All the Best Men: An MFMM Menage Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  And I did my best. I loosened my jaw as if I were a boa constrictor consuming its prey, and focused on stifling my gag reflex, willing myself to fellate a world-record dong. It must have felt good because even though he wasn’t all the way in yet, Logan released.

  “FUUUUCK!” he growled, grabbing my blonde hair, pushing my mouth down on his dick to make sure none of the semen escaped. Spurt after spurt of hot white rushed into me, like a fire hose pulsing its white, steamy spray.

  In the meantime, Lance’s rhythm in my cunt had picked up and I guess those soft pussy folds were too much for him because he too gave it up, cumming hard in my vag.

  “AWWW FUUUCK!” he roared as he convulsed, ropes of sperm shooting straight up into my twat, coating my ovaries, seeding my fertile fields. His penis throbbed and pulsed as his balls emptied, the hot white viscous and virile in my body.

  The realization that we’d had unprotected sex made me come, and I squealed again as my cunny clenched down on Lance’s pole, pumping his dick for the last traces of semen, each contraction drawing his tiny swimmers closer and closer to the final target.

  It was the most mind-blowing fuck I’d ever had, and I felt devastatingly sexy and sated as my brothers slowly withdrew. Their penises were coated in my cream, glossy and semi-erect still, dripping with liquid from the tip. Trails of white oozed down my thigh, and I licked my lips saucily, making sure that not a drop of semen escaped my mouth.

  “Dirty little girl, aren’t you?” asked Logan as he watched, eyes glued to my panting figure.

  I nodded, opening my mouth to show him the bit of goop on my tongue, and he chuckled.

  “Here give it to me,” he said, leaning forward for a kiss, and I did, snowballing him and letting him taste his own cum as we frenched for a minute.

  But Lance wanted cream pie as well, and he knelt in back of me, kissing the trail of liquid that was escaping from my cunt. I felt his warm, wet tongue lick wetly at my thigh, tracing up to my pussy lips, lapping the moisture there, cleaning me up as he sampled my vaginal secretions mixed with his own virile juice.

  Fuck, my brothers were perverted … and I loved it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Logan

  Three months later …

  “So what’s been going on at Lance’s? Why are you there so often?” asked Patricia. It was the fucking inquisition again. Okay, so I’ve been hanging out at my brother’s place a lot … and it’s because Kacey’s moved into his apartment, sharing his big bed. It drives me nuts that he gets to fuck her whenever he wants and to make up for my lack of access, I’m over there a lot, burrowing into Kacey’s warm folds, making sure I get my share of that twat and ass.

  But Patricia isn’t dumb. She knew something was up. And the thing was, I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it. I realized that I’d been caught in some kind of downward spiral. After Kathryn died, I’d been seriously depressed and unfortunately my illness had been untreated. I was like a high-functioning dead man … walking, talking, doing my job, making it rain financially, but inside I was a fucking mess.

  I’d begun sleeping with Patricia because she was the opposite of Kathryn. Mean, vengeful, vicious, she was a cold viper but I wasn’t looking for warmth, love and laughter back then. If Patricia wanted to take, then I wasn’t going to stop her even if it included my body. And when she’d announced a miscarriage last year, I’d gone through the motions of consoling her, letting her move in, saying nothing as she quit her job and began living off my money.

  So I wasn’t surprised she was all over me like a bloodhound, sniffing suspiciously. I mean, this woman wanted a ring on her finger and I’d stayed mum on that subject despite her obvious hints.

  “Baby, doesn’t this one look so nice?” she’d ask, pointing to a DeBeers ad in a magazine. Or, “Honey, my girl friend just got one of those cushion cut diamonds and it’s gorgeous.” Shit like that. But I’d always mumbled something inconclusive in return and so far had managed to stay out of the line of fire.

  Plus, the time I spent with Kacey was amazing, like a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stagnant existence. The girl was funny, irresistible, curvaceous and warm. We’d tried to convince her not to go back to the Donkey Club but so far hadn’t succeeded.

