ROMANCE: THREESOME : Billionaire Brothers' Party (MFM Menage Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Threesome Short Stories)

by Donovan, Astrid Lee

  Her eyes flew wide moments later, as the feel of his hard, masculine tip penetrated her femininity in a single smooth flourish, spreading and expanding her tight slit as Phillip groaned in obvious pleasure. Yet even as he started to move inside her, his member moving forth to her core in gentle but purposeful thrusts, both he and his brother took every measure to ensure her pleasure and comfort.

  While Phillip claimed her lips in a lingering kiss and massaged her quaking shoulders, Barnaby sunk down on the bed behind them and pressed his warm, sultry mouth to the base of her sensitive spine; smattering her back with sweet baby kisses as his hands massaged her buxom hips.

  Soon the three lovers descended in a naked, sweat-lined mass on the surface of Cybele’s lavender clad bed; laughing as they rolled wild and free in the whisper soft folds of her silken comforter.

  Ensconced in the impassioned cocoon culled from the attentions of two loving men, Cybele wrapped her legs around Phillip’s trim waist and invited him deeper into her; squealing with delight as his massive cock advanced forth toward her very core--all the while touching her flushed cheeks with a rain of sweet baby kisses as her breasts crushed the surface of his hard chest.

  Careful not to neglect her other lover, Cybele reached back to run an affectionate hand down the surface of his own muscular chest and through the strands of his soft, golden hair. She delighted as he rubbed his entire hard body in a blatant tease against her own; kissing and nibbling the back of her neck as his hard nipples brushed her back and his trim hips cradled the surface of her soft-skinned derriere--the tip of his long, angular shaft teasing her exposed crack.

  Apparently feeling a sudden wave of unbidden sibling rivalry, Phillip swept Cybele underneath him and stared deep into her eyes; covering her trembling body with his as their arms entangled and his shaft engorged itself within her. Sliding her hands slow down his back to plant a firm slap on his peerless rear, his lover lowered her head to lave his chest with slow, brazen licks; listening with a sly beam as he pitched his head back and let loose with a delicious moan.

  With a final and very passionate kiss the couple lost themselves in infinite ecstasy; clinging to one another as he exploded within her, sending them hurtling across the bounds of an incredible mutual climax—a feeling that both sated and aroused them anew as they collapsed in each other’s arms.

  Soon Cybele purred contented as Phillip held her closer than close, cuddling and cradling his contented lover as they kissed and cooed.

  “That was incredible,” she praised him, adding with a slight frown, “Where is Barnaby?”

  Though remaining ensconced and tightly entangled on the surface of their cushy comforter, the couple cast their gazes toward every corner of Cybele’s luxury suite; jumping as they heard a loud splash erupt from the confines of her master bathroom--one accompanied by the cryptic words, “Your bath is ready, milady.”

  Springing up with youthful laughs from the surface of their bed, Cybele and Phillip ran hand in hand through the arched entrance of the elite lavatory; Cybele falling silent as she beheld a spectacle that made her heart race.

  Reclining in the depths of a circular tub that boasted a fine marbled surface and bronzed claw feet, Barnaby shone as a picture of perfection; likening a water nymph as he splashed in the clear, crystalline waters of a newly drawn bath.

  Her fair-haired lover, she noted with ire, was one of those few individuals who looked annoyingly good wet. His carved features, muscled chest and planed abdominals all shone with sheen of glistening water droplets, as did the soaking strands of his luxurious gold hair.

  Most alluring of all was the sultry, narrow-eyed stare that greeted her arrival; along with a sly beckoning finger that tempted her to come closer still.

  “Care to join me?” he purred, holding his hand out in divine invitation.

  As an abiding Phillip stood by with a smile, Cybele made fast tracks in the direction of the tub; performing an impromptu belly flop that sent her catapulting into the arms of her wild blond lover.

  Soon her body covered his as their arms and legs entangled; their slippery wet bodies rubbing and molding together to produce the most delightful friction.

