TRIPLE PRINCES: An MFMM Menage Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  His big blue eyes trembled and he nodded. I kissed his blonde head and headed out into the night, my heart heavy for my boy, myself, and my new child.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Nick

  I shook my head, weary from another marathon conference call. The investors in Dubai were demanding, but I’d silenced them with the lure of more money. That’s what I’d learned from my twenty-five years in business – money talks.

  I’m a businessman, first and foremost. I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen, and bootstrapped myself from a hard-scrabble life at the bottom into the CEO of an international conglomerate. I’d tell you what we do, but the specifics are too confusing. Let’s just say we’re in the business of consumer products.

  Work is my priority, first and foremost, and has been for the last twenty-five years. A normal day for me is to wake up at 5 a.m., go to the gym for an hour, and be in at the office by 6 a.m. I usually work until eleven or midnight, maybe catch a drink before crashing. As you can tell, that doesn’t leave much time for women or sex. And so that’s where the Billionaire Strip Club comes in.

  The club is a private space, invitation only, membership exclusive to those with extraordinarily high net worth. A lot of us are bold-faced names and depend on the discretion of the Club in protecting our privacy, making sure that our movements aren’t tracked and that the girls never leak who they sleep with. I go whenever I’m in New York to unwind, maybe get a drink or two and watch some dances, maybe use a girl in the private back room if I’m so inclined.

  But three months ago … I met a dancer who challenged every assumption I’d ever had about strippers. See, the Club, despite being for billionaires, is still a strip club and pulls from the same pool of strippers that every club in the City uses. So I’m used to girls who are hardened, often with a fake spray tan, bolt-on boobs, and a rapacious, greedy attitude.

  The girl I’d fucked that night was completely different. Petite and blonde, she’d looked liked she barely knew how to dance on-stage at first, classic “deer in the headlights” expression. But when she’d begun dancing, my cock had punched to life, immediately attracted by her unique combination of naivete mixed with a sensuous, sinful body. I’d immediately booked her for some private time in the back, and fucked her silly after she’d arrived.

  She’d been luscious, smelling like fresh flowers and as soft as a petal. Intriguingly, she’d been … ashamed, I suppose is the right word, at what she was doing. I could have sworn that I saw tears in her eyes several times, which only served to inflame my desire and curiosity.

  I’d stroked her cheek after we climaxed, asking “Petal, where are you from?”

  But she’d lowered her chin, letting that gorgeous fall of blonde hair cover her face, and swiftly pulled on a silk wrapper. With the shortest, quietest of goodbyes, she’d slipped out of the private room, leaving my ass buck-naked on the divan. It was an astounding revelation for me. I’d never had a girl who didn’t try to flirt, pout, or at least hit me up for more money. Instead, this sweet innocent had left immediately, and it seemed I was never to see her again.

  You see, I’ve been trying to find her for the past three months. I went back to the club each night for two weeks straight, but that fuck-hole of a manager Bob claims it was Petal’s first night, and he never got her name or contact info.

  So I’ve set investigators on her trail. But they hit a dead end … she used an alias to get into the club, and the security cameras don’t have any good shots of her face. All I can say is that I’m looking for a beautiful blonde nicknamed Petal, petite, maybe 20 or so, shy and sweet in the NYC area. If you’ve seen her, I’m offering a reward.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jennifer

  I wiped my hands on the apron. I was so tired, my back ached from standing up and my arms were like lifeless noodles from pounding dough relentlessly. I heard the front door chime, and figured it was Mario, our deliveryman.

  “Mario, I’ll be right out!” I called. We supplied all sorts of confections to elite bakeries in the city, and recently my creation the Crème Cake was a hit. Mario would be transporting the pastries to the shops at 5 a.m. so they’d be ready to open at six.

  I grabbed a big tray of Crème Cakes, my back complaining from the strain, and headed out to the front of the store.

  The dark stranger stood there, his hands in his pockets, looking over our display of confections. I gasped, dropping the entire tray, a cloud of flour coming up like a nuclear mushroom.

