Three Men and a Woman: Caroline (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Rachel Billings

  Matt and Jack began fucking her, taking turns at first with long, deep, and hard strokes. Caro just took it for a while, resting her head against Jack’s shoulder, keeping her gaze on Daniel.

  Then the pace and the intensity picked up. Matt and Jack started fondling her, playing with her breasts and diddling her clit. They thrust into her faster, soon synchronizing their strokes so she was filled with both cocks at the same time.

  “Oh, baby, that’s good. You’re so fucking tight.”

  Daniel could see both men thrusting, see how they filled her, stretching her. Their bodies tensed, quickening, their breathing rough and needy. Their sleek muscles slicked with sweat, their fingers dug into Caroline’s flesh for purchase.

  For her part, Caroline gloried in it. Clearly she loved it, wallowing in that physical adoration, that triple pleasure in which she was the focus. She grasped at them, calling their names, urging them to take her further. “Fuck me, Jack. Harder. Harder. Touch me. Hurry. My ass, Matt. More. Fuck my ass. Deeper. God, yes. Yes.”

  Daniel groaned, gripping his cock harder, pressing his back against the doorframe with the effort it took to keep from joining them. It was beyond anything he’d experienced, watching his woman get fucked senseless, seeing his two friends using her, losing themselves in the wicked pleasures of her body.

  Caroline, so incredibly stimulated, touched and petted, penetrated everywhere, was the first to reach her climax. She whimpered again, making every effort to stay quiet, biting her teeth down on her lower lip. She jerked hard, her body convulsing, and finally let out a long, suppressed wail as Jack and Matt pounded into her, prolonging her come and nearing their own.

  She held Daniel’s gaze until the last moment, when the brutal crisis of the orgasm took her over.

  Jack and Matt joined her, feral growls torn from their throats, violent tremors rocking through them with their last wild thrusts.

  They grasped Caro in any way they could as they drove into her for the last time. Daniel could hear the harsh groans of their release, could imagine that almost painful rip as their cum surged through the length of their cocks to spurt into her, ass and pussy, filling her with their hot semen.

  He practically reached orgasm himself. He didn’t wait, in any case, to watch any more of it as the three of them clutched at each other, riding those last blasts of ecstasy. He rotated around the doorframe, still pressed against it, outside the room just enough to pull the door closed behind him.

  Desperate, he opened his fly. His cock sprang free, turgid and aching. He fisted himself once, and he came, unashamedly shooting an arc of cum out across the polished hardwood of the hall.

  He leaned against the wall, catching his breath and savoring that fucking hot performance he’d just watched. What a freaking thrill.

  He vowed that the next time he saw his woman with two cocks fucking into her, one of them would be his. With a sigh, he gathered himself, trying to keep from imagining what would happen behind that door through the rest of this night.

  Before he left, he took the monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket to mop up the floor a bit. He’d found it, laundered and pressed, on his bed shortly after Caro had come into his home that day. He hoped carrying it wouldn’t become a habit.

  Still, it was useful at the moment. Roberta was a bit OCD in some of her habits. She kept her home spotless and her cupboard contents in alphabetical order. If there was a dried splat of jism on the floor somewhere in the house, she’d be sure to find it.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was always a bittersweet ritual, making the toast at the little department ceremony that was held to honor the completion of a PhD. The graduate’s parents would be present, all proud and teary, sometimes siblings and even grandparents, beaming. The student him or herself, would be there, full of excitement and, often, cloaked relief and fear. The department faculty and staff attended, rightly enjoying the fruits of their labors.

  For the mentoring professor raising that toast, there was certainly pride and satisfaction in the success of a student. But there was loss, too. Sometimes the loss was simply about real help in the lab—a bright, successful graduate student could greatly enhance a faculty member’s stature by way of a productive lab and significant, and oh so important, publications.

  Sometimes the loss was more heartfelt. Not just professional but personal relationships formed as one spent several years teaching, guiding, shaping a bright young mind, a bright young person.

