Rock You Like a Hurricane: A College Coeds and Best Friends Menage Romance (Triple Passion Play Book 1)

by Sierra Brave

  Three loud raps preceded the door swinging wide open. “Me! It’s me!” Trisha squawked, holding the doorknob as she was dragged inside by the force of the wind’s momentum. The doorjamb brought the motion to a halt in time to keep the knob from smacking into the wall. “Sheesh! This freaking sucks! I hate rain under normal circumstances but this? Ugh!”

  As Tommy helped Trisha inside, Ken forced the door shut behind her. “I’ll grab a towel,” Tommy offered as Ken eyed their soggy, blonde visitor. The ponytail pulled up high on her head dripped water; her face glistened with raindrops, and her saturated T-shirt clung to her body, outlining her bra and smallish breasts. Her nipples protruded from the chill the way Farrah Fawcett’s had in the red one-piece from the posters that had graced the walls of every puberty-aged male in the late seventies.

  Trisha kicked off her flip flops, shivering and rubbing her arms as she did. She brushed off her Daisy Dukes as if she could wipe the water away. The short shorts hugged her shapely rear end and showed off her long, slender legs made toned from swimming and yoga. Allowing his eyes to roam back up toward Trisha’s pert breasts, Ken squirmed. He felt as if the temperature in the room had soared since she walked in, and his gym shorts weren’t going to be able to hide a hard-on.

  Chapter Three

  3:10 p.m.

  TRISHA pretended not to notice Ken leering at her body, secretly loving the attention. She had been completely into the biracial beauty since the first time she laid eyes on him in a psychology class. He had put off taking his social science elective requirement, and the introductory-level class had openings. A couple of girls she knew warned her away from Ken, denouncing him as weird, but Trisha had to decide for herself. After talking to him, she realized he wasn’t strange, but brilliant, and as such, his brain worked a little differently than regular folks expected. A genius was like a whole different species and could hardly be expected to think the same way other people do. No one expected a cow to walk upright because the farmer does or the farmer to haul off and start producing milk!

  Ken was unique and special, someone who took time, but Trisha found him well worth the effort. Of course, she had never anticipated the “Tommy factor.” The dynamic between those two was something to behold. Just like peanut butter and jelly, they were good alone but perfect together. On his own, Ken was a quiet, bookish brainiac, but Tommy drew the handsome brunet into the conversation, allowing him openings that let him shine. Ken had his role, too. He reined Tommy in when his impulsive optimism threatened to go over the top, and more importantly, he gave some of Tommy’s best ideas wings.

  Whatever Tommy could dream up, Ken could engineer it, be it mechanical, chemical or computer. Frankly, Trisha couldn’t decide which one she liked more. Each man had his pros and cons, but the Tommy-Ken duo was so magical she could barely see them as separate beings. She looked at them more like a symbiotic unit. There would be no coming between them. She wouldn’t dare. Instead, she planned to figure out a way to have both.

  Tommy returned with a big, snuggly beach towel, taking the knapsack from her shoulder before wrapping the terrycloth material around her. She flashed him her best smile. “Sorry, I’m a little late. I hit a drive-thru and picked up some soft tacos for you two. They’re in the bag.”

  Tommy’s eyes lit up at the mention of tacos—a favorite of his and Ken’s. “Yummy!” His gaze caressed her chest before shyly peeping up at her face. Trisha rubbed the towel over her exposed skin, but her wet clothes clung to her, chilling her body.

  “Take them off,” Ken said without so much as blinking. Trisha looked his way, taking in his soft features. He still had the fresh face of a boy, but his lean, muscular body told the real story. Ken wasn’t tall like Tommy, nor did he have his broad shoulders and sturdy build, but his lean, wiry frame held amazing muscular definition. If she had been any other girl, Ken’s choice of words might have earned him a slap across the face, but Trisha understood his communication skills were weak. He wasn’t spouting an opportunistic come-on; his suggestion came from genuine concern. The corners of her lips turned upward. “Will you turn around?”

  Ken didn’t reply, simply turning his back to her. Tommy answered for both of them, “Sure, take whatever you need.” She knew the offer to use their shower to warm up went without saying as so many things did between the three of them.

  Ken piped up. “My clothes are smaller.”

