11
Brandon had barely had a chance to grab a bite to eat that Saturday.
Not that the crowd was to blame—a packed house was standard on weekends.
The club had begun swarming with members, and the workload had ramped up accordingly.
He'd caught on to that rhythm during his first week on the job, so the rush came as no surprise. No, the real culprit was his new role.
He'd barely agreed to play Amanda and Isabella's game, and already he could feel how drastically it was upending his routine.
Sure, his job description essentially boiled down to catering to the members' every whim, but he couldn't just abandon all his duties to orbit exclusively around the two girls.
As much as Brandon wanted to do exactly that, he had to rein it in, dodging his coworkers and keeping out of Laura's crosshairs.
After sunbathing by the pool, the girls decided to take a dip. That bought Brandon just enough breathing room to help an older gentleman navigate his way to the East Wing banquet hall; an event was scheduled for that evening, and the man was handling a delivery.
By the time he got back, the girls dispatched him to the spa to book a private sauna and schedule massages.
Right after, he was sent sprinting to the restaurant to put in an order for them.
And back with another round of drinks.
Then he had to restock the towels when Aurora, the pool supervisor, called him over.
Even more drinks.
All of this squeezed into a handful of hours, with Amanda and Isabella lounging back, watching him scramble back and forth.
They ran him ragged, pushing his endurance, testing his limits.
It was another calculated display of authority—a reaffirmation of their contract, a reminder that he belonged to them now.
Yet for the first time, Brandon didn't mind the hustle.
Granted, these were tasks he was paid to do for any member, but having those two lounging poolside, undressing him with their eyes and murmuring filthy teases every time he drew near made every errand electric.
It felt like slaving over a stove to prepare an intricate feast, knowing a gourmet meal waited at the end. Brandon couldn't wait to finally sit down and devour it.
A quiet chuckle escaped him at the food analogy, his mind immediately serving up images of both girls laid out on a table, waiting just for him. Maybe I'm just starving, he thought.
His only window to grab lunch came after escorting the girls to the massage appointments he'd booked.
They strolled along the garden path from the pool to the spa, plush towels wrapped loosely around their bikini-clad frames.
Both were delightfully tipsy, their inhibitions slipping away in bursts of wicked giggles and stray fingers that brushed against Brandon whenever they were certain no one was watching.
It sent his pulse hammering against his chest.
"Not a bad start, sweetie," Isabella whispered right into his ear, her hands winding around his waist before sliding boldly down toward his groin. "Watching you hustle like that, running around at our beck and call..."
"Nowhere near enough, though." Amanda closed in from the other side, her fingers gripping his chin to force his gaze to meet hers. "We haven't even gotten to your first real task yet."
Squeezing his cheeks, Amanda stole a kiss. It was demanding, possessive, and scorching hot. She parted his lips, letting him think their tongues were about to tangle, only to pull away at the last second, leaving him aching.
"Don't be so cruel to him." Isabella ran her fingers through his hair and caught his mouth in a deep, bruising kiss—giving him exactly what he'd been craving.
The pair broke into synchronized laughter, sauntering ahead and leaving Brandon dazed in their wake. Even with the club's towels draping their bodies, every graceful sway of their hips put their luscious curves on display, taunting him with every step.
They emerged from the secluded foliage of the garden path.
The sight of other club members milling about doused some of the fire roaring inside Brandon, dragging him back down to reality.
Amanda and Isabella disappeared into the massage suites, leaving him standing there with a throbbing erection and an insatiable ache.
He used the downtime while they were in the spa to scarf down his lunch.
Nearly an hour later, the girls emerged from their session looking refreshed and noticeably sharper, the midday buzz having worn off. Still, the devilish gleam in their eyes hadn't faded one bit.
They fell into step beside him, heading toward the private sauna he had reserved at the end of the corridor.
Their footsteps clicked against the polished hardwood deck, while the trickling fountains of the thermal baths and the soft garden breeze wove a soothing backdrop.
It lent the moment an almost dreamlike tranquility—one shattered only by the wicked intentions of the two women flanking him.
Swiping the keycard, they unlocked the entrance to the sauna.
"Not too hot, sweetie."
"She says that, but she's going to turn this place into an inferno," Isabella laughed, taking a seat on the lower cedar bench. The wooden tier wrapped around the sauna, leading to the corner housing the steam generator and hot rocks.
Brandon checked the water reservoir and adjusted the temperature dial before firing up the unit.
"Be a dear and run back to the pool, will you? We left our bags over there," Isabella cooed, letting her towel pool at her feet. She leaned forward with a sultry smile, thrusting her bare cleavage right into Brandon's line of sight.
"Right away. Anything else, Mistress?"
"Definitely. But that'll have to wait until you get back."
Brandon nodded, then shifted his gaze to Amanda, waiting for any orders from her. She offered a slight nod of dismissal, letting him turn to leave. The two began whispering among themselves, but once the heavy sauna door clicked shut behind him, the airtight seal smothered their voices entirely.
They're playing with me, he thought. Naturally—that much had been glaringly obvious all day.
But now, he could sense the other shoe was about to drop.
All the running around, the fleeting kisses, the bold, stolen touches—it had all been designed to keep him wound tight, desperate for release.
The game was officially on, and pushing him to his absolute limit was clearly item number one on their agenda.
Brandon took a deep breath, trying to tamp down the ache pooling low in his gut. He needed to clear his head and stop thinking like an animal in heat. Every subtle move, every wicked provocation... Get a grip, man.
Shaking off the haze, he marched down the corridor toward the pool to carry out another order for Amanda and Isabella.