FOSTER BROTHERS - A MFM Menage Romance

by Samantha Twinn

  She slides into the middle and tugs my pillow over. I come with it. Soon, we’re sharing the pillow, our foreheads pressed together just like when we were kids. Her leg is tucked between mine and her little fingers are splayed across my chest.

  “It’ll be okay,” I say softly. “It’ll all be okay.”

  She blinks gently but doesn’t agree, then closes her eyes. I watch her until I hear the soft exhale of sleep, then I allow myself to drift off too.

  31

  HUDSON

  RIVER ENTERS THE CHATROOM

  I send Raven a message, refreshing the page over and over to see if she’s responded or is online. The need to talk to her is gnawing at my gut, making me jittery and anxious. I scroll back over messages we’ve shared and make a decision. I’ve got to be honest with her. I have to tell her how I feel. I think it’s the only way she’s ever going to be completely open with me. And that’s the only way I’m going to be able to help her. Maybe, if she knows how I really feel, she’ll finally meet me.

  I click the message icon and sit staring at the cursor blinking at me on the blank page. Here’s my chance. I start typing.

  RIVER – Hey, little bird. I think the time has come for some hard truths between you and me. You’ve been the one person over the past few months who has truly been there for me. You never judged me even when you knew what I was doing. You never called me out the way some people would. You’ve been there with your words that always had the power to make me feel better, no matter how shitty my real life was getting. I know that it’ll sound fucked up to admit that I wanted every woman I met in the club to be you. I dream about what you look like, how you smell, what your lips would taste of. I didn’t want it to happen, but it has. You mean so much to me, little bird. I don’t think you’ll ever know how much. I know you’re in some kind of trouble and I just want you to know that I’m here if you need me. All you gotta do is call and I’ll come for you. I’ll make sure you’re okay while I can. I love you, Raven.

  I chew on the inside of my cheek for a minute before adding my cell number to the bottom of the message. Finally, I take a deep breath and click send. There. It’s done. There’s no taking anything back now. All I can do is wait for her return message and hope she doesn’t tell me to go fuck myself.

  I snap the lid of my laptop shut and toss it onto the bed beside me. I need to tell Flint what I just did. He needs to know in case he has to step in and help out with Raven. I hate putting him into the position of caretaker for everyone. That’s always been my role, but I don’t have much of a choice right now. Things could change real fast and I need him to know what needs to be done for Missi and for Raven.

  When I reach his room, his door is ajar. It’s quiet though, so I push it open a little to see if he’s already sleeping. The light from the hall falls across the bed and I see two shapes outlined underneath the blankets, one much smaller than the other. The golden hair fanned across the pillow tells me it’s Missi.

  An ache stabs me in my gut. She went to Flint even though my room is closest to hers. If she was scared she should have come to me. When we were little it was always me she wanted if her fears found her at night. She’d sling her little arm over me and snuggle up, her little head smelling like sunshine. And now she’s here in Flint’s bed, snuggled under his arm, her forehead pressed against his.

  Did she need comfort or something else? I don’t smell sex in the room, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Missi is tucked up against Flint, her shoulder rising and falling with every breath, and I don’t understand what I feel about this. Jealous? Yes, because she sought out Flint and not me. Concerned that Flint may have made the same mistake as me? Maybe. But not jealous that they could have fucked. I love Missi and I love Flint. If they wanted to be that way together it wouldn’t be a bad thing. At least I’d know she’d be okay and he’d have someone to be there for him too.

  It’s not like I haven’t shared girls with Flint before, when we were younger and dumber and the girls were crazier. When we’d all had too much to drink to even care where we were or who we were with.

  I step up to the end of the bed. This girl is heaven-sent; she looks like an angel with her blonde hair and her slender arm hooked over the white sheets. It’s the most peaceful I’ve seen her since she crashed back into my life. I want to slide in behind her, wrap my arms around her and see if her hair still smells like sunshine. I think I could sleep, finally, if I was wrapped around her.

