12 Days: A Dark Reverse Harem Christmas Romance

by Dark Angel

  Chase: The best part is the sex.

  Nadia: Right. You can view the sexcapades in multiple angles and zoom into various parts for better clarity and maximum viewing pleasure. All this is captured in high definition to provide you the best experience possible.

  Chase: Exactly what you need to get all hot and bothered till the next episode of…

  Voiceover: Biggest Licker!!!!!

  Megan

  By ten the next morning, we’re all back on the private jet, flying back to New York City and the Biggest Licker house. I can’t believe my dates with Tristan and Madden are already over.

  In spite of the fact that I’m no clearer on how I feel than I was last night, I think it might have been the best twenty-four hours of my life.

  Maya looks over at me from the seat across the plane where she’s sipping a mimosa. She frowns and furrows her brow, mouthing, what’s wrong. I realize I’m frowning, too, and I try to smile. After all, what do I have to be upset about, really? I’m on a fucking private jet with two of the world’s sexiest billionaires, inching closer to a luxury apartment and cash prize with every second that passes.

  I lean back, sipping my own mimosa, and glance to either side of me. Tristan and Madden are flanking me on the loveseat. It’s kind of a tight squeeze, but now that the individual dates are over neither is willing to leave my side.

  It’s almost comical. Who wouldn’t love to be in my shoes right now?

  Tristan takes my mimosa and refills it, handing it back with a smile.

  “Maybe you should ask her first, dude, before you give her another,” Madden growls, a scowl on his face. “You trying to get her drunk first thing in the morning?”

  My eyebrows fly up, and I rest a hand on his thigh. “I did want another.” Then, to Tristan: “Thank you.” I smile at both men, but now Tristan is scowling just as hard at Madden.

  “What the fuck, man? I was just being a gentleman. Something you obviously don’t have the first clue about.” His jaw ticks, and I want to touch him, to let him know it’s fine.

  Since one hand is holding my glass, I start to take my hand from Madden’s thigh and reach for Tristan’s arm, but Madden wraps his fingers around my wrist before I get very far. “Don’t let him manipulate you, Megan. He just wants to break down your defenses so you’ll be easier. He doesn’t have the game to get you without the help.”

  My eyes widen and jaw drops. “Madden, why would you—”

  Tristan slams his glass down, making me jump. “You want to go there, Madden? Okay. Let’s talk about manipulation for a minute. How about what tricks you used to get in all those other girls’ pants? You’re the fucking master manipulator.”

  What the hell is going on? It’s like a pissing contest, but on steroids. I’ve never seen either of them like this.

  “Tristan, he’s just saying—”

  Madden leans over me and points his finger right in Tristan’s face. “Like you’re any better? I didn’t see you saying no to any of them either. In fact, I’d put money on it that you were more of a manipulator than I was.”

  Tristan slaps his hand away, his face reddening with fury. “Tell me, Megan,” he says, though he doesn’t even look at me, his angry gaze trained on Madden, “did he pull out all the stops last night? Play nice for you? Or did he just try to overwhelm you with his fucking overkill charming playboy act until you were ready to drop your panties for him?”

  Madden laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “There was no act involved, asshole, but you better believe she was so fucking wet for me that—”

  “Madden!” I interrupt, mortified. Oh my god, I don’t think I’ve ever been this humiliated. Or this angry.

  Tristan scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself, dickhead. I’m sure it was just because she was still soaked from the way I made her come.”

  I gasp and cover my eyes with my hands. “Stop it! Both of you. Please!”

  But it’s like they can’t hear me. They both rise to their feet, and I look up. They’re posturing like fucking peacocks. Each trying to show up the other.

  Madden pokes a finger in Tristan’s chest. “You and your fucking superiority complex. Like you’re a motherfucking god. Untouchable. I’ve got news for you, dude. You’re just a cocky asshole who gets off on pushing other people around.”

  Tristan steps forward, swatting Madden’s hand away and getting right in his face. “I wouldn’t go there if I were you. Who’s the one who thinks he’s God’s gift to women? You’ve stuck your dick in so many sluts that I can’t even—”

  Madden’s fists clench, and I know before he even rears back that this is about to come to blows.

  “Stop! Madden! Tristan!” I look at Maya, panicked. “Do something.”

  She sticks her fingers in her mouth and lets out a shrill whistle, standing and placing a hand on each of their chests. “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?”

  Now that she’s intervened, she’s all business, putting them in their places, pushing them back on the seats to either side of me. Normally I’d find it funny, a short little thing like Maya bossing around these two huge and powerful men.

  But there’s not a damn thing about this that’s funny.

  What the fuck just happened? Is this really all about me? It seems crazy to think so, but I can’t see what else it could be about. I want to be angry about the things they just said, but I’m so worked up and confused that all I can do is hide my face in my hands.

  This has gone to shit, real fast.

  “Megan,” Tristan says, placing a hand on the small of my back and rubbing gently. “I’m sorry.”

  Not to be outdone, Madden starts kneading my shoulders. “God, Megan, I never meant to upset you.”

  I can practically feel them staring daggers at each other over my head, and I can’t take it anymore. I push up from the loveseat and go sit by Maya, ready for this plane ride to be over so I can just get the hell away from this mess.

