He puts his broad palms on my bare thighs, spreading them apart. Oliver trickles more champagne over me, and the liquid trails down over my breasts, pooling in my belly button, and trickling between the folds of my pussy.
“It seems a pity to waste this,” Finn murmurs. He gets on his knees and pushes his head between my legs. He parts me with his thumbs, and his eyes feast on me.
A year later, their open admiration still sends a thrill of shock through me. “Such a pretty pussy,” he says. His tongue teases me, toying with the opening of my slit, before sucking my clitoris into his mouth.
I whimper, biting my lower lip as desire shudders through me. I grip Finn’s dark hair between my fingers and throw my head back, losing myself in pleasure as he licks, nibbles, and sucks. My breathing comes in short bursts.
Oliver isn’t idle. His thumbs smear the champagne all over my nipples, and his mouth follows, heating me up. My body threatens to erupt into flames, and my mind is foggy and clouded with lust.
“Sip.” Oliver holds his flute to my lips, and I take a gulp of the cool liquid. “We don’t want you to get overheated, do we?”
I close my fingers around his wrist. Pulling his hand near, I suck his fingers, and his eyes fill with dark amusement. “You want a cock in your mouth, baby?”
Absolutely.
Oliver removes his clothes as well. His thick cock springs out, hard and ready, and I lick my lips, holding his gaze in mine. “No hands,” he orders. “I want to see your pretty lips wrapped around my dick, honey.”
“Bossy,” I murmur with a grin. Who am I kidding? I love it. I take his length in my mouth, my tongue swirling around his head.
Oliver throws his head back. “Miki,” he groans. “You are killing me here.” His hand presses against the back of my neck, not pushing, just touching me, letting me set the pace.
Finn slides two fingers deep into my pussy and twists them to find my g-spot. I whimper into Oliver’s cock. “You taste so fucking good, Miki,” Finn rasps out. “Champagne has nothing on you.”
His tongue circles my clitoris while he pumps his fingers in and out of me. I moan around Oliver’s cock.
Blood pounds in my ears as my orgasm nears, and I pick up the pace, bobbing my head faster on Oliver’s shaft. It’s all too much. Finn’s head between my legs, Oliver’s length in my mouth—I can’t hold on. My climax races toward me like a freight train. My body quivers, my insides tighten, and I can’t hold back, not even if I want to. I shatter, feeling Oliver erupt in my mouth at the same time.
“Happy anniversary to us,” I breathe when I can think again. I reach for Finn’s hard cock. “Can I take care of you?”
He chuckles and lifts me to my feet, helping me into the shower and turning the steaming jets on. “What makes you think we’re only doing one round of this?”
At three on the dot, we show up at Piper’s. The kitchen is a scene of frantic activity. To an outsider, it looks chaotic as Piper and Sebastian weave in and out, boiling potatoes, chopping celery and carrots and brining turkey. “Miki,” Piper calls out, a relieved expression on her face. “Thank heavens you’re here. We’re running behind.”
“Not to worry, we brought cheese and crackers.”
Last year, Piper’s tables almost broke under the weight of all the food she made. Judging by the state of the kitchen, it’s exactly the same this year. “I talked to Leah twenty minutes ago,” I tell my friend. “She’s on her way, with pies.”
Leah and Ben kept seeing their counselor and it saved their marriage. They both were unhappy with the way things were, but neither of them wanted to admit it. They’ve made drastic changes to their lives in the last six months. They sold their Upper East Side apartment and bought a bakery in the Hamptons, just as Leah wanted. They’ve been open since September. Leah’s still getting used to her early mornings and is likely to fall asleep at seven in the evening, but she tells me she’s happier than she’s been in a long time.
As for my parents? Nothing’s changed. My dad still cheats on my mom; she still turns a blind eye. They’re in Tuscany right now on vacation, probably because my dad feels guilty about his latest bout of adultery. Whatever. I don’t approve, but it’s not like they’re ecstatic about my unconventional relationship either. We’ve agreed not to discuss it.
“Just as well,” Sebastian pipes up. “I’m shit at dessert.”
Sebastian and Daniel are Bailey’s partners. “Where are the other two?” I ask him.
