Two Billionaires For Her: An MMF Romance

by Ellie Rowe

  “No, you don’t,” Peter whispers, pressing his big hands against my shoulders. He kisses me even harder, leaning his whole body against me to keep me in the chair. My heart pounds and shakes run through all my muscles as I try to fight back. Then I have an impossible thought.

  What if I stopped fighting him?

  Just the suggestion of it makes my body go slack. Peter makes a small, excited cry and presses me even deeper into the chair, his fingers digging painfully into my shoulders. I expect to feel emasculated or embarrassed, but all I feel is safe.

  I relax completely, letting him kiss me. His strong grip thrills me, and I can imagine being soft and supple in his hands while he pleasures me, either gently or forcefully. I can’t decide which fantasy I like more.

  His kiss gets deeper as his hands start roaming my body, almost tearing at my clothes. He’s losing himself and I can’t stop myself from making a move. I brace my weight against him and shove him as hard as I can. He isn’t expecting it and stumbles backwards. I keep a tight hold on him and we both end up crashing to the floor.

  I press down on him with my hips and hands, grinding against him as I shove my tongue down his throat. He squirms, fighting me until I feel that moment of submission run through him. It’s so thrilling it sweeps through me with a new wave of arousal that clears my mind completely.

  Working purely on instinct I reach down and open his pants. I lean back to look into his face and see his lips red from the pressure of my mouth and the wide-eyed look of disbelief, tinged with need. I keep looking into his eyes as I slip my hand through his fly and run my fingertips along his impossibly hard shaft.

  He cries out, bowing against me, twisting between me and the floor. I grind down with my hips to hold him still and take a firm hold of his cock. He cries out again, even louder, and I tighten my grip.

  “Please,” he whispers. The last grains of control in me are scattered by that one word. I start pumping my fist up and down, slowly at first, then harder and faster. I watch his eyes, staring him down until I feel his cock getting harder in my hand.

  He turns his head to the side, his body bending away from me as his hips grind against me. He makes a strangled sound, and I can’t help smiling. I’m playing him like a goddamn flute, and I’ve never felt as strong and powerful as I do right now.

  I slow down my strokes, feeling his cock throbbing in my hand. He shudders from head to foot, his body running with goosebumps. A gasp gets caught in his throat, but he doesn’t look at me. I feel a moment of pure fury and reach down to kiss him again, forcing his head back towards me. I let my hand go loose on his cock as I kiss him slowly, deeply, treating myself to his hot lips and caressing his tongue.

  In my hand, his cock keeps getting harder and harder. It feels hot enough to light fucking firecrackers. I pull back from his mouth as my hand wraps around his cock for a better grip.

  Then I start flogging him as hard as I can. His breath gets caught in his throat and his spine bends as if he’s being electrocuted. A chain of rough gasps come shuddering through his chest as his cock hardens even further and then starts pumping as he spurts loads of cum all over both of us.

  I keep my hand wrapped around him, just gently playing until he stops shuddering. It seems to take a while, as if the orgasm just won’t stop. His eyes are wide and focused on my face until the very last second, when he looks away and closes his eyes.

  A moment passes, the heavy silence of the room starting to feel like it’s going to last forever. I stand up quickly, looking at my own hands and at Peter spread out on the floor. He sits up slowly, looking around as if he doesn’t know where he is. He looks up at me, but his eyes slide away before they can meet mine.

  He stands up, tucking in his shirt and doing up his pants. He looks at me again and for a second our eyes meet.

  His face is hard, his expression almost hostile. He doesn’t say anything and neither do I. He turns and leaves the room, neither of us saying a single word.

  Nineteen

  Becky

  It’s a fairly quiet night, but the few guys gathered around the stage and bar all have their eyes locked on to me. In shadowy corners and spacious booths, I see guys getting private dances. Even though they have their own pieces of ass to grab on to, I still see their eyes slipping towards me.

