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

by Tara Crescent

  Scott’s sitting at the kitchen table, reading something on his phone while he drinks his second cup of coffee. “Don’t tire yourself out, baby,” he says, looking up with a grin. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

  Normally, he’d be talking about sex, but today is, in addition to being warm and sunny, the opening day of Scott’s concert venue.

  Last week, Matthew Slater’s team came into the Merry Cockatoo and did the final step in the renovation of the space next door—they tore down the side wall dividing the Merry Cockatoo and Scott’s concert space. “I’m not going to compete with you,” Scott had said, right at the start. “I’m not interested in managing bar staff and a kitchen and all the stuff you do. So, if you’re on board, I’ll manage booking bands, and the fans can come over to the Merry Cockatoo for food and drink.”

  Am I on board with more customers? Why yes I am, thank you very much.

  “You have tickets for all of us, right?” I ask Scott. The place is going to be packed tonight, and I’ve promised my friends special seating. “I need ten tickets.”

  “Ten?” Zane’s eyebrow rises.

  “Yeah.” I count on my fingers. “Mia, Ben, and Landon,” I say. “Cassie. James, Lucas, and Sophia are working, so we don’t need tickets for them. Maggie’s five. Then there’s Dominic, Becky, James’ dad Patrick and Maggie’s mom Grace. And I promised Matthew I’d save him a seat too.”

  “That’s the entire town,” Scott says ruefully, then he grins at me. “I’m on it, Neen.”

  I smile back. “You’re the best.”

  Scott’s wearing a gray t-shirt and boxers, and he’s leaning back, his legs stretched out in front of him, looking good enough to eat. Zane, next to him, isn’t even wearing a shirt, damn it. All those yummy abs on display and I can’t resist. “I’m very grateful,” I purr.

  They both look up at my tone, and Scott sets his phone aside. “How grateful are you?” he asks.

  I drop to the ground and crawl over to them. They watch me, their eyes glittering with heat, and I settle myself on my haunches between them. “Let me show you,” I whisper, my voice breathy with desire. “Let me suck your cocks.”

  Holding my eyes, Zane slowly pulls his cock out. He’s hard already, thick and long, and when I see how ready he is for me, I shiver with heat, and a powerful ache fills my core. “Come here, Nina,” he orders. “Wrap those pretty little lips around my dick.”

  That’s an order I’m happy to obey.

  I fist the base of Zane’s shaft, and drag my tongue over his head, teasing him before opening my mouth wider and taking his length down my throat. He groans, throwing his head back and spreading his thighs apart. “That’s it, Nina,” he rasps, gripping my hair. “Fuck yes.”

  His face is etched into deep lines of pleasure, and I don’t want to stop, but I don’t want to neglect Scott either. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Scott pull his dick out from his pants, and start to fist himself.

  Well, that doesn’t seem fair. Why should Zane get all the fun?

  Without taking my mouth off Zane’s dick, I grope for Scott’s hard length and close my palm around his straining erection. I stroke his shaft gently, rubbing my thumb against his tip, spreading the precum around his head, and I’m rewarded by a deep groan.

  I lose myself in pleasure, alternating between them, licking their thick shafts and positioning myself so I can take more of their length down my throat. Their breathing quickens up as I work my magic, and my body heats in reaction to their obvious desire.

  “Enough,” Zane growls finally. “I’m going to blow if you keep this up, Nina.”

  I settle back on my haunches, a wicked smile curling on my lips. “That’s kinda the point.”

  “Not yet, sugar,” Scott says. He only calls me that in bed, and a wave of lust crashes over me when I hear the raspy silk of his voice. “I want you screaming in pleasure first.”

  Zane lifts me up and sets me on the table. He moves the coffee cups out of the way, and then drags me to the edge, and pulls my shorts off my body. My panties are damp with the signs of my arousal, and he chuckles when he sees how wet I am. “Somebody’s turned on,” he teases.

  “Every single time,” I agree fervently. I wriggle free of the panties and spread my legs open in invitation.

  “Fuck.” Zane’s voice is ragged, his eyes hot with lust. “You’re soaked, baby. Do you want my cock in you? Deep and hard, just the way you like it?”

  He drags a finger through my folds. “Don’t tease me, Zane,” I whimper. “Please?”

  I don’t want foreplay—sucking on their cocks was turn-on enough. I’m impatient for the good stuff. For his hard cock to slam into me, pound into me until I’m screaming with pleasure and begging for more. “Please?” I plead again.

  “I think I can find better things for that mouth to do.” Scott lines up at my lips. I adjust my position on the table, and open my mouth gladly, taking his length down my throat.

  Scott’s hands cradle my neck as I suck. Meanwhile, Zane’s fingers grip my thighs, and he pushes into me in one forceful thrust, filling me completely.

  We have a busy day ahead of us. Quickies are rare in my world, but today’s an exception. Zane pounds into me, his thumb rubbing over my clitoris in a very familiar rhythm that always sends me over the edge. Today’s no exception.

  I whimper and moan into Scott’s cock; my hips rise to meet Zane’s urgent thrusts. His talented fingers toy with me, and I squirm against him, the blood pounding in my head.

