Twin Tempt_An MFM Menage Military Romance

by Jess Bentley

  “I think Brazil?” he answers with a faraway squint. “Maybe Peru or Chile? I’d really like to see the Amazon. See the South American pyramids. I think that would be pretty fantastic.”

  “Seriously?” I ask, surprised.

  He raises his eyebrows like I might have insulted him mildly. “Yeah, seriously. Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

  “Oh… It’s nothing. It’s just that usually when you ask people where they want to go, they all say Paris… London… Rome. Stuff like that.”

  He shrugs, smirking. “Maybe I’ve had a little bit too much of Western civilization,” he admits with a chuckle. “I’d like a real shift in my frame of mind, you know? Asia… Africa… That sort of thing. London and Paris just seem like more of the same to me. But of course you don’t know for sure. You never really know until you get there.”

  I let that sink in for a few moments. He really is deep. Definitely the educated brother.

  “And… Cass? What about him?”

  He smiles slyly. “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to ask him,” he answers noncommittally. “But in general we tend to stick together. Twins, you know. I realize it’s cliché, but it doesn’t feel right when we are too far apart.”

  A million questions crowd in my mind, but I know better than to ask. Eventually I will understand. They will tell me, or I will just come to know. But I can’t pry too deep. Bad military manners.

  “And what about you?” he sighs, crossing his ankle over his knee in a gesture that I see as wonderfully relaxed and comfortable. “Do you have plans to go somewhere? I am going to take a wild guess that you are not enlisted.”

  I reach out and tap his shoulder with my index finger approvingly. Happily, it gives me a little thrill of contact.

  “You would be correct!” I announce. “I’m not enlisted. Not that I couldn’t be… But I decided to go to school instead. Or I decided to go to school first, I guess. I might enlist later. Or I might not.”

  “So, not totally settled then?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that…” I answer shyly, realizing that I sound like I’m being evasive. Why am I doing that? Habit, I suppose.

  “You don’t have to tell me more,” he shrugs pleasantly.

  “Oh, it’s not a secret!” I chuckle. “Sorry, just not used to people asking me personal questions, I guess.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Yeah… I bet you do. Well, I am a little over two years through school. I have a plan to get out of town and go to New York to finish up.”

  “New York, huh? Seems like everything is there.”

  “You too?” I ask politely.

  “Sort of,” he shrugs. “There was something floated to me, but I’m not sure how Cass would feel about it. And I haven’t made the time to ask him, which is on me. But anyway. Just funny you mentioned New York. What’s holding you back?”

  “That plan is not 100 percent approved.”

  I finish with a grimace, feeling as though I’ve really let the cat out of the bag. But he doesn’t seem judgmental at all. He seems sort of delighted by the idea.

  “Oh, a secret plan? Like a run away and join the circus kind of plan?”

  Laughter tightens my core and I realize this is fun. Really fun. Personal.

  “More like a run away and join the ranks of community healthcare providers kind of plan!” I laugh. “There is a great program in New York where I can finish school while I do work with at-risk communities. My dad wants me to stay here, of course, but I feel like this is a great opportunity for me to do something I really love doing. You know?”

  His eyes sparkle with interest. As he looks at me, it gets easier and easier to talk about this, even though I haven’t had any real practice. Mona listens, of course, but I have never told anybody else.

  “I know exactly what you mean!” he says confidently. “So, how do you get there? Is there an application process?”

  “The application is already approved,” I explain, shrugging. “In fact, all I need is the last eight hundred dollars for my housing deposit. That’s it. Eight hundred dollars to goal.”

  “Ahhhhhhhh,” he sighs for a long time, knowing and sympathetic. “And does that explain how you ended up in your underwear at Sweeney’s?”

  Embarrassment colors my cheeks crimson. Somehow, I had forgotten all about that again. But there it is again, oh my gosh. What a disaster.

