Double Dealing: A Menage Romance

by Landish, Lauren

  I laughed and toasted Francois as we continued on, and I found that he was right. Once I was relaxed, I got out of my own way and was able to speak a little better. I still didn’t know what I was saying sometimes, but at least it was more enjoyable than the stressful repeating I'd done before.

  "Now we just need to get to where you don’t need alcohol in order to relax," Francois said. "Don’t worry, Mama and Syeira won’t be too harsh.”

  "Whoa, wait a second. You’re taking me to see your mothers?"

  "Of course," Felix said from up front. Looking into the rearview mirror, he saw my eyes and gave me a reassuring smile. "Jordan, you know we told our mothers about meeting you. If anything, they wanted to know why we had to spend the extra weeks in Mexico."

  I closed my mouth and looked out worriedly at the French countryside that rolled by. Two hours later, I still worried but was distracted as I looked at the beautiful hills and valley surrounding Valence. Near the center of the Rhone Valley portion of France, it was the dividing line between the northern and southern Rhone and looked like a postcard. It actually looked like you should’ve been shooting a romantic comedy in the streets and among the hills of the town. Francois saw the look in my eyes and smiled. "Welcome to one of your new homes."

  I gulped and looked around again, amazed. "This is yours?”

  "Well, not the whole city, of course, just a house in the southern outskirts," Francois replied.

  I was speechless for the rest of the drive, Felix turning down a dirt road and trundling along for a quarter mile before pulling up in front of an old-fashioned looking farmhouse. "Here we are."

  Getting out, I felt like I was in a sort of dreaming wakefulness, the whole experience leaving me stunned like I'd just been smacked in the head by a pillow. I stood in the sunny front yard, staring at the two-story house, a silly grin on my face. "I feel like I've stepped into a fairy tale. Or the French version of The Wizard of Oz. Tell me there’s a barn in the back somewhere."

  "There is, but we use it for something else,” Felix said. “You’ll see it later. Come, let’s introduce you to our mothers."

  For all of the old-fashioned exterior, the inside of the house was beautifully done, in a rustic style that balanced modern convenience with a simple countryside charm. For a girl who'd spent most of the past eight years in Los Angeles, it was quite different, and wonderfully warming. I could definitely see myself wiling away the days and weeks in this sort of house, surrounded by these two men and the beautiful countryside. Felix led the way to the back of the house, opening the door. "Mama!"

  The two women who turned at Felix's voice were stunning, plain and simple. Much shorter than their sons, each of them about five foot five or so. Their thick, wavy black hair hung all the way to their waists, framing faces that showed hints of their sons. They were dressed elegantly, with long flowing wool skirts and cashmere tops that showed both of them kept themselves in great shape.

  Both ignored me however, greeting their sons with excited hugs and loud kisses on their cheeks. They shifted from French to another language, which I could only assume was Romani, leaving me totally in the dark as to what was being said. From the facial expressions and tone of voice, it didn’t sound bad.

  One of the women turned her eyes to me. I found her scrutiny unsettling, and I had to resist the urge to squirm under her gaze. "Donc ceci est le voleur qui a volé le cœur de mon fils," she said, then smiled and in accented but clear English. "Welcome. I’m Syeira."

  When she smiled, all the tension in her eyes evaporated, and I could see the similarities between her and her son. "Thank you. I must say that you both are stunning.”

  They both laughed and one came over, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You’ll do well here," she said, patting my just-kissed cheek. "I am Charani, Francois’s mother."

  I tried my best to discern any difference between the two women, but it was impossible. They were truly identical twins, with the only difference I could tell between them being the color of the blouses they were wearing underneath their open fronted cashmere tops. "Thank you both," I said in my best attempt at French. "It’s nice to meet you."

  "It seems we must try our best with good English, and you must try your best with good French," Charani said softly, before giving her son a hug with one arm. "Come, it’s time for celebration."