  We’re all near the peak. Scott grips my hair and comes deep in my throat, and I swallow every drop. Zane’s thrusts grow faster and wilder, and then he convulses against me as he explodes in release. The instant I feel them come, I surrender to my own orgasm, letting the ripples of ecstasy flood through me.

  Boneless, limp and completely sated, I smile up at them. “That’s how grateful I am.”

  Scott has three amazing indie bands lined up to perform tonight. As a special surprise, Andy and Jeremy are coming down this afternoon, and the now-defunct Evolving Whistle will be playing a short set. “Just an afternoon of practice, though,” Zane says. “If we sound like hell, so be it.”

  Though Evolving Whistle is no more, Scott strums on his guitar every single day. Zane sings in the shower. From everything I hear, Andy and Jeremy are the same.

  With Chris gone, they’re finally able to find joy in music again.

  Oh yeah, Chris Muller, band manager from hell, is gone. After that record-label stunt, the band collectively fired him before formally disbanding. The indie band scene is pretty close-knit, and the rumors have spread that Chris was the reason behind Evolving Whistle disbanding. No one is willing to touch him with a ten-foot pole.

  I have no sympathy. Chris got exactly what he deserved.

  In other news, my relationship with my family has improved by leaps and bounds. Maybe it’s because I’m blanketed in Scott and Zane’s love, but I’ve finally been able to move on from the events surrounding my mother’s death. I’m getting along with my dad and my stepmom Joanne, and two weeks ago, I went to see the twins play basketball for the first time, and my dad is right—they are pretty good.

  My father has grudgingly accepted that his daughter is dating two men. “Why can’t you find a nice accountant or something?” he grumbles from time to time. Come on. An accountant? My dad’s living in fantasy land if he thinks I’m trading Scott and Zane for anyone else.

  Zane’s parents are back together. For all of David’s sins, he adores Barbara. He got the shock of his life when she left, and ever since then, he’s put her first. They take regular vacations now. They’re in Venice at the moment. “Sorry we won’t be able to make it back for your opening, Scott,” Barbara had apologized when we talked to them this weekend. “But I’ve wanted to go to Italy my entire life.”

  Of course, they know about the unconventional nature of our relationship; they’ve always known, and they’ve never been fazed by it. “My son is the lead singer o
f a rock band,” Barbara had said to me dryly once when I’d broached the subject. “As long as he’s not doing lines of cocaine every night, I’m happy.”

  Scott’s mom is still in Ireland, and their relationship is still politely distant. “Not everything can be fixed,” Scott says with a shrug. “Don’t worry, Nina. It doesn’t bother me. It’s in the past, and I’m much more interested in the present.”

  It’s the first Pedestrian Saturday of the season. The main downtown area is closed to car traffic, and every business within the pedestrian-only zone is having a sidewalk sale. A small farmer’s market is doing a bustling business in the parking lot at the corner of Main and Water.

  The entire town seems to be in attendance, along with a horde of tourists. Mia’s got racks of spring dresses on display outside her store. Cassie is handing out free samples of a delicious iced mocha and selling out of all her muffins. Down the street, Maggie is doing a brisk trade in spring rolls. And of course, as the lone decent bar in the downtown area, the Merry Cockatoo is busy all day.

  By the time seven o’clock rolls around, I’m fighting to keep my eyes awake. “Why don’t you go home and take a nap?” Maggie suggests.

  “I can’t,” I groan. “The band is practicing there.”

  Mia chuckles. “Crash at one of our places,” she says. “You want my house key?”

  I consider her offer. It’s tempting, but I shouldn’t. Mia’s house is only a ten-minute walk away, but it’s also one of the busiest nights in Merry Cockatoo history. Every table in the house is occupied, and in the bar area, people are packed tighter than a tin of sardines. “I should be here,” I insist.

  James, who walks by at that moment, overhears my comment and rolls his eyes. “Nina,” he says, “we’ve got things under control. If you’re exhausted, get some rest.”

  “Tell you what,” Maggie says. “My place is only a minute away. That’s close enough in case you need to rush back.”

  “Okay.” Mrs. Zhang has bought one of the houses in the new subdivision, and Maggie lives by herself now in their apartment above the China Garden. I’ll be stumbling distance away. “Thanks, Mags.”

  Two minutes later, I’m in my friend’s apartment. I’m about to settle down for my nap when two words in a browser window on Maggie’s laptop screen catches my eye.

  I swear, it’s not my fault. The words cover half the screen, and it’s impossible to miss. Dirty Words.

  Wait a second, isn’t this the website where aspiring writers can post their dirty stories? A grin spreads across my face. Oh, I am going totally going to give Maggie grief about this.

  It slowly dawns on me that the page I’m looking at (still not reading it, really!) is the author portal, and my glee intensifies. Maggie’s not reading dirty stories. She’s writing them. Her latest entry seems to be called Ethan and Lars do the Cheerleaders.

  Whoa. Stop the presses. Ethan and Lars, as in, Ethan Burke and Lars Johansen, the duo who just bought the building opposite the China Garden?

  A wide grin spreads across my face. Maggie’s writing smutty stories about her new neighbors. I’m going to have a field day at our girls-only lunch next Tuesday.

