ROMANCE: THREESOME : Billionaire Brothers' Party (MFM Menage Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Threesome Short Stories)

by Donovan, Astrid Lee

  Jack tore the blindfold off and forced her chin up at that critical point. At first she saw the face of Micheline, beautiful, shaking uncontrollably from ecstasy. Then she saw, reflected from a projector against the screen, the sight of Micheline and her kissing ardently, Micheline’s fingers moving inside her. At first it was a shock. Then she realized that Micheline and Jack must have set the whole thing up -the drinking, the alleyway recording, maybe even this little trip to Oneida, as well? No wonder Jack had insisted on being alone last night. But at that point, it didn’t matter.

  Laura let off a soft moan and felt it rippling through her body, writhing, convulsing, sending the pressure to her skull as she, Micheline and Jack came together simultaneously. She felt as if she was going to go blind, the release was that excruciating. She heard soft bells in her ears as her body panted greedily for air, her body shuddering violently from the climax.

  She crumpled to the ground exhausted as Jack pulled out of her. She lay on her side, trying to acclimate her languid body to the sudden change in atmosphere. Everything seemed to move silently around her, dutifully, and with absolute sincerity. Even the strange objects d’art Jack collected were ensured of their own inner perfection, no matter how bizarre or outré they may have seemed at first glance.

  She saw Jack stand up and remove the bit from Micheline’s panting mouth. She knew, too, that they were meant as two cells of the same curious battery. They shared a deep, passionate kiss while he unfastened her. She didn’t even mind that he ignored her entirely as he bypassed her on his way to the kitchen. She knew that tonight would be the last night she would see either of them again in her life, and she couldn’t be happier.

  They said nothing as they sat in the flickering dark, drinking chilled Moselle straight from the bottle and smoking endless cigarettes. At some point, Micheline stood up to put on the radio. She flipped around aimlessly before tuning into a light classical music station. Within minutes, all three had fallen asleep. It was shortly past midnight.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was shortly after five in the morning when Laura got up. She walked to her room, and made the bed securely, just the way she had found it. Of the innumerable satchels and suitcases, she selected only a small one containing a handful of clothes she had brought with her to Providence. She threw on a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She reached in her purse and checked her bank account: a little over $800. Enough for a bus ride back to Philly. Her rent was paid for the rest of the month, but after that? Who knew? She didn’t want to give it a second thought. She brushed her hair back aimlessly.

  She had toyed around with the idea of leaving them a note ever since she had woken up an hour earlier, but eventually decided against it. There were no words that could express how grateful she was to both of them. Jack and Micheline. So grateful, she neither knew nor cared if either were their legal names. So grateful, she neither knew nor cared if she had simply imagined the events of the week (it wasn’t until after she saw the bruises on her back that she was certain she actually had.) She could walk through life securely, knowing there were people like Jack and Micheline out in the world. She was grateful above all, to whatever hands of fate introduced her to them. And more importantly, for the other person they had introduced her to - herself.

  As she tiptoed through the front room, she saw her purple bustier and panties lying in a heap in the near corner. She tucked them into her satchel. Her one and only memento, and one she would cherish for years to come. She kissed her fingertips, and blew the two bodies, cozily entwined and sleeping a secret kiss as she walked through the front door and ambling down the long and winding country road. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the crickets had barely begun to break their song. She knew it would be a good two miles before she made it to any sort of public transportation, but she didn’t care. Laura Kimball had the rest of her life in front of her for the first time, gripping it firmly with both hands.

  THE END

  GOING HOME WITH A STRANGER

  Billionaire Romance

  Chapter One

  “There are days where I just want to choke you, Marie.” It was red, silky, and utterly scandalous. She’d look like a runway model wearing this dress, but she’d feel like a washed out pinup girl who was desperate for attention.

  “You’ll look great, and that will translate to you feeling great. Come on, you need a night out after that douche bag, Eric, ditched you at that party last week. Besides, it’s bad for your image to be seen sulking around after some nobody dumped you.” Marie smiled and showed a row of perfect, white teeth that could pass as someone’s dentures they were so pristine. It disturbed Claire sometimes, enough that she had nightmares the one night a few weeks ago about Marie’s teeth popping out of her head and trying to eat anyone in sight.

  Maybe the nightmare was a prelude to something, but Claire couldn’t think of what it might be.

  “My image?” Claire rolled her eyes to the ceiling and chuckled a little too loudly. “I don’t have an image, Marie. I’m a weather girl, remember? No one knows my name, just my face, and that’s only sometimes.”

  They were silent a few moments as Marie jutted out her bottom lip and began to pull on it, squeezing it and twisting it as she stared at Claire’s curly locks. “I wish you’d let your hair grow out,” she finally whined as she let go of her lip. “It would be so much easier to straighten that way.”

  “I don’t want it straight,” Claire grumped as she stood up from the soft chair in front of her vanity. She’d straightened her hair once in her life and would never do it again. Those straight locks had made her look too round in the face and she’d hated it.