  I was grateful that they’d prepared some light fare. I’d more than feasted since living with Francois and Felix, and barely managed to maintain my weight even with the sex and exercise I’d been getting. Conversation flowed nice, and I began to feel a little more at ease.

  Felix had told them about how we’d met, using French and Romani interchangeably while Francois kept me abreast of the conversation with whispered bits of English.

  "They may have taken me captive, but they’ve certainly stolen me away from a life of drudgery and boredom," I added. I’d come to the conclusion quickly in Mexico, and knew that even if I was given the opportunity to go back to Los Angeles, I wouldn't. "The past two months have been the best in my life."

  After the light meal, Francois took my hand. “It’s time to show you around," he reminded me. "Mother, Aunt, if you'll excuse us. Felix, you mind?“

  Felix waved with good humor, and Francois led me outside. While the weather was milder than Paris, it was still winter, and the orange glow of the sunset in the sky lent enough warmth that I was comfortable. Francois led me to the barn, pausing at the large double doors. "My brother told you earlier that this is not a normal barn. Take a look inside."

  It took me a while to understand what the collection of ropes, beams, and other things in the dimly lit cavernous barn was until I spied something hanging from a beam. "Are those gymnastic rings?"

  Francois nodded. "Welcome to the place where our father taught my brother and I every physical skill needed to become who we are. This place was our training hall, our sparring center, and as much our classroom as the schools we went to. It’s also one of the few places that I’d routinely best Felix."

  "Oh, why's that?" I asked, thinking that while Francois was different from Felix, I didn't find him deficient to his brother. Maybe it was just a case of the grass being greener, and Francois not being aware of his own strengths.

  He took my question differently, though, his mouth tightening. "Felix has always been a bit larger than me, a bit stronger. But many of the skills that our father trained us in, that extra mass was a detriment."

  “What’d you two do in here anyway?" I asked, looking into the shadows. "I wish I could see this in daylight."

  "Tomorrow. Father never installed lights, saying that it was vital that we learn how to maneuver ourselves in darkness. It’s difficult at first, but you learn to use your other senses. Here, I’ll show you a little, for what you can see anyway.”

  Francois stripped off his shirt in a single smooth motion, and with a happy grin took off across the barn. Jumping over a rope I hadn't even seen, he went up the beam in the middle arm over arm, nearly launching himself from hand grip to hand grip, using holds that I hadn't even realized what they were until he was hanging from them. With a final little leap, he grabbed a rope that was tightly stretched across the space, leaving his feet dangling a few feet above my head. "How’s that?"

  "You move like a damn cat," I said, amazed. I came over and took his hands, surprised that they weren't shredded on the rope. I traced the red lines that had been caused by the material, amazed. "How'd you do that?"

  "Twenty-three years of experience," Francois said. He clasped my hands in his and smiled. “But I have a feeling it won’t take you as long.”

  "You expect me to be flipping around and doing all that?" I asked, flabbergasted. I was a rock and roll guitar player, not a member of Cirque De Soliel. “You’re crazy.”

  "I've been called that a few times," Francois said with a chuckle, "but I didn't mean all of that. Just that you can enjoy this space too. In the meantime, I was thinking something more like this."


  Francois pulled me in close and kissed me hard, his arms crushing me against his firm torso. His skin pressed against my hands, and his lips pressed against mine. He was warm, masculine, and strong. I had to admit, the display of physical ability he'd just done had done more than a little to my pulse, and the taste of him added to it, turning the warmth into a fire.

  "Have I been so neglectful of you?" I asked Francois when I could breathe again, my hands resting on the swells of his chest. The light hairs added texture underneath my fingertips, and I traced the muscles in appreciation. "Have I really?"

  "Sometimes I feel like you have more in common with Felix than with me. I understand, he’s a better conversationalist once he lets you in," Francois whispered, smiling sadly. “But I’m a lot more fun, don’t you think?”

