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

by Donovan, Astrid Lee

  Standing at the center of a group shot that also featured three other snarling and appropriately angry and rebellious looking young men, Spyder shone in a form fitting sleek leather jacket that accentuated every defined bulge and plane of his bronzed, lean muscled body and black kohl eye liner that gave him just a touch of retro and accentuated his gorgeous chiseled features.

  “Beautiful,” she breathed, reaching forth her fingertips to touch and outline his glossy, glorious image.

  “Why thank you, Miss.”

  She jumped in spite of herself as she suddenly realized that she wasn’t alone.

  “Criminy, there I go thinking out loud again,” she whispered, turning to face the three dimensional rendering of the image she’d seen earlier.

  And, if possible, the man before her easily outshone his photographic image.

  Dressed in the same skin tight black leather jacket portrayed in the picture, Spyder’s sleek ebony hair shone and was framing a face also adorned with a light sheen of stage make up and a familiar and very brilliant smile.

  “You look amazing,” he praised her, adding as he offered her his hand, “I have a few minutes before my show. Care to dance?”

  Soon Nicole found herself dancing through a dream; clasped against the tall, lean muscled body that had filled her dreams every night since he had met its mysterious owner.

  Wrapping her arms around his bulging shoulders, she savored the sway of his hard muscled hips against hers as her breasts crushed his perfect pecs; the long, silken strands of his ebony hair brushing soft against her chest as his citrus tinged scent filled her senses.

  Swinging her across the rustic tiled dance floor that distinguished the main performance hall of the Rock Pile Club, Spyder’s long, trim legs moved in perfect time to a hard rock ballad that poured from a nearby jukebox; his beautiful bronzed face shining in the room’s low light as he drew back to sear her with a warm, sweet gaze.

  “I’m so glad you decided to come here tonight,” he told her, pulling her closer still as he added, “I wasn’t sure you would.”

  Nicole smiled.

  “Well I just might end up surprising you tonight,” she told him with a wink, adding in a lower tone, “In more ways than one.”

  She took in her breath as her amorous dance partner pulled her flush up against him; inviting her to feel the outline of his massive chest, his rock hard abs, and the noticeable bulge that strained the threads of its skin tight covering.

  “Well then do allow me to get a head start,” he whispered soft and low, “by doing something that just might surprise you.”

  She took in her breath as he seized her lips in a hot, passionate kiss; his full, warm mouth massaging hers as his sturdy hands clenched and enshrouded her waist.

  Sinking against him with a contented sigh, Nicole basked in his affections as he continued to ply her lips with the sweetest of kisses; their tongues entangling between them as their breaths merged and their bodies clung closer together.

  The couple’s hands joined between them as their joined lips ignited in a divine friction that threatened to drive her insane; causing her public surroundings to dissolve around her as their kiss seemed to catch fire.

  All too soon though, the moment passed.

  “Spyder? Hate to interrupt, dude, but we do have a show to do.”

  Freezing in Spyder’s arms, Nicole shifted her head to see that their private haven had been rudely disrupted by the presence of a third party: a slender man with jet black fingernails and shockingly purple hair.

  Forcing a smile as she recognized the man from the poster she’d seen in the lobby, Nicole nodded in his direction and said, “Oh hi! You must be a member of the Lightning Rods.”

  The man rolled his eyes heavenward—and sharp in the direction of his fluorescent purple widow’s peak.

  “Brilliant deduction,” he sniffed in her direction, “considering that you probably just saw my picture on the poster out there.”

  Spyder froze.

  “Neo!” he admonished his apparent bandmate, pointing an accusing finger in his direction, “You apologize to this kind lady. Now.”

  Nicole snorted.

  “And how brilliant are you, dude, that you just flat out insulted someone who just paid admission to see your band,” she reminded him, holding up the basic orange paper ticket she’d procured at the front door. “And that you call yourself Neo.”

  Neo scowled.