  He looked up, his eyes politely curious, before widening at the sight of me. I knew I looked a mess. Eight hours straight in the back of a bakery, my hair was a snarl of tangles and I was covered in flour up to my elbows. Plus, I was wearing a shapeless apron and a net over my hair – not exactly seduction material.

  You wouldn’t know it though. He was on me in a second, cradling me in his arms, holding me close as his finger stroked my cheek.

  “Petal” he said softly. “Where have you been?”

  I didn’t even know where to start. I hadn’t been hiding certainly, but I also hadn’t been prancing in Manhattan, shaking my moneymaker like I was supposed to.

  “I … um,” I said, totally befuddled.

  He didn’t seem to notice. His lips traced my jaw, brushing softly over my ear before tasting my mouth. Persuasively, his tongue slipped along the seam of my lips, tracing my lush pout before I relented and granted him entrance.

  With a growl, he indicated his approval, instantly pushing into my mouth, overwhelming me, claiming me as his. His hands moved up to cup my breasts, testing the weight in his palms and then skimming lightly over my back to squeeze my ass thoroughly, kneading the flesh while testing its juiciness.

  “Ohh….” I moaned into his mouth. Suddenly, I was overcome with desire. Other than the time we’d made love in the strip club, I hadn’t had sex in years. Since Dylan’s birth, I just hadn’t felt sexy and men shied away when they found out I was a single mother with a handicapped child. I’d avoided rejection by isolating myself from the dating world, but with a single kiss the handsome stranger reminded me that I was a woman, with wants, needs and desires.

  I returned his kiss, my hands suddenly hungry and needy to feel him. I scrabbled at the lapels of his jacket, trying to undo the buttons to his shirt before dropping to his waistband and fumbling for his zip.

  “Hey Petal, calm down,” he chuckled against my mouth. “There’s no rush.”

  Quite the contrary. There was an enormous rush, the heat running through my body like flame as I bucked against him, rubbing my breasts against his chest while my hungry kitty moistened for this man. I mewled under his lips, twisting underneath him and ran my fingers through his hair, communicating my hunger.

  “Okay, okay, I get it,” he rumbled deep in his throat. I suppose he’d been thinking to take me to a hotel or at least some place with a soft surface, but I knew I couldn’t wait. Instead, he grappled with the strings to my apron, undoing the soft white cloth, and then ripped my clothes off, dropping the rags in a pile at our feet. I was clad now only in the sheerest of white lace, a wisp of panty and a tiny demi-bra that barely hid my nipples.

  But the stranger stood stock still, gazing at my figure. Oh shit! I suddenly remembered that I was pregnant. The fires of lust had made me forget that my waistline was increasing, and although I wasn’t huge yet, there was a tiny bump that couldn’t be denied. I trembled suddenly. Would he reject me? I suddenly felt small, and very scared.

  He gazed at me, before trailing a finger lightly over my abdomen, caressing the bump.

  “Is it mine?” he ground out roughly.

  Mutely, I nodded, afraid of his reaction.

  With a growl, he sprang into action. He grabbed me and hoisted me into his arms, dragging me outside where I was manhandled into a luxury sedan. Without a word, he snapped the seatbelt over me, and got into the driver’s seat.

  When we were speeding down the highway, I ventured to ask, “Where are we going?” But
the scenery kept passing by in a blur, and the stranger didn’t answer, his look ominous and dark.

  I suppose right now you’re asking why I didn’t jump out of the car. I’d basically been kidnapped by a man I’d slept with once, and was being dragged off to whereabouts unknown. But the truth was, I was pregnant with his child. I wanted, no needed, to find out if he wanted to be a part of the baby’s life, and just maybe, my life too.

  I saw now that we were cruising through an expensive neighborhood, the houses more like manors than your regular two-bedroom home. He pulled up before a brick and granite mansion, the wheels squealing to a stop and then dragged me out of the car, taking my hand and pulling me upstairs to a huge bedroom. He plopped me onto the bed before crossing his arms, gazing at me intently.

