Beast Brothers 2: An MFM Twin Ménage Romance

by Stephanie Brother

  They both shake their heads without a word. “Right. You’re working. Well, I’m having a drink.” I get out my single-malt scotch, pour myself a finger, and toss it straight down. I’d like to have another, but I should keep my head clear to deal with whatever they’re about to tell me.

  “All right,” I say, turning to face them. “Let’s have it. What dire emergency has caused my father to remember I exist?”

  “Your father,” Lucas says somberly, “has received what he considers a credible threat. He’s asked us to provide protection for all his children, including you.”

  I take a moment, parsing what he’s said. “Do you consider it a credible threat?”

  “We’re assessing it. For the time being, we’re treating it seriously.”

  I frown at him. “So you don’t even know at this point if there’s any actual danger?”

  “We’re assessing it,” he repeats.

  “Well, in the meantime, I decline to be protected. You can let me know if you decide there’s an actual threat.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Alex says. “You’re not our client; your father is. You can’t fire us.”

  Screw it. I turn around, ignoring them, and pour another drink. While I do, my mind goes back to the other part of what they’ve told me.

  “He asked you to do security for all his children?” I ask when I’m facing them again. Lucas nods. “I assume that means your business isn’t just the two of you. You have other people on staff.”

  “We also hire contractors when a situation calls for it,” Alex says. “But yes, we have regular employees beyond ourselves.”

  “So you could assign someone else to me.”

  Two sets of silver-blue eyes narrow to slits. “That isn’t going to happen,” Lucas says in a no-nonsense, end-of-discussion tone.

  Dammit. Their hotness has not diminished one tiny bit since last night. No matter how mad I am at them, I still want to jump them. But I don’t intend to let them know that. “If you think this protection gig is going to change my mind, it isn’t.”

  “We’ll do our jobs,” Alex says, “no matter what your attitude is. From now on, you don’t go anywhere without one or the other of us being with you.”

  16

  Deal With Us

  Zoe

  “That’s ridiculous!” I explode.

  “It’s the way it is.”

  I glare at them. “I want to talk to my father. How do I know you didn’t make this whole thing up?”

  To my dismay, Lucas instantly pulls out his phone and pushes a button. “Mr. Kelleher,” he says a moment later. “Zoe needs to speak to you.”

  He hands the phone to me and I take it, my stomach tying itself in knots. My father doesn’t just answer the phone for anyone who calls. If Lucas has him on speed dial, this is serious. “Hello, Father?”

  “Zoe.” His patrician tones are as cool and reserved as ever. “I trust you’re well.”

  “Yes. About the security—”

  “They’re an excellent firm,” he cuts in. “I have every confidence in their ability to handle the matter.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this short, Zoe; I have a social function to attend. Lucas and Alex can answer any questions you have. Give my best to your mother.”

  Then he’s gone, and I hurl the phone at Lucas. He catches it neatly against his midsection before I close my eyes, battling the familiar rage that rises up to choke me. You broke her heart, you bastard. I’m not giving her your anything.

  When I open them again, the brothers are watching me with professionally impassive faces, but I think I see sympathy in their eyes. “Fine,” I say, making no attempt to hide the bitterness in my voice. “How does this work?”

  “We’ll be adding a beefed-up security system to both your home and your workplace,” Alex says in a brisk, matter-of-fact tone. “Either Lucas or I will escort you to and from work, and anywhere else you go.”

  “That’s really excessive,” I point out.

  “Not if there’s a genuine threat.” Lucas’ tone isn’t merely firm and professional; he sounds stubborn. But it’s hardly surprising, given the way they’ve treated me all along.

  “This is the perfect line of work for you two,” I say. “You not only get to to indulge your innate bossiness, people pay you for it.”

  “They pay us to identify threats and know what to do about them,” Lucas snaps.

  “Oh, excuse me. Did I trip over your ego?”

  A muscle tightens in his jaw. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, and lets himself out. The click of the door sounds ominous in the sudden stillness.

