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

by Tara Crescent

  Her mouth falls open, and I ease my cock into it, almost blowing my load when I see her pretty lips wrapped around my shaft. “You like being naughty, don’t you? You like knowing that Vivian can walk in at any moment.”

  I locked the door, and Viv’s probably at lunch, but Wendy must have a minor exhibitionist streak because she shivers at my words and sucks my cock deeper into her mouth. Her tongue laps the underside of my shaft, and I just about lose it. Oh God, her mouth. Her mouth is fucking amazing.

  Her body trembles and her muscles quiver as Hudson pounds into her, forcing her mouth deeper onto my cock. When he drives into her, her perfect tits jiggle and I have to think about tort reform to keep from exploding in her mouth. I’m not going to last very much longer. “I’m going to come,” I warn her.

  She nods, her expression almost wild with need. Hudson grunts as he plows into her, gripping her creamy round ass with his fingers. “Touch yourself,” he orders. “Rub your clit. Make yourself come. I want to feel your muscles clench around my cock.”

  She presses her finger against her nub. Her tongue still works its magic on my cock, and I watch her, transfixed by how wild and crazy and perfect this moment is.

  We’re all close. The rhythm builds up; desire pulses like electricity, binding us together. I try to hold back, but I can’t pause now. I grab her hair, thrust my hips into her face, and I explode into her throat. Through the fog that fills me, I register that Wendy goes over the edge, her fingernails sinking into my hips. Hudson shouts as he reaches the brink, his face contorted with pleasure.

  I’m having sex at work. On my goddamn desk, for fuck’s sake. What is this woman doing to me?

  17

  Wendy

  Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.

  Albert Einstein

  My girlfriends and I used to hang out on Thursday night, but life happened and we moved it to Mondays. We kept the old name though, because it was funnier that way. By the time Monday evening rolls around, I’m more than ready for the Thursday Night Drinking Pack. I’m not the only one.

  “What a week.” Piper flops on the couch dramatically, and her cat Jasper immediately jumps on her lap.

  “Tell me about it,” Katie agrees with a grimace. “I had a pregnancy scare last Tuesday.”

  There’s only three of us at Piper’s apartment. Miki’s Skyped in, grinning at us from the screen mounted on top of the fireplace, but the rest of the crew is missing. Bailey left this week to go to Argentina for a research project, and Gabby, who lives in Atlantic City, texted us earlier to tell us she wouldn’t be able to make it.

  “You did?” I look up, happy to focus on someone else’s problems for a while. “What happened?”

  “I missed my period,” Katie replies. “I was freaking out. You guys, I love my twins, but Adam and I have decided we’re done being parents.” She shudders. “I’ve finally forgotten the horrors of the three A.M. feedings. Adam and I used to keep score about whose turn it was to wake up.” She drains her glass of wine and pours herself another.

  “I’m assuming from the copious wine consumption that you aren’t pregnant,” I tell her dryly. “Congratulations. Happy non-motherhood to you.”

  She laughs. “Don’t be so quick to judge,” she says. “There were two of them. One of them would fall asleep; then the other would wake up. All night long. I didn’t sleep for a year.”

  “Fair enough.” I clink my glass against hers.

  On the screen, Miki toasts to Katie before throwing back her drink. “What’s going on with you?” she asks Piper. “Why was your week crazy?”

  Piper looks exasperated. “A customer forgot to tell us she was allergic to shellfish when she ordered the gumbo.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Yup,” Piper nods. “It wasn’t pretty. Her tongue swelled up; her skin turned blue and hives started breaking out on her body. Then she threw up everywhere. We spent hours cleaning the mess. Still, she’s alright. It wouldn’t look good if I killed a customer.”

  I know it isn’t a laughing matter, but I have to chuckle at Piper’s morose expression. My friend is almost never disgruntled. “What about you two?” Piper asks Miki and me. “Tell me your week was better than mine.”

  Well, let’s see. On Monday a guy almost punched me at a bar, but two hot men saved me before offering to help me explore a ménage fantasy. There’s my father’s will, because of which I’m leading a construction project for the next year. Plus I got fired on Friday. Where do I even start?

  My inclination is to say nothing, my wariness of people inherited from my mother, but I’m trying to change that. I would trust the women in this room with my life; they’re like the sisters I never had. “Have I ever told you about my father?” I ask.

  Piper’s the only one who nods. The rest of them shake their heads. “I’ve always assumed you didn’t know who he was,” Katie says carefully. “You’ve never mentioned him, and I know your mom raised you on her own.”