  Flint moves and she murmurs as she turns over and presses herself further into the blankets. When I look back to Flint he’s rubbing the sleep from his eyes, giving me a questioning glance before turning to check on Missi.

  In that one gesture I can see the truth. He has feelings for her. More than brotherly. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. I take a step back, then another, my gaze moving between the two of them. I get it now.

  I’m about to leave to head back to my lonely bedroom for another night of restless sleep when Flint props himself up on one elbow and beckons me forward. He sits up and slips silently over the side of the bed. “Go ahead, get in,” he whispers to me, his voice raspy with sleep. He has his boxers on which makes me question my suspicions that they fucked.

  I shake my head no. I can’t climb back into bed with her after the way I’ve treated her. “You stay here, I’ll go. She doesn’t want me. She made that clear by choosing you.”

  Flint stops me with a hand on my shoulder, urging me towards the bed, to the warmth of her body. She’s curled on her side now, hand lying open on the crisp sheets. I swallow the lump that forms in my throat. A thin sweat breaks out on my brow. I shrug off Flint’s hand and walk out the door. Looking back over my shoulder I see Flint sitting on the edge of the bed, his face cradled in his hands, shoulders slumped in what looks like defeat.

  Pain lances through my temple. Rubbing my eyes, I make my way back to my room. I mirror Flint’s position on my bed, shoulders slumped, head in my hands. I want Missi in my bed. Not for sex. Not this time. I want her to trust me and come to me for comfort, the same way she did with Flint. I want to feel her cool hands soothing my pained forehead. I want to curve her into my body and fall asleep listening to the soft sounds of her breathing. I lie down and tug my blankets over me, hand reaching out into the empty space beside me. When we were kids, I slept the most peacefully when she was next to me, and so I understand why I feel like Missi could be my comfort and my salvation. I stare at the darkness, my need for her eating up my insides.

  32

  MISSI

  I’m far too warm, almost uncomfortably hot. The heat seeping over me is what wakens me. It has me groggy and I struggle to open my eyes. My head feels thick, like I had too much wine last night. Something heavy is pressing me into the mattress. It’s an arm, hot and heavy, flung over my midsection. When I shift and try to pull away, the arm tightens around me and snugs me in closer, pulling me into the bend of the male body behind. I stiffen when a cock makes contact with my ass. A very large, morning-hard cock. That’s when I remember Flint.

  I came to him last night, looking for company. I was lonely and just wanted to be with someone for a little while. I never meant to fall asleep but I felt safer than I’d felt in a long time. I let my guard down and enjoyed feeling like a little girl again snuggled up next to my big brother. I try to pull away but Flint pulls me back into the nook of his body again, thick cock pushing against the cleft of my bottom. I feel a throb deep in my stomach, a heat tightening inside and turning to liquid between my legs. My body and mind are at odds with each other. My brain is spinning logic, telling me I need to move, but my body wants to melt into Flint’s and let go and see what happens.

  I have to get out of this bed and I have to do it without disturbing Flint. I don’t want him waking up and feeling like Hudson did. That’s not something I want to do to Flint. Not only would it just be plain awkward, but I don’t want to risk repeating the emotional turmoil of the past few days with him. Flint is the
one person I feel truly safe with right now and I can’t make him angry with me, too. I try to twist away but Flint pulls me back to him again. He pulls me in, my face burrowing into his neck, my body lining up perfectly with his.

  I don’t fight against the pull anymore and let myself melt into him. I stay where I am and allow myself to feel safe. I inch closer and slide my leg between his, letting the heat build where our skin touches. My skin crackles, electricity sparking between us. This feels so right to me. This feels like home.

