g me blush and reach over Brent for the alarm. He opened one eye and gazed into my face for a long moment. “Are you okay with what happened?” His voice was soft in the quiet room as I pressed myself against him. I nodded. “I won’t…we won’t go further if you don’t want us to.”
“I want to,” I assured him as I pressed a soft kiss to his neck, hearing him moan softly. His skin was soft and smelled so masculine as he slid an arm around me. I kissed down his chest slowly with uncertainty as he whispered for me not to stop. My mind went over everything that happened between the three of us, and I thought about how turned on they both must be. I circled his small nipple with my tongue as I slid my hand into his shorts, gripping him.
“Jane,” he choked, sliding his hand down to cover mine. “You don’t have to.”
“Guide me,” I told him as he covered my hand and stroked me over him slowly. He was thick and long, making me wonder how this would ever fit inside of me. I stroked him, first gently and then hard, feeling his breath quicken before he jerked forward and warmth flooded our hands as he choked out my name.
The alarm went off again, and Brandon stirred as he rolled towards me. He wrapped me in his arms, feeling me pressed against Brent as his hand slid lazily down my side.
We stayed together every night, taking things just a little bit further every day. The last night is when I knew that I was ready since I’d fallen madly for these men in the short time that we’d known each other. They played my body skillfully before Brent slipped into me for the first time, slow and gentle so I could adjust to him. Brandon stroked my skin as I moaned and whimpered, pinching my nipple once I was ready for Brent to move. Before I went to sleep, I felt Brandon inside of me, gentle so he wouldn’t hurt me. “So wet. So tight. So fucking beautiful,” he told me as he moved above me, kissing me gently. “You’re ours, Jane.”
“Yours,” I agreed as I came for him, feeling him still inside of me before jerking. I had no idea how this was going to work out yet, but I loved these men. I loved them both and as unconventional as that was, it was the truth. Brandon’s words to me only assured me yet again that they felt the same. We planned on a lot of nights at my apartment while we worked through this new situation and some private time in the office until we could sort through that, keeping our relationship under the radar.
I landed in New York with a smile on my face, ready to take this on. I was ready to love these men the best that I could, showing them all my feelings along the way.
THE END
Hey,
Don’t miss the bonus stories which are included in this book including my HOT SELLER - “Seduced By Two”.
Also included is “Second Chance” a very sexy romance novella which will not be published anywhere else!
So, don’t miss them….just look what you want to read next via the Table of Contents (TOC) and make yourself SO SO HORNY!!!
Billionaire Smutty Romance Collection
BOOK 1: BAD BOY BALLER
MAYA
I was young and stupid, but that was no excuse. Everyone is young and stupid at some point in their life, but not everyone makes the mistakes I'd made. It all started when my brother Luke brought over a new friend. I was a senior in high school, a good girl. A girl my family could be proud of. I didn't go out and party like my brother. I studied. I worked hard. I was going to be a doctor one day, and that meant taking advanced classes while I was in high school, to prepare myself for college and beyond.
I was the white sheep of the family, my brother the black one. He would disappear for days on end, partying and drinking, until he finally couldn't party anymore. Even at twenty-one, he was still living at home. He worked mostly odd jobs – his latest one at a club in Chicago. Luke told me all about it, making it sound like an incredible opportunity, rather than the latest waystation on the road to nowhere he was on. But I'd listen as he told me how great it was to sling drinks and flirt with all the hot women – and to get paid for it too.
He'd apparently found his dream, and I guess that I had to be happy for him.
Every week, we had a family dinner. It was something of a tradition with my folks. Once a week, we'd all gather around the table and eat a home-cooked meal, all in one place. During the week, my father's job kept him away a lot and Luke was, well, Luke. He was hardly ever around. But he was good about never missing a family dinner. Mostly because mom would have had his hide if he had.
But I remember clearly, this one specific family dinner, when Luke brought a friend from work to our weekly family gathering.
“His name is Reese,” he told my mom beforehand.
“Reese isn't family, dear,” she said. “Only family should be at family dinner.”
Yeah, my mom was a bit uptight. Sometimes too uptight for her own good. But I had to admit that I agreed with her. At least on this one thing. I didn't want any of my brother's scumbag friends hanging out with us. Especially not on the one night we were supposed to come together as a family.
“He has no family, mom. I feel bad for the kid,” Luke complained. “Would you really turn away a guy who has no family instead of welcoming him into ours for an evening?”
I rolled my eyes as I listened from the living room. My brother knew how to work it and play on my mom's heart strings. It made me sick.
I heard my mom sigh as I walked into the kitchen. She put the lasagne in the oven and wiped her hands on her apron. She tried a little too hard to be the picture of the perfect mom – her perfectly coifed hair, the church dress, the pearls around her neck. She had that Donna Reed thing going on, but was exactly the type of woman I aspired to be. Except, of course, that I wanted a career. I gave her props for all she did, but being a stay-at-home mom wasn't for me. In that regard, I was more like my dad – who was a doctor too, of course.
“Fine, I guess I shouldn't be so cold,” she said. “Tell him he can come over, but please – and I beg of you, Luke – tell him to make sure he dresses properly. None of those baggy jeans and baseball caps at the table.”
I snickered. It was hard enough to get Luke to dress properly, especially back then. He was trying so hard to be a gangster type – baggy jeans, tennis shoes that cost his entire pay check, baseball caps turned backward with the brim left unmoulded. He didn't want people to believe he was the adult son of a doctor and a stay-at-home wife living in middle class suburbia outside of Chicago. That would have damaged his street cred or whatever he called it.
If Luke heard me laughing, he ignored me. Instead, he agreed – reluctantly – that they'd dress appropriately for the dinner table. Though, it didn't take a genius to know that his idea of appropriate and my mom's likely didn't match up too well. I figured we'd be lucky if he wore anything that even remotely resembled appropriate dinner table attire.