Double Dirty Mountain Men: An MFM Menage Romance

by Parker Grey

  The front door opens and Rose comes in, looking a little disheveled. She's been working on cleaning out a storage shed in the back yard of this cabin so we've got somewhere to put gardening equipment.

  Rose is very determined that she's going to have a vegetable garden, even though the soil up here isn't the best. I've been teasing her that she's going full frontierswoman, which she sometimes finds funny.

  "There's a robin out there," she says.

  I look up from the dishes I'm doing, and Knox looks up from some electronic thing he's trying to fix.

  "Spring?" I ask.

  She nods, excitedly. I think the long winter has been getting to her, even though she's trying not to let on. But it's hard to be snowed in for a couple of months, no matter how often your boyfriends make you come.

  "Supposedly," she says. "I think some of the trees are starting to bud, too."

  "Good," Knox says. "It's about time."

  "It's the same amount of winter as every other year," I point out.

  "And it's always about time for spring right around now," he says.

  "Boys," Rose interjects.

  She walks over to Knox, giving him a kiss, then comes over to me.

  "How did we survive before you?" I murmur.

  "With either more surly silence or more fighting," she says.

  I think she's right, actually. Not that I particularly remember, because the years before we found Rose half-frozen on a dirt road feel like they've faded into the background, the past three months burning brighter in my memory than anything that happened before.

  "I picked up the mail, by the way," I tell her and Knox.

  She's standing at the sink, drinking a glass of water, looking out the window at the still-brown trees.

  "Anything good?" she asks.

  I know she means is there anything from my dad? The question still forms a rock in my gut, and I swallow, because there's not. No one's heard a peep from him since Rose left without saying goodbye, and while most of me thinks she's better off without him, I can't believe anyone would do that to their own child.

  God knows if I had a daughter, there's no way I'd ever let her drive across—

  You're getting ahead of yourself, I think.

  "The course catalog came," I say.

  Rose smiles, and she looks a little relieved.

  "Good, I was starting to think I'd forgotten to request it or something," she says. "I think getting out of the cabin and into town once a week will be good for me."

  I just laugh, because I know that living up here full time without much human interaction is... let's just say it takes a particular personality type. I think Rose likes it, but I think she also needs just a little more company than Knox and I can give her, sometimes.

  I can't blame her. I know I'm the weird one in this situation.

  "Study electrical engineering," Knox pipes in. "Maybe you can fix this damn radio."

  "I don't think an act of God could fix that radio," Rose says.

  "It was working the other day," he muttered.

  "You mean before you dropped it into a half-melted snowbank?"

  I have to force myself not to laugh. Knox just sighs.

  "Why'd you have the radio outside, anyway?" I ask.

  He glares at me.

  "Trying to get a better signal," he says, shrugging. "It's been on the fritz, so I thought maybe it would help if I took it outside, without interference or something."

  Rose and I just both look at him, eyebrows raised.

  "Yes, where I proceeded to drop it into a snowbank," he grumbles. "Like you two are so perfect. I know that burn hole in the rug by the fire is your fault, Rose."

  "We're not talking about me right now," she says, her eyes dancing.

  Now Knox is smiling too.

  "And you left the window open for it to rain on the storage room last week," he says, pointing at me.

  "Okay, okay, point taken," Rose says, walking over to Knox.

  She sits in his lap, her arms around his neck. He starts to look mollified.

  "I'd like an apology," he says, straight-faced.

  Rose laughs.

  "I'm sure you would," she says.

  "So would I," I interject, slowly walking over to them.

  "For what?"

  "I'll think of something," I say.

  Rose laughs. She kisses Knox, then me.

  And then we do dirty, dirty things to her, right there on the kitchen table.

  Epilogue

  Rose

  A little over a year later

  "I can't believe you blindfolded me," I say, sitting in the back seat of the truck. "Am I being kidnapped?"

  "Yes," Knox says, his voice serious. "We're kidnapping you to the house we built you with our own hands."

  "I'm just saying."

  "We want you to be surprised," Logan says easily, as the truck slows. "And we're hoping it's a good surprise."

  "If this is two old singlewide trailers duct-taped together, that'll be a bad surprise," I say.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat and hope we're close. It hasn't been all that long, but sitting in a car for much more than ten minutes at this stage makes my back start acting up.

  Also, I have to pee. Again.

  But then, the truck slows to a stop. I unbuckle myself carefully and open the door, trying to get out on my own, blindfold and all.

  "Whoa, what do you think you're doing?" Knox's voice asks as he catches me by the elbows.

  "I can get out of a car," I grumble.

  "You're blindfolded," he points out.

  "And whose fault is that?"

  He doesn't answer, just leans forward and kisses my nose, then guides me gently out of the truck. Actually, I'm glad he's there. It's further to the ground than I remembered.

  With one of them on either side, they lead me a few more steps, then stop. Logan puts his arm around my shoulders and kisses my temple, while Knox slides his arm around my waist. Or at least where my waist used to be.

  It's currently an enormous bump that kicks sometimes.