  “Whatever,” he sniffed, adding with a sideways glance in Spyder’s direction, “What ya doing dancing with her, anyway? You know we have a whole group of hot models coming to see the show tonight.”

  Spyder had heard enough.

  “I cannot believe that you would be so rude and inappropriate, Neo,” he snapped, wrapping a protective arm around Nicole’s broad shoulders as he demanded, “Apologize to my friend.”

  Neo said nothing, just shot a demoralizing look in the direction of a smirking Nicole as he repeated, “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Brilliant comeback, rock star,” Nicole snapped with a smirk, adding as she wrapped her arm around Spyder’s trim waist and gracing him with a reassuring squeeze, “It sounds like your band might need you for rehearsals. Go on, then—we’ll talk after the show.”

  An hour later Nicole found herself standing front row center at the Rock Pile; now surrounded by a throng of excited girls as she just barely managed to hear the opening strains of a Lightning Rods show.

  Of course, she couldn’t exactly blame the throng of yelping, drooling young ladies who crowded the stage before her; cheering, hooting and out and out hollering as they observed the vision of beauty in motion.

  His long, luxurious mane of silken midnight black hair waving like a flag around his gorgeous, chiseled head, the enigmatic Spyder swayed and slithered his sculpted body as he crooned and screamed the lyrics to the songs that he penned himself.

  She couldn’t drag her gaze from his flawless image as he threw his head back and flexed his pecs; gyrating his trim muscled hips to sensual effect as he sang forth with the cry of the siren.

  Her funny, affable pupil morphed before her wide, desirous eyes; becoming a sex god and a mystical phantom, a glorious force of nature who ruled the stage with his smooth, deep, melodious vocal stylings and rhythmic, seductive dance moves.

  Moved by the music, Nicole moved as if in a dream toward the stage; taking her place among the throng of adoring fans who thrust their arms in the air and screamed his name aloud.

  Standing stock still at first with her hands folded before her, she soon surrendered to the sheer, irresistible lure of the sound; her curvaceous body swinging and swaying in time to the rocking rhythms.

  Losing herself to the feeling, her movements quickened as her hips swung back and forth and her own arms hoisted in the air; her face breaking out in a gleeful smile as she felt younger and freer than she had in ages.

  Her public surroundings once again dissolving around her, she focused her gaze on the gorgeous man who held his audience in the palm of his hand; the wild man who now gazed upon her with the familiar sweet smile that she’d come to adore.

  Returning his beam in full, Nicole’s dance moves grew quick and frantic as she lost herself to the beat, moving closer to the stage as her rocker leaned forward to sear her with a sultry gaze; tossing the length of his silky hair full in her face as he crooned a chorus of his most seductive song specific for her benefit.

  “I want to tease you and please you,” he crooned in a low, sexy growl, “I want to rock your world.”

  Her eyes widening at these suggestive words, she stared for a timeless moment into his eyes—then for an even more timeless moment at his thighs, as he gyrated his hips full in her face.

  Feeling her head shift back and forth, hypnotically and in time with his movements, Nicole giggled in spite of herself as her heart pounded and her pussy gushed in a fit of sudden, unrestrained arousal. She’d never wanted a man more; and she’d never before experienced the sensation of be
ing the ‘hot girl’ in the crowd.

  For a few precious moments she and Spyder stood face to face at the front of the stage; with him continuing to serenade her and dance for her pleasure.

  Finally he broke their gaze, leaving her with a teasing wink as he backed away from her to turn his attention to the other lusty ladies in the crowd.

  Shifting her own gaze elsewhere on the stage, she shot a triumphant smile in the direction of a stunned Neo; who—as expected—mouthed the word “Whatever” in her direction before turning his glimmering bass guitar pointedly in another direction.

  Her smile dissolved as she heard a spate of giggles erupt from just behind her; a sound that seemed to erupt from a lovely, generously endowed group of women who seemed to gather in a flock at the center of the dance floor.

