Our Love Story: An MMFMM Romance

by Love, Frankie

  There’s no fear right now about getting good grades to keep my scholarship. Or about a foster mom changing her mind about having a teenager in the house. There’s no wondering if life is going to turn out okay. Because right now, life has turned out okay.

  More than okay.

  Somehow, I entered this fantasy. I’ve been given a life I in no way deserve, but somehow have been granted.

  Sleep comes easy for the first time in forever. I’m not scared of what might happen next, or when the other shoe will drop or when I will lose the glass slipper in this fairytale.

  Now? Now I just get to be happy. The slipper fits and I think I found a lifetime’s worth of Prince Charmings.

  * * *

  Hours later, it’s dark outside but I’m awakened from my slumber. I open my eyes to see Ethan standing in the doorway.

  “Hey,” I smile, not expecting him. “Stalk much?” I tease, raising up on my elbows as I blink, adjusting my eyes to the darkness.

  “No,” he whispers. “I just couldn’t sleep, I was thinking about you. I wanted to make sure you are doing okay.”

  “You woke me up to say that?” I scoff, not believing him for a minute.

  “You’re right, I just wanted to see you.”

  Without even thinking, I pull open the blanket I’m under, and invite him in. He’s fully dressed and so am I, but as he slips into the bed beside me, I pull in a sharp breath. Ethan is here, and he smells like sage and almond oil. He looks like a dark cloud, one that could either unleash a storm or offer a rain shower that might wash away all the pain from my past.

  The sky still dark, and it’s like whatever happens next will be a dream. Except, this is real.

  Or is it? I’m on my side, turned to face him, and as he faces me, his hand finds my cheek. His warm hand causes a surge of intensity to run from his fingers into my skin. There is something about this man that makes me believe I am not alone. In any of this. Noah told me about Ethan’s past earlier today, how hard it was, how alone he’d been as a boy. How he’s never felt safe either.

  I understand that, without even knowing all the details, I understand Ethan when I look into his eyes.

  “Sorry for freaking the fuck out the other night,” he says. “Do you forgive me?”

  I nod, too scared to speak, because for some reason that I don’t understand, at this moment I’m finding myself on the verge of tears.

  On the verge of becoming more attached than I should be to a man I hardly know.

  “You’re too good to me,” he whispers, his thumb pressing against my lips. I bite it instinctively. Lying next to him turns me into a darker version of myself, a version I always try to bury.

  The part he must be able to see.

  “I don’t trust myself with you,” he says. His words are not the ones I expected to hear.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, finding my voice, my hips moving, aching to be closer to him. He must sense it because he inches closer to me too.

  “I feel like if I was with you, completely naked, I would do crazy things to you, Chloe. The things I want to do to you are too filthy for someone as pure as you are.”

  My breath catches. I didn’t expect this from Ethan. I remember our kiss, I remember his long cock, but he’s also been reserved and distant and solemn and respectable.

  The words on his lips though, they promise dirtier ideas than I thought he was capable of.

  “Maybe I want you to do filthy things to me, Ethan. Maybe I want to see how far you can push us both.”

  He groans, pulling away from me. “We made a deal with the guys. I’m not going back on my word and I know you don’t want to either. That’s why I needed to come here and tell you...”

  “Tell me what?” I ask. I’m so wet already and my hands run up his chest looking for the hem of the shirt because I need to slide my fingers over him and feel his ladder of muscles, I need to reach under the waistband of his sweats and feel his hard, desperate cock.

  I close my eyes imagining the filthy ways he is thinking about our first time.

  How dirty is Ethan? Is he imagining blindfolds and whips? Tying me to a bedpost and spanking me like I am a dirty girl? I can imagine him taking out his pain and turning it into something pleasurable.

  I can imagine myself doing the same.

  It’s crazy because both of us are virgins. But there is also something inside the two of us. Something that is broken that we both intrinsically understand.

  I want to understand him more.

  “I’m not taking you out today,” he tells me, sending a cold chill down my spine. It is the exact opposite of what I want. “I can’t be alone with you, Chloe.”

  “But I trust you, Ethan.” I feel the rise and fall of his chest, his heart beating fast. I feel the tip of his cock pushing out of his sweatpants. I feel him roll to his back, his eyes on the ceiling. Pulling away from me.

  “Chloe, you are not the problem. The problem is that I don’t trust myself.”

  I feel tears in my eyes, a single drop rolling down my cheek.

  Then, with urgency, he rolls back to face me, and he kisses me.

  Hard.

  So, hard I hear myself whimper, I hear a groan escape his lips.

  There is an intensity there, when our mouths meet that I’ve never felt before, and I can only imagine the intensity we would feel if we gave one another all we had to give.

  He wipes away my tear and kisses my eyelids, my nose. My cheeks. My forehead. Then he pulls away as quickly as he came.

  “Don’t make me wait too long,” I tell him.

  “I won’t. I promise.” And then Ethan slips back into the dark hallway.

  My breath catches.

  A sob escapes, I want too much. I want everything and I want it now.

  I want all of these men. In my bed, with me, holding me each night.

