Borrowed Beauty

Chapter Five: Eyes on the Prize

RENEE

I hate being a twin.

People think, oh, it must be so much fun, you get a built-in best friend and playmate. They think we must be close just because we shared the womb for nine months. They have no idea what it’s really like.

From the moment I was born, Olivia was attached to me like a second shadow. I never had anything of my own. If I wanted a toy, my parents bought two, one for me, and one for Olivia. If I wanted to take dance lessons, Olivia was enrolled in the same class. If I invited a friend over, Olivia had to play too. And what’s worse, in everything we did, Olivia had to do it better.

It's so f*****g annoying to always be compared to her. When we were babies, Olivia walked first, talked first, and mastered potty training first. When we started school, teachers were always praising her for being so calm and well-behaved. Meanwhile, they quietly suggested to my parents that maybe I should be evaluated for ADHD. She was always smarter, she always got better grades, and she was always the perfect little princess in my father’s eyes.

Some people say she’s the “ugly sister”, but I can’t even take any comfort in that. Because the truth is, she’s not really ugly, she’s just a different kind of beautiful. If she was taller, she probably could have been a plus-sized model. She has that lush, exaggerated hourglass figure. I’ve had more than one boyfriend admit they found her attractive. Or rather, in the words of my latest ex, “I’d like to tap that.”

I guess that’s why my boyfriends never seem to last more than a few months.

The only advantage I have over Olivia is the fact that I was born first. That twenty-seven-minute headstart made me the rightful heir of the Red Ridge Pack. You would think that being the Alpha-heir would entitle me to a little respect, but even now our father still treated me like a baby. He still made me take Olivia almost everywhere I went. He pretended it was about fairness and equality, but I knew it was really because he didn’t trust me. I mean, he let Olivia travel all over the world by herself, but I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without supervision.

All I wanted was to have a life of my own, without Olivia constantly breathing down my neck. By some miracle Dad had sent me to the Leadership Summit by myself this year and that's where I met Aaron and Brock. They were into me, and I was into them, a lot. I thought, finally, something of my very own, something I don’t have to share with Olivia. If it all worked out, it could be something big. They could choose me to be their mate.

I had it all worked out in my head. And then Dad insisted Olivia accompany me on the visit. I tried to fight it, but he laid down the law. If I didn’t take my sister along he would cut off my bank account. He pretended that it was for my own safety, but I wasn’t stupid. I know what he was thinking. Twin guys, twin girls. He thought Olivia and I were going to share mates like we used to share clothes when we were kids.

Over my dead body.

I was just going to have to make sure that Aaron and Brock kept their eyes on the prize; and that prize was me. I slipped into my little red dress, the one I knew drove men wild. It made my legs look long, and with the help of a good push-up bra, showed off my small breasts to their best advantage. I watched Brock’s eyes keep wandering down there, so I knew I had made a good choice.

When we arrived at the Dos Hermanos, the night was already in full swing. The parking lot was full, and there was a line at the door. We skipped the lines and went around to a side entrance, which was promptly opened by a security guard who must have known we were coming. As soon as the door opened we were hit with the thumping base of the dance music. I wasn’t kidding when I said Olivia didn’t like the club scene. She couldn’t stand the loud music and the strobing lights. But for me, it made me feel like I was coming alive.

The guys led me to the bar and introduced me to Tim, the bartender. “This lady is our special guest,” Brock told the man, “give her whatever she wants, on the house.”

Aaron slipped an arm around my shoulder. “We have some business to take care of,” he said, leaning in close to my ear so I could hear him over the music. “Have a drink, relax, enjoy yourself. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I pouted. Why did they bring me here if they were going to work and leave me alone? Aaron just laughed and kissed my pouting lips before he took Brock’s arm and headed toward the restricted area in the back of the club.

“Well pretty lady, what will you have?” The bartender asked me. He looked to be about thirty, and I could sense that he was a wolf. He was covered in tattoos, and he had a bunch of piercings on his eyebrows. “Rum and coke,” I shouted over the music. I idly wondered what happened to his piercings when he shifted. Did he take them out, or?

I shifted with earrings in once and ended up with a torn earlobe that had to be stitched back together. Lesson learned.

I watched him garnish the glass with a wedge of lemon before he slid it over to me with a wink. I sipped the drink through a straw and watched all the bodies around me. Most of the clubbers were humans, I realized, while most of the staff were werewolves. Big muscled bouncers were scattered around, keeping a watchful eye on the place, while scantily clad waitresses were expertly dodging through the crowd with trays of drinks.

The lights pulsed in time with the music, and it had a mesmerizing effect on me. I was already halfway through my third drink when I abandoned the glass on the bar and followed the siren’s call to the dance floor. I joined the throngs of gyrating bodies, not caring that I was dancing alone. Hell, I preferred it that way. I lost myself in the rhythm, raising my hands over my head and closing my eyes. I don’t know how many songs I danced through, I was so lost in the music, lost in the movement, and more than a little bit tipsy.

My body was already slick with sweat when I became aware of a body rubbing behind me, and familiar hands on my hips. When I opened my eyes Brock was in front of me, and Aaron was grinding behind me. At least I think it was Brock. I was having a hard time telling them apart in their matchy-matchy work suits. They had shed their formal jackets and had the first few buttons of their white dress shirts undone.

I danced between them, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of their hands on my body. I took turns rubbing against them and felt deliciously satisfied when I could feel the ridge of their hard-ons pressing against my lower back and lower belly. Before I met the Salvador brothers, I had never been with two guys at the same time, but I loved it. Twice the attention, twice the touch, twice the orgasms. Being between the two sexy men in the middle of the dance floor made me feel special, it made me feel adored. I knew people were watching us. I could feel the jealous and envious eyes following our every movement, and it made me feel almost high.

When they led me off the dance floor I went willingly and without question. Another drink was pressed into my hand, and since I was sweaty and thirsty from all the dancing, I downed it without even asking what it was. Whatever it was, it burned my throat and made my stomach feel hot, but did little to quench my thirst.

Before I quite knew what was happening they’d lead me through the back of the club and down a narrow set of stairs, my hands trailing the soft wallpaper on either side of me, to what I assumed must be their office. There was a desk in the corner of the room, but there was also an assortment of chairs and couches, lighting equipment, and expensive-looking cameras. I felt a little dazed as they led me over to one of the couches. “What are the cameras for?” I mumbled, pushing my hair out of my face.

“Don’t worry about the cameras, darling. They aren’t even on.” Brock was kissing my neck. Or was it Aaron? I really wasn’t sure anymore. Someone’s hand was on my breast, rubbing and massaging, and someone's hand was on my thigh, sliding upwards, dipping beneath my scant underwear.

So many hands, and so many sensations, and my head was already feeling light and woozy from the alcohol. I forgot all about the cameras, and the niggling doubt that they might actually be turned on. I was completely consumed by the wonderful feelings of their touches, and their kisses. I don’t remember how my dress came off, but I found myself naked between them, my arms twined around someone’s neck, while someone’s fingers began to slide between my lower lips, rubbing my clit with expert strokes. They knew just the right rhythm, just the right amount of pressure. I was almost at a peak when that finger that had been pleasuring me slid back and began to circle around my anus.

To be honest, my backside was still sore from the before-dinner s*x. Although it wasn’t my first time being anally penetrated, I wasn’t exactly used to it either. I cringed as that finger pressed into my hole, demanding entrance. I wanted to say no. I wanted to refuse, but at the same time, I wanted to please them. I needed to please them. So I gritted my teeth against the discomfort when I felt the cold flood of lube. A little tenderness was a small price to pay, as long as they loved me, and only me.