  “Then at least let me fix your eye shadow,” Marie stated firmly as she put her hands on Claire’s shoulders and pushed her back into the chair. There was an argument on Claire’s lips, but she let it whisper away with her breath and closed her eyes as Marie started to dab at them.

  When she opened them, she wished she’d argued. “Green, Marie?” She narrowed her amber eyes into slits as she stared at the color. If she’d had her choice, she’d have gone with nothing, but Marie thought eye shadow was like looking into someone’s soul.

  “Yeah, green. Get over it and put on the dress.”

  “But I’ll look like Christmas!”

  “Then I guess you’d better smile because people are going to want a happy Christmas.”

  Claire wanted to point out Marie’s statement barely made any sense, but she got the gist of it. She was going out because she wanted to have fun, and because Marie wasn’t going to bring her any more sappy romance movies. A girl had to have a little time to mourn her broken relationship that had lasted three years. She still questioned why he’d never asked her to marry him after all that time before she fell asleep at night.

  It was pathetic and she knew it.

  And that’s why she put on the scandalous red dress that only came to her mid-thigh and had tiny straps across the back. She felt like she was naked, probably because she practically was. “I can’t wear a bra in this thing,” Claire complained as she put her hands over her average breasts.

  “You’ve never heard of boob tape?” Marie smirked as she pulled out a roll of tape from her purse, and Claire raised both eyebrows at the picture of how to apply this said ‘boob tape’ to her breasts.

  “And if I get lucky?” She questioned as she thought about the look on a guy’s face when he pulled off her dress to find that she had taped her boobs up so they were perkier than usual.

  “Oh c’mon, seriously, Claire? Lucky?” They both looked at each other and there was a ghost of a smile on Claire’s lips. It felt good to smile a little, but she didn’t want to let it take her over so it disappeared.

  She let her best friend, the one who had brought her romantic comedies, thriller movies, and popcorn over almost every night since Eric had told her he wasn’t in love with her, tape her boobs. He’d done it in front of all her coworkers and his at a party they were suppo
sed to be hosting together. It had been, and would forever be, the most humiliating moment of her life. Wearing a little bit of boob tape was not going to lower her self-esteem any further.

  “Alright, you’re all set. Now let’s get out there and show those boys what they’ve been missing! Claire O’Donnell is back on the single’s list!” Marie shouted her last sentence and waved her arms in the air like she was at a rave, and Claire couldn’t help the small smile on her lips. She had to admit it would be nice to find a guy that wasn’t Eric Slate. He’d been so boring in bed she’d almost cried the one night.

  “Yeah, single again, yippee,” Claire said with her small smile as she let Marie stuff a clutch purse under her arm and some heels that sparkled and looked like a naughty version of Alice in Wonderland’s red flats.

  Their ride to the club was not as glamorous as the time they’d spent together getting ready, considering the cab driver looked like he barely knew where he was going. They were ten minutes late for the opening of the newest club in the city, but Claire’s name had been on the list of the invited. Why, she had not a clue, but she figured it had something to do with the club wanting publicity. Almost everyone at that place was going to be a member of New York’s socialite club, and even if she hadn’t been dating Eric Slater for three years, she’d still have been invited.

  Chapter Two

  “I wish someone would have told me the theme was something from the fifties,” Marie whispered as she looked around at the tables and the bartender wearing a suit and bow tie. Women were walking around in shortened pencil skirts with slits in the sides and button down, white blouses that showed generous cleavage. From what Claire could tell, they were the waitresses.

  There was dancing going on, but the music playing was modern jazz and some of the couples looked like they didn’t know how to dance to anything but hip-hop. Claire felt a grin tugging at her lips as she headed for the bar and sat down. It was an easygoing, carefree environment without the hassles of loud, thumping music and nowhere to sit. There were plenty of stools at the bar and a section of tables off to one side.

  Marie sat beside her with an odd look on her face as she continued to stare at the inside of the nightclub. There were some that were obviously enjoying the scene, but there were a few that were put off-by the club’s obvious theme. Maybe the owner should have mentioned it in the invitation.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” a booming voice interrupted what Marie was about to say and Claire had to postpone her drink order as she turned to the far end of the dance floor.

  A man stood wearing a black suit and tie that screamed money. His hair was hidden beneath a hat more befitting for sixty years prior to the date, but somehow he made it look sexy. His shiny shoes caught the light as it was shone on him and Marie made an appreciative noise next to Claire. “I gotta get me some of that,” she whispered in Claire’s ear.

  “Good luck. I think there’s about a hundred women already thinking the same thing,” Claire shot back as she turned away from the man. Yes, he was good looking, but there was something too slick and suave about him that bothered her.

  Marie could have him.

  “As you can see, Nostalgia is-” And that’s when Claire stopped listening. She turned back to the bartender and ordered her candied orange martini and sipped it as she looked at the choices of alcohols behind the man. The woodwork of the bar was impressive and must have cost a pretty penny, but what she was more impressed with was the man reflected in the mirror about four seats down from her.

  He fit in with the club in a way that was eerie.