  I need Mason to take care of me in ways I don’t know how to take care of myself and Enzo showering me with affection I’ve never been able to accept before and Noah making me laugh until my sides hurt and Ethan witnessing my pain and helping relieve a fraction of it at a time.

  I close my eyes, imagining them with me.

  In me.

  My pussy throbs. My need insistent.

  I pull down my shorts and I drop my knees, circling my clit as I think about Ethan’s hot breath, his hard cock, his dark words. As I think about all of them, about how safe they make me feel.

  About how the idea of leaving them terrifies me.

  I want them all to myself, and I want them soon.

  I come all over my fingers not holding back when I groan in a dramatic release.

  I don’t care who hears my cries of ecstasy.

  Scratch that.

  I do care.

  I want to wake the guys all up with my orgasm.

  I want them to lie awake imagining my pussy filled with their cock, my mouth, my ass, my hands, my tits. I want them to imagine the first time they take my virginity, and I want them to be ready for tomorrow.

  * * *

  The dawn is just breaking across the sky, and the light wakes me. After Ethan left last night I tossed and turned for hours. So, at the first sign of daybreak, I let myself outside, more than ready to greet this day.

  I know exactly what I plan on happening.

  Wearing an oversized hoodie that I’m guessing is Mason’s, I walk down the beach looking at shells while letting the warm blue sea water crash over my toes.

  Birds fly overhead, chirping about their morning, and then in the distance, I see a pack of dolphins dancing on the waves.

  I’m so caught up in this reverie that when someone comes up behind me grabbing me at the waist, I don’t recognize that I’m in danger until it is too late.

  At first, I think it must be Noah tickling me. Or maybe Mason wanting me to know he’s making omelets.

  But no.

  No.

  No.

  “I’ve got you now, you little whore,” Jordan growls in my
ear.

  “Let me go,” I cry as loudly as possible, hoping my screams are loud enough for the guys to hear me.

  But no one hears me. No one runs for me. They are all still asleep.

  The only person who has me is the one man I fear, the man I don’t trust.

  Jordan.

  I can’t break free of his hold. I push and try to free myself, but it’s too late. He pulls me away, dragging me from the beach.

  Away from the guys’ mansion.

  Away from the guys.

  Away from the only place I’ve ever felt truly safe in my life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ethan

  I jump from my bed, my cock still hard. I swear I’ve had a permanent hard-on ever since I laid eyes on Chloe.

  My desire for her was at an all-time high last night, in her bed. I wanted so much more from her then.

  I want everything from her now.

  I wanted to pull down her panties, plunge my cock into her bare pussy and have my way with her. I want it so fucking badly it makes my cock ache. My heart aches too; I’ve never wanted anyone like this.

  But now I can’t think about that. Because I know something is wrong.

  I swear to God, I heard cries on the beach. The sounds startled me awake. I jump, pulling on my sweats and run toward Chloe’s door.

  Her bed is empty. And I call for her, not receiving an answer. Running down the stairs into the kitchen, I see she’s not there either.

  I shout for her, pulling open the sliding glass door and screaming her name.

  Nothing. There’s nothing on the beach but a few birds darting into the ocean looking for breakfast.

  “Chloe!” I scream again. Where is she?

  The guys hear me, racing down the stairs to see what is happening. Mason, Noah, and Enzo enter the kitchen, eyes full of fear, hair ruffled, intensity pulsing around us.

  They know something is wrong. Just like I do.

  “It’s Chloe, she’s not here. I think I heard crying or screaming on the beach... We have to find her.”

  It’s like we all go into Rambo mode at once, pulling on shoes and heading out the door on a mission. There is only one goal in my mind—finding Chloe.

  I swear to God, if I get her in my arms—when I get her in my arms—I’ll never let her go again. I know the other guys feel the same way because their shoulders are tense, their biceps are flexed, ready for vengeance.

  No one takes Chloe without our permission.

  And we sure as hell have no intention of giving anyone that.

  We run down the beach, stopping at the location that Enzo and Mason found her.

  “Where the hell did she go?” Mason asks.

  “I bet it was Jordan,” I say. I have read tons of articles about him, and I’ve been receiving documents from the PI all week on what a creepy asshole he is. “He’s sketchy as fuck and wants to claim her as his own. He’s one of those guys who doesn’t want to lose and he thinks Chloe is a prize he deserves. Chloe would never have left without telling us.”

  It’s true. Besides, she has no money or wallet or identification. She’s been terrified of going anywhere out of our sight, so I don’t believe she would have left this early in the morning, alone.

  Our girl has nowhere to go.

  We are the only men who can protect her. The only men who will ever protect her.

  We are hers and she is ours.

  And last night, when I held her in her bed, I know she knew that.

  “I’ll call the cops,” Mason says.

  I nod, pulling my phone from my pocket and calling the investigator. If Jordan had left the country, I can’t imagine him not notifying me of it.

  The PI doesn’t answer, and I don’t think I can wait. Neither can the guys. Besides, I am not going to leave Chloe’s well-being to the hands of a hired guy. If I love her, I need to take her life, and safety, into my own hands.

  “We gotta get to the private airport. Now,” Noah says, fists clenched. “If Jordan got her, which I’m guessing is what happened, he can get off this island crazy fast.”

