The depraved lives of the New York elite, one of these ‘articles’ read, describing the three of us as sex fiends with absolutely no morals whatsoever. In the same breath, though, that article managed to praise my mom. She was the sole island of decency in a scandalous family.
That was her play. Since we didn’t want to play ball, she’d distance herself from us as much as possible, and that after stepping on our throats, of course.
Only a few hours have passed since the news broke, and the mess keeps on getting bigger and bigger. I’m sitting on my couch, laptop propped up on my knees, and I’m devouring everything I see around us. And there’s a lot.
Online articles are popping out left and right, and some of them are so ridiculous they’re almost funny. One of them, for instance, theorizes that the three of us are involved in some kind of sexual cult. Hello? Of course we’re involved in a cult; it’s called the cult of pleasure, and I figure a lot of these so-called journalists would benefit from enrolling in a cult like ours. Maybe I’ll jot down a few names and send them a package full of my toys. Jesus, some people really need to get off.
“Hey, stop reading that bullshit,” Drake tells me, coming around the couch and lowering the lid of my laptop. “It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Everyone’s in a frenzy over this. You gotta let it go for now.”
“Fuck this shit,” Sloane says from the other end of the couch, throwing his tablet on top of the coffee table. “There’s no letting it go. We need to fight back. If she wants war, let’s give it to her.”
Drake looks from me to Sloane, and he sighs heavily. I know that he wanted to avoid a confrontation, but there’s no way around it now. If we let my mom walk away from this, she’s going to drag us, and our companies, through the mud until all that’s left is a bunch of ruins.
“You’re right…” Drake finally admits, looking out the window at the New York skyline. The sun is setting now, and its orange glow makes Drake’s face look even more rugged and determined. “We have to fight back.”
“We’ll go to war,” I say, standing by Drake and Sloane’s side, “and we’ll win.”
Natalie
“There’s no end to this fucking insanity,” Sloane sighs, waving his hand at the pile of papers on the conference table. I rub my temples and lean back against my chair, trying to come up with something.
We scheduled a meeting at Sloane’s office, and we made his conference room our headquarters. It’s late at night, so the whole floor is empty and we can have some privacy while we think about what our next move is going to be. We’re going to find a way out of this mess my mom pulled us into, come hell or high water.
We’ve been at it for two hours now, pouring over her financial records and trying to get some leverage. But she’s careful, we knew that, and everything we found out about her proves that. There’s not a single blemish in her records, financial or otherwise.
And the tabloid stories about us keep on coming relentlessly. The news have already left New York City and made the headlines in some other states. This scandal has become nationwide. I guess that means we’re all famous now, huh?
I don’t care if the world knows about our relationship. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, I wouldn’t mind going to the top of the building we’re in and shout out how much I love the two men sitting by my side. It’s
the truth, and no one should be ashamed of loving someone, despite what society might say.
What pisses me off is that my mom is using our relationship as her path toward mayorship. Since I didn’t want to get rid of Dirty Lil’ Angels, she decided to set herself up as the strong moral woman, victim of a family plagued by decadence and debauchery. And, in the process, she’s destroying our companies. Drake’s stock is plunging down, and Sloane’s board members are trying to hoist him. As for Dirty Lil’ Angels, the stakes are very high; it’s a small company ready to make the jump into the big leagues, and its luck depends on how much investment keeps pouring in. In short, if my mom has it her way, we’re all fucked.
“Alright, we need to take a break,” I sigh, pushing back my laptop and the pile of newspapers. “We’ve been at this for two hours and we barely made any progress.”
“A break sounds fucking perfect,” Sloane agrees, propping his feet up on the table and lacing his fingers behind his head.
“We’ll think of something, Natalie. Don’t worry,” Drake says, getting up from his seat and walking behind me. He places both his hands on my shoulders and starts massaging them, and I close my eyes and throw my head back, feeling all the tension wash away from my body.
“That feels good,” I sigh, smiling as Drake massages me.
“Now that’s my kind of break,” I hear Sloane says, and he gets up and joins Drake, their hands releasing the knots of tension on my muscles. Handsome, huge cocks, and they know how to massage a woman's shoulders; can this even get better? Although, now that I think of it, it can get better.
“Let’s have some fun, boys. Forget about business for a while,” I tell them, going up to my feet and turning on my heels so that I’m facing them.
“Now that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Sloane grins, placing both his hands on my hips and pushing me back until my ass is pressed against the edge of the conference table. Picking me up from the floor, he sits me down on the table and presses his lips on mine, kissing me eagerly.
When he pulls back from me, I don’t even have any time to breath; Drake takes his place, his mouth going straight for mine. We kiss in abandonment, our tongues wrestling against one another, and I feel a growing wetness between my thighs.
As Drake and I kiss, Sloane places one hand on my knee and slides it under the hemline of my dress, only stopping when his fingers find the wet fabric of my drenched thong. He flattens the palm of his hand against my pussy, making me gasp, and I look into his eyes, breathing hard.
This is going to be fun.
I raise my hips from the table and, his eyes locked on mine, Sloane grabs my thong and pulls it down my legs. I lift them up in the air and he just takes it off me, holding it in his hand. He raises his hand and, taking my thong to his mouth, he takes a deep breath.
“Fucking delicious,” he whispers, and his words make me even wetter. Oh, I need this… I need this a lot.
I reach for their belts at the same time and unbuckle them with trembling fingers. I then pull down the zipper in their pants and, turning my wrists around, curl my fingers around the massive shapes tenting their boxer briefs.