The Good Twins Baby chapter 1

Chapter 1
Carter
It’s not every day I walk into the boardroom of Abraham Fertility Inc. to find my twin
brother fucking a redhead on the board table.
But it’s not exactly the first time it’s happened, either.
“Morning,” I say, nonchalant as ever.
“Morning,” Lawrence says back to me. He gives me a little wave that ends with a smack
on his latest hook-up’s ass.
“Mmmmm. Give it to me, Daddy!” the redhead moans.
I put my coffee down in front of my seat at the table—just to the right of dear old Dad’s.
Lawrence’s seat is to Dad’s left, and I wouldn’t touch it if I were wearing a hazmat suit.
He’s got the redhead in his favorite position: kneeling on the chair so he can take her
from behind. The long talons of her hot pink nails bite into the leather, and the force of
Lawrence’s thrusts makes my coffee slosh back and forth in the cup.
“H-hey…” the redhead asks as the only picture on the wall of the board room catches her
eye. “Who’s that hottie?”
Her eyes shift to meet mine, and I see her turn pale beneath my gaze.
“Our mother,” I inform her. “Maybe you’d best just focus on taking cock, sweetheart.”
“Want to join?” Lawrence asks me, swiveling the redhead around to face me.
Like most things in life, money, fast cars, and attractive women come easy to me. I don’t
really need to share women with my twin to get blown, but I have to admit, it saves me a lot of
fucking time. The few minutes I need to pick a hot woman up in a bar could always be used
doing real work instead.
Quickly, I do some mental arithmetic. The way I see it, Dad and the stuffy board will be
here in less than four minutes. I don’t really have any interest in fucking her—she’s in danger of
getting pregnant just by being in proximity of my dick—but it’s enough time for this redhead to
suck my cock and have it packed away with time to spare.
It’s a risk, but only a small one. Dad is punctual, but rarely is he early. And since he’s
arriving with the entire board of directors, the odds are significantly reduced.

Without another word, I position myself in front of the redhead. She’s wearing bright red
lipstick. Upon close examination, she’s not the type of girl I would normally fuck, but hell, she’s
here, and she looks like she’d be down for it.
“Says she’s a model,” Lawrence teases with a shit-eating grin.
“Yeah, come on baby,” the redhead urges me. She’s licking her lips already.
Slowly, I undo my zipper. My massive cock is stirring to life and about to burst forth in
all its glory when several things happen at once.
First, the redhead leans forward, her lips open in anticipation at finally tasting a real
man’s cock.
I can see her tongue dart out, as if trying to catch a taste of the delicacy about to present
itself to her—the way you reach for a massive ice cream cone because you’re busting to get a
taste before it melts. I take a step toward the waiting mouth, ready to fulfill this girl’s dream.
And then second: there’s a noise at the door.
It’s a cough—not the congested kind, but the sharp, curt cough of someone with deep
pockets, feeling smug about how morally offended they’re about to get.
Before I can really appreciate what’s happening, the darn girl topples off her chair and
lands with a loud thud. She ends up sprawled out unflatteringly on the royal blue carpet at my
and my brother’s feet.
Lawrence’s cock is now dangling in the free air in front of him. It looks disappointed.
My own cock has gone limp.
Slowly, I turn toward the door. It’s one of the most human traits there is, the need to look
at a disaster as it unfolds. It’s why we slow down at accidents to make sure we don’t miss
anything, and why we only shut up and pay attention to the news if they’re reporting on a
tragedy.
And when my gaze is directed toward the door, my blood runs cold.
It’s the look in his eyes that’s the worst. Icy, cold eyes pierce my chiseled pectoral and
stab me right in the heart.
He’s still got it, even after all these years. The way he looks first at Lawrence and then at
me instantly transports me to the age of five. I’m in trouble for some minor misdemeanor, like
coming in five minutes late from my playtime outside.
“Morning, Dad,” Lawrence says to him.

