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

by Donovan, Astrid Lee

  Eager to heed these heated words, a lustful Callie impaled herself on his long, hard shaft; taking him to the depths of her soaking wet pussy as their thighs met and locked.

  Descending into her lover’s arms with a loud, impassioned growl, Callie seized his lips with a white hot kiss as their tongues and legs entangled between them. And even as an enraptured Hamilton continued to probe and penetrate her, he still remembered to touch her body with the upmost tenderness; massaging her breasts and gently rounded stomach as his hips gyrated hard against hers.

  Continuing their dance of the evening before on a far more intimate level, the couple writhed and slithered against each other; the rhythm of the moving car beneath them adding additional rhythmic friction to an already explosive encounter.

  Finally and with a single smooth flourish his shaft surged forth to her very core, taking them both over the edge of an intense mutual orgasm; one that consumed them both in an unbridled wave of sheer, unbridled ecstasy.

  Collapsing in one another’s arms, the couple continued to kiss and cuddle as the limo beneath them completed its trek across the narrow expanse of downtown Plainview.

  “Drat it to blazes Hamilton, what have we just done?” she asked him, adding with a drunken smile, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it felt fantastic. But why in the blazes did we do it? Our parents will kill us.”

  Hamilton shook his head.

  “We’re both adults, baby, and we’re both natural born rebels,” he reminded her, adding as he pressed his hard body brazen against hers, “My father well knows that I go after everything I want. And what I want, my darling, is you.”

  Chapter Five

  The next few weeks passed in a confused haze for Callie Bradford, as she found herself living in what she considered to be two parallel plains. By day she found herself enveloped in preparations for her mother’s wedding; helping her choose the cake, dress and decorations that would make her day complete. By night she met the groom’s son for an endless series of naughty clandestine trysts; heated encounters that took place everywhere from various five star hotel rooms throughout Plainview to her dressing room at Night Life.

  One evening, following an exhaustive bridal shower planning session that involved several aunts, a good number of cousins and several of Harry and Hamilton’s extremely rich and don’t you forget it relatives, she stopped by Hamilton’s apartment for some needed down time; only to be greeted at the door of his exclusive penthouse by a man wearing nothing but a sleek, velvety ruby red G-string.

  “Hamilton!” she exclaimed, her gaze devouring a massive chiseled chest, washboard abs, long, trim legs, and bulging package that now were fully revealed to her. “Are we having a casual day? Or is what you would call dressing for dinner?”

  She gasped as Hamilton took her gentle by the hand and pulled her to him; searing her lips with a white hot kiss as he pressed himself against her.

  “Well Dad said that you were planning your mom’s bridal shower today,” he whispered against her lips, closing his door behind them. “And I was just wondering if you were accepting auditions for a party stripper?”

  Callie grinned as he led her through a luxurious living area punctuated by trendy, cushiony azure hued velvet furnishings, a multi-faceted multi-media center that formed a full corner of the room, and various examples of brass framed fine artwork lining the walls.

  Sitting her down at the edge of a cushiony couch placed just beneath a brass, candle lined chandelier, Hamilton stood tall and proud before her as he flexed and writhed his muscled form; flexing his hard, toned pecs and rolling his washboard abs as he seared her with a hot blue eyed gaze that dripped with seduction.

  “You look incredible,” Callie purred, adding with a playful wink, “I do believe you’re hired.”

  She giggled in spite of herself as Hamilton shook his head—and his hard, trim hips—and wagged a scolding finger in her direction.

  “Well don’t make a final decision,” he purred, gyrating his heaving package full in her face, “without touching the merchandise.”

  With this he took her hands in his, inviting her to touch and caress every inch of his bare, exposed flesh. Ah, but aside from touching the merchandise Callie felt compelled to taste it as well; leaning forward to lick his abs as he writhed and undulated before her.

  She gasped then as he launched himself into her lap and gyrated like a wildcat; his sleek, sexy moves creating a divine friction that turned to fire the moment he kissed her.