  I pout my shiny red lips, spreading my feet wide apart in the killer high heels as I turn my back to the crowd. In one smooth movement I bend right down, grabbing my ankles and peeking through my legs. I hear one of the guys in the front row gasp as if he just took a knife in the gut.

  I grin and pucker my lips at him, letting my gaze slide across the front row as I blink slyly. Then I slowly run my hands up my leg until I’m standing straight again, give my hair a flip and spin to poke out my hip.

  At times, the power feels good. The guys looking at me now are utterly stunned by my beauty and the show I’m giving them. This is probably their only chance to see a beautiful woman in such a state. I can’t help but be disappointed in them somehow, though. They are too easy to lure, as if they are dying to be led.

  I know I could make them do anything. There’s no challenge in it whatsoever. I feel kind of sorry for them, in a way.

  They aren’t like Peter and Darian… No way. Those guys are hot for me, obviously. They admire my body, and they want to take pleasure from it just like these sad male specimens in the front row, but there’s nothing sad about those two.

  I run my hands along my belly, sweeping my fingers up over my roasts. I close my eyes briefly against the lights of the stage as I fling my head back and let thoughts of the two men come raging through my mind.

  They are both so strong and powerful that my body trembles now just thinking about it. They took me, possessed me, owned me. They worshipped me like a goddess and used me like a slut at the same time.

  I lose concentration and stagger slightly in my dance, my hands shaking as I run them over my belly. My pussy is starting to pound and my clit feels hot. I’m worried that I’m not going to finish my dance on the right vibe when I look down and see my captive audience practically drooling.

  The thoughts in my mind have definitely come out in my dance and instead of feeling shy or invaded, I feel empowered. I let thoughts of Peter and Darian flood my mind as I touch myself, leaning my hips into my hands, digging my fingertips into my flesh, and teasing at my pussy over the tiny scrap of fabric that barely covers me.

  One of the guys gets up and hurls a stack of notes at my feet. I give him a grin and a wink and bend down to pick them up, giving him a great view of my breasts while I do it. I neatly tuck the notes into the hip of my panties without pausing to see how much it is. I give my admirer a special glance and a wink, running my tongue across my lip until he cries out and sits down, quickly covering his cock.

  After another few minutes, my song ends. I wave to the crowd, ignoring their cries for an encore. I give the next girl a nod as I hop down from the stage, heading out the back. I should really work the floor right now, but I’m pretty sure that Max isn’t around, and this is the perfect time to do a bit of snooping.

  I stride out the back, making every move confident and bold. No one will question me going into Max’s office if I look like I’m supposed to be there—that’s the whole point of this gig. I even give the security guard a wave as I head in there. The guy looks at my breasts, grins, and nods at me. I give my body a little shake, grinning myself as his eyes pop open even further.

  Men are so easy, I think to myself, only to return immediately to thoughts of Peter and Darian. They aren’t easy… No way. Those two are tigers. Wild animals. They are not creatures you can tame.

  I hurry over to Max’s desk, shuffling through files that are stacked on top. I find all kinds of invoices and shipping lists, nothing like what I’m looking for. Finally, I spy a thick briefcase on the floor by the desk and pull a folder out of it.

  As my eyes sweep over the words, I gasp aloud, almost dropping the file. It’s offic
ial documents from both Max’s lawyers and bank lenders, detailing his moves on both Peter and Darian’s companies.

  I never suspected anything like this. Max has been targeting them both for some time, buying up shares inside the businesses under ghost names, slowly taking over more power a bit at a time. He obviously has a plan and I want to get him even more, but at this stage I really don’t have enough evidence.

  With a cold, sinking feeling, I realize that this is more than a professional interest in taking down a bad guy. I feel protective of Darian and Peter. I want to protect them from anything Max could do to undermine them or steal from their businesses.

  Grudgingly, I admit to myself that I feel more for these two guys than lust. I didn’t want my mission to get complicated so I’ve been deliberately avoiding my own feelings, but now that I see they could both be in danger from Max, it makes my feelings shatteringly clear.

