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

by Donovan, Astrid Lee

  Groaning as she finished up her work, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples. She was very much looking forward to her post-shift drink. She allowed herself one, at the end of every night. That night, she needed it more than ever. The way she’d reacted to Tuck had surprised her – and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, it had also disarmed her a bit.

  She walked around with such a tough shell, never letting anything in through the cracks, but she felt something trying to snake its way in, past her defenses. And she didn’t want that to happen. She needed it not to happen.

  Stella had worked hard to get where she was. Her father had been gone long before she was born, and CPS had taken her away from her mother at the age of seven, deeming the drug den that she lived in uninhabitable for a child. Which, to be fair, it was.

  But then, most of the foster homes she’d been funneled through for the rest of her childhood and adolescence hadn’t been much better. In between the few loving, supporting families who’d taken her in had been homes where she was ignored or mistreated. Either no one cared where she was, or they used her as a sort of free maid.

  In the worst cases, she’d had to run away entirely to avoid the drunken hands of an over-interested foster father. She’d never been adopted; older children usually never got adopted, especially not ones whose lives were as rocky from the outset as Stella’s. She’d been labelled as damaged goods, and she’d spent most of her life doing all she could to peel that label away.

  She’d put herself through college, getting a degree in business, which had been more or less useless in the poor economic climate she’d found herself in after graduation. This job at Spanky’s had been a step up from the assistant manager job at Walmart, where she’d had to bartend at nights just to pay her rent.

  If she was being truthful, though, Stella had to admit the job wasn’t all she’d hoped it would be. She missed the bartenders she’d worked with before; they had been close, almost like a family. And what Stella wanted more than anything in the world was a family.

  At Spanky’s, even though she offered a shoulder to cry on and felt comfortable with her employees, she was still at a distance from them, having to think of the bottom line before anything else. And, of course, the girls would never see her as “one of them”. She felt that some of them probably harbored some resentment towards her, deep down, for being a woman and not having to dance for drinks.

  There had been a time in Stella’s life when she’d seriously considered doing so. She had a nice body; with ample, C-cup breasts, long legs, and a generous bottom, she had never lacked for male attention – even when she didn’t want it, which was most of the time. Her auburn hair and blue eyes didn’t help matters much. She’d had to fend off more hungry suitors than she cared to remember, and had never fully trusted a man to want anything except a roll in the hay and a story to brag to his friends about.

  She’d been with four men, none of who had cared to stick around after a month or two. Sometimes, she wondered if this was because she could only keep the smile in her eyes for so long before her truer self, sad and desperate for love, began to show.

  But never before had a man made her feel the way she imagined men felt about her: pure, unadulterated lust – until that night. Until Tuck. He crept back into her brain, unwelcome and unwanted but still there. He’d caught her so off-guard, made her feel…vulnerable.

  A knock at the door jolted Stella from her thoughts, and she blushed even though she was alone. Rolling her chair over, she opened the door just wide enough to see who waited outside. It was Junior, but someone stood behind him.

  “What’s up?” she asked, immediately on guard. Years of essentially taking care of herself, and being wary of unwanted advances, made her nervous when she didn’t have a firm grasp on a situation. The fact that someone else was in the bar when it should have been just her and Junior made her stomach tighten slightly. But it only tightened more when she stood to open the door fully and saw that it was Tuck standing behind him. He was smiling affably enough, but those green eyes held a constant threat – or promise – of seduction.

  “Homeboy here says he lost his wallet. Anyone turn anything in?” Junior asked, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder.

  “Oh,” Stella said, trying to save face. She’d just been having thoughts about him. Not the most innocent of thoughts, either. To see him again in the flesh was a jolt to her system. “Um, not here. You can check around the bar if you want.”

  “Already did,” Tuck said, that honeyed voice making her heart twinge. “Nada.”

  “Sucks,” Stella said with a shrug she hoped was nonchalant enough. “Maybe the parking lot?”

  “Maybe,” Tuck said, seeming nonplussed about the whole thing. Which reminded Stella…he hadn’t pulled that twenty out of a wallet. Her eyes narrowed.

  “Well,” she said. “Sorry we can’t help you.”

  “No problem,” Tuck said, giving her a shrug that seemed, more than anything, to be a response to the one she’d given him moments ago. “It was worth the trip back just to see you again.”

  Stella flushed, taken aback by his boldness. The grin on Junior’s face widened, and he looked back at the biker in disbelief before turning back to Stella, eyebrows damn near lifted to his hairline.

  “Uh,” Stella stuttered, but before she could find a reasonable response, he’d turned.

  “Gonna let me out, friend?” he called to Junior, who turned on his heel with one last open-mouthed glance at Stella. She sank back into her chair, red and warm all over, until she heard the sound of the front door closing once more.

  Chapter Three

  The next night, the bikers were back. She watched them from a distance; Tuck was looking for her, or for someone. She couldn’t tell which she hoped for.

  She managed to avoid him all that night. But then the next night, he returned, with fewer of his club mates in tow. And his eyes never stopped searching for her. He’d see her, and smile, and she’d feel herself tugged towards him on some strange and uncontrollable tide. But she resisted, and again, the night passed without meeting.

