Paid for Three Times
Page 1
Paid For Three Times
Madison Faye
Contents
Paid For Three Times
Author’s Note:
Mailing List
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue!
Also by Madison Faye
About the Author
Mailing List
Featured Books!
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
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Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
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Professor
Mailing List
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Also by Madison Faye
About the Author
Mailing List
Paid For Three Times
Three times the possession, three times the submission.
The night I was taken changed everything, and shattered who I thought I was.
Stolen away, they put me up on that stage, ready to be sold to whoever could pay.
And there are three who could. Three rich, powerful, dominant, gorgeous men – men with the means to pay for their darkest desires. Three possessive, dangerous men who want me on my knees, ready to submit.
They’ve locked me away in their mansion – at their mercy and at their bidding. They stir something dark in me – desires I’ve never admitted even to myself. And I know its’s wrong to think this way about the men who’ve bound me and made me their possession, but it can’t be controlled.
Maybe there’s something wrong with me – something broken. Maybe it’s always been like that, and maybe only they can fix it.
Submitting, and giving up total control to the three tempting, filthy, dominant men who paid for my obedience might be the key to my salvation.
But only if I dare.
Paid For Three Times is a dark, steamy read involving a mfmm menage romance with three completely obsessed alpha heroes. This is all about her – no m/m. If you love over-the-top, slightly unrealistic, and wildly dirty romance with plenty of steam, this one’s for you! HEA with NO CHEATING!
Author’s Note:
Trigger Warning: While mild in nature, there are scenes in this book involving kidnapping and restraint that may be triggering to some readers (though engine-revving to others!). Like all my books though, a very sweet HEA is guaranteed, so I promise, if you stick with it, the ending is worth it!
Please know that this book is a MFMM romance, which is to say, it's all about her - no MM action.
Oh, and as a huge thanks from me to you for reading and for your support, I’ve included two special treats at the back of this book! Sugar & Spice and Professor - both very naughty “first time” books, immediately follow Paid For Three Times.
Side effects may include: melted kindles and undergarments, flushed cheeks, an elevated pulse, and very dirty daydreams. Proceed with caution, and enjoy!
Copyright © 2017 Madison Faye
All rights reserved.
Editing: Sennah Tate
Cover: White Rabbit Creative
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.
This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.
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Prologue
Mia
“Be a good girl. Open your mouth.”
I did as I was told, feeling my pulse run hot in my veins as the shiver teased its way through my body.
I opened my mouth.
“Good girl,” he growled, much closer to my ear than he’d been before.
I gasped.
I might not’ve been able to see them with the blindfold on, but I knew they were there.
All three of them.
I could feel their presence in the room — could feel the power they exuded as they circled me like sharks.
Hungry. Focused. Ready to devour me.
I whimpered as I felt a thumb press against my bottom lip — whose, I wasn’t sure, but I trembled just the same. The thumb pressed into the softness, parting my mouth slightly before sliding between my eager, wet lips.
“Suck,” a voice growled in my ear, making me moan and strain against the silk ties binding my wrists behind my back.
The voice was behind me this time, though the thumb was from one of them standing in front of me. I could feel the heat from both of their bodies, radiating like fire against my all but naked body — naked but for the sheer, black lace stockings up to my thighs, the red-heeled black stilettos, and the collar.
And the blindfold, of course.
I moaned as I closed my lips around the thumb, sucking gently and swirling my tongue delicately over it.
I wanted to please him.
I wanted to please them.
Because through them, I’d found myself. Through them, I’d tapped into the darkness inside of me that I knew now had always existed just below the surface.
Waiting to be awoken.
I felt the man behind me growl as he moved against me. He’d unbuttoned that crisp Oxford shirt, and I melted against the powerful heat of his bare, muscled torso at my back. I sucked harder as I felt the thickness between his legs pressing into my bare ass — his hands skimming up my sides.