  I can’t let them get hurt in any way. I have to get more on Max so I can get him and put a stop to all of this. I knew Max was laundering money through shady deals but in his quiet takeover of stocks and shares it looks like something much bigger is his real game plan. He’s also hidden it well that he’s going after both of them at once.

  I flip through the files, speed reading to get through them as quickly as possible. As my finger slides down the page my eyes widen, and my breath gets short.

  This is bad. It’s really bad.

  I can’t believe what I’m seeing. It’s impossible. My heart twists in my chest as if it’s trying to shrug off the reality of the words in front of me, but there’s no denying it. The evidence is right here in black and white.

  I hear a noise by the door and trot away from the desk quickly, making it look like I was just grabbing a few costumes from the rack in the corner. The security guard sticks his head in, grins at me as he checks me out, then goes back to his post.

  I hurry down the hall towards backstage, pretending I’m just moving some props, but I run straight for my phone. I call both of the guys, getting only voice mail for both. I curse softly, leaving them messages to meet me at my place as soon as they can.

  Twenty

  Peter

  I didn’t bother with the limo.

  Instead, I cruise through the streets in the Aston, the engine roaring as I crank it up. There’s nothing quite like driving one of these cars. For a moment there, it’s almost as if machine and man become one. It’s a feeling that can’t be replicated...unless we’re talking about Becky. She’s the only thing that can make my heart race faster than a fucking Aston Martin.

  “Becky and Darian,” I mutter under my breath, the memories of what happened bubbling up to the surface. His lips on mine, his groans of pleasure, and… “No, I’m not going there. Not right now.”

  I rev up the engine and race through the streets as fast as I can. When I finally get to Greenwich Village, the adrenaline coursing through my veins has already made me forget all about Darian. Instead, my mind is abuzz with thoughts of Becky. God, how is it possible to want someone this fucking much? It’s the sweetest kind of madness I’ve ever known.

  I walk up the steps and knock at her door. No comes to get me, but I hear voices coming from inside the house. With a shrug, I try the handle. Surprisingly, the door isn’t locked, and so I just step inside.

  “Hey,” I start to say, “I came as fast as I—”

  A glass flies across Becky’s living room, its path leading straight to my face. Without even thinking about it, I duck under the damn thing, and it hits the wall with a sharp noise, the glass shattering into a thousand shards of crystal.

  “What the fuck was that for?” I cry out, looking from the shattered glass to Becky. She’s standing in the middle of the living room, arms folded under her breasts, and she’s glaring at me. She’s not happy, that much I can tell.

  Standing beside her is Darian. Immediately, I clench my fists, the adrenaline inside me slowly turning into rage.

  Has Darian been dripping poison into Becky’s ears? That has to be it. Why else would she hurl a glass at my face? Judging by how hard she threw the damn thing, she was definitely going for a bullseye. Thank God I have fast reflexes, or else I’d have to pay a surgeon for a new nose.

  “Oh, so you’re gonna stand there and pretend you don’t know,” Becky says, pushing the words past her gritted teeth. Whatever bullshit Darian has been feeding her, she clearly believes it. “How could you?”

  “How could I what?” Now I’m the one frowning. “Will anyone tell me what the fuck is going on? Look, I don’t know what Darian has been telling you, but—”

  “This isn’t about Darian,” she cuts me short. “This is about you.”

  “Please, go on.” I roll my eyes at her. Probably not the smartest thing to do, since she only seems to be getting more pissed by the second. Just to be careful, I narrow my eyes and see if there’s another glass in her hands. Thankfully, there isn’t.

  “You sold us out,” Becky hisses. “You pretended to be on our side, but you were just playing us. You signed with Max.”

  “I...what?” I want to be mad, but the only thing I manage to do is laugh. “Look, I can explain what—”

  “Don’t think that I’m an idiot,” she insists. “I saw the documents.”

