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

by Donovan, Astrid Lee

  “God, you look so fucking hot, Zoe.”

  I reached up to pull his face in line with mine. “So, about that talk…?”

  “Oh, fuck the talking. If you want this, I want this, and we can figure out the particulars later on.” His voice was harsh and serious, and I wondered if I was seeing the side of Mitch that had everyone in his college falling over him. I assumed so - after all, who could say no to that voice, that face? Grasping my face between his hands, he kissed me, his mouth firm and urgent on mine. This wasn’t like last night, where we’d had time to luxuriate in each other - this was a time-pressure situation, and it was totally hot. We were still standing up when I felt his hand undoing the halter at the back of my dress, letting it fall to the floor around my feet.

  He pulled away to look at me, biting his lip as he ran his strong hand down from my collarbone to my waist, brushing across my exposed nipples. “All this time, I thought you were just some corporate college-grad without an adventurous bone in your body…”

  “Hey!” I snapped. Sure, I hadn’t exactly thought the most flattering things about him before this had happened either, but I didn’t announce them to him.

  “…But here you are about to have a quickie in the middle of a party.” He qualified his statement, and my heart leapt when I realized that I was right - we were seriously about to fuck for the first time. It felt both weird and appropriate that we were doing it in my old bedroom, but I didn’t have time to linger on that thought for long as Mitch began to strip off in front of me.

  I watched, mesmerised, as he took off his shirt and jeans, revealing a toned, taut body that I never would have expected from him. I stepped forward, nervous, and ran my hands across his arms, feeling the muscle under my fingers. He shivered slightly, and I giggled, feeling a little intoxicated by the desire he felt for me. I had never felt more wanted in all my life as he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against him, nothing but his boxers between me and his ever-growing cock.

  Reaching down, I slid my hand in his underwear, wrapping my fingers around the impressive girth of his erection. His hands found my ass, groping and grabbing at the flesh beneath the thin layer of my cotton panties- it felt so good to just feel each other, to feel our hands touching and caressing and enjoying each other’s flesh. Being this intimate with Mitch was still kind of a shock, but feeling his thick cock in my hand made it that much more real. Dropping to my knees, I removed his erection from his trousers, allowing my breath to dance over his sensitive head before I swirled my tongue around him and took him into my mouth.

  He let out a soft moan, a sound that seemed to echo through my head, as I held him inside me, moving my tongue up and down his shaft and feeling his eight inches swell even stiffer. Reaching down to caress his balls, I felt his hand in my hair, guiding me down further, until his cock hit the back of my throat. He slowly flexed his hips, sliding back and forth in my mouth as my tongue fluttered across his cock head. As I got into the task, I slid a hand down between my legs, suddenly taking notice of the needy pressure building in my groin.

  He opened his eyes and glanced down, seeing my hand in my panties. “Oh, so it’s like that, is it?”

  Before I had a chance to ask him what he meant, he had pulled me to my feet and spun me around so that I was half bent-over my bed. He ripped my panties down, and I heard the rip of foil behind me. Holy shit, we were about to fuck. I arched my back to allow him easier access to my pussy, my heart thumping and my palms sweating with anticipation. Was I this horny because I hadn’t had sex in a while, or because I knew it was Mitch about to screw me? A little from column A and a lot from column B, I surmised, as he positioned his head at the entrance to my slit. Maybe it was the forbidden nature of our encounter, but I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt more turned-on.

  “Ready?” He asked gently.

  I could only manage a nod again, as he slowly eased himself into my pussy. Jesus, he was big - I could feel myself stretching to accommodate him, my sex balancing between pain and pleasure as he fed the whole of his impressive cock into me. He held himself inside me for a moment, as if savouring the feeling, and then he began to move.

  “Play with yourself, Zoe. Just like you were when you were sucking my dick. I want to feel you come on me.”