  We nod in agreement and head back toward the mansion. I grab the keys and we jump in the Jeep. We careen down the freeway, not caring about the speed limit.

  There is no limit when it comes to how fast we need to find her.

  “Turn right,” Enzo directs. I nod, using my blinker and taking the exit. Thank God this island isn’t too large, and we know where the private airport is, having arrived here that way ourselves.

  In the distance, I see an airplane taking off the ground.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Noah yells, slamming his fist against the dashboard. I press down on the gas, feeling rage surging through me with the fear that Jordan may have already taken her way.

  I keep driving, needing to confirm that it was his plane. The idea of her being with him in that jet makes me ill. When she came to the mansion she was trembling, her face covered in tears, she was so lost and alone. But that all changed when we opened our arms and invited her to stay.

  Chloe doesn’t deserve to go backward. Her life has been hard enough already.

  I pull into the airport parking lot and see a traffic control man. After parking the car, the four of us run toward the airstrips. There are a handful planes sitting here, all privately owned jets.

  And all I can hope for right now is that Chloe isn’t on the one that just took off.

  “I’m looking for a guy named Jordan, do you know him?” Mason asks the first employee he sees.

  The guy raises his hand, clearly not knowing. “I don’t know, man, but I can call to find out?” He looks at us questionably.

  I know we must look like crap. Half dressed in pajamas, just jumping outta bed. Maybe he thinks we’re here to make trouble.

  If that’s what he’s thinking, he would be damn right.

  “I can’t wait for that,” Enzo says, running off toward a plane. He has the right idea.

  Mason, Noah, and I peel off toward different planes ourselves.

  I run as fast as I can. I may not be a marathoner, but I am in shape. I’m a cliff jumper, and I’m used to diving headlong into the unknown. Diving into bodies of water that may be filled with rocks, jagged edges that will slice me, destroy me. Kill me. Some people think it’s ludicrous—diving from such heights, not knowing what’s beneath the surface.

  But that’s just a great metaphor for my life. I’ve always thought of myself as fearless.

  And that is because I have had nothing to lose. I had the guys, sure. But no family—no one who counted on me for shit.

  But now I do.

  Now I have Chloe.

  Now the idea of being fearless sounds ludicrous—because losing her is terrifying.

  I run with intensity and I bound up the steps of a plane, swing open the door, and step inside.

  My heart stops. My rage mounts.

  Someone will pay.

  Chloe is here. Tears cover her face; her muffled cries fill the tiny cabin of the four-person plane.

  And the prick leans over her. He’s pulled off her extra-large hoodie, leaving her naked and vulnerable.

  He’s tied her up with a rope. Has gagged her. He is trying to take my virgin’s honor.

  But I sure as fuck won’t let him.

  Not now. Not like this. Chloe is our virgin, she’s ours to protect.

  I hear the guys behind me and I know I’m not alone in this fight, but neither is Chloe.

  We pull Jordan off her. We punch him, we make him bleed. We slam our fists into his jaw, throwing him to the ground and kick him in the gut.

  I need more blood, more pain. He screams in agony, begging for relief.

  I will give him none.

  I told Chloe last night I don’t trust myself alone with her, don’t trust what will happen when my lust for her is unleashed. But now I know how dark I am.

  I want to see this man’s blood.

  I want his bones to break.

  I want his face to be noth
ing but ripped flash.

  I want him to suffer.

  Eventually, though, Noah and Enzo grab me by the arms, and pull me away.

  We all started the fight, but I’m not ready to end it.

  But my friends are right to make me stop.

  I know deep inside that I would beat this man to death, if not for them stopping me.

  There is no reason he should have the chance to live when he’s done what he has to my Chloe.

  But I don’t need a murder, no matter how justified, on my hands.

  I look at Chloe, and she’s clearly terrified. And I hope like hell Jordan didn’t already take the one thing she’s held most dear.

  When she meets my gaze, though, she looks scared of me too.

  Scared of how badly I beat Jordan. Probably remembering the words, I said last night.

  I don’t trust myself.

  She has told me she trusts me, but maybe now all that that changed.

  She will never look at me the same way again.

  The guys have already untied her, helped her to stand. “Are you okay, amore?” Enzo asks, kissing her wrists where she was tied up. They are red and raw.

  I need to know she’s going to make it. Emotionally. Physically.

  She nods. “He didn’t do it. He was ready to. A minute later and it would have been too late.”

  Relief floods the plane.

  “Thank God,” Mason says, wrapping his arms around her. He kisses her forehead. “Thank God, you’re okay.”

  She’s crying, and Mason helps her back into her shorts and then her hoodie; he carefully buttons her shorts, taking great care to be gentle as possible with her.

  Noah calls the cops, running his hand through his hair as he gives them the details of what happened. Then he hangs up, reaches for Chloe, telling her everything is going to be okay, and that the unconscious Jordan will never hurt her again.

  My hands are still shaking. Bloodied and bruised from beating Jordan so violently, without remorse. After the cops come and we give reports, Chloe explaining what happened on the beach and what Jordan was attempting to do, we are free to go.