  "Okay, now you can open your eyes," Logan says.

  I blink, then gasp.

  It's a two-story log cabin. Both stories have balconies on the front, and the whole thing is perfect and rustic all at once, like it's from a country living magazine.

  "You like it?" Knox asks, anxiously.

  "You guys," I whisper, putting on hand on my belly. "I love it."

  I'm tearing up. I tear up at everything these days, but I think I'd tear up at this even without the hormones.

  I knew they were building it, but I was picturing a bigger version of the cabin where we live now — nice enough, perfectly functional, cozy. It's nothing spectacular, but it's home.

  But this. This is spectacular and jaw dropping, even if they finished it a month late. I'll admit that I was worried we'd be moving when my water broke or something.

  "Come on, we'll give you the tour," Logan says, and takes my hand. Knox's arm is still around me, protectively.

  They've always been protective, but it's ramped up in the past six months. When I first realized I was pregnant — and yeah, I'm one of those girls who never kept very good track of her periods, so I was almost two months in before I finally figured it out — I was terrified to tell them. True, we hadn't exactly been using protection, but a baby?

  It's big. Huge. Crazy huge.

  But they were ecstatic. I think Knox nearly cried with happiness, and I was more relieved than I could even say, because the second the pregnancy test showed positive, I was already in love with it.

  And, because there was no way we could have a baby in the cabin, they built a house. Not to mention that ever since the moment I started to show, they've both been completely crazed with lust, and the bigger I get, the hornier they are.

  Even though right now, eight months in, I'm so gigantic that I can barely roll over in bed, so I don't think I'm all that great at sex.

  "This is the living room,"
Logan starts, showing me a room with cathedral ceilings and tall windows. "Those are double-paned, so it'll keep the heat in during the winter, and through here is the kitchen..."

  They show me the whole house, room by room, pointing out the little things they added that they think I'll like. We head upstairs — slowly, in my case — and the very last room they show me is the master bedroom.

  "We have a surprise," Logan says.

  I raise my eyebrows.

  "We got one piece of furniture already," Knox admits.

  Logan pushes the door open, and inside is the biggest bed I've ever seen. Knox stands behind me, one arm around me, one slung protectively over my big belly.

  "You up for trying it out?" he asks, his mouth close to my ear.

  My entire body sparks to life.

  "We should definitely make sure it works," I agree.

  He grins, then picks me up and carries me to our bed, putting me down very gently. Logan's already there, and he sits behind me, nuzzling my neck, his hands on my belly as well.

  "I can't fucking wait to be inside you," he whispers, still dirty as hell, pulling the skirt I'm wearing up my legs. "I love you, Rose."

  I kiss Knox slowly, his hands gentle on my sore, swollen breasts.

  "I love you too," he murmurs.

  "I love you both," I say.

  Then they take me at the same time on our new bed, and everything is perfect.

  (Need something else dirty? Keep turning pages to read School Me Dirty for free!)

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  I’m a good girl - but they both want me!

  As the only daughter of the Nero crime family, I’m practically a princess - and I get treated like one.

  That is, until the Diamante family breaks into our mansion, crashes our Christmas party… and two very sexy men take me hostage.

  Colt and Dante are huge, ripped, possessive, dominant, totally in control…

  …and these two sinfully hot hitmen want to share me.

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  I’m obsessed with my secretary.

  The way she walks. The way she looks at me. The way she says my name, especially when she says yes.

  Yes, Mr. Declan.

  I know better. I’m not just her boss, I’m the owner of the entire firm - and she’s just barely out of college and out at her first job.

  Sweet. Inexperienced. Innocent.

  I don’t just want Sloane. I want to own her, possess her, dominate her body and soul in every way I know how.

  Come hell or high water, I won’t stop until she’s mine.

  I’ve got a crush on my boss.

  I shouldn’t. I know. I should find someone my own age to date, but I can’t stop thinking about my dominant, commanding boss.

  Every time I walk into his office my knees turn to jelly. All I can think about is Mr. Declan bending me over his desk and taking me, making me his.

  I could get fired for this, but there’s something in the way he looks at me, something in the way he speaks to me, and something about him that makes me want to beg him for more.

  Please, Mr. Declan. Please.

  Boss Me Dirty is a very dirty standalone romance with tons of steam, an obsessed, dominant, alpha hero, a happily-ever-after ending and NO cheating!

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  I’m in love with the boss’s daughter.

  Emmy Winchester’s completely off-limits. Not only do her parents own the ranch where I work, she’s not the kind of girl I should be with.

  She’s too sweet, too untouched, too pure. Emmy deserves a gentleman, and I’m anything but gentle.

  But I can’t deny that her wide-eyed innocence makes me want her. Her sweetness makes me want to take her until she screams my name with those perfect, plump lips.

  I need Emmy to be mine. I need to dominate her, control her, have her in every single way that I can.

  I should resist, but I don’t know if I can.

  I’ve always had a thing for cowboys.

  Colton True has been my crush for longer than I want to admit — and now he’s here, working at my parents’ ranch again.