  His words were harsh, but it was that harshness that made me so keen to obey him. I reached down and began to circle my clit again, the external stimulation combining with the internal in a way that I’d never felt before. Fuck, this was good. No matter how much I wanted to hang on to this sweet, frustrating pleasure, I could feel my orgasm growing within me. I tried to grind my hips back into his cock, desperate to feel him deeper, harder, anything that would tip me over the edge. Pressing down hard on my clit, I let out a groan, and felt my pussy clench around his thick erection.

  “Ah!” I heard him cry from behind me, as he slammed his hips against mine one more time, pushing himself deep inside me and gripping on to my tits with his hands. I felt his cock twitch as he reached his climax, before he slowly pulled himself out, releasing his grip on my body. Exhausted, I flopped forward on to the bed, all my panic and stress and wondering about today lost for a moment. Nothing mattered in those few seconds we spent post-orgasm, our bodies thankful for each other.

  Chapter Five

  “Shit, the speech!” His words broke my reverie as he hastened to gather his clothes together and get back outside. I sprang up too, wondering how long we’d been gone, and grabbed for my dress. Had anyone heard us? No one would suspect anything was going on, would they? We couldn’t have been gone more than twenty minutes. Surely. Oh, crap.

  I hastily dressed myself, demanding that Mitch wait for me so I wouldn’t have to out there in my just-fucked state and face my family. He was hopping up and down at the door, waiting for me, when I finally got my dress done up and hurried to meet him. Even in the panic, I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked, and his eyes softened before I could get the door open. He leant down and pressed a kiss against my lips, before slowly drawing back as if he was savouring the taste of me.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you yesterday,” he smiled shyly, in a most un-Mitch-like fashion. Was he giving me the whole romance thing I’d been so firmly sure he couldn’t? The butterflies in my stomach certainly agreed. Before I could linger on that thought any longer, I hurried him out the door, getting him to the garden just in time for my Aunt Paula to triumphantly shout, “here he is!”

  Eva grabbed Mitch’s arm, handed him a small glass of champagne, and stepped back to let him do his speech, even though he was still a little out of breath. For once, I was actually looking forward to one of Mitch’s traditional family speeches, the kind that came at every gathering because he was the best out of all of us at public speaking. Raising his glass, he waited patiently for the hubbub in the garden to die down a little. Soon, all eyes were on him, and he began to speak.

  “So, we’re all here today to celebrate the tenth wedding anniversary of my dear Mom, Eva, and her husband George,” he began, nodding at Eva and my Dad, who were standing hand in hand a few feet away. “I guess I was always meant to hate my step-father, but I just didn’t have it in me, old man.” My Dad smiled broadly.

  “I want to keep this quick, because I’m sure we all want to get back to our drinking and our big piles of barbecue that my mom will be furious over if we don’t finish every bite. So, congratulations George and Eva. You’re proof that sometimes the people we love turn up when we need them most, in the most unexpected of circumstances, whether it’s after divorce, or a decade of knowing each other.” His eyes darted to me, and I felt a surge of affection suddenly move through my body. He continued. “Without you, I wouldn’t have the extended family I have in front of me today, and for that, thank you both.”

  He nodded and smiled, taking a sip of his champagne, and shot a look over at me once the applause had died down. I looked back at him, trying to figure out what the feelings exploding acros
s my entire body were trying to tell me. But I thought I already had a pretty good idea.

  I’m not saying it was the easiest thing ever, dating my stepbrother who lived several states away, but we made it work. We kept things quiet at first, flying out to see each other whenever we could, until he found a decent job designing comic book covers in my city. He moved out to be nearer to me, and soon we were dating just like any other couple, even if we did tend to be quiet about how we met.

  And yes, we did eventually tell our parents. I think Eva had suspected for quite a while, because she didn’t seem all that shocked by the revelation, but either way they both took it surprisingly well. I think they were just stunned that we hadn’t gotten together sooner, all things considered.

  And so that was that - Mitch and I fell in love. It seemed appropriate that the first time we’d connected was at a tenth anniversary party, especially now that we were heading for two years together. One thing we were always very careful not to mention, though? The fact that we hooked up halfway through a family barbecue. Because no matter how close you are to your relatives, there’s some stuff they don’t want to hear.

