Dirty Games (A MFM Ménage Romance) (The Dirty Series Book 3)

by Tara Crescent

  “I had to focus on the next show,” I snarl back, cut to the bone at the notion that she thinks she came second. “You think I enjoyed being on the road? You think I enjoyed the crappy motels, the smoky bars, the constant fatigue? I was doing it to secure our future.”

  “Our future.” She shakes her head, a resigned look on her face. “You were so busy thinking about the future that you forgot about the present. You didn’t leave me any other choice.”

  You didn’t leave me any other choice.

  I inhale sharply. For thirty-four years, my mother waited for her husband to realize what was important, and he never had. I’m just as big a fool. My body rebelled when Nina left, and I lost my voice for a week, and I still didn’t get it, but now she’s here, and I understand.

  She shoves her hands into her pockets. “Everyone has a price,” she says, her gaze moving from me to Scott. “What’s yours?”

  “You want us gone.”

  “I do.” There’s no hesitation in her voice and a piece of my heart shreds, but at the same time, resolve stiffens my spine. I thought I was over her, but I’m not. I’m going to fight for her.

  “We’ll leave,” I reply. “On one condition.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You play a game with us.”

  Her body tenses. We’d said that to her the first night we met her, and her eyes had sparkled with anticipation and desire, but that was then, and this is now. She remembers the line because she replies using the same words she had more than three years ago. “What are the rules?” she whispers.

  “You’re ours for five nights, from six in the evening until six in the morning. No holds barred. Nothing held back.”

  “Is this about sex?” She rolls her eyes, disgust clearly written on her face. “Of course it is.”

  Her assumption takes my breath away. I shake my head, feeling a profound sense of loss when I realize how little she thought we cared.

  Next to me, Scott laughs without humor. “Sex was never the problem between us, Neen,” he says curtly. “I can walk into your bar, and in less than ten minutes, I can find someone who wants to sleep with me. Our sex life was pretty fucking good, but that’s not why we were together.”

  She opens her mouth to say something, but Scott puts up his hand to stop her. “If you win the game,” he says, “you get to ask for anything you want from us, and if it is within our power to give it to you, we will.”

  “You’ll move away if I do what you want for five nights?”

  “Yes,” I interject, my voice harsh.

  She gazes into my eyes. “Fine, Zane,” she says. “I’ll play your game. Bring it on.”

  3

  Nina:

  “You play a game with us.”

  Zane says those words and the present dissolves, and I’m in Boston again, seeing Zane Marshall and Scott Leyland for the very first time.

  It’s late, and the bar I’m working at is dead. It’s another terrible night for tips, and I’m not sure how I’m going to pay rent this month, but I’m too numb to care. I’m twenty-three, and I’m used to struggling to survive.

  I’m almost about to close for the night when I feel the weight of someone’s gaze on me. Looking up, I see Zane and Scott for the very first time. Two tall men, both with dark hair, one bearded and one clean-shaven, and they’re both looking at me as if I’m a tasty treat and they haven’t eaten for days.

  I work in a bar. I’m used to preying gazes; I’m wearily accustomed to men undressing me with their eyes. This time, I’m not repulsed.

  I’m intrigued.

  They come in, and they take seats at the bar, and we start talking, but I don’t remember a word of the conversation. No, the memory that sticks with me is the way I felt. Sparkly and alive, every nerve in my body on edge, hoping they’d make a move.

  Then Scott suggests I close the bar for the night and draw the shutters over the windows. “Nina,” he says, his voice unexpectedly serious, “Play a game with us.”

  “What are the rules?” I ask. At that point, it’s clear that they are both interested in me, and that somehow, in their world, this isn’t a problem. Part of me is shocked by this, but a deeper, wilder part of me is turned on. The idea of them sharing me is hot as hell.

  “Rules?” Zane’s lips quirk into a smile. “The first rule, Nina, is that we make our own rules.”

  My throat dry, I flip the sign on the door to Closed with indecent speed. I lower the blinds, and I walk back to them, adding a swing to my hips. “And the second rule?” I prompt.