  He’s rough, rugged, and beyond handsome, with a body carved by wrangling horses and sweating in the sun. But then, I know a man like that would never want a girl as inexperienced as me.

  But when he finds me in the barn, puts his hands on me, and whispers filthy things in my ear? Things that no one’s ever said to me before?

  Well, I’m not so sweet that I can’t be dirty sometimes...

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  School Me Dirty

  A College Romance

  Chapter 1

  Melody

  A bead of sweat trickles down the valley between my breasts, and I fight the urge to wipe it away, tapping my pen against my notebook to distract myself.

  Even though it’s fifteen degrees outside, the university has the heat in this building turned all the way up, and it’s stifling.

  “And so, the sack of Rome in 410 A.D. was, in many ways, the end of the western Roman Empire,” Professor Sharpe says, his deep, rich voice practically echoing through the lecture hall. “Of course, the Byzantine Empire would continue for another thousand years, but that’s another class.”

  As he speaks, he unbuttons one cuff of his shirt and begins rolling his sleeve up, still talking about Roman governmental reforms.

  I can barely hear him over the sound of the blood rushing through my ears as I curl my fingers around my pen, just watching his sleeve rise higher and higher. He rolls it just past his tattoo, to the crook of his elbow, then starts the other sleeve.

  Just the sight of his forearms is enough to make me tingle there, and I cross my legs in my short skirt, hoping I don’t seem suspicious. My thighs are practically shaking, and I can tell I’m so wet I’ve already soaked through my panties.

  After a few moments, he turns to the blackboard again, both sleeves rolled up, and I swallow hard. His gray pants cup his hard, muscular ass, and I can’t help but think about sinking my nails into that perfect, firm flesh, raking them up his back as I cry out.

  “Any questions?” Professor Sharpe asks, dusting his hands off.

  His bright green eyes roam the medium-sized hall, and he flexes his square jaw as he looks from student to student, waiting for someone to raise their hand.

  I hold my breath and look at my notes. I’ve written things down, and I’ll be able to decipher them later, but I’ve been so nervous about asking him that I’ve barely listened.

  “No one?” he says, his tone light and casual.

  Then I look up. His eyes land on me, and I feel like my stomach ties itself into one giant knot, like I’m a deer in the headlights.

  He knows, I think, clamping my thighs together even harder. He knows that I go straight home and masturbate after class, that sometimes I don’t even make it to my apartment and do it in the bathroom here.

  He knows that I spent half the class thinking about him bending me over the desk and fucking me as hard as I can, making me moan his name over and over again...

  “Guess I explained everything perfectly, then,” he says, a slight smile around his eyes. He’s still staring at me, and I don’t think my heart’s beaten yet. “See everyone on Tuesday.”

  The rest of the class rises, and mercifully, someone blocks our line of sight. I exhale in a rush, fanning myself with my notebook. I put my school supplies away slowly, gathering the courage to go up to him once everyone else has left and ask...

  When I finally get up, there are a few students already standing around the lectern, and they take their time asking their own questions while I wait. I know I shouldn’t, but I want to be alone with Professor Sharpe. I don’t want some sweaty nerd breathing over my shoulder while I ask what I’m about to ask him.

  You’re a sweaty nerd too, I think.

  Finally, the last student is talking to him, so I pull down on my skirt
and walk toward the lectern. I don’t know what I was thinking this morning, wearing something this tight and short or a top this low-cut.

  Well, I do know what I was thinking, I just shouldn’t have been thinking it.

  I was thinking, I want Professor Sharpe to see me as a woman, not a little girl.

  I want him to see how grownup I am, even if I’m only twenty.

  It was stupid, because now I have to talk to him dressed like this, and I’m so nervous my feet are sweating.

  The other student leaves. Professor Sharpe looks at me and nods, and I walk up to him, heart hammering in my chest.

  “Hi, Professor Sharpe,” I say, glad my voice isn’t shaking. “My name is Melody Canter, and I’m—”

  “I know who you are,” he says, smiling slowly, the skin around his eyes creasing.

  I stop short.

  He knows who I am?

  “You do?” I ask awkwardly, caught off guard.

  I shift my weight from one foot to another, excruciatingly aware that I’m dressed for a frat party, not a history lecture.

  “Certainly,” he says, his deep voice quiet, his eyes boring into mine. “You wrote an excellent paper on the emperor Julian’s attempts to convert the Roman Empire back to paganism.”

  I’m blushing. My whole body is blushing, because of course he knows the papers I write and that’s it. He’s at least fifteen years older than me, and even though he doesn’t have a wedding ring I’m sure he’s got a girlfriend or something.

  “Thanks,” I say, and clear my throat.

  “What can I do for you, Melody?” he asks, his voice still quiet.

  I take a deep breath.

  “I’m a sophomore and our major declarations are due at the end of the semester,” I say, the words tumbling from my mouth. “And I’m going to declare a Classics major, so I need an advisor.”

  He’s just watching me, like he’s waiting.

  “Would you be my advisor?” I ask.