  I have no idea why that just went down, and hell, I know it makes for good TV, but I didn’t sign up for that shit. Having them use the things we did together as a way to take a jab at the other. Fuck that.

  They both try again to apologize, but I just hold up a hand. I can’t even right now.

  I remain silent for the rest of the flight, and when we land, Maya has already ordered three separate cars to take us back to the apartment. How could my perfect dates have come to this? Now I’m even more confused than ever.

  Maya

  “What the fuck were you thinking, Maya?” my boss spits out at me. Literally. Spit is flying from his mouth as he rages.

  I stand there, growing more and more frustrated by the second. This asshole has no idea what’s really going on with his own damn show. “If you would just—”

  “That was a perfect opportunity and you just wasted it,” he roars. Pacing across the floor of his office in the back of the studio, he gestures wildly. So dramatic. I wonder briefly if he tried acting before he became a producer. Because his melodrama is so over the top it’s laughable.

  “What did you expect me to do? Let them duke it out forty thousand feet in the air?” I barely resist rolling my eyes.

  “What you were supposed to do was tape that shit on your phone. That’s what people tune in to my show for. Not to watch people be sappy and sweet and fall in love. They want to see fucking and fighting. That’s what this show is about. And you fucking wasted a perfect opportunity for the next episode to get higher ratings.” He turns and glares at me, as if I’ve singlehandedly sunk his show.

  “This show isn’t a fucking MMA fight,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “Someone could have been seriously injured. Then what?”

  He scoffs. “There are two things that sell. Sex and violence.” He ticks them off with his stubby fingers. “That’s how you make it in this business. That’s what people want. And we’re going to give it to them.” He stops pacing directly in front of me and points his fat finger in my face. “You better get one
or the other for me for this episode. Sex or violence. You hear me? No matter what you have to do.”

  I want to slap his hand away because that shit’s just not cool. What does he think I am, a three-year-old child who needs reprimanding for sneaking cookies? But I refrain. Barely.

  “Look,” I say, going for a rational approach. “The ratings have never been higher. Not in this season or any other season. They climb up with every episode. We have a killer cast with these three. People are tuning in to see them. They love Megan. Fucking love her. They want to see her win.”

  He sneers at me. “Don’t be naive, Maya. People don’t want to see her win. They don’t watch this show for people to not have sex. What they want is to see her crack. They’re just waiting for it, watching every episode and buying online feeds so they can be there when it happens. So I’m telling you, she better crack soon and fuck one of these guys. And I mean soon.”

  He turns and waves his hand toward me. Apparently I’m dismissed.

  I spin on my heel, barely keeping my thoughts contained. What I want to tell him is that he’s absolutely clueless about what makes good TV, producer or not. I’ve spent my entire life wanting to produce, and I’ve worked damn hard to get to the position I’m in now. Production assistant on the country’s most popular reality show is a huge item for my resume.

  I know what I’m talking about. They do want to see Megan win. And so do I.

  But my boss wants to see her crack.

  Because that would be good TV.

  Well…two words.

  Fuck. That.

  I set my jaw, determined. I just have to find a way to work this out so everyone is happy. Where Megan is the winner. And hopefully not a broken mess by the time it’s over.

  Megan

  I stare at the ceiling, not really seeing anything. What am I doing? Is this really where I want to be? Is it really worth all this drama?

  I am so not a drama queen. I avoid it if at all possible. It was easy to stay out of the fray earlier in the game, but that’s apparently no longer an option. Because I’m right smack in the center of it.

  I can’t believe Tristan and Madden almost came to blows over me like that. I don’t like it at all.

  My door swings open, and I don’t even look over. I know it’s Maya because my door is locked and she’s the only one with a key.

  “Come with me,” she says brusquely, grabbing my hand.

  I just lie there, not sure I want to do this right now.

  “Seriously, Megan, we need to talk.”

  She says it so low I can barely hear her. Sighing loudly, I push myself to sitting and look at her. “I don’t want to.”

  Maya shakes her head and hauls me up. How can someone that tiny be so strong? But then she’s pulling me behind her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind us, and now I have no choice but to listen to her.

  I cross my arms. “What?”

  She comes to me and rubs her hands up and down my upper arms. “Are you okay? How are you doing? Hanging in there?” She looks truly concerned.

  “Maya,” I begin, then sigh and shrug. “I don’t know if I can keep this up. I’m having serious doubts.”

  She looks at me like I’m crazy. “Doubts about what? The show?”

  I look around, feeling helpless. “Everything. It’s so much harder than I thought it would be. What happened on the plane today…that was insane. I never expected that. It’s like being in this house is making us all act crazy.”

  Maya purses her lips, and I know what she’s thinking. That’s kind of the point.

  “Look,” she says, slinging an arm around my shoulders and squeezing, “you need to make sure that this isn’t just the lust getting the better of you. Yesterday was pretty nuts, too. I mean, two super-romantic dates with two sexy billionaires, both of who you experienced things with that you probably haven’t before. It’s bound to do a number on you.”

