by Brill Harper
Trois: Episode 3: An MMF Romance
Trois Serial, Volume 3
Brill Harper
Published by Brill Harper, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
TROIS: EPISODE 3: AN MMF ROMANCE
First edition. September 14, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Brill Harper.
Written by Brill Harper.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Trois: Episode 3: An MMF Romance (Trois Serial, #3)
About This Book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
About the Author
Sexy bad boys who do sexy bad things with their rough hands and the innocent virgins who love them. What’s not to like? Sign up for Brill’s Bites so you never miss a new release. I won’t spam you—I don’t have time! You’ll only get emails from me when there is a new release or a really great sale.
About This Book
This needs to stop.
She’s my little sister’s best friend and my roommate and I are corrupting her. Corrupting ourselves.
But I can’t really have a relationship with her. Not when I’m sharing her with my best friend. She stirs a raw need inside me that I’ve never felt before. The need to claim her. Mark her. Make her mine.
It’s wrong, but I can’t let her go. Not now. Maybe not ever.
And I want him to have her too.
Author Confession: This series is a little different from my other stories—but it still features the ever-awkward heroine and hunky alphamallows you’ve come to expect from me. It’s a serial, not a series, so you’ll want to read the episodes in order. It’s just as filthy-sweet as everything else I write, I promise. These three have been living in my head for over a year trying to get me to tell their story. Penelope has a lot to learn—but don’t worry—she’s got two amazing teachers to help her every step of the way. (The serial starts off MFM, but don’t you worry, MMF lovers, it’s a slow burn but we are totally going there.)
Chapter One
Fletcher
Blinding light fills the room suddenly, unexpectedly, and unwelcomed.
The storm that is raging outside our little house near the campus of Cascadia State University is nothing compared to what just happened in the living room between my best friend, my little sister’s best friend, and me. I’m surprised our house is still standing.
I’m still shaking from the ferocious orgasm and very confused about how I should be feeling other than replete and exhausted.
The shock of the return of our electricity rudely interrupts the three of us basking in the afterglow of the hottest sexual experience of my life, and the light seems sharp and brutal. Penelope is curled between us, and I see the anxiety filling her eyes as the light in the room brings reality back to our totally fucked up yet super-hot circumstances.
I’m supposed to be protecting this girl. She moved in to escape a dangerous dorm situation and look at us now. Some protector I am. She’s my little sister’s best friend, younger than us, totally inexperienced, and I just came down her throat like she was a star in a porno.
After my best friend did the same.
It was her idea. I know it in my head. She wanted it. Asked us for it using so many words. But there’s always a trace of guilt regarding Penelope, and it stems from me knowing that I should feel guilty, but don’t. I should be ashamed, but I’m not.
I feel guilty that I am 100 percent perfectly fine with passing her back and forth to my best friend. That it satisfies some dark desire I didn’t know I had. That she asked us to teach her the things she doesn’t know about men, the things she can’t learn from her many, many books, and Shane and I are both eager to make her every filthy fantasy come true.
Penelope Winters is nothing like the girls I’m used to dating. The girls my parents expect me to date to further my political ambitions. Sweet, uncomplicated girls who don’t mind being in the public eye.
Penelope is uncomfortable around most people. She’s a genius but lacks a lot of social skills, as she’s always first to admit. I don’t think she has any desire to live her life in the spotlight.
The life I’ve been working toward is a good one. I know nothing is perfect, and being the mayor of a small town isn’t the same as running for Congress—but I think my parents assume I’ll go further than my dad, and I’ve always assumed I would too. When I expressed an interest in following in his footsteps, they were thrilled, but always told me I could do more good than even he did. And he’s my hero.
They would not approve of the fact that I just taught my little sister’s best friend how to suck cock so well that she took two in her mouth at once for a few minutes. And I should hate the fact that I’m not being the son they think I am right now.
But I don’t.
Shane thinks I’m too serious, that my college days should be filled with having fun and getting pussy. Marriage should be way down the road. But I’ve always been more invested in my future than my present—which is one of the reasons our particular friendship works so well. He helps me relax and have fun, and hopefully I’m helping him to get a little more serious.
But Penelope, she’s not like anyone I know.
“Both of you need to relax,” Shane says out loud, his voice startling in the quiet. “I can hear you both thinking and it’s harshing my mellow.”
I make eye contact with him over the girl between us. He’s right. Nobody did anything we didn’t want to do. And now it’s my job to make sure she doesn’t backslide into doubt.
It’s a messed-up honor that she’s been trusting us to tutor her about sex. But it’s a responsibility too. The taboo factor of our arrangement is sky-high, but I don’t want her to feel ashamed.
I kiss her forehead. “I can’t believe you were able to keep your glasses on through all that.”
Shane laughs. “Dude, she’s even still clothed.”