  Scott’s sky-blue eyes linger over my face. His expression is intense, even faintly troubled. “During the game,” he says, “everyone speaks the truth.”

  My heart stutters at that.

  “That’s a high-stakes game,” I reply. I’m trying to sound flippant, but my voice comes out shaky. “The truth is a dangerous thing.”

  “It is a high-stakes game,” Scott agrees. “The only kind worth playing. Interested?”

  I throw caution to the wind. “Yes.”

  “Good.” His eyes fill with heat. “Take off your panties, sugar, and give them to me.”

  I look at them with wide eyes. I’m twenty-three, and I’m not a virgin, but I’m still shocked by his words. Compared to the two of them, I feel very sheltered and inexperienced. “Here?”

  As reply, Zane holds out his hand.

  My body fills with heat. “I’ve only just met you.”

  Scott’s eyes bore into me. “Remember the second rule, Nina,” he says. “No lies. Do you want to have sex with us tonight, Nina, or do you want us to leave?”

  No lies, they say, as if that were easy, as if I don’t need to stay within my hard, flippant shell to protect myself. No lies, they say, looking at me with raw, naked heat, making me forget all the reasons this is a bad idea.

  With shaking hands, I reach for my panties, stepping out of them from under my skirt. My face is hot, my breasts feel heavy, and liquid desire fills my core.

  “Good girl,” Zane says approvingly. He tucks the scrap of fabric in his pocket, and my cheeks heat up. I’ve just given a total stranger my underwear. I’m a bad, bad girl.

  “This doesn’t seem fair.” Scott’s voice is serious, but his eyes twinkle with amusement. “Zane gets a souvenir, and I don’t?”

  My lips twitch involuntarily. “You’re right,” I say solemnly. “Are you going to fight him for my panties?”

  He chuckles. “I have a better idea,” he replies. “Take off your bra, honey.”

  Part of me wonders if the terms of endearment—honey, sugar—are because they can’t remember my name. Of course, it is, Nina, I tell myself bluntly. They’re musicians in a band. Even I’ve heard of Evolving Whistle. One of the three girls I live with in my Jamaica Plain studio plays their music all the time. They must have a thousand women throwing themselves at them. What do you expect?

  “Nina.” Scott raises an eyebrow. “Am I going to have to repeat myself?”

  Okay, maybe they do know my name after all. “Sorry,” I tell Scott, my face breaking out into a smile. I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, then I push down the shoulder straps and pull it out through my t-shirt.

  Scott’s lips twitch at my modesty. “You know your top’s going to be off at some point this evening, don’t you?”

  Well, duh. I’m not a complete moron. “I’m following directions,” I reply pertly. “You asked for my bra, I took it off and gave it to you.”

  “Ah, that’s how we’re playing it, are we?” Zane moves closer to me, like a predator seeking prey. My nipples swell into hard pebbles, pushing against my bright pink t-shirt. “Tell me, Nina, are you going to obey all our orders?”

  I answer his question with one of my own. “Are you always so bossy?”

  Scott surveys me from head to toe, his gaze brushing slowly across my body, making me feel needy and prickly and aroused. “Does it bother you?” he asks, his eyes locked on mine.

  Zane moves behind
me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my back against his hard chest. My pulse kicks up a notch, and a fresh gush of heat fills my core. “Remember the second rule,” he whispers in my ear.

  “The second rule seems designed to embarrass me,” I mutter, my voice sulky. “I don’t think I like it.”

  They laugh softly. “Tell us, Nina,” Scott urges. “Does our bossiness bother you?”

  Oh hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. “No,” I whisper. “I think it should, but it doesn’t.”

  “Rule one, sugar, is that we make the rules,” Scott says. “Just the three of us. There are no shoulds in this room. The world doesn’t get a say in our personal lives.”

  Maybe it doesn’t if you’re a rock star. For one night, I want to live life in their world, a world in which they don’t let other people’s opinions sway what they do.

  Zane takes a step back, and another, tugging me along. He presses me against the back wall of the bar. “What should we do with you, Nina?” he asks, his voice contemplative.

