallen as hard for him as I’d fallen for her, he left town, leaving her behind. She’d come crying to me begging me to tell her where he was so she could follow him.

  I told her. She followed and he blew her off. She returned to Philly with a broken heart. She hinted we give our relationship another try, but there was no way in hell I was going to trust my heart to her again.

  Five years after losing Sharon to Jason, I was still nursing my wounded heart and unable to forgive him. I was fed up with his selfish, me-first attitude. I wanted him out of my life for good. He’d never shown me any real consideration and I finally decided it was time I returned the favor.

  Since Jason was a freelance photojournalist who traveled constantly, we rarely saw each other during those years. Not that either one of us would have chosen to spend more time together even if we could. Jason and I had absolutely nothing in common except our physical appearance. About the only time we saw each other was on Mom’s birthday.

  After Mom’s death, I felt as if the last tie that bound me to Jason had been severed. Although I continued to accept his infrequent but annoying phone calls and occasionally “lent” him money for various emergencies, I made it clear I didn’t want him in my life and had no desire to be in his.

  I know that sounds harsh, but how many times was I supposed to allow him to trample on my emotions? The fact that we were identical twins made his behavior all the more unacceptable. I was sick of him acting as if the world revolved around him and that I existed just for his personal pleasure.

  So imagine my surprise when I arrived at work early one Friday morning in late April to find Mila Jensen waiting outside my office.

  I’d been out late the night before entertaining John Thomas, a prospective new client who’d refused to talk business until after dinner and several drinks. I’d never been much of a drinker (having seen how too much of it had ruined our father’s life), so I’d awakened that morning with a roaring headache and the knowledge that I still wasn’t assured of getting the account.


  When the elevator opened on my floor, I immediately saw a pretty woman dressed in jeans and a loose sweater, sitting on one of many suitcases blocking the door to my office. She had long, dark hair and dark brown eyes. Her luscious skin was the color of rich, dark chocolate. Her lips looked full and kissable.

  I had to resist the urge to moisten my lips as I looked at her mouth and imagined tasting her lips. The word sexy flashed into my mind. In high school, one of my best friends had only dated black girls. When I asked him why, he’d grinned and told me he loved women with dark skin. When I asked why, he’d replied: the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. Whoever had first applied that truism to the fairer sex, must have had this stunning woman in mind.

  Dismissing the rampant lust I felt, I stepped off the elevator. Who was she? Why was she blocking the entrance to my office and getting me hot and bothered the first thing in the morning? And did she date white men?

  Before I could speak, she gazed up, smiled, bounded to her feet, and rushed across the corridor toward me.

  She was tall with lush curves in all the right places and large breasts my hands ached to hold and caress.

  “Jason!”

  Damn. I should have known she was too good to be true. I stopped and shook my head. “I’m not—”

  “Jason!” She whispered in a soft, sexy voice, pressing her body against mine.

  Oh, hell, the touch of her body against mine set me on fire. I struggled to control myself. “I’m not—”

  “No talking.” Smiling up at me, she linked her arms around my neck and pressed the softest, sweetest, fullest lips I’ve ever felt or tasted against mine.

  I knew she thought I was Jason, so I shouldn’t have respond, but I don’t know any man worth the name who would have been capable of resisting the allure of having a sexy woman eagerly pressing heated kisses against his mouth.

  It had been longer than I cared to admit since I’d had sex and I was horny as hell. Not only did I not pull away, but feeling her breasts pressed against my chest, I slid my hands down her back to cup her big, round rear in my palms, pushed my tongue into her mouth, and devoured her lips.

  She trembled in my arms in response.

  I responded by tightening my hands on her ass and kissing her until she couldn’t help but realize how aroused I was. I was seconds away from rubbing my groin against hers in a manner that would make my desire for her all too clear.

  Once I got her sufficiently aroused, I’d invite her into my office for a quickie.

  She must have realized my intentions because she suddenly stiffened and pushed against my shoulders.

  Oh, hell. Don’t say no, baby.

  She tore her mouth from mine.

  Feeling as if I were about to explode with desire, I reluctantly allowed her to pull away from me.

  She took several deep breaths.

  We stared at each other in silence for several moments. I don’t know what she was thinking or feeling, but I wanted to reach out, snatch her back into my arms, and ravish her repeatedly.

  Almost as if she’d read the desire in my gaze, she sucked in a sharp breath.

  I waited—hoping she’d rush back into my arms.

  “Why weren’t you at the airport to meet me?” she demanded in a voice husky with passion.

  I raked a hand through my hair. “I wasn’t there because I’m not—”

  “Lucky for you I still had that sheet of paper with your brother’s work address on it or I’d still be sitting at the airport waiting in vain for you to show up!”

  Watching the play of emotions chase each other around on her pretty face, I wondered what in the hell had possessed Jason to strand her anywhere. She was the kind of woman most men would gladly walk over hot coals for a chance to bed.

  I suppressed my natural instincts. If I held off admitting I wasn’t Jason, I might be lucky enough to get another taste of her lips.