  “Brothers, dancing is the only skill I have,” she’d said softly. “I can’t keep taking from you.”

  “Why not?” asked Lance. “We have more than enough and you’re paying us in your own way,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. Of course, he meant the abundant sex we’d been getting, the easy access to her luscious tits and twat.

  “Oh Lance,” she said, giggling. “You’re ridiculous. But seriously, dancing is how I make a living. I can’t be a hundred percent dependent on you guys, it just doesn’t feel right.”

  And you know what? I respected her for that. I liked the fact that Kacey was trying to stand on her own two feet, that even though we were offering a free ride she wanted to be an independent woman. Plus, I liked the fact that she knew herself – that stripping and her body were major assets she could bank during her twenties.

  But we wanted to make sure she had a future too.

  “Honey, how about if you just dance, and don’t whore? Is that possible at the Donkey Club?” I’d asked.

  “Brothers,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “I stopped riding other men’s dicks the minute I took yours. I mean, no one else has fifteen inches so how could they compare?” she said with a shy smile. And entranced by her provocative teasing, we’d pounced on the little girl, engaging in another deep, diligent round of pounding.

  And so I’d taken to showering at Lance’s after sex, but that’s almost just as suspicious to Patricia’s keen eye. I mean, why would I need to shower at my brother’s apartment? He had air conditioning and it wasn’t like I was using his gym.

  But she was willfully ignoring my clues, and instead asked, “Logan, what do you want for dinner? I ordered in two of your favorites: spare ribs and steak.”

  Patricia had never cooked as long as I could remember. In fact, even ordering in was a signal that she wanted something. But I just mumbled something inconclusive, passing her on the way to the bedroom.

  She followed me, her silhouette painfully thin, like an x-ray moving through the apartment. Did she get enough to eat? I wondered for a moment if she was starving herself. In fact, I was starting to doubt that she’d ever been pregnant, truth be told. You can’t possibly be fertile if you never eat.

  But Patricia didn’t say anything, instead brushing off my suit jacket, picking off some stray lint. I thought I saw a long blonde hair fall to the floor, but it could have been my imagination. I turned to her impatiently and barked, “Quit with the caring wife routine okay? You’ve never been particularly domestic or warm, so I find your efforts hypocritical and fake. Stop,” I commanded.

  The viper hissed at me, literally hissed, her black eyebrows rising like evil points.

  “What do you want?” she said nastily. “I was there for you when you were feeling down and now you don’t reward me?”

  “Reward you with what? An engagement ring?” I growled. “Listen, any number of women would have put out even if I was a drunk, depressed mess back then. Hell, I could have gone to a professional and gotten my needs taken care of, so don’t overrate what you offered.” Looking back, I wish I had used a professional, it would have been easier considering the mess I was in now.

  But it was too late.

  “You’re going to regret it,” hissed Patricia again, her green eyes freezing with cold, dead heat. “Trust me, you will,” she said before flouncing off into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Because we’d actually never shared a bedroom, I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping next to that ice princess, she might stab me in the heart as I slumbered. And I sure as hell hadn’t fucked her in months, certainly not since Kacey had come into our lives.

  So I walked back into the kitchen, helping myself to the spare ribs as I contemplated my future. The thi
ng is, interacting with Kacey had clarified so much. The blonde was warm and loving, everything I was looking for in a woman, with a sweetness and light that lit up my world. Patricia was the opposite, a dark, shadowy presence that brought out the worst in me. I wanted the bitch out of my life, and the question was how to do it pronto.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Logan

  My phone rang, the shrill sound banging against my ear drums. Impatiently I glanced at the screen. Fuck, it was Lance again, and I picked up.

  “What?” I growled. “This better be good.” We had a developer coming in today to discuss a collaboration on new construction in Tribeca. The sell-out would be around $300 million, making our commission a cool $9 million.

  “Brother, where’ve you been?” asked Lance, his voice curiously neutral. “We’ve been trying to reach you for a couple hours now.”

  “Working, what else? Sorry if I haven’t taken your calls, princess, but we have a major meeting today or did you forget?” I snapped.