  As her buxom wet breasts crushed her lover’s chest, a freshly aroused Cybele allowed her curious hands to roam all over her lover’s perfect form; sliding free and smooth down his golden torso as he rubbed and washed her tender sides and her fleshy derriere--finally sudsing up her tender breasts as he claimed her lips in an intense kiss.

  Cybele moaned against Barnaby’s wet, moist lips as his wet, slick hands coursed every part of her body; both cleaning and arousing her as she writhed in his embrace—her legs bracing his rock hard thighs as—fully and finally—two became one.

  Barnaby’s erect shaft mimicked the motion of his tongue as his stiff shaft advanced to probe and penetrate her; aqua supplying the ultimate lubricant as he pressed her body close against his and their hips and thighs locked.

  Performing what she thought must be the most unique swim stroke ever known to humankind, Cybele sank and swayed free in Barnaby’s arms as his cock plunged deep inside her; her massaging fingertips running like wetted flower petals down the length of his sculpted abs and over the base of his pulsating manhood.

  Her eyes flew wide moments later, as a second pair of strong, nurturing hands coursed the length of her back; laying a playful squeeze on her buxom rear before withdrawing for just a moment.

  “Wha-?” she gasped outright, grinning in spite of herself as a resounding splash signaled the arrival of a third person in the tub—one who covered her body with his as he rained sweet kisses on the back of her neck; his hands running wild through the strands of her hair.

  This move exciting her further, Cybele slammed her hips against Barnaby’s as her fair-haired lover lowered his fingers to rub and knead her clit; thus delivering a dual pleasuring further enhanced by Martin’s erotic massage.

  Finally she exploded once again in a sizzling, satiating climax, one that prompted her to join her lovers in a trio’s chorus of forbidden delight.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Something downright bizarre was going on at the ever respectable Magnolia Resort; and, blast it, Sir Colton Jones was bound and determined to uncover the truth!

  After passing a sleepless night ruing his own idiocy at insulting one of his most valued customers, Colton had come downstairs this morning to see that a most unique breakfast order had been placed from the confines of Cybele’s suite; one that called for the immediate delivery of three plates, directly to her room!

  Longing to investigate the two other occupants that shared Lady Cybele’s suite—and, apparently, her strawberry scones and tea biscuits—Colton took firm hold of her silver-plated breakfast tray and made fast steps to the door of her suite; announcing his arrival as he pounded on her door.

  “Ah, good morning Colton!” He couldn’t help but notice the light, sweet tone that belied Cybele’s friendly greeting. “Do come in!”

  Colton gaped outright moments later, as he passed the threshold of Cybele’s front entrance and saw a most unusual sight: the vision of three smiling, contented people lying side by side in the sheets of her luxurious bed; the beaming Barrington twins flanking Cybele in the middle.

  “Lady Cybele!” Colton murmured, adding as he cleared his throat, “I trust it you enjoyed a pleasant evening?”

  “I did indeed!” Cybele enthused, wrapping tender arms around the gentlemen who touched her cheeks with kisses of great affection. “I guess I shall be staying the weekend, after all—though I daresay that the three of us will need only one suite.”

  Colton stared at her a long moment, then shook his head as he turned for the door.

  “Very good then,” he snapped over his shoulder, averting his eyes from the scene that seemed to defy explanation.

  “Not just very good,” Cybele countered, adding as she linked hands beneath the sheets with her two besotted paramours, “The best!”

  The trio just
barely waited until Colton cleared the room before bursting into a fit of laughter; one that Phillip disrupted as he asked in all seriousness, “What will happen when the weekend ends, Lady Cybele? May we call on you sometime at your manor house in Birmingham?”

  Cybele nodded.

  “Not only may you call on me, Gentlemen, but I’d quite like you to court me—either together or separate,” she announced with a grin, “The only trouble being, of course, that—if I was to marry one or—praise to the heavens—both of you, my new name would be Cybele Carrington Barrington.”

  Barnaby laughed.

  “Is that truly the oddest part of this whole situation, Miss?” he deadpanned, eyebrows arched.

  Cybele giggled.

  “Oh, I daresay that the entirety of this particular encounter is pretty blasted odd,” she allowed, adding as she opened her arms to her smiling young lovers, “And if odd feels this bloody good, then I say we delay breakfast and I’ll feast on the two of you instead!”