  Alex comes to me. “We handled things badly this morning,” he says. “I apologize.”

  He’s standing so near, looking down at me, and part of me wants to just melt into him. I know better, but I’m not going to be a total ass and reject his apology, either. “Thank you,” I say stiffly.

  “It means something to a man, to have a woman respect the work he does.”

  Shit. I close my eyes again, this time against a sharp twinge of guilt. “You’re right. I’m sorry; I’ll talk to him. He just … he pushes my buttons.”

  “I know.” Alex is too close for comfort — inside my personal space — but he’s conspicuously not touching me. It’s a mixed signal that I understand perfectly. “You’re off limits,” he goes on, “so long as we’re protecting you. But, Zoe … that won’t last forever. And when it’s over, you’re going to have to deal with us.”

  He goes to the door. “One of us will stay here at night until we get your new system in place. Lock the door behind me. Don’t open it for anyone but me or Lucas.”

  When he’s gone, I stare at the door, wondering how long this is going to last and whether I can survive it with my sanity intact. I already know the Wolf brothers live up to their promise in the bedroom. If I’m lucky, they’re just as skilled at their work.

  The door opens again and Alex sticks his head in. “Lock the door, Zoe.” He closes it as I move to obey. When I’ve turned the lock in the knob and thrown the deadbolt, his voice comes through the wood paneling. “Thank you. We’ll be back in five minutes.”

  I rest my head against the door for a moment, then sigh and go to get the sheets for the sofa bed. It’s going to be a long night.

  17

  Pathetic

  Alex

  Sleeping on Zoe’s couch is torture. Oh, it’s comfortable enough as sofa beds go … but having her in the next room is driving me crazy.

  We’re professionals, Lucas and I. We know how to put aside our feelings and concentrate on what needs to be done. And we’ve got everything in motion to handle this situation of Zoe’s, or rather her father’s.

  But right now, lying in the dark, there’s nothing for me to do, nowhere for me to direct my energies. Which are, let’s be honest, considerable. All I want is to go into Zoe’s room, slide into bed with her, and fuck her brains out.

  I’ve never felt this way about a woman before. I enjoy them, appreciate them, show them a good time. Needing them is something else altogether.

  Craving one particular female like this is as foreign to me as the surface of Jupiter. But try telling my cock that. I’ve got a raging hard-on that believes fervently in the absolute necessity of us — me and my dick, that is — getting busy with the woman who’s sleeping, all unsuspecting, just a few feet away. I’d laugh at myself if I weren’t so damn frustrated.

  If I were home, I’d give my fantasies free rein and release the pressure, but that’s hardly good manners here. Trying to ignore my blue balls isn’t working, though, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to go wank off in the bathroom so I can get some rest. Sleep deprivation won’t do any of us any good.

  After a few more minutes struggling with myself, I give up. But just as I’m about to throw off the covers, Zoe pads past me toward the kitchen. I catch a trace of her scent, clean and feminine with just a hint of s
omething floral, and my hunger for her goes into overdrive. She’s wearing some kind of silky two-piece pajama set that shows off all her curves and makes things even worse.

  I watch as she opens her fridge, pulls out a container of juice, and pours herself a dainty little glass of it. Absorbed in her movements, drinking in the contours of her body, I forget to pretend I’m asleep and it takes me half a second to realize that she’s turned and is looking at me.

  Our eyes meet and there’s a long silence. She finishes her juice, rinses out the glass, and sets it in the sink before walking back toward me. At least it’s mostly dark in here. Please don’t let her turn on a light … good thing I didn’t go commando or I might be tenting the bedcovers.

  She stops by the side of the sofa, looking down at me. “Sorry I woke you.”

  “No problem; I was already awake. Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Me either,” she says.

  We’re close enough that I could reach out a hand and touch her, take hold of her wrist and pull her down on top of me, roll us over and be between her legs in half a second. Part of my brain — the part that remembers all too well how she responded to us last night — is convinced she wouldn’t fight me. That she wants it as much as I do.