The man in front growled as I sucked his thumb, moving closer to me, just to the side. He too had lost his shirt, and I whimpered at the feel of bare, hard-bodied men pressing into my exposed skin from either side. One powerful hand slid up my body, teasing over my belly and my ribs before it cupped my breast firmly, rolling the nipple between a finger and a thumb.
My head swam. My pulse raced. My body ignited for them.
And then I felt the third man, and that’s when the cry broke from my lips.
His hands slid right over my hip, moving firmly down between my legs.
I was dripping wet for him.
I moaned loudly again, my lips clasping around the thumb again and sucking as I felt this third man’s fingers slide wetly over my clit. He teased me, letting his finger just brush over the eager nub as he moved to press against me.
I whimpered.
He’d lost his shirt and the rest of it, and I moaned as I felt the thick, pulsing heat of his cock hot against my thigh. The man behind me growled into my ear again as his hand dropped between us. I felt him tug at the buckle of his belt, and my body shivered as I heard his impeccably tailored suit-pants drop to the floor. He pressed against me again, and this time, I cried out as I felt his cock throbbing hard against the cleft of my ass.
The thumb pulled from my lips, and I whimpered with a soft pout.
The man in front of me chuckled darkly. “Oh, pet, I am far from done with this mouth.” I heard him removing his belt as well, his pants coming undone.
“On your knees,” the man behind me whispered heavily in my ear.
I shivered, the moan catching in my throat as my heart thumped widely and the desire teased between my legs.
I knelt for them. I did as I was told.
Of course I did. After all, I belonged to them. These hard, dominant, bad men owned me — officially. Bought and paid for.
But then, that’s not the only reason I did as they said. I did so, because I was a good girl.
I was their good girl.
I moaned as I felt them move closer around me, hands cupping my jaw, fingers tangling in my hair. A finger traced over my cheek.
And it didn’t matter that everything was caving in. It didn’t matter in that moment that far badder men than these three were after us with every intent of killing all four of us. It didn’t matter that we’d broken the rules. It didn’t matter that we’d moved far past whatever this had started as.
It didn’t matter that I wasn’t the same girl I’d been before.
Before them.
“Open your mouth, beautiful,” one of them whispered darkly.
My lips parted.
My heart pounded in my chest.
My pussy throbbed with need for them.
“Now be a good girl, and swallow the whole thing.”
1
Mia
I sighed heavily as I hit the “send” button — my thirty-fifth resume of the day going out into the ether.
I scowled as I clicked back to my inbox. No new emails. Of course. I hit refresh twice, just to make sure, but still nothing. Just the weekly “how’s being an adult” email from my mom, the same notice from my cell phone carrier that I was past due, and the same collections agency that now owned my student loans reminding me that I was their slave for life.
Good times.
I reached for the bottle of cheap white wine and poured a fresh splash into my glass — a coffee mug, actually. I wrinkled my nose as I took a swallow, the cheap taste of sugar overpowering anything really “wine”-tasting.
I hit refresh on my email again.
Nothing.
How was “being an adult” going? Well, I had no job and no social life, and no love life since Mike had decided to put his dick in half the female population of his office two months ago. I had a roof over my head — an apartment I shared with my best friend Andrea, but I was behind three months’ rent on my half. Forget about the utilities.
I had four maxed out credit cards, student debts that rivaled the worth of a third world country, and a completely useless degree in art history that pretty much guaranteed my unemployment.
In short, life was currently kicking me in the teeth.
I sighed, pushing my hair back from my face and pouting.
Outside my bedroom, the apartment unlocked with a click, slamming open against the coat rack. I swiveled to see Andrea maneuvering her way in with two armfuls of shopping bags.
My brow wrinkled.
This had been slowly going on for a month or so now. Andrea hadn’t quite gotten to the dire straits I was in, but it’s not like she was made of money either. But then that started to change.