  The longer I stay wrapped in Flint’s arms the more my emotions bubble up, and with those feelings come the tears. I can’t help but think of my life when Flint and Hudson weren’t around to watch out for me. I was only six when we were separated and I got shifted around to a lot of different homes. Some good, some bad, some horrific. Foster homes aren’t always in the best neighborhoods, especially for a kid like me who had to move around a lot. I went to some really bad schools, schools with metal detectors and armed officers at the doors, and I was never sure if they were protecting us from what was inside the school or outside. The walk home was even worse without even the scant protection of school guards to give us kids the illusion of safety. The streets were dirty, groups of older boys huddled on corners harassing the kids walking by, and sunlight glinting off dirty needles strewn in the alleys.

  I blink rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling as I think back to what would happen after school. The tears start to fall and there’s nothing I can do to stop them now, because I feel so safe here, tucked up against Flint. It’s as though in finding safety, all the fear of the past wants to well up and find its outlet. I can’t stop the hitching sobs that slip out and I know Flint is awake now because he shifts once and goes perfectly still before pulling me tighter into his body, both arms around me, one hand holding the back of my head in a soft grip. I let down my guard and cover his bare chest in my salty tears, each one soothing the painful rips in my soul the way Flint is soothing my back with his hand. He holds me, just letting me cry, easing my pain away with his presence. “It’s okay,” he says softly. “Let it out, baby. I’m here.”

  Just the sound of his voice and the sweetness of his words slow my tears. I ease back and look up at him, suddenly very aware of how close we’re pressed together. “Sorry,” I whisper, feeling like such an idiot for burdening him with all my stupid emotional bullshit. “I should go. You don’t need all this.”

  “No reason to apologize, Missi,” he says softly. “You don’t need to go anywhere. Stay as long as you need to.” He brushes his fingers across my cheek, wiping away the lingering wetness, fixing his gaze to mine.

  I sniffle a bit, embarrassed. “I must look horrible.”

  “You look beautiful.” He drops a light kiss onto my forehead to emphasize his point. “You always look beautiful.” The next kiss is on my cheek and this time his lips seem to linger. When he pulls back he clears his throat. His soft expression has become uncomfortable all of a sudden, his gaze focused on a point over my shoulder, and I know why. I can feel the length of his cock move against my stomach. He’s turned on and the thought has heat exploding through me, prickling down every inch of my body. I know he can feel my nipples tightening against his chest. I know he can see the flush moving across my face. I pull him in closer to me, my breath fanning across his chest.

  “Missi…” he starts, as though he wants to warn me off. I know if I let him carry on he’s going to tell me that I need to go back to my room, and I don’t want to.

  “Shhh, it’s okay,” I say, because it is. I don’t know why. I can’t find any sense in my responses. Flint is my foster brother. We grew up playing stupid games and talking about super heroes. He protected me and cared for me when no one other than his brother gave any kind of damn about me. It shouldn’t feel right to feel his erection against me and find that I want him too. It should freak me out. I should be running disgusted, but this is Flint. I loved him once, and I love him still. It’s not a standard kind of love. Nothing you can define or put in a convenient box. It’s messy and complex and confused.

  He’s in my heart and my mind. The only place he hasn’t been is in my body.

  “I’m not Hudson,” he whispers into my hair, but he doesn’t move to disentangle himself.

  “I know,” I say and reach up, stroking my thumb across his bottom lip, watching his eyes switch from confusion to arousal. “I know who you are.” Seconds pass as emotions roll between us like stormy waves on a damaged shoreline. We aren’t the sweet hero and heroine of romance novels. There is nothing easy about this, but despite that it feels so right.

  There is no way that Flint will make the first move. I know that about him. He may be a fighter but he has deep-rooted integrity and my feelings will be his primary concern. He’d push his own needs and feelings aside for me in a heartbeat. If things are going to develop between us the way my mind and body are urging, it’s all going to be on me.

  Flint may be able to resist the pull between us, but I can’t. Where he is strong, I am weak.

