The Perfect Holiday

by Mia Ford

  We met up in the same room, and there was a flow to the way that we got her food and coffee. Her lips were swollen with the kisses from the night before, and I knew what she was thinking about when she’d blush here and there throughout the day. I knew that she was replaying the night before as much as I was.

  That evening, we ate somewhere else and went back to the penthouse without discussing it. Jane walked out to the balcony, and we followed her, knowing that she only had a couple of glasses of wine tonight. Dinner was more mellow, and we just wanted to be alone when we were done, putty in Jane’s hands. She looked at the sky for a moment before turning towards Brent and pushing him into the wall for a long kiss. Tonight, she was wearing a longer loose black skirt and a red shirt with matching lipstick that was probably smeared on my brother’s face right now. He stumbled, and they moved to one of the oversized chaise lounges as he dropped into it first, pulling her over him.

  I watched as the kiss deepened and she rocked over him. Their bodies moved so well together and I heard her moans as he gripped her hips and eased her into a rhythm. It was the first time that we watched her come, on Brent’s lap with their bodies close together and lips joined. It was stunning to watch her fall apart, her voice rising in the night as Brent eased his hands into her hair.

  Jane sank into him as he pulled her close, whispering to her gently as I stared at them. Brent urged her up and we took her into the bedroom, where she changed into another shirt in the bathroom before slipping into bed. Jane seemed stunned as she snuggled into me and found my lips while Brent locked up the suite. “Did that feel good?” I asked her as she nodded drowsily. “I loved watching you come, Jane.”

  “Tomorrow night, it will be you making me do that,” she promised before she kissed me again gently, making me hard again. Jane pressed into me and Brent came to bed and looked at us before kissing her hair.

  CHAPTER 28

  Jane

  I was in over my head with these guys. Being with them made me feel sexy and confident and the night we danced together, I knew that I was going to give in. I knew that I had no willpower left at all, though I wasn’t ready for it to go all the way quite yet.

  The first night, I just kissed them and they touched me. I say just, but the feeling of being kissed by such charismatic guys, brothers no less, was intense. I could come just from my mouth against theirs, their styles different and skin warm under my hands.

  The second night that we were together, I attacked Brent. I kissed him first, deepening it quickly as I felt Brandon’s eyes on us. When Brent moved us to the chair, lying under me as he kissed me again; I knew that I had no hope. I found his shaft and pressed against it, finding the friction that I needed. Oh God, he felt so good as he held my hips and guided me, his rhythm matching the movement of our kiss. I rocked with him, needing the release that he promised as my clit burned with desire. I moved against him once, twice; crying out as I felt myself exploding. Brent slipped his hands into my hair and kissed me tenderly as I felt the waves pass through me. He was so gentle as I rode through the orgasm, stilling, and letting me control things.

  I crawled into bed with Brandon, snuggling against him as I kissed him. I knew that he was next and I promised him that it would be him making me orgasm the following night. I wanted him to touch me where no man ever had before since Derrick left me before things progressed that far. We had a lazy morning the following day, sipping coffee on the patio before I went downstairs to change for the tour the hotel set up for all of us as a break. I looked around as I walked into the room, wondering if I’d ever sleep in here. I knew that I didn’t want to.

  We went on a tour of some of the other beaches, having lunch in a seaside restaurant as a group. I struggled to not touch them as we sat at a table with a few others, trying to pay attention to the conversations around me as I smiled and laughed in the right places.

  We got back on the bus to go to meet a boat that took us to a place called Deer Island, passing by a few other places along the way. It was beautiful, and I leaned against the railing, taking pictures, and mulling over what I was doing. This trip was so much more than I thought it would be as I approached the idea of having sex with one man, much less two. Did it matter who it was? Was Brandon jealous that it was Brent that made me come first? Would this ever cause a problem between them?

  I was lost in thought as I felt someone come to stand beside me. “Are you okay?” Brent asked me as I glanced at him.

  “Yes. Why do you ask?” I replied as he tilted his head.

  “This…is a lot. I know that it’s not a typical situation for anyone, but you strike me as a rather innocent woman.” His voice was very soft and I looked over the water.

  “I am a virgin,” I admitted as I felt his eyes on me.

  “Are you sure about this?” His voice was serious and I nodded slowly before giving him a quick look.