  Continuing to wiggle and shimmy in her lap, Hamilton seized his lips in a heated kiss as his agile hands massaged her shoulders; in the process lowering the straps of her fire red sundress slowly down her arms as he gyrated his hips against hers.

  Lowering his head to kiss her exposed breasts, he wrapped his arms around her back and flung himself against her, their bodies now moving and dancing together as he licked her nipples and tickled his fingers down her bare sides and buxom thighs.

  Overwhelmed by the intoxicating effects of his sultry, provocative tease, Callie finally seized Hamilton and plied his lips with a heated kiss; her wandering hands tickling his abs before reaching downward to strip off his ruby red G-string.

  Soon their naked bodies collapsed in a fevered heap in the depths of his velvety couch; their arms and legs entangling to join their lips and tongues in a sexy, succulent tango. They lost themselves in an intimate embrace as their hips and thighs locked between them; their hands also joining as, in a single smooth flourish, he plunged his long, hard shaft to the depths of her soaking wet pussy.

  Their bodies continued to move and writhe together as Hamilton continued his dance on a far more intimate level, thrusting his hips against hers as his cock advanced and retreating—matching with perfection the rhythm of his tongue as it flexed and rolled inside her mouth.

  For a few priceless moments she lost herself in all things Hamilton; running her hands through his thick, dark hair as she inhaled his citrus tinged scent. She purred outright as he massaged her back, letting loose with a lusty growl as—with a long last thrust—he filled his lover to the core.

  The two screamed outright as their bodies exploded in the heat of an incredible climax; one that seized both of them in a haze of ecstasy as their eyes flew open to engage one another in a binding, impassioned gaze.

  Callie knew in that moment that they had made perfect love—and that they probably were destined to remake it time and time again, several more times that very night!

  Ah, but there was more to their forbidden affair than sex. Indeed, the two talked and laughed endlessly about everything from their childhood experiences to their future plans. Callie sang her songs for Hamilton and even wrote a few in his honor; he reciprocated with lavish gifts of rose bouquets, pearl and diamond jewelry, and even a new guitar—a shiny Les Paul model that she’d coveted since her teen-aged years.

  Yet as much as she relished her lover’s company and treasured every moment that they were together, Callie still dreaded the moment that they would stand side by side at the altar; not as a couple ready to marry, but as the adult children of the bride and groom.

  When that day finally arrived, Callie walked down the aisle in a sleek silk dress of rich pink taffeta; roses and baby’s breath weaved into the strands of her soft, fiery hair as delicate slippers adorned her feet.

  On her arm was a gorgeous man who likened a prince from another time; a tall, statuesque, ebony haired cavalier adorned in a smart jet black tuxedo and shiny silk shirt.

  Yet even as every woman in the room admired her escort with wide eyes, he only had eyes for her; pulling her closer to her side as he whispered, “You’re beautiful, my darling. And on this day of love, I simply must say it. I love you, Callie.”

  Nearly dropping the bouquet of pearl pink carnations that occupied her sturdy grasp, Callie strengthened her hold on her lover’s muscled arm.

  “I love you too,” she whispered, daring to hold his gaze for a long, timeless moment as the two finally ap
proached the altar.

  The next few moments passed in a frothy haze for an addled, emotional Callie. Even as she watched her radiant mother, a vision that day in a foot length dress of satin and lace that shone in its hue of purest ivory, join her beloved in the eternal bonds of marriage, and even as she contemplated the bittersweet sight of seeing Jama kiss someone else aside from her beloved father, she still snuck hooded glances at the best man; a gent who returned those glances with grins and winks meant for only her to understand.

  Soon all assembled for the wedding travelled en masse to the Plainview Country Club, the site of their parents’ wedding reception.

  Seated at the long, lace clad table situated at the front of the hall, Callie took a moment to admire its ebullient decorative scheme; a delicate pastiche of white and red rose floral bouquets, ribbons, pennants and banners in the bride’s signature colors of white and pink, and balloons and confetti strewn at various spots throughout the hall. Then her gaze drifted to the center of the floor, where she saw her mother dance a slow, romantic waltz with her beaming new husband.