  “Is that what they call an organized group of bimbos? A flock? Or perhaps I should more properly reference them as a band or a pack?” she mused to herself, adding with a slight smile, “If nothing else, I’d wager that those gals do indeed constitute the ‘whole group of hot models coming to see the show tonight’ that Neo referenced earlier.”

  Poised to turn around and engage the lot of them in a robust round of sisterly high fives, she froze as she heard the apparent ‘head of the flock’—a tall, statuesque blonde with abnormally sizable mammaries up front—said in an abnormally loud ‘confidential whisper,’ “You gotta love it when the band guys give fan service to the fatties. The sad part is, because of that little serenade and bump and grind, that poor gal probably thinks that Spyder has a genuine interest in her.”

  Gritting her teeth, Nicole turned to the girl with a single smooth flourish and said, “A ‘fatty’ I may be, Madame, but at least everything on my body is natural and original. You won’t find an ounce of silicone or acrylic on any part or portion of my anatomy. Can you say the same? I also happen to make my money with my brain, not my body. Can you say the same? And while you are pondering these two pivotal questions, let me rush to assure you; I do not believe that Spyder has an interest in me because of his recent, very sweet serenade.” She paused here, lifting her chin to proud effect as she added, “If anything this belief spurns from the fact that, I know him personally and he’s made it very clear that he’s interested.”

  Rather enjoying the look of abject shock that crossed the features of the stunned stripper, Nicole returned her attention to the stage; where Spyder and his bandmates continued to belt out their signature brand of music, singing, dancing and playing to the crowd as their set continued for another solid hour.

  Aside from being aroused and intrigued by Spyder’s sensual performance style, Nicole reveled in both the humor and the richness of his lyrics. Indeed, despite their simplistic titles, many of his songs showed strong lyrical structures and well-constructed bridges; and, in some cases, he injected a strong dose of heart and sentiment into his songs.

  One of his ballads, titled “Lonely Hearts,” even managed to pull at her own heart strings, as it told the story of a young man looking for love in what often proved to be a cold, lonely world.

  She wondered if, just perhaps, this particular song was autobiographical in nature; and judging by the way that the tune’s lyricist now stared at her with deep, soulful eyes, enunciating every lyric as he seemed to sing to her alone, she knew without a doubt that her assumption was correct.

  Once again Spyder knelt by the side of the stage and treated her to a soulful serenade, staring deep into her eyes as he sang of his heartache.

  Finally the set came to a close, and the band retreated backstage; leaving their audience to scatter as individual members sought their own personal pursuits. Some retreated to the bar to order drinks, some fed the jukebox with coins and took to the dance floor, still others paired off in kissing couples and took leave of the club.

  Personally, Nicole liked this third option; it was one that she herself hoped to pursue the moment that her sexy, gorgeous rocker emerged from his dressing room.

  She in fact felt his absence oh so keenly the moment he cleared the stage; and she sincerely hoped that, the moment he reappeared, the two of them could retreat to a private place and explore their newfound feelings for one another.

  Her heart pounded and her body brimmed with hard, raw desire as she contemplated everything Spyder: his beauty, his kisses, his talents—he seemed every inch the perfect man. And, as an added bonus, he seemed to know a good woman when he found one.

  “Oh, I’m sure that many people—including the good ol’ model flock now seated at the table directly behind mine, a fact which does precious little to add to my comfort and enjoyment this evening—would far prefer to see him with a super model,” she mused, adding with an affirming nod, “but they don’t know him like I do.”

  After ordering several Shirley Temples and heaving a sigh of relief when the flock finally flew, apparently giving up on the band and escaping instead with some extremely elated roadies, a suddenly restless Nicole stood from her table and roamed around the club; stopping to talk with other fans of the band and make a few random jukebox selections before finally perusing a row of autographed musician photos that lined the basic wood paneled walls of the Rock Pile.

  “Ah, so the Journey tribute band Long Road Trip played here at one point. How did I miss that?” she mused, all the while sneaking a sideways glance at the backstage door.