  Trisha stripped down to the skin, collecting her wet clothes in the towel before trotting off to the bathroom via Tommy’s bedroom. She dropped the soppy bundle right down in the sink and peeped in the mirror hanging over the top. She looked bedraggled as hell. After carefully removing the ponytail holder keeping her dripping wet hair pulled tightly up on top of her head, she scrunched her brownish-blonde locks with her hands. Reaching into the shower stall, she turned on the nozzle before hanging a fresh towel over the stall’s door. She waited a few seconds until the steam started to build before stepping inside and standing under the rushing water.

  As the sultry warmth covered her skin and her body temperature regulated, Trisha took the opportunity to freshen up a little, borrowing some of Tommy’s shampoo and Ken’s body wash, relishing the dueling scents. The citrusy shampoo brought to mind Tommy’s beautiful, nearly shoulder-length locks while the lavender fragrance of Ken’s body wash reminded her of the time he had put his hands around her waist to help her when she had failed miserably at climbing over a relatively low fence.

  The boys had accompanied her and some of her sorority sisters to an annual horse race that had always been more about tailgating and boozing than watching the sport. She’d drunk a little too much and was sure she would fall to her death while straddling the four feet high, wooden, horse-lot fence, but Ken came to her rescue, making her feel like a princess. Trisha shook her head at the embarrassing memory and turned off the water before she dried off.

  Stepping out onto the damp bathmat, she checked herself out in the mirror. The fresh-faced, no make-up look was fine. Her skin was clear, and her dark brown eyes and eyebrows kept her from looking washed out, but she had to do something about her wet, limp-looking locks. Surely, Tommy had some mousse in the cabinet under the sink. Trisha squatted to open the door and take a look. Wow! That’s a lot of condoms. She frowned, green with envy. Oh well, at least the guys are being safe with all those lucky ladies.

  Spotting the hair product she needed, Trisha grabbed the bottle, snagging Tommy’s hairdryer too. After squeezing a large dollop of mousse on her palm, she worked the foamy, white substance through her hair, scrunching the strands to bring out her perm’s spiral curls. She turned the dryer on low. While continuing to fluff her locks with her hands, she moved the dryer from one side of her head to the other until she had a head full of dry, flowing curls. After returning the dryer and mousse to where they belonged, she ran her hands through her hair, arranging the strands around her face. She rummaged through Ken’s cabinet, ignoring his comb and brush but grabbing his lip balm and helping herself. If this is the closest I can get to a kiss, I’ll take it.

  Trisha made her way into Ken’s room, finding the clothes he had laid out for her on his bed, including a white, World Wildlife Federation T-shirt with pictures of endangered animals on the front, and a pair of dark blue, gym shorts. She eyed the clothing. Ken was a slender guy, but her bone structure was smaller. Nevertheless, once she got the pants on, pulled the drawstring as tight as she could, and tucked over the waistband, they were snug enough to stay in place. She held up the shirt and scrunched up her nose. Her bra had been drenched, and even though she didn’t have a huge rack, going braless in a thin, white T-shirt would result in so much bouncing and see-through nipples flashing the boys would think she was showing off.

  She grabbed the shirt before turning and hoofing it out of Ken’s room and back into the bathroom. Slowly, she opened the door leading to Tommy’s room and peeked inside, making sure the area was unoccupied. She rushed to his dresser and then opened the top drawer befo
re grabbing one of his white, ribbed T-back undershirts. She quickly pulled the garment over her head before gathering the excess fabric from behind and tying a knot. She put the other shirt on over top of her improvised cami. Much better!

  As she exited Tommy’s room, he flashing her a million-dollar smile. “Aren’t you adorable?”

  “I try.” She shrugged and snickered as she cut her gaze away from him coyly. Meanwhile, Ken sat on the couch, scarfing down a taco.

  Tommy looked over his shoulder toward Trisha’s line of sight and turned back with a sheepish expression. “We didn’t save you any.”

  Trisha rolled her eyes and grinned. “I didn’t expect you would. We chillin’ on the couch?” She headed toward the sofa, already knowing the answer. Ken patted the cushion next to where he sat. He balled up a taco wrapper in one hand while wiping his mouth with a napkin he held in the other. After plopping down next to him, she gathered up all the trash they’d strewn across the coffee table before shoving the litter into the empty fast food bag. “How were they?”