  THE END

  The Viking Queen And Her Warriors

  MFM Menage Romance

  In Tribute to the Queen

  And so it has been told in the annals of Viking lore the story of the queen who harbored two kings, great and faithful Norse warriors who pledged their lives and their fidelity to one magnificent woman. Queen Astrid, Norse maiden of Sweden, claimed two hearts and dual bodies, both of which she held in equitable acclaim for all her days on earth. And so this is how their story commences….

  Chapter One

  Riding high on the crystalline waves of the sparkling North Sea, the gold-hued longship known as Astrid’s Dream gleamed in the glory of the afternoon sun; its tall scarlet sails and jewel-encased helm, one that took the form of an exquisite swan’s head with eyes that glittered diamonds, both glowing resplendent as the ship approached its native home base of Birka, Sweden.

  Magnus the great warrior, the keeper and captain of this heralded Norse vessel, always basked in the vision of the ship that he helmed with his brother, Eirik, one that the two piloted on journeys that took them all around the world—trading and selling the goods crafted and produced in their home village, in their beloved clan of Sigrid.

  “Our honorable Queen Astrid insisted on naming the clan in honor of Sigrid the Haughty, one of the bravest and proudest of Norse women,” Magnus reflected, keen gaze focused straight ahead of him as a vast expanse of crystal blue ocean gave way to the appearance of golden land. “Aye, but she would—our dear Astrid is herself a portrait of strength and nobility. I daresay I worship that woman as I would the greatest Norse goddess.”

  “Are ya talking to yourself, my brother?” Magnus’ grin broadened as he heard the deep, robust voice of his younger brother Eirik, the man who now approached him at the helm of their ship. “Indeed, if you continue to display such insane behavior—insane, I daresay, even for a warrior—then I just may have to seize command of the ship.”

  Erupting in laughter, the two brothers exploded in hearty, robust chortles as they clapped each other’s backs.

  “Nah my brother,” Magnus shook his head, adding as he kept his gaze trained on the sparkling land mass before them, “I simply was taking a moment to reflect on our wondrous queen, Astrid the Good, one who constantly realizes her reputation as a kind, strong leader—just as she always embodies and demonstrates the literal meaning of her name, which as you know translates to ‘godlike beauty.’”

  Eirik nodded.

  “Well while I am not certain that I would deem our queen a beauty, at least in the traditional sense,” he offered in a low, reverent tone, “She is indeed an incredible woman. Who could have imagined that a peaceable queen, one that taught us to bargain for goods as opposed to stealing or pillaging them, who also reminds us to be kind to all, especially women, also could reign among the most powerful Cheiftans in all of Scandinavia?” He paused here, adding with a broad smile, “Astrid is a great lady, true to her name—it’s a shame, then, that she seems a bit lonesome at times.”

  Magnus arched his eyebrows.

  “The queen? Lonesome?” he asked, adding with lips pursed, “Eirik, Astrid has told us repeatedly that she desire no mate—that she is married to our clan. How could she be lonesome?”

  Eirik sighed.

  “Well perhaps lonesome is not the right word,” he amended, adding in a lowered tone, “I hesitate to mention this, my brother, but about a moon ago I happened to overhear a conversation that transpired in Astrid’s longhouse, between her and her sister Inga. She mentioned that, with all the time she expends ruling and caring for our clan and village, she has little time for, um, other pursuits.”

  Magnus shook his head.

  “Other pursuits?” he repeated, adding with a chuckle, “I daresay the gal guzzles just as much ale as we do, and she regularly bests us at foot races; a fact which rather troubles me, in all honesty….”

  “I do believe the good queen was referring to carnal pursuits,” Eirik interrupted, adding in a tentative tone, “She told her sister that it has been ages since she enjoyed the company of a man—and that, as much as she reigns as a proud and powered queen, she is still a woman who has certain needs, so to speak.”

  Magnus nodded.