  It was touching, that mix of happiness and loss, pride and hope.

  Daniel lifted his glass of champagne—the good stuff, since it was his job to provide it, and this was Matt—for the second time in two weeks.

  He considered his feelings, wryly amused.

  He figured—he freaking hoped, in fact—that this was the first time the mentor had ever had to concentrate on keeping his boner under control as he looked at the graduate’s girlfriend.

  Of course Caroline was there, eyes shining with pride for Matt. She was tucked alongside Matt’s parents, his mother’s arm circling her waist. Since her holiday visit to Rochester, the warmhearted Churchills considered her part of their family.

  As had the Roberts family, two weeks earlier.

  It was the plan the four of them had agreed upon. Within the week, they would all be living together at the mansion. Each man would make clear to his family his attachment to Caroline and would be open about his friendship with the other two men. When Matt’s family was present, they would support the assumption that Caroline belonged to him, as, indeed, she did. But they wouldn’t make obvious the fact that she belonged to the other two as well.

  Over time, the true nature of their relationship, their ménage, as Jack had properly termed it, would likely become obvious to anyone who cared to consider it. Fine. If anyone freaked out about it, well, by then, it would be a done deal.

  So this moment, this time of celebrating Matt’s doctorate, was, to Daniel, a unique experience. Yeah, yeah, he had pride in Matt and that sense of loss, like a parent letting a successfully raised child go. But far, far greater were the pure happiness, the sense of blessed relief, and freaking hot sexual anticipation.

  This was the last day that Matt was his student. This evening, he would take them to dinner—Matt and Jack and Caro, and Matt’s parents and his brother and sister. Tonight, the Churchills would all sleep over at the mansion. On Saturday, Matt and Caroline would tour them around Boston.

  On Sunday, the Churchills would be gone.

  And. Caroline. Would. Fucking. Be. His.

  So the mixture of feelings he experienced as he paid tribute to Matthew Churchill was significantly more mixed than usual. With one new element.

  Sex. He wanted sex, and he was going to get some.

  * * * *

  Matt enjoyed the day with his family. Touring Boston in February wasn’t for the faint of heart, but the Churchills were Rochesterians and so could take whatever weather Boston wanted to dish out.

  Unlike the Roberts family, who couldn’t wait to get out of town. Jack had gone home with them after his defense was completed, spending a week in Albuquerque. But he was back now, all tanned and rested, and he spent most of the day with them as well.

  And Caroline.

  Matt had been seventeen that summer his family and hers had intersected at the beach. He wasn’t talking to his parents much then—teenage rebellion had seemed to require that he spend a couple years ignoring them and answering any inquiries from them with grunts and other monosyllables. But it turned out that, somehow, his mother had known about his infatuation with Caro. They’d even met, Matt learned, at the little grocery in town.

  His mom had recognized Caro when she’d stepped off the train with him on Christmas Day. He’d stood by, stunned, when Caro smiled, said, “Mrs. Churchill,” and stepped into his mom’s open arms.

  Quite an exchange occurred between them before he got his mom’s attention and his own hug from her. In the meantime he hugged his sibs—h
is brother a college senior now, and his sister a high school junior—and then greeted his dad. He and his dad stood together, arm in arm, watching the two women. The look his dad gave him implied he’d do his best to keep his wife from pushing for wedding plans and grandchildren, but he couldn’t promise anything.

  In Boston, his mom was just slightly subdued, intimidated a bit by the more cosmopolitan, sophisticated city and totally wowed by Daniel and the mansion.

  Oddly, it was his dad who cornered him in the library late Saturday night. The group had come home from dinner and had one final toast before heading to bed. The Churchills would be up early for the drive home. As Matt kissed everybody good-night, his dad took a turn into the library and motioned him to follow.

  They stood facing each other, Matt too uneasy to sit.