He grins. “Working, of course. Bailey and Daniel will give you a run for your money, Finn. Crazy workaholics, all of you.”
Finn shakes his head. “Not me, buddy. I haven’t cracked open my laptop or looked at my phone all day. Piper, how many people are you expecting?”
She stops stirring what appears to be pumpkin soup and starts to count. “Bailey, Sebastian, and Daniel,” she says. “Daniel’s mom and sister are coming too. Then there’s Gabby, Carter, Dominic, and Noah. Katie, Adam, and the twins. Wendy, Hudson, Asher, and Natalie.”
“You can’t count Natalie,” I interject. “She’s six months old.”
My friend glares at me. “Miki, if you interrupt, I’ll lose count.”
Oliver grins. “Seventeen so far,” he says. “Four kids, thirteen adults. Keep counting.”
I squeeze Oliver’s arm. “My hero,” I say, fluttering my eyelashes in his direction, drawing a chuckle out of him. Piper rolls her eyes at me. “There’s the three of you,” she says. “Finn’s grandmother, Finn’s grandmother’s neighbors. Wyatt, Owen, and me. Ben and Leah. I think that’s everyone.”
“Twenty-eight people.” Finn whistles through his teeth. “How big is your turkey?”
“Four turkeys,” Piper replies. “We can’t run out of food on Thanksgiving.”
I couldn’t agree more with her sentiment.
The meal is amazing. I eat myself into a food coma. I’m idly contemplating yet another slice of pie when Leah slips into the seat next to me. “Great pies,” I tell her. “I can’t decide which one was my favorite. Probably the apple, but I think I’m going to have another slice to make sure.”
She smiles indulgently. “Just as well mom’s not here,” she replies. “Though once you told her about your threesome, she’s at least stopped lecturing you about getting remarried.”
I grin. “I told her I'd get graphic about what goes in what slot if she didn’t knock off the lectures.”
“You didn’t?” Leah’s eyes go round with shock, then she starts laughing helplessly. “Oh Miki, I wish I’d been there. The look on her face must have been priceless.”
“It was.” Finn, Oliver, and Hudson are standing near the window, all three men in animated conversation. I’m guessing they’re talking about Imperium’s new headquarters. “How’s the bakery?”
Her smile transforms her face. “It couldn’t be better. I sold almost a thousand pies last week. I’m thinking about hiring another assistant.”
I’m so happy for my sister. “That’s great, Leah.”
“Isn’t it?” Her eyes are on Ben as he chats with Daniel. “I thought Ben would miss his life in Manhattan, but he loves it in the Hamptons.” She sighs. “I can’t believe I thought he was cheating.”
“Well, there’s the Cooper Curse.”
“A curse we both broke.”
Oliver’s laughing at something. Finn’s lips are quirked up, his expression one of amusement. I ogle the two men shamelessly. I can’t believe we’re together. “You’re right,” I reply, getting up so that I can tell Finn and Oliver how much I love them. “We didn’t break the curse. We shattered it.”
Lovely readers, this is a bittersweet moment; Messing with Miki is the last book of the Playing For Love series. I’ve very much enjoyed hanging out with Bailey, Gabby, Piper, Wendy, and Miki, and I hope you have too.
If you enjoy my menage romances, may I suggest my Dirty series? Each book features a smart and sassy heroine, and a pair of men that fall in love with her. Like the Playing For Lov
e series, each book in the Dirty series is a standalone MFM romance.
Flip the page for an extended preview of Dirty Therapy, the first book of the Dirty series.
Dirty Therapy | Dirty Talk | Dirty Games | Dirty Words
A Preview of Dirty Therapy by Tara Crescent
My O is missing. Two therapists are going to help me find it.
Two hours after Dennis proposes, I find my fiancé with his d*ck buried in Tiffany Slater’s hoohah, and he has the nerve to suggest it’s my fault.
Because I’m frigid.
Sure, I’ve never had an orgasm with him, or with anyone for that matter, but relationships are about more than good nookie. (Not that it was ever good. Adequate is more like it. Okay, who am I kidding? Dennis couldn’t find his way down there with a flashlight and a map.)
