Ménage in Manhattan: The Complete 5-Book Ménage Romance Collection

by Tara Crescent

  “What did you expect?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.

  “I thought it would be more monochromatic.”

  He laughs. “That’s Wyatt’s place you’re describing. I’m sure he’ll give you the tour at some point. Since the rain’s stopped, I thought we’d eat outside.”

  “Outside?”

  “Wyatt and I have exclusive access to the roof. Come on.” He leads the way to a balcony, and we climb up a metal staircase to the rooftop patio.

  The scene that greets me takes my breath away. There are candles everywhere. A vase on the coffee table overflows with flowers. Music is playing through hidden speakers, something soft and melodious, and Wyatt’s sitting on the L-shaped couch, holding a bottle of beer in his hand. He rises to his feet as I approach. “I’m glad you could make it.” His dark eyes hold me captive.

  I shift my weight from one foot to another. I’m nervous all over again. “This is very lovely,” I stammer.

  Wyatt’s lips twitch. “You’re being formal again, Piper. I thought we were past that. Would you like a drink? Champagne?”

  Flowers, candles, music, and champagne. I’m a little overwhelmed. “Yes please.” I sit on the sectional with a sigh of relief, kicking off my shoes.

  “Long day?” Owen hands me a flute of champagne, and sets down a tray of cheese, crackers and olives on the table.

  I snag a piece of Cheddar and munch on it as I reply, focusing on work as a way to avoid thinking about the night ahead. “Lunch was busy. Dinner, not so much. The weather kept people at home.”

  He sits down on the other side of me. “I’m not surprised, it rained cats and dogs.”

  I take a sip of the excellent champagne, sighing in pleasure. Today was a scorcher, hot and humid, but the thunderstorm has cooled the air. As I drink the champagne, I sink back in my seat, finally allowing myself to relax. Wyatt pats his lap. “Put your feet here,” he orders.

  “Why?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Obviously, I want to torture you by tickling your feet,” he says dryly. “I’m going to give you a foot massage, Piper.”

  “Foot massages lead to sex.” Those words escape my lips before I can stop them. I clasp my hand to my mouth in horror, but it’s too late. “Damn it, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.”

  Owen chuckles. Wyatt is struggling not to laugh. “I promise you,” he says solemnly, “that my intentions are pure as snow. You’ve had a long day on your feet. I’m trying to ease the ache.”

  The ache that demands to be eased isn’t in the balls of my feet.

  “Piper.” Wyatt’s gaze is steady. “I’m not going to deny that I’m hoping you’ll spend the night.” He glances at Owen. “We both are.”

  “But,” Owen says, picking up where Wyatt left off, “if you don’t want that, then we’ll just eat dinner. You’ve been working far too hard. Take some time off. Relax. Eat a meal someone else made for you.”

  As Owen speaks, Wyatt’s fingers knead away at my feet. His hands are firm, his touch sure. He works on me until I’m limp and relaxed. “Thank you,” I murmur.

  “You’re welcome.” His eyes linger on my face. “Shall we eat?”

  Owen has made a shepherd’s pie and salad. Both dishes are delicious. “Classic Irish comfort food,” he says, with a grin. “It’s a little intimidating cooking for you, Piper.”

  “Are you kidding?” I pause, my fork poised in mid-air. “I wish someone would cook for me every day. This is delicious. You made this?”

  He nods. “My parents owned a pub in Dublin,” he says, his expression nostalgic. “As soon as I was old enough to reach the counter, my ma put me to work.”

  “My mother hated when I entered the kitchen,” I confess. “Cooking was for staff. Wyatt, do you cook?”

  He shakes his head. “I survive on microwave meals.”

  There’s obviously more to that story. Wyatt works in the restaurant industry. I’ve never met someone in the business who didn’t cook to some degree or the other. “How come?”

  He doesn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t do well with messes.”

  Of course. I’ve put my foot in my mouth. I’ve seen Wyatt’s office, neat to a fault. He’s always impeccably dressed. If I go to his apartment, I’m willing to bet that there won’t be one item out of place. All in response to the way he grew up.