  Is that what it is? I’m not sure. I think it’s more. That my developing feelings for Tristan and Madden, feelings that feel pretty fucking real in spite of this being an orchestrated reality show, are a bigger part of the problem. I think I’m really doubting that I’m going to get out of this without losing something. Like my heart. That is so not part of the plan.

  Apartment? Yes.

  Prize money? Yes.

  Love? Hell no.

  “Listen,” Maya continues, her voice going even lower, “I want to see you win. And it’s not just me, either. The whole world wants to see you win, Megan. The ratings are climbing with every episode that airs.”

  Great. Now even more people will get to see how crazy this thing is.

  Maya looks me in the eye. “Don’t forget, this is a game. That’s all it is, Megan. A game. With a life-changing prize waiting for you at the end if you can just get through the next few days. And also, don’t forget, you aren’t the only one playing this game. Madden and Tristan are playing, too.”

  I nod, ready to be alone again, but even after she leaves, her words echo in my head.

  Madden and Tristan are playing.

  What does that mean? Are they playing me? I thought so at first. And maybe that’s why I’m really upset now. Because the things they said sounded an awful lot like I was just some thing. A prize. Not an actual person they care about. And that’s a problem because I do care about them.

  But that doesn’t feel right, either. Could they really have both faked everything yesterday so well? My gut says no.

  So what are they playing then? Why did they do that? Is it because they actually do care and are each trying anything they can to get me to choose one over the other?

  If so, it doesn’t really help. Because I don’t want to choose. Some part of me wishes—as impossible as it is—that I could have them both.

  But that’s ridiculous. I just have to remember what Maya said. It’s all just a game. Too bad my heart is telling me differently.

  Madden

  Shit, I feel like such an asshole. I was an asshole.

  I can’t believe I let Tristan get under my skin like that. Even worse, I feel terrible that I upset Megan.

  The way she looked at me on the plane, like I’d plunged a knife in her chest or something, makes me feel sick.

  I drag a hand through my hair. I’m not sure when it started, but I don’t think I can deny it any longer. I’m starting to care about Megan. As in real feelings.

  Never saw that one coming.

  I think back to the beginning of this competition, when she first caught my eye. I knew then that she caught Tristan’s eye too. I figured I set my sights on her because I can’t resist competing with him in anything and everything.

  But now I think it’s more than that. I think I saw from the beginning that she was different. And now that I’ve spent more time with her, I know it’s true. She’s amazing.

  I’m not sure how that’s supposed to work with this show, though. My job here is to knock out as many virgins as possible, something I didn’t have the least problem with. I mean, they flocked to me. It was too easy.

  And don’t get me wrong, I totally want to be the first man that Megan has inside of her. But it’s not just about that anymore. I know this because part of my brain is telling me I want to be the only man she ever has inside of her.

  And that’s fucking ridiculous. It flies in the face of who I am. My entire reputation is built on me being the billionaire playboy bachelor. It’s why I was brought on the show in the first place.

  And now I find myself developing real feelings for the one person who I’m not supposed to be worried about. Other than fucking her brains out, that is. And getting her evicted from the house.

  But I don’t want her to leave. Unless it’s with me.

  A knock on my door pulls me out of my thoughts, and I’m fucking glad. That’s some shit I really don’t want to linger on too long. Way too dangerous to give it any true thought and consideration.

  I yank open the door and find some production assist
ant with a headset on standing on the other side, a tablet in hand.

  “Yeah?” I bite out, irritated that it’s not Megan.

  “Um, Mr… um, well,” he stutters. Then he just thrusts the tablet toward me. “You’re supposed to watch this.”

  I arch an eyebrow as the assistant I’ve never seen before scurries away. Then I shrug and shut my door again, carrying the tablet over to the chair in my room and sitting down. I stare at it for a long minute, not sure if I really want to watch.

  For some reason, I have a bad feeling about it. Maybe because I know what happened the last time someone handed off a tablet. I swooped in and took Megan right out from under Tristan’s nose.

  I’ll be fucking pissed if this is another announcement about the two of them going off on another date or something.

  Might as well get this shit over with. I wake up the tablet and see that a video is already queued up.

  I can see a still frame of Megan and Tristan in a pool.

  Great. Just fucking fantastic. What the fuck is this shit?

  I jab my finger at the little arrow to play the video. I’m not going to get out of watching it. I’m certain there are cameras trained on my face right now as I watch this, just waiting to catch my reaction, so I might as well do this and move on.

  But as the video plays out on the tablet, my fingers tighten around the edges, and a roar in my ears nearly drowns out the audio.

  My lip curls up as I watch Megan’s hand wrap around Tristan’s cock. Normally something like this would be fucking sexy. I might have my own cock out, stroking it as I watch. But right now, my hands are occupied by holding the tablet up to my face so I can get a better view of the expression on Megan’s face.

  An expression of pure ecstasy as Tristan takes her tit in his mouth, her head thrown back, her fingers clutching him tightly to her. My teeth clamp down so hard that I feel like I might grind them into dust.

  I’ve seen that look on her face before. Last night in the limo. With me.

  And seeing it here? Now? With fucking Tristan? It makes me crazy. Like I want to break something. Maybe his face.