  His eyes flash as I move closer, touching my lips to his so slightly it’s almost as though we’re just breathing against each other. When he doesn’t pull away, I let my lips tug gently at his bottom lip, nipping the plumpness before pressing my tongue into his mouth. He moans, letting me explore, not rushing me or asking for anything more than I want to give. I breathe him in; he’s spicy and warm, solid and hard against my softness. I let my mouth drift over his, tasting the air he breathes out, deepening our kiss, not even realizing I’m making soft moans against his lips.

  When I move in and grasp the back of his neck, he gives up, groaning into my mouth and rolling me to my back.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, looming over me in the darkness with wild eyes laced with concern. He thinks he’s going to hurt me. He’s worried I’m not in a good place to decide what I want. He doesn’t realize that everything I’ve been through in my life is what makes me sure that this is right. When the worst things happen to you, somehow it helps you recognize when things are real and good.

  I nod but he continues to look at me, eyes flitting across my face as though he thinks he might be able to read my expression and see that I’m pretending. “I want you,” I tell him. “More than you will ever know.”

  Flint shakes his head. “You think I don’t understand? You think that I’m not feeling what you’re feeling?”

  “Then why do you need to ask?”

  “Because this is you and me, Missi. We’re not kids anymore. We’re not siblings either, but we have a history that links us in ways that should make this feel wrong. I’m just trying to work out why it doesn’t.”

  “Because,” I say, stroking my thumbs across his high cheekbones, loving the way his eyes droop from the affection. “Flint.”

  He must hear the need in my voice because his resolve seems to crumble with that one plea. When he slides his knee between mine, nudging my legs apart, liquid heat spills over and ignites my body. I pull him closer, wrapping my legs around his waist, pushing my hips towards his until I feel the smooth cotton of his boxers press against my pussy, his cock pulsing against me. I can feel how thick he is through the thin material and I want to feel his skin against mine. When I reach down and tug against the waistband he backs up, holding his weight on his arms so that he doesn’t crush me.

  “You sure this is what you want?” he asks. “We can stop…if this isn’t what you want. I would never want you to feel under pressure.”

  “I know,” I say, jerking his boxers down so he can see exactly how much I want him, tugging on his ass and pulling him forward until I feel his cock pressing into the soft skin of my stomach. “I want you, Flint.”

  He gives a groan and presses into my neck, nuzzling and sucking at the sensitive skin, stroking his tongue over the soft spot at the base until I’m panting.

  His skin is fire underneath my fingertips; I find more scars on his ribs than I expected, but the small imperfections thr
ill me. So does the quick intake of his breath when I trail my fingers down over his hip and grasp his cock in my hand. He’s so thick at the base that my fingers don’t quite meet. I slide my hand up him and his hips jerk toward me. “Shit, Missi,” he groans and backs away slightly.

  He sits up between my legs, taking in my rough breathing with heavy eyes. He reaches for the hem of my t-shirt and tugs it upward but I stop him before he pulls it over my tits. “You can touch me anywhere you want, but I keep this on.”

  A shadow passes over his face but he nods. He pulls his fingers across my stomach, scraping lightly with his nails, leaving a shivery trail everywhere he touches. His touch glides up and down the insides of my thighs, fingertips skipping lightly over the soft hair between my legs. I press upward to his hand but he laughs softly and continues his slow assault. Soon, his tongue is following behind his fingers, tracing over my body, leaving lava in its wake. When I’m panting and pushing up to him, opening my thighs wider, ready to beg for him, he finally relents. He dips his head down and slips his tongue between the folds of my pussy and I can’t stay silent.

  He hooks his arms around my legs and pulls me in closer, pushing his stiffened tongue up into me, his nose grazing over my swollen clit. After a few soft thrusts push me close to the edge he backs off again. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, nipping at my thigh. I moan and stare down at him, needing him to carry on with what he was doing. He looks up from between my thighs, one eyebrow quirked at me, dipping his head to give a single lick to my clit.