  “Say no more, my brother,” he declared, adding as he raised his sturdy hand high in the air, “As you well know, Eirik, that woman has bestowed upon us riches and tokens beyond our wildest imagination, as well as both the well-honed skills and the gallant longship that we need to carry out her missions—thus helping us to secure our position among the wealthiest Norsemen in all the lands. Most of all, she has given us heart—a commodity that comes all too rare to the beings of many a warrior.” He paused here, adding with a sharp, defined nod, “The least we can give in return, my brother, is the free use of our bodies and bed skills to in all ways satisfy and satiate her long neglected needs.”

  Eirik jumped.

  “OUR bodies and skills?” he echoed, adding in a disbelieving tone, “You mean both of us at once? The two of us in her bed, filling the wants of her body?”

  Magnus shook his head.

  “Not only the wants of her body, Eirik, but also the desires of her heart and mind,” he corrected his brother. “That fine woman deserves romantic gestures and tender overtures, those sweet accents that tend to elude the vast majority of warriors.”

  Eirik nodded.

  “Tis true,” he acknowledged, “The average berserker, with his skull helmet and typically blood soaked sword, is not the most romantic of figures—not precisely known for his tender love of sentimental, poetically composed ballads and daffodil bouquets in the fullest, richest of bloom. Yet thanks to the nurturance and guidance of our most benevolent queen, we are better, more loving men.”

  Magnus snorted.

  “We also happen to be unattached and seafaring gents who have yet to make an offer for a maiden bride,” he reminded his brother, adding with a wink, “What better men to love our fair queen, to satisfy her longings and make her feel—not only like a fearless queen—but like a full and free woman? A well-pleasured woman of passion, who leaves no fantasy unfulfilled.”

  Eirik grinned.

  “So then, my good brother,” he cocked his head sharp in Magnus’ direction, “We shall encourage and allow our queen to conquer us?”

  “At least,” Magnus agreed with a wicked smile.

  Chapter Two

  Walking tall and proud across the hard stone floor of her timber made longhouse, Queen Astrid of the Clan of Sigrid projected what she hoped was a portrait of sleek regality; one characterized by her flowing gown of rich scarlet red embroidered with rich, ebullient rosettes at the collar and cuffs, a silver necklace carved in the shape of a luminous crescent moon, and—of course—the shining golden helmet that sat atop her waist length mane of chestnut brown hair, that signified her s
tatus as the queen of her clan.

  Far more valuable than any of these symbolic tokens, in her mind, was the kind, abiding smile that she bestowed on her people. The gentle expression that gave them leave to approach her, to break bread with her, to share with her their problems and concerns, and to relay their requests and suggestions in regards to the running of their clan, which reigned among the strongest and most elite in all of Scandinavia.

  It was this tender beam, along with her wide eyes of cinnamon brown, that others noted as the only evidence of traditional feminine beauty to be found on the form of Astrid; a tall, sturdy woman possessing of lean, well developed muscles and hard, angular features.

  Yet Astrid cared little for the traps and conventions of traditional beauty, the type that maidens used to lure potential husbands. As the proud and reigning queen of a Viking clan, she had no need for a king, particularly not when she had at her disposal an ever ready army of muscle-bound warriors ready to defend and protect her; to do her bidding in a world where she aimed to accrue wealth and power while spreading and promoting peace and civility in the lands that she and her warriors travelled.

  Rather, she regarded her smile as the signature symbol of her kindness and beneficence. This was the very thing that drew and bound her clan of one hundred Swedes, the same good folk that she guarded and protected through the sheer force of her strength and intellect.

  This beam broadened considerably now as she considered the impending arrival of her two most prominent and accomplished officers; outstanding young gentlemen who, in their little more than two decades of existence, already had accrued impressive experience as warriors, traders, adventurers, guards, and councilmen to the queen.

  Although eight and five years her junior, respectively, the brothers Magnus and Eirik also ranked among her dearest, most beloved friends; men with whom she always felt free to talk, laugh, and play endless games.