  “Yes, I am. It might not be tonight or even tomorrow, but I want all of this. I just wonder what happens when we get home.” I kept looking slowly around to make sure that we were alone, until Brandon joined us. We worked together and this was natural.

  “We will figure that out as we go. This will stop wherever you want it to,” Brent said as Brandon looked at us. We stayed there as the boat pulled into the island, stunned by the rough trip to the shore as I held my bag over my head and made my way through the water.

  It was a fun afternoon and we went back to the boat to return to the hotel. We’d already decided to have dinner in the suite, just the three of us and I joined them on the elevator. We walked in together and I stretched as I felt the sunburn starting to sting. I always wore sunscreen but the water seemed to have washed it off a bit.

  Brent got the room service menu and we looked at it, deciding on a few dishes to share and a bottle of wine. Brandon looked at me and saw my red skin as he touched me gently. “You should soak in a bath after dinner. Maybe it’ll take the sting out of that.”

  They did have a beautiful tub.

  We had dinner on the balcony and laughed as we ate, discussing the day. I drank two glasses of wine and took the third into the bathroom to draw up a nice bubble bath. I was inside of the water when they walked into the bathroom and sat down on either side of the tub, talking to me as I relaxed.

  I got out blushing as I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my body. I had barely touched them all day and stepped over to Brandon, nuzzling his lips with mine as I felt lips on my neck. It made every nerve ending in my body react as Brandon deepened the kiss slowly. I lifted my arms to slide my hands into his hair, feeling the towel slide down my body before I could stop it. “You’re beautiful,” Brent told me as I felt him tracing my back gently with his fingers. Brandon slipped a hand between us, and I felt him slide it up my stomach to capture one of my breasts in his hand.

  Oh. God.

  He thumbed the nipple as our tongues collided together and I felt Brent take a gentle hold of the other one. He tugged, and I pressed my thighs together as my pussy screamed with need. I never felt this before, and I knew that I’d give them everything I had to offer.

  The odd embrace had continued for a while before I felt Brandon cup my ass and lift me against him. Excitement flooded me as he brought me to the bed and placed me on it, still damp from the bath. His rough voice told me to lay back against the pillows, and I did, all too aware of my nakedness on display. One of them kissed me slowly, distracting me as our tongues moved together quickly. I knew it was Brent by the way a hand tugged again at my pert nipple while another pair of hands parted my legs. “Do you want to come?” Brandon asked me as I let out a moan and splayed my legs open for him. I’d used the toys at home to death and my own hand, and now I needed his touch.

  I felt him tracing my thigh, damp with desire. Brent worked my breast with his hand, careful with just enough force to send heat to my core. When a finger slid into my folds, I let out a pained cry as my body instantly reacted. He found my clit, swollen and needy and stroked it teasing
ly as I felt myself creep closer to the edge. The feeling of coming against Brent’s cock was incredible, and I knew that this would be too, no clothes between us. “You are so wet,” Brandon told me as he circled my nub again, sliding a finger over my entrance.

  I came as he slid a finger inside of me, thumbing my clit at the same time. I screamed, rocking forward as Brent held me close. He peppered me with soft kisses, and I moaned as I felt warm breath between my thighs. I looked down to see Brandon’s eyes watching me as he covered me with his mouth, tracing me with his tongue. “Brandon…oh God. I’ve never…” my voice trailed off as he sucked me between his lips, focusing on my sensitive clit and bringing me to another orgasm as I cried out. I closed my eyes and breathed, feeling better than I ever had. This was wrong, me being involved with my supervisors but it felt so right. The guys moved to either side of me, and I felt a mouth cover my right nipple, working it with teeth and tongue before a hand slid down between my legs to touch me again. Oh, God. I was coming again, and I never wanted to stop as lips covered mine.

  We woke up to the alarm, and I blinked in the dim room. Where was I? I felt the warmth surrounding me and looked to see Brent and Brandon sleeping beside me in boxers as everything came back to me. The conference. Mazatlán. The way they made me feel when we were all together, making 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***

  Continue on to read Auctioned – a book that hit #22 on the paid store on Amazon and sold over 8,000 copies and thousands of downloads on Kindle Unlimited!

  Auctioned

  She’s broken and scared.

  She thinks it is easy to walk away.

  What she doesn’t know is how hard those curves are making me.