  Scott goes behind the counter, and I feel a stab of alarm. “Hey,” I call out to him, “I’ll get in trouble if you drink the booze. My boss will take it out of my paycheck.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to drink your booze, honey,” he replies. “I want to feast on your body.”

  He grabs something from the bar, but I can’t see what he takes. Zane, on the other hand, seems to know exactly what’s going on. “Good idea,” he says approvingly. “Hand me one, will you?”

  It’s an ice cube. Well, two ice cubes. Zane holds one in his hand, as does Scott. My eyes must go round with surprise because Scott looks bemused. “You have no idea what we’re going to do with these, do you?”

  I have a clue or two, but I’m sure they’re going to find ways to broaden my education. “Not really,” I admit.

  “We’re going to corrupt you, sugar,” Zane grinds out. “In all kinds of ways. Tell me the truth, Nina. Do you want to run away?”

  Hell yes. But also, no, and my need is stronger than my nerves. “No.” I lift my chin up and stare them in the eye. “I want to play.”

  They’d made me come that day. Zane had knelt in front of me, and he’d trailed the ice cube up my legs, and everywhere the cold hit, his warm mouth followed. The cube had inched closer and closer to my pussy, and while Zane teased me, Scott’s mouth closed over mine in an intense kiss that seared me and possessed me and engulfed me.

  Afterward, while my muscles still shuddered from the intensity of the orgasm that Zane’s talented mouth had caused, Scott had held out his hand to me. “We’re not going to fuck you in this bar, Nina,” he’d said. “As tempting as it is to bend you over this counter and sink my dick into your soft pussy, I’m not going to do that. I want to do this properly. Will you come back to our hotel?”

  Let’s face it. I’ve never been able to say no to Zane and Scott.

  I go through the rest of my day on autopilot. I work the bar at the Merry Cockatoo Tuesday night, my pulse speeding up every single time a man with dark hair walks in. I count my earnings at the end of the night, and then I wipe down the counters and make sure the bar is spotlessly clean. I take out the trash to the dumpster in the rear of the building, shivering at the chill in the air, then I head back home.

  You’re crazy, Nina, I tell myself as I brush my teeth. You should have called their bluff. Scott isn’t going to buy your building. He was just trying to get a rise out of you.

  But I can’t risk it. If they stick around in New Summit, I’ll have to leave. No matter how scathing my father will be about my inability to honor my commitments, I can’t stay. I can’t work at the bar and watch them leave with women they pick up at the Merry Cockatoo. I’m not that strong.

  The first few months with Zane and Scott had been great. I’d traveled with them. In their arms, I’d felt safe and secure, and for the first time since my mother died and my father remarried, I felt a sense of belonging.

  But after the first year, I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was nothing more than Scott and Zane’s girlfriend. They were living their dreams, but I’d forgotten what it felt like to have goals of my own. I was drifting from city to city with them, and I judged myself for my lack of ambition.

  A couple of times, I tried to talk to them half-heartedly about the future, but the conversation never went anywhere. Zane wanted to protect me and take care of me, and Scott refused to have emotional conversations. I knew they loved me in their own way, but it wasn’t enough.

  Now they’re back in New Summit, and I’ve agreed to spend five nights with them.

  I toss and turn in bed. I’m awake for the longest time, but I fall asleep eventually. In my dreams, I’m running away from a dark, looming threat, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot escape.

  4

  Scott:

  Once Nina leaves, I look at my friend. “What the hell was that about, Zane?”

  He lifts his chin up. “I realized something when Nina was here,” he says. “I want her back.”

  “What the hell?” Where did that thought come from? Sure, the idea of being back with Nina is appealing. The eighteen months we were together were the best months of my life, but Zane’s insane if he thinks we have a shot with Nina. Did he miss how much she seems to hate us?

  “She’s right, you know.” Zane sits down on the couch and stares blankly at the fireplace. “We took her for granted. It was all about Evolving Whistle. The next tour. The next album. Whatever stupid thing Chris wanted us to do. For eighteen months, she put her life on hold and followed us around, and what did we give her?”