  “Honestly? Yes,” I admit, cringing. “And wow, that did not go as expected! Mona said it would be easy... in and out, a couple hundred dollars closer to my goal. Now I am zero dollars closer and I need a new ID.”

  “Yeah, easy plans usually turn out to be the worst,” he rolls his eyes.

  “I know, right? I should’ve known better, but the thought of reaching my goal before my dad got back was too tempting to pass up. I fell for it. And in my defense, Mona wasn’t exactly forthcoming about the details of the job, or about Ty…”

  I feel him tense beside me, sense the anger he immediately reins back.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk about it,” I apologize nervously.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for!” he barks, half startling me.

  When I flinch back, he takes my hands in his, looking down for a moment while he collects himself. His thumbs trace deliberate circles on the backs of my hands.

  “Sorry… I don’t mean to raise my voice,” he explains calmly, though I can still hear the emotion he is holding back. “Not sure why I have such a bad reaction to that guy, but I do. All I can tell you is I think he is really bad news.”

  I nod silently.

  He looks me in the eye, his gaze intense. So intense, I almost want to look away, but I don’t.

  “I’m not kidding, Libby,” he says softly. “We will take care of this for you. You don’t have to go back there. I promise.”

  I don’t say another word before he’s leaning forward, his lips soft against mine. The rest of what he has to say pours between us in that wordless space we share. I know exactly how he feels, and it makes me feel something too. Something I can’t name. Something I shouldn’t name.

  But I know it’s real.

  Chapter 18

  Cass

  It seems so simple that we all settle in. Even though Will and I have never had anybody around for quite this long, not even relatives, Libby is different. Days go by in a breeze, almost too fast. We eat, we fuck, we chat about things. She is wicked smart, knowledgeable about a broad array of things. Moreover, she seems to really understand our way of life. There are no awkward explanations about our roles in the military, our past, our futures.

  It’s simple. Uncomplicated.

  It doesn’t hurt that she is a great cook. Not like a fancy cook, more like a manly piles of meat and potatoes kind of cook. She’s not shy about eating, either. No salads and Diet Coke for this one. She eats like… Well, she eats like a soldier.

  Of course, we have kept her very busy, with a vigorous schedule of physical activity. It’s not my fault. We have been alone for a long time. We have a lot saved up.

  Sometime in the middle of the week, I realize the deadline is approaching for the National Guard leadership position in New York. I need to make a decision. To do that, I need to have an uncomfortable conversation with Will.

  Can I do it? The conversation… Yes. Actually deciding to make a permanent relocation somewhere on the East Coast, I’m not so sure. Part of me thinks I need to make decisions on my own. The other part of me thinks this is fine, so why ruin it?

  “We are out of coffee!” Libby calls out from the kitchen, closing the upper cabinet door.

  She runs a hand through her tousled blonde hair, lifting the hem of my T-shirt up to where I can see the curve of her left butt cheek. My mouth waters instantly.

  “You know what? We’re out of macaroni too. And onion powder. And almost out of cayenne!”

  “Hey, can you check the white sugar? How are we fixed on that?”

  She shoots me a glance then l
ooks around the kitchen quizzically.

  “Sure… Where is it?”

  “Right there,” I gesture with a smile.

  She turns around and opens the other upper cabinet, then stands on her toes and rocks to from side to side, craning her neck.

  “I don’t see it!” she calls out. “Are you sure it’s in here?”

  “Probably top shelf! Maybe you need to climb up?”

  To my surprise, she does it, simply hops onto the counter on her knees and stretches out so she can poke through the items on the very top shelf of the cabinet.

  I can’t take it anymore. I rush across the room before she can get down and bury my face between those plump, inviting ass cheeks, letting my tongue dart between her pussy lips to taste the thick, musky scent.

  “Hey! Heyyyyyyyyyyy…” Her voice trails off as she softens, thrusting back against my tongue.

  Balancing with a hand on top of the refrigerator, she opens up and lets me tongue-fuck her for a couple of minutes, moaning into the open cabinet until she comes all over my face.