Now I’m determined to find my missing O with the help of two of the hottest men I’ve ever set eyes on. Therapists Benjamin Long and Landon West. If these two men can’t make me come, then no one can.
I shouldn’t sleep with them. I shouldn’t succumb to their sexy smiles. I shouldn’t listen when their firm voices promise me all the pleasure I can handle.
I can’t get enough. But when a bitter rival finds out about our forbidden relationship, everything will come crashing down.
CHAPTER 1
Mia:
I’m going to sum up the suckitude of my life with a three-point list.
Though I haven’t had sex with my boyfriend for over a month, he proposed last night in an extremely crowded restaurant, and I said yes. Because everyone was looking at me and I didn’t want to be the girl that broke his heart in a public setting. Even though I wasn’t really sure I wanted to marry Dennis.
Once I got back home, I started thinking about whether we were doing the right thing. So, I went over to his place to talk to him, and I found him plowing his dick in Tiffany Slater’s willing pussy. That wasn’t good.
I started yelling. Instead of groveling, he yelled back. “You’re frigid,” he accused me. “I’ve never been able to make you come.” Right. As if it’s my fault that I have to draw him a map to my clitoris.
(Okay, I lied. This is a four-point list.) Worst of all, when I threw his stupid engagement ring at his pasty-white butt, I missed. Big dramatic moment—ruined.
“So there you have it,” I finish reciting last night’s humiliating events to my best friend, Cassie, while unpacking a new shipment of cocktail dresses. “Can my life get any worse?”
It’s eleven in the morning, or as I like to think of it, ‘Treat Time.’ Usually, this is my favorite part of the day. The store is quiet, and I can arrange the clothing neatly on hangers, organizing them by color and function. I can fiddle with the display cases of costume jewelry and make sure that everything is perfect.
Cassie, who runs the coffee shop next door, is my supplier of treats. She’s watching me now, her eyes wide. “Dennis never made you come?” she asks, honing in unerringly to the most embarrassing part – the lack of orgasms. “Mia, the two of you dated for a year.”
“I know.”
She takes a bite of her muffin. Chocolate chip, if I know my friend. “Why on Earth did you keep going out with him?” she demands. Crumbs fall on my ornately tufted vintage velvet loveseat. Normally, I’d shoo her out of the way and bust out my hand-vac, but today’s not a normal day. “The guy’s not a looker, and he has the personality of a wet towel.”
I feel strangely compelled to defend my ex-boyfriend, but then I remember Tiffany, and I clamp my mouth shut. “I tried to tell him what turned me on,” I mutter, my cheeks flushed with humiliation. “At the start. He called me a pervert.”
Cassie’s eyebrow rises, and she gives me her ‘what-the-fuck’ look. “He called you a pervert?” Her voice is dangerous. “And you still dated him after that?”
Worse, I almost married him.
I avoid Cassie’s gaze. This situation would never happen to my friend. She’s bold and uninhibited, and she has every guy in our small town wrapped around her finger. Me? I’m the boring one in the corner, grateful for any scrap of attention that comes my way.
“Anyway.” Cassie dismisses Dennis with a shrug of her shoulder. “Forget Dennis. You dodged a bullet there. Let’s get you back on the horse. Friday night happy hour at The Merry Cockatoo?”
Normally, even the mention of The Merry Cockatoo would get a giggle out of me. The newly opened bar is on the same block as my clothing boutique and Cassie’s coffee shop. My landlord, George Bollington, has been waging a low-grade war with the woman who owns the bar, trying to get Nina Templeton to change the name.
“We’re a family-friendly town,” he grouses every time he sees me. “What kind of woman calls her bar that name?” Mr. Bollington is so uptight he can’t even say Cockatoo out loud. Because I’m the town’s resident good girl, he thinks he’s got a sympathetic audience in me. I get to hear him grumble about Nina, about the sex therapists who’ve just opened a practice in town, about people who chew gum and listen to loud music, about people who litter… you name it, and my landlord probably disapproves of it.
I agree with him on the litter, but the rest of it is Mr. Bollington being a grouchy old man. Except for the sex therapists. That’s professional jealousy. Mr. Bollington is a psychiatrist, and he’s grown accustomed to being the only option in town. He now has competition, and he doesn’t like it.