  THE END

  TEMPTED BY THE KNIGHT

  MFM Menage Romance

  Chapter One

  The duchess lost herself in the dance.

  Engaged in a light, spirited reel with her fiancé, the right honorable Lord Gerald, Lady Catherine clutched the hands of her beloved and twirled in a free, open circle; their bodies swaying closer together as they stared into one another’s eyes.

  She watched with delight as her rose hued skirts of gossamer silk both served to flatter her full figured form and flowed and flitted in time with her movement; secured by the glittery golden girdle glowing in the candles that illuminated the crisp tiled dance floor. A floor bordered in glory with silken tapestries that depicted rose gardens in ebullient bloom, and topped near its brocaded ceiling with a line of banners every hue of the rainbow.

  Yet even this spectacle failed to compare with the vision of her betrothed: a tall, statuesque man with hair of flowing gold and crystal blue eyes, whose muscled frame moved with uncommon grace in a lush tunic of scarlet red, emblazoned with the image of a roaring gold tiger and accented by some tight, form fitting hose.

  Generally a reserved, refined gentleman, Gerald moved with a sensual grace that both surprised and enticed his lady; his trim hips gyrating ever so slightly as his long, trim legs shifted in a gentle rhythm. After finishing their circular reel around the vast expanse of the crystalline ballroom, he sashayed her smooth in the direction of a broad stone fireplace; one that formed a far corner of the room, serving as a resting place for those noble lords and ladies who’d come far and wide to attend the queen’s ball in the heart of Londontown.

  In the light of this blazing, golden hued fire, Lady Catherine admired even more the chiseled face of her beautiful betrothed; one that boasted chiseled cheekbones, a cleft chin, and warm, moist lips she longed to kiss.

  And so she did.

  Leaning forward to sear those perfect lips with a soft, wet kiss, Catherine savored the press of his luscious mouth as he returned her kiss in kind, plying her lips with his as he leaned inward to intensify the feeling. Soon their tongues entangled as he lowered their bodies to the rug of scarlet velvet that fronted the blazing fireplace; and a lusty Catherine purred outright as she entangled her fingers in the silken lengths of his pure golden hair, also inhaling his citrus tinged scent as their kiss deepened and intensified.

  Just as their bodies had danced moments earlier at the center of the ballroom, their tongues and hands now entwined in a show of decadent passion; one enhanced by the smack of their lips and the pounding of their hearts.

  Raising her hands to clutch his muscled shoulders, a reckless Catherine drew him closer than close as she whispered against his lips, “My darling, I love ye.”

  “I love ye,” Gerald returned immediately, adding as he wrapped his muscled arms tight around her back, “So very much, milady. And I cannot wait for the day of our wedding, when we fully and finally can be joined as one.”

  Yet with these words he pulled away from her on the rug, making fast distance between them as she groaned in protest.

  “And as much as I do indeed wish to be with ye, and in the truest, most passionate sense my love,” he told her, clutching her hands warm and tender between his, “I fear that we must restrain ourselves until the night of our nuptials.” He paused here, adding with an awkward shrug, “Tis the proper thing to do.”

  Catherine frowned.

  “Well from what I have heard about ye, my love,” she told him, tossing the fiery red ringlets of her flaming hair to proud effect, “It is not generally your way to be prim and proper at court. Indeed, I have heard many tales of your—ahem—adventures with everyone from countesses to chambermaids in the wake of royal feasts—that is, of course, before we were betrothed.”

  “And now, my love, I am betrothed,” he reminded her, adding as he bowed his head low in her direction, “More than that, I plan to wed the finest lady in Elizabeth’s court; a lady who, if she was thinking with a clear head, surely would see the wisdom of waiting until the appropriate time for us to be joined.”

  Bolting upright on the surface of the rug, Catherine lifted her chin as she regarded these words with a sharp, prim sniff.

  “A clear head?” she barked. “So I take it that a proper lady is not supposed to be a desirous one—is not supposed to have a yen for the pleasures of the flesh?”