  Vaguely, Claire was aware of Marie leaving her side for the dance floor. The two of them were in agreement that Claire would never have to dance in public. In these shoes, she’d do more than just embarrass herself; she’d probably kill someone.

  It didn’t bother her that she had been left alone at the bar. She was too busy eyeing the light skinned man wearing a black suit, white shirt, and black tie. He had on a top hat, but the crooked way it was sitting atop his head made it look like someone had tried to swipe it off. Claire was busying studying the tilt of his hat and trying to determine how long his hair was underneath the hat that she didn’t notice him staring right back at her.

  When their eyes met, she had the grace to blush and look away as quick as she could. There was something that whispered dangerous about this man, and she didn’t need dangerous. She wasn’t sure what she needed after Eric, which was not a good place to be in if a man was looking for a one night stand. She wasn’t ready, no matter how brave she had appeared to Marie the other night when they’d talked about going out.

  Oh no, no, she thought as she saw the man slide off his stool and develop a tiny twitch of a grin on his lips. They were full lips and his face reminded her of someone familiar.

  “Has anyone told you, you look a lot like Claire O’Donnell from the news?” he said easily as he sat down beside her and raised his finger off the tabletop to signal the bartender for another beer.

  “Has anyone told you, you look a lot like Channing Tatum?” she quipped easily. Claire couldn’t put her finger on it, but this guy made her feel warm in all the right places and she was a little afraid of her reaction to him. The only way to get rid of the feeling was to wipe that grin off his face, but her comeback hadn’t done it.

  “Really? It’s a shame I’m not who I look like I am, but I’m glad you’re really who you look like you are.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’d recognize your voice anywhere. Sweet, whispery, with that sharp undertone even when you’re talking about storm clouds,” he told her before he took a sip of his beer.

  “Oh,” was all she could manage when he turned his full-blown, bright smile on her. Smooth, Claire, real smooth, she thought while she tried to hide her enamored expression behind a sip of her martini. “So you came over here to talk about storm clouds?”

  “No, I came over here because I saw the most beautiful girl in this place sitting alone and wondered why on Earth someone wasn’t trying to buy her a drink.” He looked thoughtfully at her almost empty martini glass and something in her told her to accept. What could it hurt? She was getting a free drink anyway.

  “Candied Orange Martini,” she told him as she set her glass down. “But just one,” she promised him with a small smile. He really did look a lot like Channing Tatum, but she was sure he might be a little taller.

  Chapter Three

  “So what is that you do, other than stand up there and wave your arms around at all the numbers and talk about clouds?” He’d introduced himself with her third martini as James, and she was surprised it had taken them this long to start talking about her job. Usually, men thought that was the only thing she ever did. James had been more interested in what she was doing at a club on a Friday night and alone, at that. Apparently, he’d heard she had a boyfriend, but he hadn’t heard about the blow-up.

  “Well, I sit down and wave my hands at a bunch of numbers on a computer screen,” she said jokingly. The martinis were really starting to make her feel warm and fuzzy, and she was sure she’d answer any questions he had. Claire sobered up just enough to sit up and find his dark brown gaze. “Seriously, though, I am a meteorologist. I went to school for that, you know. Some people think I’m a ditz who doesn’t know the difference between a cumulus and a cumulonimbus.”

  “You’re interesting, Claire,” James said as he shifted a little closer to her. She could feel the heat of his palm as it almost touched her thigh and was a little ashamed at how eager she was to feel his large, warm hand on her flesh.

  “Hey, there you are!” Marie chimed as she sat down on the other side of Claire and ordered a drink without a second’s hesitation. “I’ve been dancing all night with this really hot, adorable man and he said he’s got a friend if you’re in-” Marie cut herself off when she turned to see that Claire was staring at her with a quirked eyebrow and a fourth martini in her hands. It would be her last for
the night, she was sure.

  “That’s alright,” Claire said as she leaned back. “This is James. He’s-” And that’s when Claire realized she had no idea what James did for a living or if was even from New York or just visiting. Had they really talked all about her for the past hour and a half?

  “Pleased to meet you,” he said as he held out his hand to Marie. She was flushed from dancing and her dressed had slipped a little to reveal more cleavage than usual. Her dark eyes seemed to light up and she pushed a lock of her auburn curls behind her ear and smiled. Claire felt the stab of jealousy and wanted to slap their hands when they touched, but she had no claim to James.

  Besides, the man was most likely tired of hearing her talk and would want someone who actually listened to him for once.

  “I’m Marie,” her friend said and then let her hand slide away from the light one grasping it. “Claire’s friend,” she added before she grabbed her drink, neatly bottled for her convenience, and slid off her stool. Marie leaned over and put her hand up to Claire’s ear to block her voice, “Call me if you need anything later.”

  It was their code they’d used years ago when they were in college and out at a party. It translated to, be careful and text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe.

  “She’s bubbly,” James commented as he watched Marie leave.

  “Yeah, great dancer, too,” Claire commented as she finished her martini. “I think I’m going to head out. It was nice meeting you, James.”

  “So soon? It’s only eleven forty-five and at midnight, the drinks are half off.”

  “How do you know that?”