  When I remained silent, she stepped closer so she could poke at my chest. “Jason!”

  I had a sensation of falling as I looked down into her beautiful eyes. Noting no guile, I decided pretending to be Jason would make me no better than he was. I put my hands on her arms and pushed her gently away from me. “I’m guessing Jason didn’t mention that the brother in question was his identical twin.”

  “Identical twin?”

  I reluctantly nodded.

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  “His identical twin,” I said.

  I watched her long, dark hair cascade around her face before settling against her neck and shoulders. “Tell me another one, Jason.”

  “It’s James. Not Jason.”

  She compressed her lips. “Okay, Jason, you know I’m usually up for a joke, but I have just spent over six hours on a plane and another two waiting for you at the airport. That should alert you to the fact that I am not in the mood for any jokes.”

  The sparkle had disappeared from her eyes and she looked annoyed.

  “I can see that, but—” I began.

  “You can explain yourself later.” She turned to point at her bags. “Just get my bags and take me someplace where I can sleep.”

  The corridor outside my office wasn’t an appropriate location for the discussion we needed to have. The elevator doors slid open and several women who worked in the office next to mine stepped off.

  Each looked surprised before winking at me with smiles curving their lips.

  Great. Jason never seemed to tire of enjoying a joke at my expense. He would pay for this latest annoyance, I thought as I took my office keys from my pocket, and stepping over her bags, opened the door.

  As I reached inside to turn on the reception area lights, she walked inside, leaving all her bags in the corridor.

  Clearly, she wasn’t one of those progressive women who considered herself as capable of carrying her own bags as a man was of carrying his. Her assumption that I would carry her bags inside amused rather than annoyed me.

  Knowing my receptionist would arrive soon, I carried her bags into my private office.

  She sank onto the sofa along the wall and watched me in silence.

  After placing her last bag on the carpet, I gave her a quick glance. Although the cross-country flight in no way negatively impacted on her looks, I knew she must be tired. I crossed the room to the small refrigerator in one corner. “Would you like a—”

  Her lips compressed and her dark eyes flashed with annoyance. “Okay, mister. Forget waiting for later for an explanation. I want one right now and it had better be a good one.”

  Anger only heightened her beauty. Still, women. Couldn’t they ever make up their minds? “Do you want the long or the short version?” I asked.

  “I have just given up a very profitable job to come across the country to be with you.”

  Lucky Jason. Not so intelligent her.

  “Why weren’t you at the airport to meet me? And why are you wearing that monkey suit?”

  The “monkey suit” was one of my best business suits. It was certainly more suitable than the faded jeans and sweater she wore that had seen better days. But she clearly preferred Jason’s much more casual dress to my business attire. Okay so Jason had a way with the women, but I had something he probably never would—enough income to ensure my woman didn’t need to work unless she wanted to.

  I took a deep breath and reminded myself that she thought I was Jason. I kept my voice level when I spoke. “I am not Jason. I’m James Jordan, his twin.”

  “Not that again, Jason!”

  I narrowed my gaze. “The name is James. Not Jason. Who are you?”

  “Who am I?”

  “Yes. You know who I am now. James. Not Jason. What’s your name?”

  “You…you’re really not Jason?”

  I touched my suit jacket. “Can you picture Jason dressed this way?”

  She shook her head with obvious reluctance before frowning and touching her lips.

  I stared at her mouth; sure she was remembe
ring the heated kisses we’d shared. I knew they weren’t far from my thoughts or desires. “I’m his twin.” I pointed at my closed office door. “You must have noticed that the name on the door is James. Not Jason.”

  She rose and crossed the floor to sink down on one of the two chairs in front of my desk. She stared at me in silence as tears welled in her eyes before spilling down her cheeks.

  I’ve always been a pushover for a woman in tears. I rose and went to kneel by her feet. “Please don’t cry.” I touched her arm to comfort her. At the contact, I felt a tingle shoot up my arm and quickly drew my hand back.

  She dropped her hands and looked at me with tear-filled eyes that tugged at my heartstrings. “It’s true. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice husky.

  “Where is Jason?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She bit her lip and then sobbed.

  I couldn’t help it. I reached out a hand to caress her cheek.

  She pressed her face against my palm. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in over a year. He was in San Francisco the last I heard.”

  Although she didn’t sob again, tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Her tears tugged at my emotions in ways I didn’t like and couldn’t control. I got to my feet and pulled her into my arms.

  After a moment of resistance, she wrapped her arms around my waist and burrowed against me.

  Oh, hell, yeah! Holding her felt so good and so natural that I wanted to go on doing it forever. Of course I soon wanted to do more than just hold her. As I contemplated casually slipping my hands down her back below her waist, there was a tap on my office door.

  Before I could react, the door opened and May, my secretary stuck her head in.

  “Good morning, James—oh, sorry!” she said when she saw me holding Mila.

  I blushed like a teenage boy but didn’t release Mila until she pushed against my shoulders. Annoyed at being interrupted, I found it difficult not to snap at May. I swallowed hard and smiled at her instead. “Never mind. May, I’ll be taking the day off,” I told her.