Speaking of Mr. Bollington, the door bells chime, and my landlord walks in. When he sees Cassie sitting in my store, he frowns. Cassie is another person Mr. Bollington doesn’t approve of. “Mia,” he says, ignoring my friend, “I just saw your window display.” His forehead creases with disapproval. “It’s very unsuitable. This is a family-friendly town.”
Last week, I’d received some incredible hand-made silk lingerie from a small French manufacturer. Each piece was so gorgeous that it should have been in a museum. I’d spent most of Saturday setting up a window display for the bras, panties, and slips. I should have known Mr. Bollington would get his knickers in a knot about it. (Ha ha. See what I did there?)
“Mr. Bollington, I run a clothing store.” I try and keep my voice firm. “Window displays are an important part of my marketing strategy.”
He’s unmoved. “Need I remind you about the morality clause in your lease, young lady?” he demands. The threat is unmistakable. Take the offending display down, or my landlord will make trouble.
Cassie snorts into her muffin once he leaves. “One day,” she gripes, “I wish you’d stand up to him and tell him his stupid morality clause isn’t legally enforceable. You’re going to take the lingerie down, aren’t you?”
“Probably.” I’m a people-pleaser. I want everyone to like me. And it seems easier to give in to Mr. Bollington’s demands than fight him. It’s just a window display, after all.
Cassie lets it go. “Back to more important things,” she says. “Friday night. We’ll get drinks, get tipsy, and go home with unsuitable men.” She winks in my direction. “The kind that will have you screaming with pleasure. The sooner you forget about limp dick, the better.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “Yeah, about that,” I mumble. “Dennis might be right.”
She frowns. “Right about what?”
Oh God. It’s mortifying telling Cassie the truth. “I’ve never had an orgasm with a guy in my life.”
Her mouth falls open. Thankfully, she’s finished chewing her muffin. “With any guy?” she asks, her voice astonished.
I think back to the three men I’ve slept with. Brett, my high-school boyfriend, who I went out with for two weeks before he dumped me to date Gayla, a big-breasted blonde cheerleader. Tony, my college crush, who slept with me once before confessing that he preferred men. And of course, Dennis, who buried his cock in Tiffany’s twat less than two hours after proposing to me. “Nope.” I lower my voice. “There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?”
“Apart from your horrible tastes in men, no.” She gets to her feet and muffin c
rumbs cascade to the floor. “Friday. Meet me at six. Prepare to party your brains out.”
Once she leaves, I stare blankly at the rack of beaded and glittering dresses and think about my ex-fiancé. Even at the beginning of our relationship, I’d never felt the kind of passion for him I read about in books. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am frigid.
Cassie isn’t going to tell me the truth. The best-friend rules clearly state that she’s supposed to say supportive things.
But there’s another way to get the truth. As I vacuum up chocolate chip muffin residue, I make a decision. I’m not the kind of girl who sleeps with a guy she picked up at the bar. Even if I wanted to have sex with a stranger, they never tended to notice me. That kind of attention is reserved for Cass.
No, I’m going to solve my orgasm problem the responsible, adult way. I’m going to see a therapist. Not just any therapist. I’m going to see the sex therapists that Mr. Bollington hates. Benjamin Long and Landon West. Maybe they can figure out what’s wrong with me.
CHAPTER 2
Benjamin:
It’s been two months since Landon and I opened our practice in this small town, and I can’t say that I’m enjoying it so far. While the pace of life is a lot more peaceful than Manhattan, I’m used to the anonymity of the big city. In New Summit, everyone has their noses in our business all the time. Given what we do, that’s a problem.
Landon, my partner and best friend, comes into my office at ten in the morning. “I need to talk to you about Amy,” he says without preamble, taking a seat opposite me and propping his legs up on my desk.
I give him a pointed look, one that just makes him laugh. Landon knows I like my office tidy and organized, and he takes delight in messing with me. “Make yourself at home,” I say dryly. I look him over. His hair is tousled, he hasn’t shaved, and his eyes are red. “You look like hell by the way. Late night?”
Messing with Miki (A MFM Ménage Romance) (Playing For Love Book 5) Page 20