He’s right about that too. The two of us are naked, and Penelope is wearing her tank top and pajama bottoms. And her bedclothes are still wet and sticky with the come of two horny college guys.
Shane rolls away first. “Little bit, I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. You are some kind of serious sex witch. I didn’t know I could come that hard.”
I give her shoulders a squeeze. “You okay?”
She nods shakily. “Do you think I’m...too slutty?”
“Baby, no,” I tell her, pulling her to my chest. “You need to stop worrying about that. Everything we do together is just for us. Nobody else gets to judge us for it. And you don’t get to be ashamed when Shane and I are right there with you doing the same things.” I wish I could convince myself.
Shane starts putting on a shirt and realizes its mine. “I think you’re just the right amount of slut, little bit. I don’t understand why girls get called names for doing stuff with guys, and the guys get pats on the back about it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like the word slut or slutty behavior that goes along with it. I’m all for it. I am totally into you being as slutty as possible, and I will join you every step of the way.”
She’s got a fragile look about her right now. She needs me. Us.
She needs the guy I keep turning into when things start heating up between the three of us. The one in control. When she moved in a few weeks ago, I started changing.
They both feel it. I know they
do. This energy shift that happens when the three of us start dropping our guards.
And that guy, the one I become during our sex lessons, is kind of a dominant motherfucker. Time to bring him back out. She doesn’t feel bad when I’m controlling the room. She can let me take responsibility and just get into a different head space, trusting me completely. Her submission is a gift.
It looks like I need to change the dynamics of the room again, and so I will. I find her hand and squeeze it firmly. “Do you like being our slut, Penelope? Our dirty girl?” Her eyes get bigger, and Shane pauses with his shirt half on. “I’ll take full responsibility for whatever actions we make you take. You don’t have to worry about a thing. We know what you need.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what, Pen?”
She shakes her head a little. “Yes, I want to be your dirty girl.”
Shane leans down and kisses her. “I’m glad we’re all on board.” He kisses her deeper. “I’m not kidding about tonight. That blow job changed my whole world. That was amazing.” He makes eye contact with me, and I suddenly remember what it was like when she was sliding her tongue around us both and our dicks were touching each other.
It didn’t bother me then. It doesn’t bother me now.
I think it’s supposed to. Another thing I’m supposed to feel guilt about but don’t.
Being with her, the two of us at the same time, is natural. I can’t explain it. It just feels right.
“You should get some sleep,” I tell her as Shane starts blowing out all the storm candles.
She nods, and I kiss her. She still tastes like sex, and my dick stirs again. “I need to, um, get cleaned up.” She pushes those glasses up the bridge of her nose, and Shane groans from across the room.
“Sorry,” he says. “I just think it’s so hot when she does that.”
She rolls her eyes, but I know she likes it. The way he can make any normal thing seem absolutely filthy. And the way that he can make the absolute filthiest things seem normal.
Chapter Two
I pull the knot of the red neck scarf away from my Adam’s apple. “You’re the blond one. Why am I Fred again?” I ask Shane as we wait for Penelope to come out of her room and join us.
“I can’t pull that dude off.” He’s wearing maroon bell bottom jeans and a green T-shirt. “Shaggy is my idol, after all.”
I feel ridiculous. Costume parties aren’t my favorite, but I like the way all the girls dress up extra slutty for Halloween. Speaking of girls. “I’m assuming she’s Velma.”
“Natch.”
“Why is it taking so long?” Seems like a pretty easy costume to change into, and Shane did all the work putting them together. He lives for shit like this. For someone as lazy as he claims to be, when he’s motivated to put together a big production, he goes all out.
“Women are strange creatures.” He tosses me a beer. “I’m already hard thinking of her in the costume though.”
“Have you always been this into Velma?” Before Penelope, I’d have considered myself a Daphne dude. After Penelope, well, anything that reminds me of Penelope gets me hot. I can’t explain it.
“Yeah, dude. Always liked the smart chicks. And those fucking glasses.”
“I noticed you put your test scores on the fridge. Are you hoping for a gold star or something?”
Shane puts his feet up in the recliner, casual as can be. “Are you not proud of me?”
“Yeah, sure, son. Congratulations on passing all your STI tests.”
“I am sensing sarcasm. But I’m hoping, since we decided to keep this all in the family, that Velma will agree to going raw when we actually do the deed.”
I pull my necktie, cravat, whatever the hell it is, away from my neck again. No condom. Raw. I swallow thickly. “Do you think that’s a good idea? Do we need to have another talk about where babies come from?”
“She’s on the pill. We’re disease free. Sounds like a good idea to me. You ever...without a condom?”
I shake my head. I assumed I would use condoms until I was married, I guess. Safer that way. But the thought of going into that pussy with nothing between us...man, she’s so tight and always sopping wet whenever we’ve touched her. I bet she feels amazing with no condom on. “How do you know she’s on the pill?”