  Gerald shook his head.

  “Of course ye have a yen, my lady, just as I do,” he assured her, adding with an awkward shrug, “Yet I desire our marriage to be a pure and sacred one. And, as such, I fear that we must abstain from any and all sinful behavior.”

  With these words he smiled bright, bringing her hand to his lips for a warm, affectionate kiss.

  “So tell me, my love,” he pressed her, arching his eyebrows to curious effect, “We have only a few more hours together this night, before our servant knights return with us to the place of our manor homes. Now pray tell me, what would ye like to do with that time? We could have another dance, play our favorite game of chess and listen to the songs of the wandering minstrel….”

  His grin dissolved as his intended jerked away from him, rising to her full, imposing height as she shook her head from side to side.

  “As absolutely thrilling as those prospects do indeed sound, my love,” she spat out these last words while turning away, “I do believe I feel a headache coming on—and with that in mind—my very clear and lucid mind—I believe that I shall retire to my chambers. Post. Haste.”

  Chapter Two

  Retiring ‘post haste’ to a deluxe guest chamber that adjoined the feasting hall, Lady Catherine took no time to admire the gold brocade walls, the plush floral print furniture, and the sheer lace curtains that distinguished this beautiful haven, which came complete with a ceiling mural that depicted cherubs in flight across the expanse of a jewel blue sky.

  Instead she just collapsed in the satiny depths of a plush lavender bed; one overseen by a brilliant canopy that shone in its exquisite gold and bronzed accents.

  Her fully made form descending in the depths of a soft, luxurious comforter that lined this dream of a bed, Catherine reclined her head on its lace trimmed floral print throw pillows and tried to relax; fighting the wave of anger and ire that seized her body and soul.

  Before she came to know the man she’d been betrothed to for the past six months, she’d heard frequent tales of his roguish ways; and even had giggled with cronies and ladies in waiting about the gentleman’s exquisite talents.

  These tales had remained long in her mind as her longtime friend had commenced their courtship, escorting her to balls, tournaments and other festivities as their once innocent affection for one another grew and blossomed. She basked in his kisses and his tender embraces, longing for the day that he would seduce her; finally fulfilling the dreams and fantasies that had plagued her mind for so long. To make little mention of the intense desires that ruled her body day and night.

  “This eve, I planned, was
to be the night,” she mused, adding with a hefty sigh, “The night that I would experience the divine emotions that I’ve read about in the pages of novels and whispered about with other gels who’ve already had the experience. Instead this eve, I sleep alone.”

  Her troubled meditation was disrupted by the sound of a loud, sharp knock on her door; one that brought her to her feet as she folded her arms before her.

  “Go away, Gerald,” she snapped as she tapped her slippered foot on the surface of her plush carpeted floor. “If ye will not love me in the way that I deserve, with your full and true body, then I have no wish to see ye at all. No wish at all, milord.”

  A long silence met her words; followed by the sound of a shy, halting voice that did not mirror the tones of her beloved.

  “Um, milady?” The voice resounded again, only serving to deepen the embarrassed flush that stained her fair cheeks. “Tis Gaston, your loyal knight servant. I came only to ask after your welfare. You departed the hall in a fit of pique, and I wish only to ensure your wellness.”

  Catherine sighed.

  “Well I was passing fine, Gaston,” she murmured, adding as she opened her door to her longtime friend, “That is until I revealed some rather intimate secrets to a member of my royal guard.”

  Catherine’s eyes flew wide as her loyal knight servant—a tall muscled man adorned in an ivory hued tunic emblazoned with the image of a ruby hued swan, her family crest, as well as a tight, form fitting chain mail hauberk that showcased his bronzed muscled form—greeted her, not with his customary nod and bow, but with a warm, tight embrace that stole her breath.

  Resting for just a moment in the sanctity of his strong muscled arms, Catherine rested her head on his hard massive chest as a single tear descended her fair cheek; one he caught immediately with the soft press of his full, moist lips against her tear stained skin.

  “It pains me to see milady weep,” he whispered soft in her ear. “I swear to you, I cannot bear it.”