  When she begins to crumble, I catch her up my arms and carry her back to the couch, her eyes half closed in shuddering bliss.

  “The sugar…” she mewls weakly.

  “Yeah, I was just kidding about that,” I admit as she settles between the cushions. “It’s in a totally different cabinet. I just wanted to see your ass.”

  She shakes her head slightly as the dopamine courses through her, enjoying the last dregs of her climax. Since she is still wet, I slide my fingers along her slit, opening up this pussy that I’m on, this pussy that I trained up since it was practically a kitten.

  “Hey, you guys want to head to the—oh, what have we here?” Will asks, appearing around the corner.

  My fingers are already coated in her juices, but I’m happy to have company.

  “Just a little afternoon snack,” I explain. “You got time?”

  “Hell, I will make time,” he announces as he pulls his shirt over his head.

  “No… No, wait,” she interrupts, moving away from me.

  I catch her by the ankle, but she shakes her head playfully.

  “No… seriously. We are out of things. Majorly out of things. And I need… Well, I need some girl things.”

  “Girl things?” I repeat, looking her over. I think she looks nice in boxers and T-shirts. What more could she want?

  “Yes, girl things,” she says again, rolling her eyes. “Real shampoo, for instance. A razor. Actually, can we go by my house? Or maybe it’s time I went home?”

  I catch Will’s eye. He and I agree on this thing completely.

  “Libby, you’re not a prisoner here,” Will explains gently. “But we both feel you should stay.”

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about that,” she starts, wrinkling her nose uncertainly. “I am sure that Ty has already forgotten about me. Mona probably already got my ID back. He’s probably moved on to some other shenanigans.”

  Again, Will catches my eye.

  “You could be right,” I nod reasonably. “But, you could be wrong. This mission is already in progress. Why don’t we just continue on this course, just to be safe?”

  She tips her head to the side and rolls her eyes. “That means no,” she pouts.

  Will grins triumphantly. “Yeah, that’s a good girl. That definitely means no.”

  She doesn’t put up too much of a fight, and I would like to think that’s because of our undeniable charms. But then again, it probably has something to do with the way her dad raised her up.

  She looks down irritably and pinches the hem of the T-shirt.

  “Okay, then, about the supplies? Maybe a run to Target? You can watch over me while I pick out some groceries?”

  Will shrugs dismissively. I have to admit, my erection is a little more disappointed than that. But I guess there’s no harm in going along.

  “Yeah… Okay. That’s a good idea,” I finally agree.

  She claps her hands quickly under her chin and squeals in delight. “Yes!”

  The Target store is just a few miles away, and it does kind of feel good to get out for a field trip. With the top down on the Jeep, the sun shines gold through her hair and she leans back as the wind flutters the blonde fringes over the bridge of her nose, smiling into the sky.

  Her torn jeans hang loose over broad hips as the three of us walk into the store, side by side. I notice a few curious glances from soccer moms and the occasional soldier. I guess we are just a sight. No denying that. If I saw brothers that look like us walking around the store with a woman that looked like her, I would give a second glance too. Human nature.

  Libby quickly fills up the cart as Will pushes it for her, efficiently selecting items at every aisle as though she has a mental shopping list. I’m excited to see chocolate chips and walnuts go into the cart, and I suddenly hope that there might be some cookies in my future.

  Homemade cookies. Could I really get that lucky?

  She also has an eye for grains and proteins, the sorts of things that you need to keep your strength up. It’s nice. Feels sort of… I don’t know. Like being taken care of? Nice, like that.

  After the cart is practically overflowing, she twists around with a smile, then stumbles, scowling. I catch her under her elbows and she straightens immediately, embarrassed.

  “You okay?”

  “Oh, of course I’m okay,” she replies quickly, brushing her hair back with the back of her hand.

  She glances down, and I follow her eyes, seeing her slightly differently all of a sudden. She’s wearing a pair of my shower shoes, and obviously they don’t fit. And she’s wearing my T-shirt, and that really doesn’t fit either, no matter how cutely she tied it.