  Ken didn’t open his mouth but stuck up his thumb to show his approval.

  “Glad you liked them.” She reached across the table, leaning way over to collect one last, wayward piece of refuse. Trisha stretched as far as she could but couldn’t reach without lifting off the sofa. Unfortunately, the coffee table had been pulled so close she ended up nearly stepping on Ken’s toes. Frantically, she attempted to adjust her footing but only managed to trip, landing herself face down across Ken’s lap.

  The heat of embarrassment warmed her cheeks as she squirmed, doing her best to right her body without looking at Ken’s face. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he kept her in place, nonverbally announcing his differing ideas.

  “You all right?” His question had been preceded and punctuated by bouts of laughter.

  “No!” Trisha wriggled. “But I would be if you would let me up!”

  Placing an arm over her thighs to keep her from kicking, Ken snickered. “Not going to happen—it’s punishment for your clumsiness.”

  She sighed. Ken wasn’t wrong—she was a walking calamity. As backward as it seemed, she could focus hard enough to be a good cheerleader and a decent dancer, but when moving naturally without any thought, she tripped over her own feet, walked into furniture, slipped down carpeted steps, and made a huge jackass out of herself on more occasions than she cared to admit. Being sprawled out over Ken’s lap with her rear in the air was probably one of her more humiliating faux pas. Since she’d had to roll the waistband of Ken’s soccer shorts up quite a bit to make them stay in place, and because she wasn’t wearing any underwear, the curvature where her thighs met her sizable ass was undoubtedly shining. Her cheeks burned, but the warmth from Ken’s body against hers wasn’t bad at all. Everywhere his fingers landed tingled with heated energy. God, I love it! Touch me more!

  One of Trisha’s palms rested flat on the apartment’s unfortunate-colored carpet while her other hand grasped at the couch’s arm in an effort to prevent falling right on her face. Lifting her head, she looked up as much as she could in her precarious position. The only object of note at that level was the phone jack and the unplugged phone cord running along the edge of the wall. “Ken, your telephone...”

  “I know,” He interrupted her while carefully scooping her up and settling her back on the couch. Trisha furrowed her brow and frowned at him as she adjusted the shorts cutting a wedgie up her butt. Once she had her clothes situated, she punched Ken in the arm as hard as she could for manhandling her.

  “Ouch!” He held his arm. “If I’d known you were going to hit me so hard, I would have blocked you.”

  “No fair using your karate skills against me, Mr. Expert.” She spoke in her brattiest voice. Ken rolled his eyes in an attempt to minimize his achievement of being such a high ranked competitor and not just in his home state. He was a regional champion and at one time had ranked number fifty-nine in his division for the entire country.

  “Not my fault my mother chose to force me to engage in a competitive sport in a ridiculous, misguided, and stereotypical attempt to connect me with my father’s culture.”

  “Say what?” Trisha glanced at him, turning her head sideways.

  “There weren’t a whole lot of Japanese people in our little town. My mom found me a role model the only way she could.”

  “That’s actually kind of smart,” Trisha nodded to herself. She had to give Ms. Davidson props for being creative.

  “I suppose.” Ken shrugged without showing any emotion.

  “Seriously though, what’s up with the phone?” Trisha turned to face him, bending one leg and slipping the limb under the other.

  Ken sighed lightly. “Mom kept calling me every twenty minutes for a weather update. It was getting on my nerves.”

  Trisha gasped, shocked by Ken’s matter-of-fact attitude. Folding her arms across her chest, she shook her head. “I know you hate talking on the phone, but come on! Kenny, she’s worried. You’re all she has.”

  He knotted his eyebrows as he scoffed, but she stared him down. Looking away, he sighed again. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Ken!” Trisha’s mouth hung open.

  “You don’t even speak to your mom.” He didn’t even look at her as he called her out on her hypocrisy. She sucked in her breath, unable to argue. Ken was right. She was not on good terms with her mother and never had been.

  “Different situation. Your mother isn’t a narcissistic, wicked witch who constantly manipulates your relationships with the rest of your family and lies to your face. She’s a sweet, self-sacrificing woman who worked double shifts at the hospital to make sure you had every advantage that kids with present fathers had. She must be worried sick.” She poking out her lips in a huffy pout.