  It had been nearly an hour, she mused, since the Lightning Rods had retreated to their dressing room.

  “And since Spyder arrived at the venue already trussed up in ready to go and dressed for his performance, I’m not specifically sure why he needed to go back to a thusly called dressing room in the first place,” she mused, “unless, of course, it was to pack up his equipment and have a convo with his bandmates about upcoming shows.”

  As a last resort, she decided to try a revolutionary method of reaching out and communicating with the man who she wanted back in her presence—pronto!

  She walked up to the dressing room door. And knocked.

  “Wow, what a concept,” she mused, rolling her eyes heavenward as she popped knuckles against wood.

  Her smile of expectation dissolved to a confused frown moments later, as her summons was answered by a short, pudgy, balding man wearing a ketchup splattered T-shirt that read ‘I brake for blondes, booze and boobs.’

  “Well I guess we all have priorities in life,” she mused in silence, adding aloud, “Are you with the band?”

  The man snorted.

  “Yeah, don’t I wish, sweetheart,” as he waved in the direction of the back door, “If I was with the band, then I’d have split with them about half an hour ago, when they bailed to hang out with that pack of models. As it turns out, though, I’m just a lackey here at the club.”

  Nicole started.

  “But the flock flew—that is, those women left with the roadies,” she countered.

  The man shook his head.

  “The boys left at the same time, just out a different exit,” he explained, adding with a shrug, “I think they were going to meet up with the gals at a hotel downtown, where they’re all having a big party.” He paused here, adding with a wistful sigh, “Wish I had gotten an invite.”

  Nicole looked at him a long moment, then nodded.

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “Same here.”

  Chapter Four

  Nicole left the club in a haze that evening; feelings of anger and confusion threatening to overcome her as she climbed into her basic compact car and began the long trek home.

  Soon she found herself ensconced in a cocoon of warm cotton sheets; seeking comfort and nurturance in their succoring depths as she strove to push away the memory of the man who’d hurt both her feelings and her pride.

  “Never should have trusted him or believed his phony come ons,” she sniffed, adding as she shook her head from side to side, “I can’t believe what a fool I was—how could I just let him totally snow me like that?”

  Her troubled meditation was disrupted
by the sound of a loud, sharp knock at her door; one that made her shoot upward in bed as she considered its probable source.

  “Who could it be at one in the flippin’ morning?” she gritted her teeth, taking a cautionary look at her bedside clock as she made for the door.

  “Who is it?” she called through the solid wooden panel that separated her from her unwanted visitor.

  “It’s me, Nicole,” she cringed as Spyder’s low, deep voice flowed free through this barrier. “Please let me in, I need to talk to you.”

  Nicole shook her head.

  “It’s too late to say your good nights, Spyder,” she told him, adding as she folded her arms before her, “Go back to your groupies and leave me alone.”

  Spyder sighed.

  “Listen, Nicole, I didn’t want to go to that party. The guys shoved me out the back door before I even knew what was happening. I should have stopped them but…I guess I just didn’t,” he finished on a weary sigh, adding in a near pleading tone, “Look, I just made a brief appearance at the party before heading over here. I have to talk to you.”

  It was Nicole’s turn to sigh—and deeply.

  “From now on, Spyder, I’d greatly prefer that we stick to talking about academic and learning-related subjects,” she scoffed, “and that’s it.”

  Spyder cleared his throat.

  “Well actually, that’s part of the reason as to why I’m here,” he told her. “I need your advice on something. Badly, Nicole.”

  Shaking her head with a long, resigned sigh, Nicole unlocked and opened the door that stood between them; almost gasping outright as she beheld the vision of a man transformed.

  Obviously, she mused, Spyder had taken the time to change in the changing room after all; trading in his stage outfit for a long, sleek pleather coat that fell well past his knees.

  “Um, nice wrap,” she offered, fixing him with a sideways gaze as she ushered him inside and closed and locked the door behind him. “Now, what all important essay question do you have for me at one in the a.m.?”

  Spyder bit his lip.