  She gasped as suddenly her vision was filled with the ebullient image of her own beloved; one who extended his hand across the table and invited her to dance.

  Soon she too swirled across the dance floor in the arms of a dashing, handsome partner; one who twirled and swayed her across the floor as they stared deep into one another’s eyes.

  “This day has been beautiful,” Callie whispered, gracing her beloved with a beneficent smile.

  Hamilton sniffed.

  “Oh it was fine, I suppose, for a ceremony that took place in Florida—as opposed to, say, Italy or France, where they really do it up right,” he chided with a caustic arched eyebrow, adding more seriously, “What I really mean to say, bella, is that this day was not as beautiful as the woman in my arms. In the days that I have spent with you, Callie, you have changed the way I look at my life—you have changed me. And while I’m so sorry about the way I treated you at the beginning, I swear that I will spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. I love you, Callie.”

  With these words he swept her up into two loving arms and seared her lips with a binding kiss; his full, moist mouth seizing hers as he pressed his body to hers. Their public surroundings dissolved around them as she leaned into his kiss, sinking in his arms as their tongues began their own intimate tango.

  The moment was fleeting.

  “What in the hell do you two think you’re doing?”

  Jumping away from the secret lover who was really no longer a secret, Callie turned to face the source of this furious, thundering voice; one that assumed the imposing form of her new stepfather.

  She said nothing in response to his angry words; only stood still and stoic as her calm, composed lover went to stand stock still in front of his father.

  “I’m sorry, Father, this is all my fault. We didn’t mean for you to find out this way,” he told him, adding as he folded his arms before him, “The fact remains that Callie and I have fallen in love.”

  Callie cringed as her mother erupted in a loud, sharp sob; clutching her long, smooth skirts as she raced in the direction of a corner restroom.

  Taking off in pursuit of a distraught Jama, Callie rushed through a door that she was sorely afraid would be slammed in her face; coming to stand beside a woman who now wept openly into a pile of freshly retrieved bathroom tissue.

  “Mom, I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered, fixing a tender hand on the surface of her mother’s small, quaking shoulder. “We didn’t mean for this to happen….”

  She cringed as her mother jumped away from her, scowling outright as she pointed an accusing finger in her direction.

  “Just shut up and dispense with the excuses, young lady!” she bellowed, the dark eyes that mirrored her own flashing in anger. “How could you humiliate me on my wedding day? How could you be messing around with the man who was about to become your stepbrother?”

  Callie had heard enough.

  “How could you marry a man who is not my father, when Dad has only been gone for two years?” she spat out, adding as she raised a defensive hand in the direction of her mother, “Before you disown me forever, which I’m sure you’re more than tempted to do, allow me to answer that last question for you. You’re marrying Harry because you fell in love with him. He was your boss, probably the last person you wanted to fall for—but you fell anyway because you just couldn’t help yourself. And, on this day above any other, you realize that you wouldn’t have it any other way.” She paused here, adding as she spread her arms in a broad, expressive gesture, “It wasn’t easy for me, Mom, to watch you walk down the aisle with someone other than my father—but I did it. I did it for you.” She paused here, adding in a soft, sincere tone, “Can’t you at least try to understand, Mom? Like I understood?”

  Sniffing back her tears, Jama stared at her for a long, tense moment. Then, with a heavy sigh, she opened her arms to her.

  “I’ll try, baby,” she told the daughter she cradled in her arms. “I’ll try.”

  Moments later they emerged from the restroom to walk arm in arm onto a quiet dance floor; where Harry and Hamilton also stood clasped in a loving hug.

  It didn’t seem a moment too soon when Callie moved once again into the arms of her lover; the two of them reuniting at the center of the dance floor, to commence a slow dance that both did hope would last the rest of their lives.

  THE END

  FORBIDDEN ESCAPE

  Billionaire Stepbrother Romance

  Chapter One

  Talk about a change in scenery.