  “Well, you certainly know how to use your tongue. Which reminds me," I teased, reaching down. "Maybe I should return the favor for that night in Paris?”

  Pushing Francois, I walked him backward until his butt was against one of the beams of the barn, a smile on his face. “Mmm. I like this new aggressiveness."

  "You bring out the animal in me, you know that?" I countered, sinking to my knees. I pulled at the button on his pants, undoing them quickly and reaching in, pulling out his still mostly soft cock. I wasn't offended, we'd just started kissing only a few seconds before. Instead, I relished the soft texture in my mouth as I sucked him in, rolling my tongue around his shaft before releasing him to taste the silky texture of his balls. "In fact, I'm going to eat you up. One rule, though."

  "What?" Francois asked, his eyes rolling back as I sucked one of his balls into my mouth and licked.

  "Keep your hands on that post behind you and don't let go," I teased. "I know how you like to take control."

  I wrapped my hand around his cock, smiling up at him while his hands trembled. He quickly hardened and I stroked gently, teasing him while I cocked an eyebrow. "Well?"

  "Wi, mon coeur," he said, leaning back and grabbing the post behind him. I gave him my most angelically devilish smile before licking my lips and licking his now hard shaft from the underside base all the way to his tip. Swirling around, I gazed into his eyes as I swallowed his shaft, running my lips all the way down as far as I could. "Mon Dieu."

  "You could say that again," I said when I pulled back, his cock coming out of my mouth with an audible pop that caused his shaft to bob up and down playfully. Pumping him with my hand, I smiled.

  I'm no porn starlet when it comes to giving head, but Francois seemed to enjoy my efforts, soft curses in French and English coming out in between deep breaths as I bobbed up and down, my tongue massaging the steely, soft-skinned tool. I felt powerful, knowing that he was gripping the beam behind him tighter and tighter as I sucked, his control slipping further and further away.

  It wasn't that I didn't enjoy giving in to him. Like I said, sex with him was amazing and adventurous. But he was normally the initiator, and almost always in control. He'd taken me to places I'd never been before with a man, including the time he’d inspired me to that wild night of three-way passion with him and Felix. Now, I had him right where I wanted; I had him literally in the palm of my hand. Well, and in my mouth too, but that was part of the fun. I resisted the urge to scrape my teeth lightly on his shaft, focusing instead on bringing him pleasure.

  I reached under his balls, finding the tender spot of his taint and pressing upwards, massaging his prostate while I kept sucking. He groaned deep in his throat, his self-control barely holding on, all of his focus going into the sensation I was causing in his cock and in holding onto that damn beam behind him. I could read it on his face, and it was a high like I'd never felt in my life. Taking him deeper than ever before, I pushed until the head of his cock slipped into my throat and massaged him with my throat muscles.

  "Fuck, I'm going to come," he groaned apologetically. Normally a long-lasting lover who never came before I was screaming and tearing at the blankets, he was ready to come after just a few minutes. I guess I was better than I'd thought, or perhaps Francois really had been being ignored by me in favor of Felix. I grinned and pulled back some, letting him out of my mouth while I pumped his cock with my right hand.

  His eyes flew open as he started to come, his seed spurting out of his cock to hit me right between the eyes. The second and third spurt splattered on my cheek. I licked him dry and gave the head of his cock a kiss, making sure he was looking me in the eyes as I did it.

  Chapter 19

  Felix

  A few days after we arrived, I felt like things were going well in our new life. I was in my bedroom doing some work on my computer when my mother came in. Syeira Hardy was, until I met Jordan, the most important woman in my life. She’d taught me so much growing up, the lessons that my father didn't know. She was my most trusted confidant, and I always took what she said with serious consideration.

  "Hello Mother," I greeted her. "How has your morning been?"

  "Typical," she said. "Your work is going well?"

  "I think so," I said. "I have been in contact with our business partner in Sparti, he says that he’s seen an uptick in tourism now that the political situation is settling down. What about you?"