  The show starts at nine-thirty. By eight forty-five, a line of people snakes around the block, as eager ticket-holders wait for the doors to open. “It’s a good thing Bollington doesn’t own this building anymore,” Cassie says, surveying the crowd. “Can you imagine his reaction?”

  Maggie grins slyly. “I’m sure Nina’s a lot better at handling her current landlord,” she teases. “What happens if you’re late with rent, Neen?”

  I blush, thinking of all the naughty tenant-landlord roleplays Scott, Zane and myself have indulged in, and the table cracks up laughing. “Oh you know how it is, Maggie,” I reply airily. “There’s some dirty words exchanged.”

  Maggie goes scarlet and Mia, Cassie and Becky look curiously between the two of us. “Am I missing something?” Becky asks.

  Maggie winces. “I forgot to shut the laptop, didn’t I?” she asks ruefully.

  “It was on the screen.” I lift my hands up. “I promise I didn’t snoop. A lot.”

  She chuckles. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t be able to resist either.” She turns to the others. “When I’m bored, I write dirty stories to pass the time.”

  “About Ethan and Lars,” I add helpfully. Come on. You can’t expect me to keep that to myself.

  Cassie’s eyebrow rises. “Your neighbors, Ethan and Lars? The two guys you called arrogant jerks?”

  “She did?” Mia leans forward, her dark eyes shining with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “When?”

  Maggie’s face is beet-red. “Can we discuss something else?” she begs.

  Thankfully for Maggie, Andy and Jeremy walk into the Merry Cockatoo at that moment. I jump up and hug them in greeting, and we drop the subject of Ethan and Lars for now.

  The show is fantastic. Evolving Whistle plays the last set, and they bring the house down. Once the final notes have died down, the staff at the Merry Cockatoo go into clean-up mode. “Go home,” Lucas says to me. “We’ve got this.”

  Normally, I’d protest, but today, I want to celebrate with Scott and Zane. “Thank you,” I say gratefully. I take off my apron and hang it behind the counter, then head outside.

  Zane and Scott are standing there, leaning against Zane’s car. “Have you been waiting long?” I ask apologetically. “I had to help the guys out with cleanup.”

  “Not long,” Zane says. “You remember that day, three months ago, when the three of us stood in the middle of the road, and we decided to reach out and grab our future?”

  Every word we said that day is seared into my brain. “I do,” I whisper.

  “You remember what you said at the end?” Scott asks me. His lips twitch up. “You wanted to go home and make the night memorable.”

  “I’m pretty sure we did,” I reply. “Three times, if I remember correctly. Once on the couch in the living room, once on the stairs, halfway up to bed, and then finally, in the bedroom.”

  Zane looks down at me. “Want to go do it again?”

  I lace my fingers in theirs. “Another game?” I ask happily. “Five nights again? What are the rules?”

  “Not five nights.” Zane and Scott both shake their heads. “The rest of our lives.”

  My heart begins to pound as Scott pulls a ring-sized box from his pocket. “This is a high-stakes game,” I whisper.

  “The only kind worth playing,” Zane replies. “Interested?”

  “Oh yes.” Yes, yes, yes, so much yes. “Absolutely.”

  Want a special bonus scene featuring Nina, Scott and Zane? (It’s a flashback to the night Nina left the two men.) Click here to get it! (You will also be subscribed to my newsletter, where you’ll be the first to hear about sales, new releases and more. Don’t worry, you can unsubscribe anytime.)

  The next book in the Dirty series is Dirty Words - Maggie’s story. Releases May 22 - pre-order now!

  If you’re going to write dirty stories about your neighbors, don’t give them tiny cocks.

  A standalone romance with an HEA ending and no cliffhangers.

  Love thy neighbors? No way. Never going to happen.

  Ethan Burke and Lars Johansen are chiseled male perfection, with their cocky smiles, bulging biceps and washboard abs.

  They're also rich, arrogant jerks. Ugh.

  I’m supposed to swoon over their panty-melting smiles, but I refuse to get the memo. After we feud over a parking spot, I write them into a dirty story.

  And, when it comes to describing their, ahem, equipment, I get very stingy. How stingy? Think two inches.

  Bad author.

  Unfortunately for me, they find the story.

  And they make me read it to them. While showing me how wrong I was. One deliciously long inch at a time.

  For the record - they’re very well endowed.

  I’ve never been happier to write a retraction.

  Want i
t at the stroke of midnight on May 22? Pre-order now!

  A Note from Tara

  Dear readers,

  I hope you enjoyed reading Dirty Games.

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  Cheers and happy reading!

  Tara

  About Tara Crescent

  Get a free story from Tara when you sign up to Tara's mailing list.

  Tara Crescent writes steamy contemporary romances for readers who like hot, dominant heroes and strong, sassy heroines.

  When she's not writing, she can be found curled up on a couch with a good book, often with a cat on her lap.

  She lives in Toronto.

  Tara also writes sci-fi romance as Lili Zander. Check her books out at http://www.lilizander.com

  Find Tara on:

  @TaraCrescent

  tara.crescent

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