  Just a few months ago, she mused, Callie Bradford had taken up temporary residence in a modest dorm room at Dorchester Women’s College; a compact, sparsely furnished room that counted a toaster oven and a decorative poster reading, “No frat guys allowed—unless of course you bear a passing resemblance to Chris Hemsworth or Henry Cavill” as upscale decorative accents, and—as roommates—one gal who suffered from a chronic snoring problem and another who suffered from an equally chronic case of Multiple Personality Disorder (ah, but only one of the personae snored—that was one bonus, at least).

  Now she had taken up temporary residence in a five star Las Vegas hotel room; an expansive, elegant three room suite that counted a canopied four poster silk clad bed, a domed ceiling featuring a mural of angels in flight across a gem blue sky, a brass, candle-lined chandelier, and polished cherry wood furnishings as decorative accents and someone who actually did bear a passing resemblance to Henry Cavill as a roommate—and who, as an added bonus, had a bank account that likened that of any given Rockefeller.

  Not a bad sitch, as her teen-aged cousin would say, especially considering that she was currently enjoying a luxurious honeymoon trip with said heavenly hunk, otherwise known as Hamilton Sanders.

  There was just one problem, though. She and her lover had not taken a luxurious honeymoon trip for themselves, but in honor and in the accompaniment of two people who were very close to them - his father, Harry Sanders, and her mother, Jama Bradford.

  “Well I guess it would be Jama Sanders, now,” Callie mused now, biting her lip as she sunk low in the whisper soft lavender comforter that covered her deluxe four-poster bed. “I certainly hope against all hope that Harry does not try to adopt me. Then we’ll all be headed for guaranteed guest spots on a cable talk show they broadcast at four in the morning, in between select Jumbo Juicer infomercials and reruns of Laverne and Shirley. Of course, I hear that they offer really keen craft services tables on the sets of those productions—and a big ol’ cash bonus if you get into a fist fight with another guest.”

  At one point, she mused; she and Hamilton easily could have fulfilled this stipulation on the day they met. Indeed, while she immediately hit it off with Harry Sanders—the seasoned financial executive who was her mother’s boss for two years before he became her husband—she immediately yearned to hit his brash, arrogant son.

  “At first I did not rig
htly believe that I could tolerate having Hamilton Sanders as a stepbrother,” she mused, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “Then, within 24 hours, he became my lover. Criminy, Callie. Why do you do this to yourself?”

  Then said lover emerged from the bathroom; reminding her all too well as to why she had gone and done this to herself.

  The tall, muscular man who now filled her line of vision boasted a thick, full mane of jet ebony hair that framed a sculpted face; one that came complete with chiseled cheekbones, full, moist lips and wide, gorgeous azure eyes.

  Dressed that evening in a sleek black suit that seemed to be culled from the finest velvet, the stunning man graced her with a dazzling white-toothed smile as he leaned forward to grace her lips with a soft, sweet kiss.

  “So, Darling,” he purred, his deep, masculine voice sending quivers down her spine. “How do you like Vegas?”

  Callie smiled.

  “I love it,” she enthused, adding as he took a seat beside her on the bed, “I tell you, Hamilton, there are so many things I want to see here—including, of course, the Rock’n’Roll Museum at the Hard Rock Café. Have you heard that they have Jimi Hendrix’ signature Stratocaster on display, plus the guitars of Carlos Santana and Paul McCartney? I also hope that they have a Janis Joplin exhibit, like they do at the Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland—and they should feature Joan Jett pretty prominently, as she was just inducted into the Hall of Fame.”

  Hamilton chuckled.

  “My question is,” he whispered, leaning forward to erase all distance between them, “When are we going to see the Callie Bradford exhibit at the Rock’n’Roll Museum—and, for that matter, at the Hall of Fame?”

  Callie rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, I’m sure that they have a special display reserved for honor roll music education majors,” she snorted, adding with an affectionate grin in the direction of her admiring companion, “Although I must say that, now being able to write and practice my tunes on the wonderful Les Paul model you gave me, I feel that I am one step closer to my dream career. Maybe someday I will indeed play to packed crowds at stadiums around the world—and not just at the student union hall and at Benny’s Bar and Grill just off campus.”