  “Where are we?” I asked timidly.

  With a growl, he answered. “Your new home.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Nick

  The blonde was even more beautiful than I remembered. When she’d come out of the back room of the bakery, I’d been astounded. I’d taken a detour that morning and stopped to get coffee at a different place. Imagine my astonishment when Petal herself had come out with a tray of pastries, adorably covered in flour.

  I’d been on her in a flash. I’m not sure if I knocked the pastries out of her hand, or if she’d dropped them, but my hands were all over her delectable body in a moment. Her curves were just as delicious as I remembered, her skin soft and sweet like a flower.

  “Petal,” I murmured into her mouth. “Where have you been?” I asked as I clasped her close to me for a kiss. I was undeniably possessive. I needed to have her after a fruitless four month search, and to have her turn up unexpectedly in my backyard was a gift.

  I began ripping off her clothes, hungry to see those luscious curves with the vague idea that I was going to take her there in the deserted bakery, when the swell of her tummy stopped me. She was a slim girl, and it was impossible to hide the undeniable. She was pregnant. Her breasts were juicy and full, the nipples slightly distended, and her belly curved with a faint arch before narrowing into the soft vee of her womanhood.

  I could hardly believe it. Was it mine? I knew without asking that it had to be. She was too shy, too sweet to be cavorting with other men. I gently traced my fingers over the mound, reverently, prayerfully.

  “Yes, it’s yours,” she breathed shyly, answering my unspoken question, and that was all I needed to hear. I manhandled her into my car and raced back to my estate, intent on keeping her by my side.

  And now here we were. Petal was on my bed, nude except for sheer lacy lingerie covering her softness. I pushed her back, intent on savoring her slowly, but the urge to be inside was too strong. I kissed her deeply, communicating my need, and she was so sweet, so responsive, her body immediately adjusted to cradle mine, welcoming my bulk between her legs.

  I ran my hands possessively over her curves, tracing her décolletage before dipping a finger to stroke her nipple.

  “Ah!” she gasped, throwing her head back. She was sensitive because of pregnancy, and my slightest touch was enhanced, throwing her into the depths of ecstasy. I circled her nipple with my finger, tenderly tracing her light pink areola before pressing down hard on the nub, squeezing and pulling. I dipped my head to her breast and pushed both cups away, letting her fullness spill out. Her skin was creamy and smooth, the mounds rounded and swaying as I latched onto a nipple, tugging gently and biting before settling down for deep, suckling kisses.

  She was delicious. I could hardly believe that I had my flower with me again, and my hands veered lower to trace the slim outline of her hips. She was still narrow, with a fine-boned frame, and I lovingly ran my fingers over her belly before dipping lower to stroke through the lacy material of her panties.

  “Oh!” she gasped, arching beneath me, beginning to squirm and buck underneath my gentle caresses.

  “Shhh Petal, just enjoy,” I murmured. I could feel how damp she was through the thin cloth and itched to stroke my fingers through that wetness. I bunched the material into a string and pulled upwards, creating tension against her clit, letting her savor the friction of the fabric against the sensitive nub. She bucked wildly, her pussy lips fleshy and engorged around the pressure I’d created, a visible dark spot forming at her center. With a growl, I ripped off the fabric, leaving her totally bare.

  I positioned myself between her knees and held them apart, looking at my Petal closely for the first time. She was unbelievably beautiful. Her cunny lips were swollen and moist, already glistening slightly, and I could see her clit poking out between her lips, begging to be touched. I lightly traced my tongue over the nub, teasing her, driving her to new heights, and she bucked against me, crying out with need.

  “Shh, I’m getting there Petal, just wait,” I soothed.

  I spread her cunny lips to look at her inner channel, and was rewarded with the sight of glossy pink flesh, wet and delicious. I touched my finger to the tiny hole where my cock would go, and circled it slightly before trailing up to play with her clit. The nub was enlarged, pulsing visibly before me, and I stroked it a few times before pinching slightly, pulling on the flesh.