  “Brother,” said Lance, ignoring my ill temper. “It’s about Kacey … and Patricia.”

  “What?” I gasped. WTF? They didn’t even know each other.

  As if reading my mind, Lance spoke dryly.

  “You didn’t think you were going to keep our affair with Kacey hidden, did you? Patricia skunked it all out and came after our girl today.”

  I was speechless. Sure, I’d figured Patricia was going to do something reckless like tear up the apartment, maybe knife all my clothes and slash my car tires. But I didn’t think she’d hurt someone, much less go after our younger sister.

  But I guess male arrogance had clouded my judgment. A woman scorned is the worst type of enemy and by dumping her, I was leaving Patricia high and dry. Of course, if she’d been resourceful like Kacey she could’ve gotten a job at the Donkey too, but I guess Patricia was too good for work … any type of work.

  “What is it?” I sighed. Fuck, I’d fucked up. But the news was even worse than I thought.

  “Logan,” said my brother slowly. “Patricia must have stalked Kacey for a while and put two and two together. Remember Dyke Bridge?”

  My chest constricted. Of course I remembered Dyke Bridge. It was the location where I’d driven into the pond, leading to Kathryn’s drowning.

  “Patricia took your car this morning, Logan,” said my brother slowly. “Somehow she convinced Kacey to get in and she drove them over the bridge and into the water, reenacting your accident. The car landed upside down, and Kacey managed to get out, but she’s in critical condition at the hospital. Patricia died, brother,” he said, his tone stark.

  Holy fucking shit. All the blood drained from my body and I sat as still as a stone at my desk. Patricia had gone much further than I’d envisioned. Shit, that dead bitch was malevolent.

  And the worst part was that she’d purposefully mirrored my tragic accident from seven years ago. She’d wanted the publicity, I realized. She wanted our parents to know that her death was on our hands, and that we’d fucked her over by screwing our stepsister.

  I didn’t know what to say other than, “Where’s Kacey at?”

  “Sloan-Kettering,” said my brother. “You better get to the hospital quick.”

  And I bolted from my desk, desperate to see my love again.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lance

  This was a fucking nightmare. I knew that bitch was going to cause our demise and she had indeed. Patricia was a fucking whore, a whore too smart for her own good who’d ended her own life in some kind of misbegotten revenge.

  But the thing was, it wasn’t an accident. She’d somehow convinced Kacey to get into the car with her, and the bitch had driven them off the bridge, purposefully crashing the car into the water. I ground my teeth at the evilness that ran in that witch’s veins.

  But as I looked at our stepsister, my heart was filled with remorse. For whom, I don’t know. For Kacey, who was in critical condition, her form pale and motionless under the sheet. For me and my brother, who’d survived the death of Kathryn, only to have the incident repeated now. And even for Patricia, whose misplaced jealousy and hatred had fatal consequences.

  Logan burst into the hospital room, his eyes wild, his suit askew. He immediately took in the situation and knelt at Kacey’s side, taking her lifeless hand in his big fist.

  “Please baby,” he pleaded. “Please wake up. I’m so sorry I got you into this.”

  How Patricia persuaded Kacey into the car, we’ll never know. But we were in for the shock of our lives.

  “Are you Ms. Donagan’s next of kin?” a doctor asked, coming into the room.

  “Yes, we’re her brothers,” I confirmed. “Our parents are currently unavailable, she has no one other than us right now. How is Kacey? Is she going to be okay?” I demanded. Logan growled, determined the rip the medical charts out of the doctor’s hands if necessary.

  “Mister … I’m sorry, what was your name?” the doctor asked.

  “I’m Lance Phillips and this is my twin Logan,” I said quickly. “Kacey is our sister. Now about our sister, is she going to be alright?” I rushed.

  “Mr. Phillips,” said the doctor slowly, nodding at both of us. “Kacey will likely be fine … as will her baby.”