  The game is already over as she locks her seductive eyes with mine.

  It’s decided. I am buying her V-card today.

  The problem: Seems like I wanna spend more than one night with her.

  This is my first time participating into this kinda thing.

  There must be a reason they call it – THE V*RGIN AUCTION.

  I am really not the kind to get into relationships.

  Relationships are….let’s say complicated.

  I would rather have the girl at my mercy, begging for more and screaming my name tied on to my bed.

  And then I walk away – always.

  I never f*ck the same woman twice.

  But she seems to be different.

  Those s*xy eyes, tiny waist and breathtaking curves make me break all my rules.

  I want to own her pleasure – forever.

  But first I have to win her trust.

  They say relationship is not a bad thing after all, is it?

  CHAPTER ONE: Katrina Donovan

  I never thought that four little words could have such an impact on my life. I mean, if you had told me yesterday, or this morning even, that the plans I had so carefully laid out for my future would disappear on the turn of a card I would have said you were crazy. Then again, I was Tommy Donovan’s daughter, and Tommy Donovan quite possibly had the worst luck of any gambler east of the Mississippi.

  He and I lived in a tiny apartment above a seedy bar because he had gambled away everything we had owned after my mom died of cancer ten years ago. I remember coming home from school one day to find a rented moving van out front of our nice suburban home, and him stuffing our belongings into it at a harried pace, as if we had to leave as quickly as possible because of some evil that was headed our way.

  I stood there in my little school uniform with my books clutched to my chest, asking what was going on. He just told me to get in the truck and be quiet. To this day, I don’t know what exactly happened or why we had to leave so quickly, other than he had lost our home and most of our possessions playing cards. I thought his gambling days were over because we had nothing more to lose. I guess I was wrong.

  “They are gonna kill me,” my father said quietly, like he was talking to himself, or someone other than me.

  I glanced up from the other side of the folding card table we had wedged into one corner of our kitchenette and frowned at him. For a moment, I thought I’d imagined his voice because I was so lost in my own thoughts. We rarely talked anymore, even on Sunday, the one day when we sat down to eat together. My mother loved our Sunday family dinners and always refused to let anything interfere with them, even my father’s bad habits or addictions.

  “I don’t ask for much, Tommy Ray Donovan,” I recalled her saying, though I couldn’t recall the sound of her voice. She was Irish, and her voice had a lovely lilt that I hoped would be mine someday. “You don’t have to attend church, but you can at least sit down for an hour and eat with your family.”

  I never got her Irish lilt. My voice is husky and my tongue is sharp like everyone else’s in the neighborhood. Sunday dinner is not as big a deal as it once was. Now we just go through the motions to honor her memory, I suppose, though many Sundays my father is gone before I got out of bed and doesn’t return until time to open the bar for lunch on Monday.

  We had never been close, my father and me. I was a mama’s girl and he preferred the company of his gambling buddies to his family. Now, we simply shared a living space, not a home. We rarely talked because neither of us had much to say to the other. It was as if it had all been said and there was no need to say anymore. We were just biding our time until I could get into a good school and start pursuing my own dreams and leave my old life behind. Sometimes I wondered if I would ever see my father again after I went away to school. Sometimes I wondered if
he would survive without me or simply drink himself to death without me around to mother hen him all the time. If that happened, I wondered if I would even care.

  I watched him for a moment without saying a word. His head was down. He seemed to be mumbling to himself. He was picking up the food on his plate with a fork. He hadn’t eaten a bite of the meatloaf I’d made, or the instant mashed potatoes that I’d slathered with butter and salt. Granted, I would never win an award for cooking, but we allowed ourselves the luxury of meat once a week and he usually devoured whatever I put in front of him like a starving man, then ask for more before I could take a bite. I knew something had to be seriously wrong if he was poking the meatloaf with his fork rather than shoveling it into his mouth.

  “Is there something wrong with the meatloaf?” I asked. I had allowed myself a small piece and thought it tasted fine, or as fine as my version of meatloaf could taste. I wasn’t much of a meat eater, which worked out well since we could rarely afford meat. Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t poverty-stricken or starving, but money was always tight, even though the bar did a good business most nights. I knew my dad pocketed a lot of the cash that came through the till and that was okay. It was his business and his life. I planned to be out of there soon anyway, with or without his help.