  By now, tremors were running through her body uncontrollably, and her pussy creamed slightly under my touch, indicating her arousal. I dipped my head to taste the juice, tracing my tongue against the folds of her twat, exploring every crevice, every beautiful detail of my Petal. I thrust my tongue deeply into her hole and began fucking her that way. My mouth and chin were completely covered in her wetness, but I wanted it. I wanted my Petal to be able to come on my fingers, lips, dick, at my command.

  “Just feel, baby,” I growled into her steaming pussy. I tongue-fucked her a few more times, savoring the engorged flesh before ripping my dick out of my pants and giving it a few hard strokes with my hand. My need to be in her was overwhelming, and I wasn’t going to be able to wait any longer.

  I reared above her, mounting my beautiful girl, and paused before entering, my cockhead nudging at her lips. I had never seen a sight so gorgeous. The blonde was spread below me, her breasts lush and full, her legs parted wide ready to receive me in her moist, secret space. With a thrust, I embedded myself in her all the way.

  “Ah!” she cried. I was a big man, ten inches at least, and a lot of women couldn’t accommodate me fully. Petal was small, but she’d taken my entire dick in the past so I didn’t hesitate to push in, giving her every inch of my manhood. When I was balls-deep in my beautiful girl, I paused, letting her savor my length and width, letting her adjust her tiny body to my massive penetration.

  “Good girl,” I breathed into her ear, beginning a gentle rhythm, careful not to put any pressure on her burgeoning tummy. The fact that I was fucking the mother of my child was an unbelievable turn on, causing me to push further in, bumping the head of my cock against her cervix, an assurance that my sperm would find its goal. Her folds encased me, unbelievably tight and hot around my dick, seizing and lubricating the big shaft.

  “Uhh,” she moaned, spreading her legs wider.

  “That’s it, Petal,” I ground out. “Feel.”

  I started up a fast rhythm in her body, needing to fuck her hard. Soon, my hips were slamming against her, my balls slapping her anus, and I grabbed her knees and pushed them up, exposing her sex all the way as her soft folds were reamed again and again.

  She was writhing against the sheets when I gave my command. “Now,” I ordered. “Come for me.”

  And she did. Her pussy exploded around my dick, trembling and spasming uncontrollably, clenching down hard on the massive member. She shuddered and cried out, her breasts swaying with the movements at her core, lusciously swinging as she came again and again on my dick. I, too, was overcome with sensation. I let myself go, my cock emitting spurt after spurt of hot semen into her depths, coating her insides with jism as her pussy seized around each jet, hungrily eating and pulling the white deeper into fertile body.

  I reached a hand
below and kneaded her ass before letting my finger snake to her back pucker. The little hole was tight, but I wanted to get her used to the feel of being touched there. As she came, I let my finger press against her anus, not necessarily trying to penetrate, but rather accustoming her to the feel of a man at that sensitive spot.

  As our climaxes subsided, I rolled us to our sides, not pulling out. The feel of her cushioning me in her depths was undeniably erotic, and I didn’t want to end our connection yet.

  “So Petal, were you going to tell me about the baby?” I asked gently.

  She looked down, even though we were only inches apart.

  “I … I don’t know,” she confessed. “I mean, he was conceived in a strip club, and I wasn’t sure you would even want to know,” she said.

  I lazily traced a finger around a pouting nipple, the nub still hard and aroused.

  “Of course I’d want to know,” I said mildly. “It’s my child, whether boy or girl. Plus,” I said, gesturing expansively to my enormous home, “I have all this to give. I want him to grow up here, with every luxury, and to know his father.”

  “It doesn’t bother you that I was a stripper?” she asked tentatively.

  “Not at all,” I said. “After all, I was right there in that club with you. But as for what other folks say, we’ll have to deal with that,” I said grimly. Unfortunately, I belonged to a group of wannabe aristocrats who gossiped endlessly, and likely wouldn’t take kindly to my stripper with a heart of gold. But I was determined to see things through, as she was the mother of my child, with an undeniable place in my heart.