  Hearing the words, both Logan and I fell back, stunned. Our sister was pregnant! With our baby, holy shit. And suddenly everything shifted, it was like shapes coming into clarity, colors becoming brighter, more vibrant. Because I realized that the most important thing in the world wasn’t Patricia’s evil revenge, grieving over Kathryn, or any fall-out from the imminent discovery of our pseudo-incestuous relationship. Instead, the rightful focus was our sister and the impending baby on the way … our son or daughter.

  “Doctor,” I said roughly. “How long before Kacey wakes from the coma?”

  The doctor looked at me strangely. “She’s not in a coma,” he replied. “She’s merely resting. The car crash and swim to safety exhausted her. We gave her fluids, but she’s fine,” assured the doctor.

  Blood rushed back into my body and I swore to the heavens that I’d do my best by my sister and the child. I’d never been so grateful to hear such words.

  “Thank you,” said Logan fervently. “We’ll take good care of her.”

  “She’ll be under observation for a few more hours, but she should wake soon and you’ll be able to take her home,” said the doctor briskly. “Any more questions I can answer for you, Mr. Phillips?” he asked.

  “No,” my brother and I said simultaneously. “Thank you for your service.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Kacey

  When I came to the world was a bit fuzzy, but so long as I wasn’t in water anymore, I was okay. My brothers grasped my hands in theirs when they realized I was awake, stroking my palm and my hair.

  “Baby,” said Logan. “How are you feeling?”

  “Honey,” said Lance. “Why didn’t you tell us you were pregnant?”

  The truth was, I’d only recently found out about the pregnancy myself and was still deciding the best way to tell them. I wasn’t sure how they’d react. I mean, we’d never used protection, always bareback, and there had been a lot of fucking in recent months. So it was only natural that I’d get pregnant, right? After all, I was a fertile nineteen year-old woman.

  Nonetheless, I was still nervous and had literally been in the midst of a home pregnancy test when the doorman buzzed, announcing that a “Patricia” was downstairs. I was confused. I’d heard my brothers speaking about Patricia occasionally, but only in hushed tones when they thought I couldn’t hear. I’d figured she was a problem employee or something of that sort.

  So I was wary about letting her come up to Lance’s apartment. Instead, I’d walked downstairs, figuring she couldn’t do any harm to me in the lobby.

  And the woman had been charming, vivacious, even friendly, grabbing my arm and making buddy-buddy. My suspicions were raised, but she was prepared.

  “You’re
Kacey, right?” she purred.

  “Yes,” I said tentatively. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I’m a friend of Logan’s,” she said confidentially. “And I just wanted to show you something.” She whipped an old newspaper from her designer purse, the headlines screaming, “CURVY BLONDE DROWNS AT DYKE POND.”

  All the blood drained from my face as I scanned the story. Evidently, Logan and Lance had been involved with a girl named Kathryn long ago, who had died when Logan drove a car off a bridge into a lake. The worst part was that he hadn’t reported the accident for several hours. Instead, he’d wandered around the neighborhood, talking gibberish to himself, instead of calling for help from a neighbor or dialing 911.

  I didn’t know what to think. The incident had been ruled an accident, but Patricia tried to persuade me otherwise.

  “Come on, get in the car and I’ll take you to Dyke Bridge,” she’d said. “It’s a walking overpass, more of a dock even, you can see for yourself.”

  Like a dummy, I’d gotten in, cradling my belly, unable to still the crazy whirl of my thoughts. Was the father of my child a murderer?

  The drive started off okay. Patricia chatted amiably about shopping, her life, how she knew Lance and Logan. But something was fishy. When I asked her why she was driving Logan’s car, she’d brushed it off, saying Logan let her borrow it once in a while. That couldn’t be right. I knew Logan got antsy when anyone drove his car, even parking valets. And that wasn’t all. Patricia knew too many details about me, like the fact that I was a dancer at the Donkey Club.

  And as we got closer to the bridge, I realized I’d made a huge mistake. The woman was starting to jabber, her manner becoming overblown and crazy, her words fast, almost manic, eyes rolling in her head.

  “Patricia,” I said calmly, “why don’t we stop for a bathroom break? I could use one.”