  Time to change the topic. I shift the conversation to Can You Taste The Heat?. The first round is next week. Yelp has already featured each participating restaurant on their website, and has invited customers to check us out. Like most reality TV contests, the winning restaurant will be chosen based both on popularity and the judges’ opinion. “Do you know when the judges are coming to eat?” I ask Wyatt.

  “Thursday,” he replies. “But the public can vote until noon on Saturday.”

  I nod in understanding. I have to be on my A-game all three days. I’m ready for the challenge.

  We wrap up dinner and Wyatt refills my glass of champagne. The night air is cool. Up here, I can still hear the sounds of the city, but I feel removed from the hustle and bustle. A breeze blows, and goosebumps break out on my skin. “Are you cold?” Wyatt asks, his voice low and warm. He moves closer to me, while Owen gets up to turn on the electric fireplace. “Would you like us to warm you, Piper?”

  This is the moment of truth.

  My hands tremble. “I’ve never done something like this before.”

  They stay silent, waiting for me to continue. Owen’s thigh brushes against mine, the contact making me shiver. Underneath my dress, my nipples harden.

  “I don’t have a lot of experience with men. I’m not very adventurous about sex.”

  “What do you want, Piper?” Owen’s voice caresses my soul. “Do you want to be adventurous tonight?” His fingers trail up my bare arm.

  It seems safer to confess my desires at night. Thoughts tumble out in the dark, things I wouldn’t dare say in the brightness of daylight. I can’t look at their faces. “I'm not here because I want a threesome.”

  Owen’s fingers stop their wandering. Both of them go very still. Their eyes are wary, watchful.

  “I never wanted a threesome,” I correct myself. “I never wanted two guys to take me at the same time. But…” I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to continue. “I’m here because I want you. Wyatt and Owen. I have fantasies about the two of you.” I place my hand on Wyatt’s thigh. “I imagine the two of you touching me, and I can’t stop wondering what it would feel like.”

  Wyatt’s worried expression vanishes, and an understanding look fills his face. “You’re still nervous.”

  I bite my lower lip. “I haven’t had anal sex before,” I admit, grateful that they can’t see me blush in the dark. “I don’t want things to tear.”

  Owen snorts. “Give us some credit, Piper.”

  Wyatt exchanges a glance with Owen. “Piper,” he says soothingly. “Relax. Take a sip of your drink.”

  That’s a good idea. I do as he says. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed by how naive I sound. “I should probably go.”

  “If you’d like,” Wyatt says calmly. “Or you can stay, and we can explore. Will you play a game with us?”

  “A game?” My voice comes out in a squeak.

  “A game.” Owen smiles at me, a gleam in his eyes “I’ll ask you a question, and you answer. Yes or No.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Let me demonstrate.” He takes the glass from my hand, and sets it down on the coffee table. “Piper, may I kiss you?”

  “Here?” I look around. The buildings that surround us are the same height, and it’s extremely unlikely that we can be seen by anyone.

  “Here,” Owen says. “Yes or no, Piper?”

  “Yes.” I raise my eyes to meet his. “Yes, I want you to kiss me.”

  Owen’s hand wraps around the back of my head and tugs me nearer. His lips are warm and soft against mine. He threads his fingers through my hair, and his tongue teases at t
he seam of my lips until I soften and part my mouth. His touch is light and teasing, but I can sense the depth of his need, and it’s every bit as raw and powerful as my own. I lose myself in his kiss.

  Through the haze in my brain, I feel Wyatt’s touch at my back. “May I unzip your dress, Piper?” he asks.

  We’re outside. I’ve never done something this daring before. “Can anyone see us?”

  “No.” Wyatt is quick to reassure me. “We can’t be seen up here. But,” he says, with a trace of amusement in his tone, “You’ll have to keep your voice down if you don’t want to be heard.”

  There’s no point pretending that this isn’t what I came here for. I don’t want to be coy. Tonight, I want to feel.

  “Yes,” I say clearly. “Please unzip my dress, Wyatt.”

  Wyatt makes quick work of it. The dress falls to my waist, and my pink lace bra comes into view. Owen growls in pleasure. His eyes are heated as he looks at me. “So beautiful.”

  Wyatt presses kisses down the curve of my spine, his hands caressing the sides of my breasts. I hold my breath as his thumbs near my erect nipples, but he refuses to touch them. Owen watches my reaction, his nostrils flared. “You like this, don’t you, Piper? Knowing that you have the two of us in the palm of your hand?”