  I sigh heavily. Chris Muller, our band manager, had booked us on tour after grinding tour, driving us to exhaustion. Every night, we’d stumbled back to our rooms, utterly drained of energy, and the only thing that made our lives bearable was the knowledge that Nina would be there, her body soft and warm, her smile bright, her green eyes shining with desire as she reached for us…

  “We gave her nothing, Zane,” I reply angrily. “I get it, okay? I’m not an idiot. But that doesn’t change anything.” As much as I want to, I can’t go back in time and fix what we did. “We have no business toying with her. I shouldn’t have told her I was planning to buy her building, and you shouldn’t have suggested this insane game. We had our chance with Nina, and we blew it.”

  Zane holds up his hand. “Hear me out,” he says. “Nina seems to hate us, right?”

  My throat tightens, and I nod mutely.

  “What’s the opposite of hate?” he continues.

  Is this the time for Zane to be cryptic? “The opposite of hate is indifference.”

  “Exactly.”

  Comprehension dawns on me. “You think she still cares about us.” I don’t know if I’m optimistic or wildly delusional, but when I think of getting her back, my heart hammers in my chest and hope fills my lungs.

  “Do you want her back, Scott?” Zane gives me a serious look. “I’m not doing this for sex.”

  No, of course not. What we felt for Nina was so much more than sexual attraction. We had an intimacy that people go a lifetime without finding. What we had was real.

  “Yes.” The moment I say those words out loud, a weight lifts off my chest. “I really do.”

  There’s just one problem. We only have five nights to make this happen.

  Nina:

  I spend most of Wednesday morning waiting for the phone to ring. Scott and Zane didn’t tell me when the first of the evenings were. “We’ll have to set things up,” Zane had said with infuriating vagueness when I asked. “We’ll call you.”

  “I can’t drop everything to be at your beck and call,” I’d snapped back. That’s not true though. The sooner this stupid game starts, the sooner it ends. I’m not going to be at ease until I know that Scott and Zane are safely back in New York.

  At four in the afternoon, I head to the bar. Lucas and James, my two bartenders, were scheduled to open the Merry Cockatoo, and sure enough, I find th
em behind the counter. “What are you doing here?” James asks as soon as he spies me.

  Lucas frowns. “You look like hell, Nina,” he says frankly.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I admit. “I was going stir-crazy in my apartment, so I thought I might as well come downstairs and help out.” I look around at the almost-empty bar. “Not that you need it at the moment.”

  “It’ll fill up soon enough,” James replies. “Lucas just set up the sound for Open Mic Night. We’re good here.”

  “Okay, I’ll go check on Sophia and Reagan in the back,” I reply. It’s almost time for happy hour, and the kitchen is going to be jammed soon.

  James clears his throat and exchanges a glance with Lucas. “Before you go, Nina, can we ask you something?”

  My first thought is of the Merry Cockatoo. “Tell me you aren’t quitting,” I say, my mouth dry. It’s not easy to find good staff, and James and Lucas are the best. “I know there’s a couple of bars opening up, and I’m sure they’re sniffing around, but I don’t want to lose you. I will increase your hours, pay you more, whatever it takes.”

  Lucas chuckles. “Nina,” he says gently, “of course we’re not quitting. You gave us a job when we desperately needed one. We wouldn’t leave you in the lurch. No, this is personal.” He takes a small jewelry box out of his pocket. “We’re thinking of asking Cassie to marry us,” he says. “I mean, I know it won’t be legal or official, but I thought we could do a small ceremony.”

  “Oh my God,” I squeal loudly, “what a great idea. Let me see the ring.”

  Lucas tosses me the box, and I open it. The ring is beautiful. Three diamonds nestle together in a triangle, and the shape reminds me of a clover. “Cassie’s going to be so happy,” I tell them, swallowing a lump in my throat. I’m not jealous of Cassie, I insist. I’m not imagining Scott and Zane asking me to marry them.