  “I like Caroline,” he started. “I can see that she loves you.”

  Matt nodded.

  “To me, it looks like she loves Jack, too.”

  Matt rubbed the back of his neck and met his father’s gaze. Then he turned and walked over to a window. “Jack met her first—up here, I mean. I ran into her at our house, just after she and Jack had gotten together. Jack had already fallen for her.”

  He paused, staring out into the dark. “She was just fifteen when we met that summer. But I never forgot her. No other woman ever meant as much. So when I saw her here—well, neither Jack nor I wanted to let her go. I’d already made that mistake once.”

  His dad had moved closer—his face reflected in the window now, over Jack’s shoulder. “So you’re both—”

  “We’re sharing her.”

  He could see his dad’s eyebrows rise as he considered it. “Yikes,” he said quietly.

  Gary Churchill was a biologist and looked at human behavior pragmatically, as it derived from evolution. Plus, he’d come of age at the tail end of the hippie era. He was neither rigid nor doctrinaire about moral beliefs.

  And he loved and respected his son.

  He walked away and sat down, choosing a big recliner and kicking his feet up. “That’s gonna get interesting.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound, Matt thought. He turned and faced his dad, leaning back against the windowsill. “The relationship is going to include Dan, too, now that we’re not his students.”

  Gary dropped his head back and laughed, a hearty sound that Matt had always loved. Then he scrubbed his face. “Lord, son. You never could do things in half measures. How the hell are you going to work that out?”

  Matt went and sat across from him, relieved to be able to have a rational conversation about it. Gary was always willing to engage in an intellectual dissection of a new idea.

  “Caro can only marry one of us at a time, legally. We figure it should be Dan first. That would protect her best, giving her joint ownership of this house. We want children, all of us.”

  They discussed the ramifications of that—the advantages of a pregnancy intentionally fathered by one of the guys, versus communally sharing paternity. They considered the practical advantages of knowing what child belonged to which man compared to the potential social benefit of a kid having three, equally loving fathers.

  That led to a bit of a lecture on the biology of reproduction. Apparently, in the animal kingdom, it was frequently an advantage for the female to partner more than one male.

  Who knew? Matt never expected he’d get scholarly support for his unusual choice of lifestyle from his father.

  But the man lived in the real world, and in the end he advised that the whole ménage deal was likely a thing that Matt’s mom would take some time warming up to. It wouldn’t hurt, he thought, to make her a grandmother before bringing in all the details.

  It was late when Matt hugged his father one last time. Then he found Caroline, tucked into bed with Jack. She turned her head to kiss him when he snugged up behind her, and smiled when he covered one breast with his hand and his dick rose up against her ass. She no doubt wasn’t the least surprised when he pushed his way into her pussy, playing with her, inciting her interest until they were fucking hard.

  She might, however, have wondered at his words. While he thrust into her, he told her about biological imperative, group forming, and multiple phenotypes with variable survival advantages.

  He was pretty sure, though, that he’d distracted her from all of that in the end, when he rolled on top of her and humped her from behind. He kept hold of her nipple with one hand and fingered her clit with the other. The force of each thrust created more stimulation from his fingers. She was panting, and by the time he made her come, he was sure her ears were ringing.

  She probably didn’t even hear those last words about adaptation to environment.

  * * * *

  The house was suddenly quiet when the Churchills finally got out the door. They’d decided to stay for breakfast, and Caroline and Matt’s mother and sister all spent an hour working in the kitchen while the guys drank coffee and read the Globe. Then they all sat down to Vermont-cheddar-and-ham omelets and wickedly good French toast.

  Daniel decided he could get used to having a woman in his kitchen every morning, though he doubted he’d ever convince Caro to take on that role full-time. He probably wouldn’t even want to. Probably.

  He closed the door on the last hugs and kisses then turned and faced them—Matt, Jack, and Caroline. The silence was a bit jarring, and they looked at each other, almost awkward.