  "Monsieur de Garmeaux is as grumpy as always," Syeira said with a chuckle. "He just can’t fathom why the people in this region are different from those in Normandy. I try to explain to him that it’s because of the weather, but he doesn’t listen."

  Albert de Garmeaux was one of the constant sources of humor and irritation for our family. He'd been old when I was a child, so I had no idea how ancient he was now, but to call him a grumpy old man was an understatement. In the summer he was too hot, in the winter the mistral winds made his joints ache. And of course, he hated the difference in culture. I wasn't ever quite certain what he was complaining about unless it was basic differences that were not so much regionally based as they were because de Garmeaux came from a seaside industrial town, while Valence was an interior agricultural community. "I still think he just needs to have his children come visit more often. When was the last time his son came by, two, three years ago?"

  "No, he visited while you were in America," Syeira said. "He had his wife and a pretty little baby with him. I said hello when I was at the market. They stayed with de Garmeaux for nearly a week. I think it was the happiest I've ever seen the old man."

  "Good for them," I said. “Sorry for changing the subject, but how are you getting along with Jordan?”

  "She’s not lazy," Syeira said after a moment's consideration. "She seems to be spending quite a bit of time trying to master some of the little things in the barn that your brother has shown her. She’s had a lot of patience with me and my English. Just the other day we had a decent conversation with her speaking mostly French."

  I raised my eyebrow. She hadn't answered my question and she knew it. "Mother?"

  She chuckled and came over, sitting in the small chair next to the table I was using for my work. "Son, in so many ways in life, you have had me as someone to both get advice from and to help you with decisions. Not that I’ve always agreed or seen eye to eye with what you have decided."

  “When your father said that he would train you in the same arts that made him his fortune, I was dead set against it. We may be Romani, and yes there are those that are more than willing to relieve a fool of his money, but I didn’t agree. You were just a child then, perhaps you didn’t understand, but he and I fought bitterly about it. But he was set on it, and in the end, I relented. After all, it was just training, games for a boy to learn, a skill like you have with the violin or your brother does with his cooking. Later, when you said you were going to follow in his footsteps, I, at first, disagreed, but held my tongue."

  "Why?" I asked. My mother was many things, but she was not a woman known for holding her tongue if she disagreed with something. It had even caused Grandfather headaches.

  "Because sometimes, a man, a real man at least, has to go out and do w
hat’s right for him," she said. "If you love Jordan, then my opinion, or anyone's opinion, shouldn’t matter. The only thing that should matter is what your heart says, and what her heart says."

  She patted me on the shoulder and kissed my forehead like she used to do when I was much younger. She went to the door, pausing before she left. "But if you must know, I like her."

  We exchanged an embrace, and I left the house and went out to the barn, where I found Francois and Jordan training. Francois had opened the large doors on each side to give Jordan a bit more light to use, something I thought was a good idea. Father's ideas may have had a purpose for training the next generation of great thieves, but for training a young woman who wanted to just exercise while spending time with the men she loved, it was a bit much.

  When I came in, she was trying her best to maneuver the monkey bars that stretched in an S-shape along one side of the area, her hair pulled back and braided into a thick red tinged brown cable that stretched halfway down her back.

  "Come on, you're getting close," Francois said, positioned close behind her. His hands were ready to give her a support platform for her feet if she needed it but wasn't touching her. I thought back to when he and I had done the same thing Jordan was doing now. Of course, we were much smaller. "Five more rungs."

  Jordan gritted her teeth and made it without having to put her feet into Francois's hands, dropping down to the dirt in a puff of dust on her dismount. "I swear those rungs get further apart the longer you go down the ladder," she huffed as she rolled out her arms. "Don't try and tell me they aren't."

  I clapped in appreciation, getting their attention, Jordan smiling and blushing at the same time. "You’re right, they do," I told her. "I measured it myself once. Not much, but just enough to make it tougher.”

  "Really?" Francois said, surprised. "I never knew that."