  The next night, he was there again, this time only in the company of four other men; and then the next night, with only two; and then the next night, with only one. Finally, he arrived all by himself. He always sat at the bar, ignoring all the dancers, drinking steadily, looking for her.

  “You can’t avoid him forever,” Junior said, with a knowing grin that Stella wanted to slap right off his face. But she sighed, knowing he was right. Finally, she went to him, standing in front of the mirror behind the bar, an expectant look on her face.

  “Well?” she asked, wondering what his angle would be.

  “Well, what?” he replied coolly, taking a sip of his drink.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, getting frustrated. “You keep coming back. And I know it’s not for the entertainment. Some of the dancers here are getting a little pissed that you keep all those singles to yourself.”

  “I’m not here for them, it’s true,” he said, leaning back. “I’m here for you.”

  “I know that,” Stella snapped, blushing bright red. “I’ve seen you looking. I’m not interested, so…”

  “Why not?” Tuck asked, leaning forward now, capturing her in his magnetic gaze.

  “Uh,” Stella stuttered, thrown slightly off guard. Why wasn’t she interested? Oh, right, because she’d basically sworn off men. All men. Including bikers with handsome faces and gorgeous eyes. “I’m just not. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  He narrowed his eyes slightly, a toying grin on his face. Then, he pulled out his wad of cash. Immediately, Stella jumped to conclusions, and was about to scream in his face about how she wasn’t a dancer and didn’t take money like that, but he seemed to sense it and nipped it in the bud.

  “Listen first,” he said, holding out a hand. “Your dancers are getting pissed? Here’s my deal. I’m going to come in here every night for a month. I’l
l pay for my drinks, I’ll tip well. I’ll also give fifty bucks to one of your girls, no lap dance required. I don’t want to buy you, but I think you’ll find your ladies are in better spirits with fifty extra dollars of free cash in their wallets at the end of the night.”

  Stella’s jaw snapped shut. Hell, that kind of thing would make her a damn hero in their eyes. It might even make Tammy like her. Fifty bucks wasn’t much, but in their tiny, run down town, it went pretty far, and if it came without any strings that was even better.

  “And what do I have to do?” she asked, eyes narrowing to match his.

  “I want you to be my personal bartender for a half hour every night,” he said, laying his hands open on the table between them. “Doesn’t have to be all at once. I know shit happens, you’re gonna have to deal with emergencies and stuff. But thirty minutes, here and there.”

  “Uh,” Stella said, cocking her head slightly, confused. “And what do you get out of that? Is flirting with an uninterested bartender your fetish?”

  He laughed.

  “Hardly. But it’ll give me a chance to make you like me,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Maybe even enough to let me take you out at the end of the month.”

  Stella chewed her lip. It was a very enticing offer - very enticing indeed. Tammy was on stage at just that moment. Stella imagined how much more the girl might like her if she could slip an extra fifty into her hand at the end of the night. Looking back at Tuck, she thought it wouldn’t be so bad having to talk to him for thirty minutes a night, either. Especially if she made herself promise to herself that it would never go anywhere but just talking.

  “Alright,” she said finally, feeling her heart melt a bit at his pleased smile. “It’s a deal.”

  “Fantastic,” he said, peeling a fifty from the billfold and slipping it across the table, then adding a ten to it. “Let’s start with a whiskey, neat.”

  Chapter Four

  Stella laughed. Tuck was just finishing a story about a disastrous weekend in Venice Beach, complete with a transvestite and a hard-earned pizza being thrown into the ocean. Stella had been in stitches the whole time; so much so that she was drawing attention to herself. Only when she felt the curious eyes on her did she manage to stifle her giggling. Tuck was looking rather pleased with himself, which he often did when he made her laugh like that. Which was also often.

  They were coming to the end of their month-long experiment, with Tuck roughly $1,500 in the hole, plus the cost of drinks. Stella had done the math partway through, and felt slightly guilty about all the money he was willing to spend on her. But her dancers were thrilled, and she was finding herself eager- even giddy – to get her thirty minutes with Tuck each night.

  She hadn’t expected to like him so much, but she did. He made her laugh; he talked to her openly and candidly about his life with the Rolling Thunders, trusting her. And he asked questions like he wanted to know the answers – all without ever even getting a kiss from her.

  Now, on this final night, Stella was undeniably anxious. He’d mentioned, a month earlier, taking her out to dinner, but it had never come up again. Some deep part of her worried that his mind had changed, that he’d found her company unpleasant after all, and had only kept coming back out of some sort of politeness.

  Like a man like him gives a damn about being polite, Stella thought, still nervous. Now, she tugged a dishtowel between her hands as he eyed her. The way he looked at her never ceased to ignite a flurry in her stomach. Even after a month of talking to him about everything from peeing in public to snoring in bed at night, his eyes captured hers, never letting them go. She could feel herself drawn to them long after he looked away. She bit her lip, waiting for him to say something.

  “So,” he finally said, looking at the clock behind her. “It’s the last ten minutes.”

  She hadn’t even realized how quickly time had gone by. It seemed to fly by whenever Tuck was around. She nodded, gulping.