Me? Well, since I’ve got my dick out and a slutty redhead at my feet in front of the
stodgy old men who I’m going to be answering to by the end of the week, I keep my fucking
mouth shut.
“Will you excuse us?” The old man’s voice is a little gravelly as he addresses Abraham
Fertility’s board of directors, who are all piled into the doorway behind him, gawking at the
scene.
At least he’s sending the members of the board away.
I’m fuming as I shove my cock back into my pants. As I do so, I glance at the portrait of
our mother and mumble a silent apology. It pains me to think I was about to disappoint her.
“You, uh, better get out sweetheart,” Lawrence says to the red head.
“We’ll finish this later?”
I see her pleading look and wonder what exactly Lawrence sees in this woman.
“I’ll call you,” my brother says, delivering a little smack to her ass while she gathers her
clothes.
By the time our father comes all the way into the room, we’re both in our seats. No one
says anything.
The girl grabs her clothes and scampers out. I wonder if the board is hovering out the
door, because if they are, they’ll be catching an eyeful of naked flesh. If any one of them suffers
a cardiac arrest, then I suppose that’ll confirm it. None of them are that young anymore.
I try not to laugh at the thought.
By now, the bastard is sitting in his deep red leather chair at the head of the board table.
Silence.
The temperature has dropped a few degrees, and I wonder who will speak first. If I were
a betting man, which I’m not, my money would be on Lawrence. Lawrence always takes on the
old man.
“I would have expected more of my sons,” Abraham Sr. growls, and slams his flat hand
onto the table.
My coffee now sloshes up and over the rim of the mug, barely missing my thigh as it
slops to the ground at my feet.
I glance at Lawrence. That shit-eating grin hasn’t shifted an inch.

Neither has Dad’s frown. “If you’ve got the need to stick your cocks in anything with two
legs and a pussy, then do it anywhere but here in my boardroom.”
Dad’s on a roll. I can tell from his expression. For starters, his eyebrows look like they
might sustain an injury, the way they’re performing those gymnastic routines.
That and his eyes are boring into the two of us. This means he has to turn left, right, and
left again. He’s doing it with such force it looks like he might snap his neck.
“I can see I’m going to have to make some changes before I retire,” he sighs.
Ah, crap. If I were on the edge of my seat before, then I’m practically up in arms now.
I’ve worked my ass off at this company in preparation for Dad’s retirement. Today’s
supposed to be the day of his big announcement.
I’m not pleased to hear about any changes right now.
Red. I see red everywhere. Surely, the old bastard won’t change the rules now.
He wants out of the CEO chair just as badly as I want into it. I thought today was going
to be about handing over the reins, because the old man was retiring.
My eyes find Lawrence. I’m furious about this prospect—he just looks annoyed.
“I’m not going to leave the family business to irresponsible pricks like you two. Two
guys who can’t think beyond where their next pussy comes from.” He shakes his head.
That doesn’t just piss me off because it’s not true. I mean, it’s been quite some time since
I’ve stuck my cock into any pussy—and I’ve got my reasons. No, no, it pisses me off because for
as long as I can remember, getting tail is all Dad has cared about.
The fucking hypocrisy boggles my mind.
“This is a family company, boys. And right now? The two of you are not family men.”
I think Dad must be projecting, since he’s got more bastard children than he can count
from just as many baby mommas—but he looks dead serious about it.
“So I’m giving you an ultimatum. You both get the next twelve months to find a girl,
marry her, and get her pregnant. In fact, the first one to do this will get to run the company. And
if neither of you can do this, one of my many other bastard sons can run this joint.”
Thunderclouds pass across Lawrence’s face. The storm is brewing and about to boil over.
“You can’t dictate who we knock up and when.” His voice is dangerously low.
Our father is unimpressed. “Last time I checked, I own the company—and you two are
only here because you’re my children. I choose to let you be here. My company, my rules.”

“And where are we supposed to find such a girl?” I ask, not wanting to have open war
with the old man.
There’s a tiny smirk in his face. “Ah, don’t worry, that’s under control. I’ve got a surprise
for you.”
Lawrence and I look at each other warily.
Our father’s surprises rarely ever bode well for us.
What the fuck has our father cooked up this time?