  “They have clothes in this place? Shoes?” I ask her.

  She shrugs shyly. “Well, sure they do…”

  “All right, let’s go pick a couple of things out. Things that actually fit you. Whatever you want.”

  She breaks into a brilliant smile. “Seriously? You want to… buy me clothes?”

  Holding out an elbow, I wait for her to take it so I can guide her down the aisle toward the clothing section. Her cheeks are red and she can’t seem to hide the little smile that wants to break through.

  She’s never had a man buy her clothes before?

  Actually… have I ever bought anything like that?

  “I will meet you guys over there,” Will smiles. “I want to look at the bestsellers.”

  “Oh, okay!” Libby grins back.

  Will rolls the cart away as Libby and I go in the opposite direction. Her fingers are small and delicate in the crook of my arm, and I have to admit it feels sort of silly, but also sort of fun to promenade through the middle of the store like this.

  As soon as we hit the women’s section, she dives toward the back, to the last racks.

  “Wait, these are nice,” I point out, waving at a selection of mannequins in flowery, strapless dresses.

  “Oh, yeah, those are really nice,” she agrees. “But this is the clearance rack. They keep it at the back. Usually 50 percent off. I like to check here first.”

  “Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”

  “Hell yes I am!” she smiles, clearly delighted by this portion of the field trip.

  Weirdly, I expected this to be much more difficult than it is. Shopping is one of my least favorite activities, but being with her makes it effortless.

  She flips through the hangers on the rack, stopping every once in a while to pull out a tag and scowl at the price. Sometimes she seems to like something and takes it off the rack so she can hold it up, shoulder height, and scowl at it even more.

  “Is there something in particular? Should I be helping?” I ask helplessly.

  She shakes her head like the idea is preposterous. “No, you’re perfect! I will know it when I see it.”

  “You’ll know it when you see what?”

  She shrugs, shaking her head again. “You know… It. The thi
ng. Whatever it is. It will speak to me.”

  “Ahhh… It’s going to speak to you,” I reply, finally getting the clue. This is some kind of girly sorcery. I am not meant to understand.

  She continues flipping through the rack till she gets to the end, then sidesteps to the other one. Finally she pulls out a dress and lays it across the top, then quickly two more, all in different colors.

  “Is that it? The thing that speaks you?” I ask wryly.

  With a haughty stare, she plucks the dresses off the rack and folds them over her arm.

  “As a matter of fact, they—”

  Her eyes widen. Her voice chokes off the end.

  My body tenses in response. Something is wrong.

  Tracking the line of her gaze, I sweep the landscape and immediately see what she sees.

  It’s Ty.

  We’re at the back of the women’s section, with at least four rows of clothes between us and him. He pauses in front of a rack of panties, glancing around furtively before plucking out a white, lacy pair and drawing it close to his face to inhale deeply.

  “Jesus, what a weirdo,” I mutter under my breath.

  Libby doesn’t say anything, but I notice that I have instinctively positioned myself in front of her. She stands behind me, totally still, with the tips of her fingers resting against my lower back.

  “He didn’t see you, Libby,” I reassure her.

  “I know,” she whispers, but I can hear the unease in her voice.

  Ty is sure taking his time. Is this what he does for fun? Loiter around the women’s underwear displays?

  “Okay, come on,” I command her, reaching back to take her small hand in mine. The moment that Ty dips his head to investigate a different design of thong, I lead Libby quickly along the back wall to an opening that I’m happy to see is an unstaffed room of dressing alcoves. They’re all empty, so I pull her to the farthest one, the family-sized room with the locking door.

  She follows me without objection, and I thumb the button behind us, closing us off in what I am pretty sure is a foolproof escape plan.

  Turning around, I see the confusion and alarm in her expression.

  “Hey… Hey… Look at me,” I tell her in a low, confident voice. “You’re cool. We’re fine. He didn’t even see us.”