  For the first time, it was the four of them—their ménage—together and alone.

  Daniel’s full interest was on Caroline. She wore loose flannel pants with a waffle Henley on top. He’d caught a glimpse of ivory lace at the vee of the Henley, and he figured she had something little and matching under the flannel. She had thick wool socks on, but he knew there were hotly painted red toenails inside.

  That was Caro. Innocent and practical on the outside, hot sex goddess underneath.

  And she was his. Finally.

  Jack moved in from the corner of his vision. He walked up and gave Caroline a kiss on the cheek. “Matt’s been bitching about a rematch ever since I spanked him at squash last week. We’re going to go play. We’ll be back in a couple hours.”

  He nodded to Daniel. “I’m just going to get my gym bag.”

  “Take the SUV,” he said, his eyes not leaving Caroline. “Key’s at the door.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Matt stepped up to Caroline and kissed her with a little more attention than Jack had put into it. Then he looked at Daniel. “When he said we’d be back, he meant—”

  Daniel got the message. “I know what he meant. When you get back, you’ll be welcome. We’ll be in my room.” In my bed.

  They were letting him have her to himself for this first time. But their largesse was limited to a couple hours.

  He didn’t give a fuck. He was grateful, yeah. But honestly, he was an inch away from fucking her right here and now, and if they wanted to find a place to stick their dicks in her, too, well, have at it, by God. Just, he knew where he needed to be. And he was going to be there freaking damn soon.

  He was alone with her and hadn’t even seen Matt leave. He stared at Caroline, and she stared right back. She looked interested and also a bit afraid.

  She wasn’t stupid.

  But she wasn’t going to not be his more than a couple minutes longer.

  “Upstairs,” he said, and the word was blunt, rough. Her eyes flared just a little. She appeared to like blunt and rough.

  Good thing. She was likely to get more of it.

  She turned and scampered up the stairs—her hand on the smooth wood of the banister appearing to tremble a little.

  She paused at his room, her hand on the knob, and looked back at him in question. He nodded her in.

  He closed the door solidly behind him. Matt and Jack may not be out of the house yet, but they were out of his consciousness.

  This was between him and Caro.

  She’d gotten nearly to the bed when she turne
d and faced him.

  “Take your top off,” he instructed. “And then your bottoms. I want to see what you have on underneath.”

  It wasn’t sweet romance, but it lit that fire in her eyes.

  He’d had that sense. She was a bright, strong, and independent woman. But none of that kept her from heating up when one of her men got a little dominant. He’d seen it the night he’d watched Jack and Matt fuck her. She had a bit of the submissive in her. And he was more than willing to let his dom tendencies show, his male nature.

  Slowly, sexily, with her fingers trailing along her smooth skin, she lifted her top over her head and then wiggled out of her flannels. Just as he’d thought, there were small bits of cream lace. He let his eyes savor—she had such sweet curves, those full, pert breasts, narrow waist, luscious hips, and long legs. She was totally built to please a man. “Pretty,” he said with a small nod. “But keep going.”

  She made a point of arching her back, displaying her breasts for him as she reached back to unfasten the bra. She dropped it at her side, then slid one finger into the string of her thong. She inched it down just that one side, giving him a partial peek at her pussy. His cock ached, cramped up inside his jeans.

  He enjoyed her little tease, enjoyed that she enjoyed it, but he was in pain. “Finish it, you little cunt.”

  Ah, wasn’t she ready to play? That nasty word caused a shiver of excitement. He could see it.

  She bent, sliding the panties off. When she stood, he’d moved in close. He twisted his hand into her hair and secured it at the back of her neck. He brought her head up to face him.

  “Get on your knees.”

  He’d imagined making love to her this first time, a sweet, poignant coming together. But her hot response to his first little order to her had torpedoed that thought.

  She paused a long moment, until he tugged on her hair, directing her to her knees. He was pretty sure that was what she’d been waiting for, a little physical demonstration of his intent.