  “Last night,” he said, arching an eyebrow and cocking his head. She nodded again, looking down.

  “You gonna do it?” he asked, and she looked back up at him, confused. Do what? Sleep with him, is that what he meant? Well, the prospect wasn’t entirely unappealing; in fact, it was pretty damn appealing. But - still, what if this was his long con?

  Even as she told herself that was silly, she couldn’t bear the idea of sleeping with him once and never seeing him again. And though they’d spent a lot of time together that month, she still worried about that broken little girl inside her, that once she really let him in, he’d see it and leave.

  “Do what,” she asked, playing dumb. He scoffed.

  “Come to dinner with me!” he said, slapping his hands against the bar.

  “Oh,” she said, blushing. “I didn’t know that offer was still on the table.”

  “It’s always been on the table,” he said softly, his eyes searching hers. “And you want to take it, don’t you.”

  She didn’t know what she wanted. She did know, better than she knew the names of her employees. She did, she didn’t. She couldn’t lie to him. She nodded.

  “Great. You’re off tomorrow?”

  After a month, he knew her schedule; they were the nights he didn’t come in.

  “You know I am,” she said meekly.

  “I’ll pick you up at eight,” he said, winking. “Text me your address.”

  They’d exchanged numbers midway through the month.

  “Okay,” she said, feeling dizzy and giddy and nervous all at once. The rest of her night, after he left, was sloppy and distracted. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. All that she wanted to do with him…and all she was afraid of, too.

  The next night, Stella spent three hours deciding what to wear, eventually opting for a simple sundress and flats. The dress had built-in pads, so she opted out of a bra. Doing and re-doing her hair and make-up took another hour. When eight o’clock came around, her stomach was doing somersaults like she was a teenager going on her first date. It was her first date in quite a while. And she worried, more than anything, what would happen after.

  The roar of a motorcycle shocked her heart. She looked down; maybe the dress hadn’t been such a good idea. She should’ve known he’d pick her up on his bike. For all she knew, he didn’t even have a car.

  She stepped outside as he pulled up; he removed his helmet as she crossed her front lawn towards him, heart in her throat.

  “I don’t have a helmet or anything,” she said, but before she could finish speaking he’d pulled out the helmet that had been tucked between his legs. Smiling, she took it.

  “What about a jacket?” she asked through the face shield. She couldn’t see his face, his visor down, but he twisted in his seat and opened his saddlebag, pulling out a small, brown leather jacket. She put it on without comment.

  “Ever ridden before?” he asked, and she shook her head no. She could almost see his smile behind his helmet. “Well, you’ll love it. C’mon.”

  Stella climbed awkwardly behind him, well aware of the way her short dress hitched up, and the feel of the leather under her panties. As the bike kicked to life, it sent a thrill straight up her sternum, the rumbling vibration shocking her. It was intense between her legs as Tuck roared off onto the road, and she shifted, leaning forward, thighs tight around his waist, arms across his chest.

  The scenery of their small town seemed to go by faster than she could process, but the feeling was unbelievable. The wind whipped her hair out behind her, but she was warm in the jacket. Too soon, the ride was over, Tuck’s bike coming to a sputtering stop outside a bar Stella had never been to, though she’d passed it often enough.

  “Best burgers in town,” Tuck said with a wink, finally removing his helmet as he helped her dismount. She felt her legs shaking slightly from the adrenaline rush and the tightness with which she’d been clinging to him. “You’re not a vegetarian are you?”

  She laughed and shook her head.

  “Good,” he
said, opening the door for her. She entered and was immediately pleased; it was just her type of place. Sawdust on the floor, a live country band on the stage, and a rowdy, happy crowd in every booth. Tuck placed his hand on her lower back, leading her to a table in the back, and the feeling was a new kind of rush. She almost hated when he pulled out her chair, removing that hand.

  The waitress came by and took their orders; they both ordered bacon cheeseburgers with fries, with Stella also ordering a gin and tonic to steel her nerves and Tuck sticking to beer. The light above them made his hair look golden, lit on his green eyes, his strong jaw spread in a smile. She liked looking at him. Hell, she loved it.

  They chatted about nothing for a long while, their conversation easy and flowing, filled with laughter. It was just like talking to an old friend. An old friend that Stella was feeling more and more attracted to every moment that passed.

  The food arrived and disappeared almost as quickly; Tuck was right. The burger was delicious. The best she’d ever had. Or maybe it was just the great company she was eating it with. She was on her third drink, too, and feeling tipsy and open. When his hand snaked under the table, falling on her knee, she shivered, a jolt of energy dancing in her nerves. She could tell her panties were already damp.

  “So,” Tuck said, his eyes growing oddly still and serious. “What are you after, Stella?”

  She cocked her head, wondering if the question was as vague as it sounded, or whether she was just drunker than she thought.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Well, you don’t seem like the type that just wants to manage a titty bar for the rest of your life,” he said, eyes probing.

  “Oh,” she said, flushing and turning to look down at her drink, which was nearly empty. The waitress was just passing by and she raised her finger, calling for another. “Um, I don’t know, really.”