  They can have anyone they want. It’s surreal that they want me.

  Owen gives me one final kiss, then he pushes my shoulders back against the couch. “She’s lovely, isn’t she, Wyatt?”

  Oh God. They’re discussing me as if I’m not even here, and it’s turning me on. I squirm in my seat. I can’t believe how aroused I’m getting.

  Wyatt trails a finger over my nipple. His touch is light and teasing. I whimper in frustration. Harder, I want to scream. Please touch me properly. But it’s taken all the courage I possess to come here tonight, and I’m not bold enough to ask for what I need.

  “I want to taste you,” Owen rasps. “Yes or no, Piper?”

  “Oh God yes,” I almost sob out. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  They lower their mouths to my nipples. They lick each erect nub and suck it between their lips, and their teeth nibble at my flesh. Seeing their heads bent over my breasts sends a shiver of desire shooting through my core.

  I’m a paper boat on a stormy sea. I’m hurtling, out of control, on an ocean of scalding hot lust.

  I throw my head back on the couch and close my eyes, almost overwhelmed with how good their touch feels. Wyatt’s beard prickles against me. Owen’s stubble chafes at my tender skin. I press my fingers against my mouth to muffle the moans that I can’t hold back.

  When they stop, I almost shriek in protest.

  “Piper.” Wyatt’s voice is hoarse with need. His hand strokes my calves, inching upward to my thigh. “Stand up.”

  If I stand up, my dress will fall to the ground, and I will be almost naked in front of Wyatt and Owen, wearing my lace underwear and nothing else.

  “Yes or no, honey?” Owen asks calmly. “No pressure.”

  My insides clench and twist. I like this game. Each time they ask me to do something, I’m turned on. When I comply with their requests and see the open appreciation in their eyes, I feel like a goddess. And I’ve never felt like a goddess before.

  You’re special to us, they’d said in their note. These aren’t just empty words. They’re making me feel special now.

  “Yes,” I whisper. I get to my feet, standing in the narrow gap between the couch and the coffee table. My dress falls to the floor. I’m illuminated by the ever-present lights of Manhattan and the silvery gleam of moonlight, almost naked, shivering slightly as the cool breeze caresses my body, exposed to their gazes.

  “Take off your bra,” Owen orders.

  “What happened to Yes or No?” I ask, my hands reaching for the clasp behind my back.

  “You always have the right to say no,” Wyatt says quietly. “At any stage, at any point, at any minute, you can always change your mind.” He gives me a direct look. “But if you aren’t saying no, then take it off.”

  I unclasp my bra and toss it on Owen’s lap. He chuckles at my gesture. Wyatt’s staring at me. “God you’re beautiful,” he says quietly.

  Owen nods in agreement. “Now the panties, baby,” he says implacably.

  In for a penny, in for a pound. I strip them off and toss them on the couch. Owen catches them in mid-air. “Are you wet, Piper?” he asks me with a wicked look. He brings my panties to his nose and inhales deeply. I go beet-red with embarrassment. I can’t believe what he’s doing.

  Wyatt rises to his feet. He moves behind me, clearing our glasses and the candles away from the coffee table. “Lie back,” he instructs, once he’s done. “Spread your legs, Piper.”

  Oh God, oh God, oh God, I can’t believe this is actually happening.

  I’m a little slow to comply. Wyatt’s hands wrap around my ankles, pushing my legs apart. “If you want me to stop,” he says, “all you have to do is say no.”

  I hold his gaze. “I don’t want you to stop.”

  A smile illuminates his face. “Then why am I prying your legs open?” he asks pointedly.

  I flush and cover my face with my hands. “Because,” I groan, “I’ve never done this before.”

  “Hang on.” Wyatt draws back and looks at me with complete astonishment. “You’ve never had oral sex before?”

  This is really embarrassing. “I’ve done it. I’ve never had it done to me.”

  “Fuck me.” He runs his hands through his hair. I risk a glance at Owen, who’s looking as shocked as Wyatt. “The guys you’ve been with are fools, Piper. Spread your legs. Let’s fix this gap in your education.”