  “Oh God, don’t do that! It’s not even fair.” Ken’s scrunched up his face while holding up his hand between them.

  “Huh?” Trisha squinted her eyes and pursed her lips in reflection.

  Ken gently tapped his index finger against her bottom lip before smoothly gliding the digit across its puffy form. “That pouty lip, it’s too much.”

  Trisha held her breath while her heart thumped heavily and her pussy yearned for her to take action. She summoned every smidge of willpower within her not to part her lips and slip them around his fingertip. Ken pushed his thin, silky, black bangs away from his forehead, his intense eyes practically staring straight into her heart. Taking advantage, she stuck her lips out in the fullest pout she could manage.

  As he tilted his head, he drew a heavy breath. “Ugh! Please stop! I told her I was unplugging the phone because of the lightning and that I’d call her tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” Trisha dropped the act. “That’s way different from how cruel you made it sound at first.”

  Before Ken could reply Tommy entered the room with a bottle opener. “We’re all set to ride out the storm together.” He took his seat, leaving Trisha in the middle.

  Tommy used the remote to turn on the small TV on the other side of the room before tuning in to a station playing music videos while Ken opened the cooler and served everyone their first beer.

  “Bottles,” Trisha noted with a smile.

  “Only the best for you,” Tommy teased, taking the drink from her and removing the cap before flinging it toward a recycled coffee can someone had placed in the corner.

  “Two points.” Ken nodded in acknowledgment of Tommy’s skill. Trisha took her first swig and the boys followed suit.

  “Mmm, good stuff!” She giggled. A Sir Mix-A-Lot video played on TV with him singing about his appreciation for women with large asses while bottles clanked and laughter filled the room. Trisha snorted and Ken shook his head as Tommy pretended to bust a move while still sitting down. Eventually, Ken joined in with a funny, awkwardly timed routine they had obviously practiced for their own amusement. Trisha took another swig of her beer and almost spewed it everywhere as Tommy jumped up on his knees, turning his rear t
o face her and Ken while shaking his ass in a hilarious dance.

  “Jackass.” Ken rolled his eyes but laughed all the same.

  “Aw, come on, Ken. Do the butt!” Tommy continued to dance while howling with laughter.

  “I’ll pass.” Ken shook his head. Tommy’s dance only got more exaggerated as he stuck his tight, muscular rear out more and rubbed his hands around his buttocks. Trisha enjoyed the show, unable to look away. Yum, I wouldn’t mind leaning in to take a big bite of those shiny, round apples.

  “Jump in, Ken. Dance!” Tommy continued. Trisha drank more beer, downing about half of her bottle to keep from drooling.

  “Not going to happen.” Ken flatly refused, scrunching up his nose at Tommy’s wiggling ass before shaking his head and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling again.

  “Then do the squirrel or the cabbage patch.” Tommy moved his shoulders, demonstrating the latter.

  “There is a higher probability of you laying an egg and actually hatching a chicken than there is of me doing any of that.” Ken grabbed a nearby pillow, taking a hard swing at Tommy’s sexy, shaking ass.

  “Hey!” Tommy grumbled as he grabbed the armrest to keep from falling. While turning back toward them, he flopped down on his rear, his happy face glowing with positive energy as he winked at Trisha. “See how jealous he is of my moves, Trish?” She was too busy sucking down the last of her beer to reply, but Tommy didn’t miss a beat. “Ken, beer Trish. Oh, unless you want wine?”

  “Beer’s fine.” She handed Ken her empty, and he passed the beer he had just opened to her. “Thanks, cowboy!”

  Ken and Tommy both burst out laughing.

  “Where did that come from?” A wide grin spread across Tommy's face.

  Trisha took a long swig. “Texas.”

  “Da’ fuck?” Tommy shook his head, looking to Ken. The dark-haired stunner shrugged, twisting his kissable lips. Trisha took another sip of her beer as she stole a long glance. Ken’s oval-shaped face, smooth skin, and thick, dark eyebrows made her mouth water. Oh, and his hair! Ken’s silky head of hair had to have been created for the sole purpose of providing her hands with tactile bliss. Long in the front and short in the back, his bangs usually covered his forehead and sometimes hung over his right eye and the bridge of his nose because he swept them in that direction. She balled up her hand in a loose fist to quell the itch urging her to grab two handfuls of his lush locks.