  “Hang on, that doesn’t—”

  “You just can’t help it, can you?” Darian growls, stepping in front of Becky. He has his fists clenched, and his shoulders are rolled back in that aggressive way of his. His eyes are narrowed into dangerous slits, and he has the look of a man spoiling for a fight. “For a moment there, I thought that you had changed...but you didn’t. You remain the same self-centered, spoiled asshole you’ve always been. You still think you’re better than everyone else.”

  “Look, dude, if you want to run your mouth, you better see a therapist,” I growl back at him. “You seem to have some unresolved issues in your past. Now, get out of the way and let me speak to Becky. Your ugly mug is making me nauseous.”

  I step forward and, right when I’m about to sidestep him, the asshole shoves me back.

  “What the hell, man?” I clench my fists. If this asshole wants a fight, then he’s about to get one. “Stop behaving like a little boy and get out of my way.”

  “No.” He says it with such finality that I can’t help but become angrier. “You act all high and mighty all the time, but you’re a piece of shit, Peter. Even back then, when we were in college, I could tell that—”

  “This again?” I grit my teeth so hard that pain shoots up my jaw. “Stop living in the fucking past, Darian. That shit with Vanessa has nothing to do with this.”

  “I’m not the one who’s living in the past,” he replies. “You are. All these years, you’ve been angry at God knows what, always trying to compete with me and—”

  “Compete with you?” I laugh. It’s a dry kind of laughter, but fuck it. “I don’t need to compete with party boys. I don’t need to compete with anyone. I know my worth, Darian.”

  “You’re worth nothing,” he says. “The three of us, we were supposed to be together in this...but you sold us out. You’re trash, Peter.”

  I don’t have to stand here and listen to this.

  Before I even know what the hell I’m doing, I’ve cocked my arm back. A split second later and my fist is flying straight into Darian’s face. He tries to move out of the way, but it’s too late. My fist connects with his face and he reels back.

  “You fucking asshole,” he growls, and then he’s the one throwing fists my way. He does it fast—too fast for me to dodge—and one of his punches catches me in the stomach. I double over, but I’m not quite done. Pushing through the pain, I charge at him like a hull and tackle him to the ground.

  We roll around the floor like two gladiators in the arena. Sure, we don’t have spears or swords, but that’s for the best—the last thing Becky needs is to have Darian’s bloody entrails splattered on the wall. Even so, there’s enough hatred here to keep us going.

>   “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Becky rushes toward us, and she sounds so pissed off that I can’t help but stop myself from battering Darian. That gives her enough time to get behind me. Grabbing me by the back of my shirt, she gives me a savage pull, yanking me away from Darian. “I want you out of my house! Right now!”

  “You heard her,” Darian says, blood trickling down from his cut lip. “Better get going or else I—”

  “No,” Becky snaps. “I want you both gone.”

  Twenty-One

  Becky

  Ever since Darian and Peter entered my life, I’ve noticed that I’ve been a lot happier. I go to bed hopeful, and I wake up hopeful. Sometimes I’m even excited for the day. Especially when I know I’m going to see one of them. Well, until today.

  Today I wake up groggy, still tired, and wishing I could just go back to sleep. Normally, I wake up to have a cup of coffee on my balcony looking out over the city. But today I skip the coffee and just go straight to the shower.

  If my coffee doesn’t wake me up, my shower usually does. As I’m washing my hair, I think about last night's events. Darian and Peter got into an actual physical fight right in front of me.

  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since they left. I knew that the two of them had problems, major ones even. But I figured that I would help bring them back together. I still have hope for that, but I just didn’t think it would take this long.

  I don’t want my two boys fighting. It throws me off my game and I’m sure it throws them off of theirs. Which is exactly why we all need to get along.

  I finish up my shower and remind myself to get the two of them together tonight and have a long talk. I’m determined to find the root of the problem and come up with a solution that keeps the three of us together.