  Owen kneels at my side and kisses me. His fingers play with my nipples, pinching them and pulling them. My breasts go heavy with desire, and I gasp with pleasure at his touch.

  I’ve had sex before, but it’s never felt this way. My first time was in the back seat of a car, a rushed and painful experience I have no desire to repeat. I had a boyfriend for the few months I went to college in New Orleans. Our sex life was good enough. Sure, he never went down on me, but that seemed like a minor flaw.

  Now, as Wyatt part my folds, I realize how wrong I was. He breathes on my pussy, and goosebumps rise on my skin. “So pretty,” he mutters. He pushes a finger into me. “God, you’re so tight.”

  It’s been a very long time, Wyatt.

  He removes his finger. His hands hold my thighs open, and he bends his head toward me. His tongue licks at my slit, and when he reaches my clitoris, he sucks it in between his lips.

  I almost jump off the coffee table as pleasure shoots through me.

  “You like that, Piper?” Wyatt asks. “Owen, you’ve got to taste her.”

  “Move over and I will,” Owen retorts.

  Again, I blush at the way I’m being discussed, and again, wetness gushes from my pussy.

  “Not yet.” Wyatt resumes licking me, his strokes long and steady. I’m lost in a delirious haze. I ache everywhere. My nipples throb as Owen teases them. I tremble as they feast on me, as if I were a rare delicacy to be savored.

  My muscles start to clench. Wyatt senses that I’m close to the edge, because he pushes two fingers inside me. “I want to feel you, Piper.” His tongue dances over my clit, harder, faster. I gasp and my fingers grip at the nearest object, which happens to be Owen’s blond hair. “Please,” I cry out.

  Wyatt thrusts his fingers in and out of me. His tongue swirls tight circles around my bud. I whimper and try to flail out of his grip, but he doesn’t let go. I’m so close. Every muscle in my body tightens.

  Then Wyatt sucks my clit gently between his teeth. The dam bursts and I explode, shaking as a tsunami of pleasure washes over my body.

  When thought returns, I’m mortified. Well-behaved Southern women do not spread their legs so wantonly and they certainly don’t scream their orgasms.

  Owen grins at me. “I think it’s my turn,” he says with relish. “It doesn’t seem fa
ir that Wyatt gets to be the only one to taste your sweetness.”

  I sit up in mild alarm. “I need a break first.” My body is sated, and my pussy is swollen and sensitive. If Owen goes down on me, I will fall apart. Can one die from coming too much?

  Owen helps me to my feet and I collapse on the couch. Wyatt hands me a blanket. “I don’t want you to get cold,” he says.

  I chuckle. “Either you’re being very chivalrous, or you just don’t want your chef to get sick four days before the first round of the contest.” I give Wyatt a dry gaze. “Which is it?”

  “I don’t like to lose,” he says blandly, though he winks at me as he says it.

  I lean against Owen’s shoulder while I sip my champagne. “You made me come,” I say, blushing as I remember the way I fell apart. “I should return the favor.”

  “What’s your hurry?” Owen’s fingers trail a path down my bare arm. “You don’t have to work tomorrow.”

  “That’s true.” Owen’s touch is getting me hot again. I shift restlessly in my seat, and they both notice. “Are you trying to tell us something, Piper?” Owen teases me.

  I flush again. I have no problems arguing with Owen and Wyatt over restaurant details. But we’re not at Piper’s, and I’m unable to speak.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Wyatt’s eyes gleam in anticipation. “Let’s play another game. Whatever you ask for, we’ll do. But if you don’t ask for anything, we’ll just sip our wine and enjoy the night sky.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Not even a little.”

  Owen grins. “Oh, this is going to be good,” he says. “Come on, Piper. Don’t be shy.”

  “You guys think I’m a prude.” My cheeks might be flaming at the idea of asking them to go down on me, but I’m definitely not a prude. If I were, I’d be at home, in my rocking chair, with Jasper on my lap. Not sitting naked on a rooftop in the Upper West Side, between two fully clothed men.

  “I don’t think you are,” Wyatt replies. “You need to ask for what you want.” His voice softens. “My dick has been hard all evening long, Piper,” he says. “There’s nothing you can say that’s going to change how much I want you.”