  “Are you all right?” Zoe asks. She must have picked up on the tension emanating from my body, the sheer willpower it’s requiring for me to lie here quietly.

  Despite my surname, and my military experience, I’ve never felt especially predatory. Until now. There’s an animal pulsing under my skin, primitive, feral. Wanting nothing more than to claim her, and certain that she’s ours for the claiming.

  Definitely not information I should share. “I’m fine,” I say, and I don’t sound convincing even to myself. “Lots to think about.”

  “Yeah.” She hesitates, and for a second I get the feeling that she’s fighting the pull too, that she’s tempted to invite me back to her bed. If she does, I won’t hesitate — professional ethics be damned.

  But all she says is, “Good night.” And then she walks on past me, and I hear the rustle of sheets as she climbs back into bed.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I fight the siren song calling me to her. Ten seconds, twenty. Thirty. It feels like an eternity.

  Finally, I decide it’s been long enough. I don’t hear her tossing and turning, so with luck she’s asleep again. Getting out of bed as stealthily as I can, I haul ass to the bathroom so I can take care of myself like a pathetic teenager.

  18

  No Pushover

  Zoe

  I expected it to be difficult, having Alex spend the night under my roof. It’s not often that I have guests, let alone sexy men I’m pissed at after an extremely memorable one-night stand. And given the reason that he’s here, it would only make sense for the whole thing to be unsettling.

  Well, I was right — but “unsettling” is the understatement of the century. I’m so aware of him that I can’t sleep at all. When I got up to have some juice in hopes it would help my body crash, I could feel him watching me, the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

  Standing by the sofa bed, talking to him, was … I can’t even describe it. There was an electrical charge in the air between us, just waiting for a spark to send us both up in flames. It felt like he might grab me any second, drag me into bed with him, and do every filthy thing he could think of. And I wanted him to.

  I still want him to. I’ve been horny before, but this is the first time I’ve ever had to ignore a ready, willing, and oh-so-able male instead of doing what comes naturally. Stifling a groan of frustration, I wonder if I can get myself off without making too much noise.

  When I hear Alex get up and go to the bathroom, it seems like a sign from the gods. Quick as a flash, I get my vibrator from my nightstand and jam it inside my panties. No time for finesse — I go straight for my clit, maxing out the power setting in hopes I can finish before Alex hears me.

  It feels amazing, but not nearly as good as the Wolf brothers felt last night. I let the fantasy fill my mind, imagine that Alex is here, kneeling above me, his hands guiding the vibrator over my flesh. Oh, yes, I tell him silently. Yes, right there — oh fuck yes.

  It works. The more I think about him, the more turned on I get, until the climax rolls over me, curling my toes and making my hips buck. When I’m too sensitive for any more, I turn the vibrator off and listen.

  Absolute silence. And then I hear the bathroom door open, and Alex’s quiet footsteps retracing his path to the sofa. Perfect timing; I got lucky.

  Carefully, I slide the toy away, close the drawer, roll onto my side, and hug a pillow close. Relaxation finally takes over, and my eyes drift shut.

  *

  The next morning, I can tell exactly how well rested I’m not. I’d probably have more energy if a whole fleet of Mack trucks had run me over. Pulling a robe on, I drag myself to the kitchen.

  Both Alex and Lucas are there. They’ve made themselves at home with my coffeemaker, which is fine since there’s plenty left for me. I get matching silver-blue glances but no words as I shuffle in between them, not caring about anything but getting that first hit of caffeine into my system.

  Once I’m there, though — penned in by Wolf brothers on either side — they’re impossible to ignore, even in my fuzzy-brained state. Witty repartee is beyond me at the moment, so I go with the next best option and try to pretend I’m alone in my apartment. That the twin pillars of muscular heat flanking me are just my imagination.

  I get down my biggest coffee mug, fill it to the brim, and take a sip, then another. Ahhh. A few more minutes, and I’ll resemble a functional human being.

  Then Alex shatters the silence. “Lucas will take you to work. I need you to leave the keys to your apartment with me so I can take care of the security today.”