It started with small things — her picking up the tab all too often at happy hour, or when ordering delivery. Then it was new clothes — frequently. But then it moved to her covering my half of the rent when I was short — for months, and without any sort of pressure to pay her back.
I’d caught her getting ready to go out the other night with a brand-new Chanel clutch, Louboutin’s, and this insanely gorgeous new club dress. I’d almost said something, when she’d gotten a phone call, smiled at me, and strolled out.
And now here she was with shopping bags from just about every high-end designer in New York.
My inbox dinged, sending my heart into my throat as I whirled back.
My mouth pursed into a scowl.
Apparently, Sephora was having a sale I might be interested in.
That did it.
I slammed the laptop shut and stepped from my room.
“Need a hand?”
Andrea’s attention jerked up from trying to pull her new, heeled Burberry boots off, her arms still laden with the shopping bags.
“Oh! Uh, hi!” She smiled, and it wasn’t like she had anything to be guilty about with going on a shopping spree, but I could still see it there in her eyes.
I guess my tone didn’t help.
“I thought you were out?”
I shook my head. “Nope. The secretary job called; position filled.”
She made a face. “Sorry, hon.”
“It’s fine, I just— I mean…” I trailed off and looked at my feet. “Look, I know I owe you some serious money, and I really will pay you back. But if you need to get someone else in here who can actually afford this place, just let me—”
“Oh my God, stop,” Andrea rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at me. “It’s fine, really. I know you’ll pay me back when you can.” She grinned. “With thirty percent interest, of course.”
“Oh, right, of course.”
She smiled. “Honestly, who else out there do you think would put up with living with me?”
“You are sort of a slob.”
“Bitch.”
I grinned back at her, before my eyes dropped to her shopping bags.
Her face went red. “Oh, this is just…I mean, I had some returns to make, so I—”
“Andrea.”
Her mouth snapped shut, her lips twisting awkwardly.
“C’mon, you can tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
I gave my old friend a look. “Dude, c’mon. Either you won the lottery or you’re selling drugs or something.”
She smiled, avoiding my eyes. “It’s nothing like that. It’s…”
She trail
ed off and shrugged.
“Yes?”
Andrea sighed. “Look, there’s this guy, okay?” She immediately shook her head, seeing the look on my face. “It’s nothing like that, he just…” She shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m listening?”
Her eyes darted to mine, blinking quickly. “You don’t want to listen to this.”
My brow furrowed.
Andrea looked scared. Well, no, not scared, just, nervously excited I guess. And she also looked like she was trying to hide that excitement.
“C’mon Andrea, it’s me.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “Which is why I’m asking you to drop it, okay? Look it’s really nothing. Just a guy I met.”
I rolled my eyes, annoyed at her little game of secrets. “Fine, whatever.”
Andrea looked down and I sighed. “Okay, okay, it’s fine. Really. Have your little secrets.”
She grinned. “Delivery sushi for dinner to make it up to you? I’m buying.”
I eyed the Prada and Hermès shopping bags still lying on the floor by the door.
“Damn right you are.”
2
Mia
The front door to the building shut with a dull click behind me, and I groaned as I slumped against the wall of mailboxes.
My muscles ached, my feet hurt. I was sweaty. My thumb smarted where I’d burned it on the heat lamp.
I silently shook my head. Five hours. I’d lasted five damn hours at the job.
And no, none of the eighty-seven places I’d sent my resume had suddenly offered me a job. But you know who had? Jumpin’ Joe’s Diner, in Hell’s Kitchen.
Mindy, a friend of a friend, worked there, and had gotten me an interview two days after my little melt down about Andrea’s shopping spree. The next day — tonight, I was on the floor for my first shift, ready to sweat to make some money.
And I’d made it five hours. Not even a whole shift.
In fairness, it wasn’t like it was my fault. I tried, and I knuckled down and worked for those five hours. I’d never had a silver spoon in my mouth, and I did understand the importance of hard work, even at an unglamorous job like diner waitressing. That I could take.