“They’re in the bathroom. Dude. You need to pay better attention.”
Her door opens, and I forget all about Shane and my uncomfortable neck. My date of birth and social security number are probably history too.
It’s the basic cartoon outfit of Velma from Scooby, but it’s got a Shane twist. The turtleneck orange sweater is tight, accentuating her perfect round tits. And it’s cropped higher on her waist, giving me a view of the tantalizing inches of smooth skin between her tits and the waistband of her red, pleated mini-skirt. The skirt is too short, but damn if the thing that gets me isn’t her orange knee-high socks.
I want to fuck her when she’s wearing nothing but the knee-high socks. My blood rushes right to my dick. The socks and the glasses. Shane is right. They are hot.
“You look like a fuck doll,” Shane says, the awe in his voice apparent. “Velma, you are single-handedly making all my fantasies come true, and I’ve only known you for a month.”
She blushes, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, and everything inside me wants to make her blush over and over. All over her body. My jaw tenses. “You look amazing. Too bad you’re not leaving the house like that,” I say gruffly.
“What? Why?” She fidgets, pulling down the skirt and failing because the damn thing won’t go any lower. “This is what she wears in the cartoon.”
Not really.
“Why do you think? Look at you. You’re every man’s horniest fantasy. I won’t be able to let you out of my sight for a second.” I step closer and her breath hitches. Good. I can practically hear her little heart beating. It gets me off.
A little anticipation. A little fear. She wants to melt—she wants me to make her melt. I’ve felt it from the start. Like she reached right inside me and turned on a switch that woke me up from a long ass slumber.
I want her to worry a little. Wonder what she’s getting into. I like the way she makes me feel. Stronger. More capable. Controlled. Smarter.
And stern.
She makes me feel so goddamned stern.
I don’t really understand it. But I want to take her in hand sometimes. Direct all her attention. Make that supercomputer she has for a brain short circuit until all she thinks about is me. No other woman has ever made me feel this way.
She’s watching me now. Waiting for something from me. Something that gives her permission to be that girl she becomes when we’re fooling around. I get in her space, breathe her in. “They’re all going to want to fuck your sweet, tight little body.” I grab a handful of her ass and squeeze. “You’re gorgeous, and you look like a very bad, bad girl.”
She looks me right in the eye, and I see a slight alteration in her gaze. She arches her back just enough to rub her tits on me. “But I’m not a bad girl. I’m a very, very good girl. Aren’t I?”
“Holy shit. Somebody’s been on pornhub again,” Shane says, sensing the change in atmosphere and watching her little show. “This is perfectly scripted Grade-A shit.”
My hand squeezes her little ass again. “You’re a brat is what you are.” She’s stirring me up on purpose. She likes it. She wants to push me. Well, hell, I’ve watched more porn than she has. Possibly. She’s actually pretty well-versed. But I’d like to give her something to think about. “Good girls don’t dress like you. They don’t wear tight little shirts so men can’t think about anything but fucking their tits. They don’t wear skirts so short they can’t bend over without showing men their tiny little panties.”
Shane has moved behind her so she’s standing between us. “Don’t have to worry about that, do we, Pen? Didn’t you tell him you’re not wearing panties?”
She shrugs. “Shane left a note with the costu
me that said panties were optional.”
My brain shuts off. I’m now a caveman consumed with that sweet pussy beneath the too-short skirt. “You’re not leaving the house wearing that.”
She rests her head against Shane’s chest and looks up into my eyes. There’s a saucy twinkle in hers. “You don’t get to tell me how to dress. You’re not my daddy.”
Oh, fuck. Shane and I both grab huge lungsful of air. This is not something we’ve talked about. But I’m feeling stern and territorial, and she’s obviously feeling bratty. Does she know where she is steering this ship?
Because she’s the one with all the control here. But if she wants to play dirty sex games, I’m not going to turn her down. I make eye contact with Shane, my best friend, and I already know what he thinks. On the nights when he picks porn, we’ve watched some interesting kinks. If she wants to play daddy games, we can see where that leads.
He leans down to her ear. “Baby girl, are you asking for discipline before we take you to a nice party? Is that what you want?” Shane asks.
“I’m just saying that if I don’t want to wear panties, I won’t wear panties, and there is nothing either of you can do about it.”
She squeals when I spin her around and yank her down to the couch with me, bending her over my knee. Her skirt rides up, showing me the shadow of her sweet little ass cheeks. “You want to tell me again what you think I can or can’t do about it?”
Penelope squirms. “I’m not your plaything. You can’t just—” She stops talking when I tap her ass with just my fingers.
Shane hooks one finger under the hem of her skirt, flipping it up so her bare ass is out in the open. I rub one cheek with the palm of my hand, trying to judge how far we’re taking this. What she wants and expects from me. From us. It’s not like I’ve ever spanked anyone before.
Her ass is so soft. My hand itches.