  A protest rises in my throat, and I swallow it down again. It doesn’t matter how much I hate this; it’s going to happen, one way or another, so I might as well save us all the hassle. “All right.”

  “I’ll see you tonight.” I look at him then, to see he’s studying me. I’m not sure why, or what he sees, and it makes me uneasy so I look away again.

  “All right,” I say again, and wait for him to leave.

  “Keys, Zoe.”

  “Right.” I take another swallow of coffee, set the mug down, and retrieve my key ring from my purse. It takes a few moments to work off the two keys he needs, but finally he has them.

  “Thanks. See you later.” He does a chin lift to his brother, who still hasn’t spoken a word, and then he’s gone.

  Damn. I should have brought my coffee with me. Now I’ll have to go back to where Lucas is standing to get it.

  That thought is enough to make me kick myself for being a coward. Straightening my spine, I march back over to Lucas. As I pick up my mug, I blurt out, “I’m sorry about last night.” No finesse, but at least I’ve said it.

  “That’s all right.” His voice is soft. Too soft. It raises the fine hairs at the back of my neck, the way he says it.

  “Is it?” I say, and risk a glance at him. As soon as our eyes meet, I’m frozen, unable to look away.

  “Oh, yes.” He takes a step toward me, and before I can stop myself I take one away from him. “This job won’t last forever.”

  The same thing Alex said, but I’d bet money the synchronicity wasn’t planned. Lucas takes another step forward, and I take another one back. It’s not that I’m afraid of him; it just seems really, really important that we not touch right now. Like last night, when I was talking to Alex, there’s way too much energy crackling in the air between us.

  It’s dangerous. He’s dangerous. I’m simultaneously aware, right down to my marrow, that he would never deliberately do anything to harm me, and that he is the biggest threat to my general well-being in the entire universe.

  “Lucas …” I have no words. His name is some sort of plea for him to read my mind and stop this — whatever this madness is between us — before it goe
s too far.

  He’s backed me up against the wall now; I’ve got nowhere to go. He closes in, until we’re almost touching. “When this is over,” he says in that same too-soft, too-controlled, lethally quiet voice, “you and I are going to come to an understanding.”

  The purely sensual threat electrifies me. My breathing goes shallow; my skin tingles with awareness; my nipples go hard. Oh god.

  Something has changed in the last twenty-four hours. The men I was furious at a day ago are just as bossy and controlling as ever. But their dominance has somehow gone from intolerable to sexy.

  It feels as though some sort of alchemy happened last night, while Alex and I slept, or didn’t sleep. Like our breath mingled in the air of the apartment, and then went back into us mixed together, so that he — and via him, his brother — are inside me. Part of me.

  I can’t resist them any more than I could rip myself in two.

  Lucas’s pronouncement is made with absolute conviction, as if it’s already happened. There are no alternate paths, no roads that do not lead to the destination he’s mapped out for us. He’s not angry. It almost feels like it, because the emotion coming from him is so unyielding, but no. He’s confident. He is pure alpha male at this moment, determined to master me.

  And some part of me I didn’t even know existed is not just willing, but eager to submit. Because if I do, I’ll find out just what he’s capable of — and after what he’s already shown me, curiosity and hunger are a potent mixture.

  I’m transfixed by the promise in his eyes. Part of me wants to goad him into action. Close the tiny gap between us, and brush my fingers against the sinews in his forearm. Or say something defiant. It wouldn’t be that difficult to push him over the edge into what we both want.

  But I have just enough sanity left to resist that impulse. Swallowing hard, I say, “I … uh … I should get ready for work.”

  My voice trembles. We’re so attuned at this moment that he doesn’t mistake it for fear. A muscle flexes in his jaw, and for one long, simmering moment I think he’s not going to let me go.

  Then he steps back, and I slide past him and hurry off to my bedroom and then the bathroom. As soon as I’m away from him, and the gravitational field of his presence, I can think. While I hurry through my preparations, I’m cursing myself.