  “No, I’ve known his identity since my eighteenth birthday,” I reply quietly. “He died on Monday. And there’s more.” I fill them in on the whole story, starting with Derek Greene knocking on my door and ending with today’s conversation with Jeff Choi. I mention Asher and Hudson, but I deliberately leave out that I slept with them. That bit is too embarrassing to mention.

  When I finish, there’s complete silence. Finally, Piper breaks it, her face etched with sympathy. “Oh Wendy,” she says, leaning forward to put a comforting arm around my shoulder, “I can’t believe they fired you. I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I tell them. “I keep second guessing my decision to work on this project. I don’t know anything about construction. Of course Thorne is going to do better than I am.”

  “Will he?” Katie asks me, a skeptical expression on her face. “What’s his record so far?”

  “Pretty spotty,” I reply honestly. “According to Jeff Choi, his last venture lost a ton of money. Still, Thorne’s spent his entire career at Hancock Construction. I’m an interloper.”

  “Paul Hancock must have set up the contest for a reason,” Piper says staunchly. “Maybe he believed you would be a better owner than Thorne.”

  “I can look into their financials for you,” Miki offers.

  I lean forward to snag some chips and salsa. “If you’re not too busy, I’d appreciate it.”

  Miki gives me a thumbs-up. “I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss the details.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” Piper asks. “Are you going to look for a job at another law firm?”

  I take a deep breath. “Hancock Construction employs ten thousand people. All those people are going to work, wondering what’s going to happen to their jobs because Paul Hancock died.”

  I munch on my chips and salsa. “I’ve been there, Piper. Growing up, we lived paycheck to paycheck. If my mother’s car needed fixing, we ate canned pasta all month. If she fell sick, we lived in fear that she’d lose her job. My instincts tell me that Thorne isn’t good for the company.”

  Sipping my wine, I continue. “I don’t care what my father wanted,” I tell my friends. “He chose not to be a part of my life; I owe him nothing. But my mom taught me to care for people, to be responsible.”

  Katie gets up for another bottle of wine and tops up my glass. “It looks like you’ve made up your mind.”

  “Yes.” I sip at my drink, finally feeling the rightness of my decision in my heart. “If I think Thorne is going to be a good CEO, I won’t get in his way, but until then, I’m going to become a fixture at Hancock Construction.”

  18

  Asher

  He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.

  Sun Tzu

  Two weeks pass. I spend one of those weeks in Seoul, working on a merger. Though I normally enjoy traveling for work, this time around, I can’t wait to get back to Manhattan.

  It was supposed to be casual, but I ca
n’t get Wendy out of my mind.

  I thought that my attraction to her could be sated in a few hours, but I was wrong. She’s lodged in my thoughts. Even when I’m working, I see her in the back of my mind, her eyes hazy with desire, her red lips wrapped around my cock, her clever tongue stroking me to the point of wildness…

  It’s driving me nuts. A few nights with Wendy Williams, and I’m like an addict, looking for my next fix.

  I dial her number as soon as I land. It’s Thursday evening, but knowing Wendy, she’s probably at work. “Are you at Hancock?” I ask without preamble when she answers.

  “Asher,” she exclaims, sounding delighted to hear from me. “Are you back in town? Hang on, Hudson’s here. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

  “I just got in,” I reply. “Listen, I’ve spent fourteen hours on a plane. I’m going to head to my place and shower, and then I’ll meet you at Hudson’s condo, okay? Do you want me to bring pizza?”

  “Not for me,” Wendy replies instantly. “My stomach’s been acting up. I’m trying to stick to salads until this bug passes.”

  “Okay, salad it’ll be.” Hanging up, I reach for my luggage and navigate the absolute mess that’s JFK. It’s raining, and it takes me forever to find a cab. By the time I get home, I’m cranky as hell.

  Levi’s watching something on TV when I walk in. “Hey buddy,” he greets me. “You look like a drowned rat.”

  My lips twitch reluctantly at Levi’s bracing assessment. “It’s raining,” I point out. “As you’d know if you looked outside. How’ve you been?”

  He shrugs. “I’m good,” he replies. “By the way, some suit was looking for you earlier today. He left this for you.” He hands me a large official-looking manila envelope.

  “Thanks, buddy.” Taking it, I head to my bedroom. When I’m alone, I rip it open and extract the contents, and my heart stops.

  There’s a note, but that’s not what catches my attention. I’m transfixed by the five large eight-by-eleven photos that have fallen out of the envelope. Photos of Hudson, Wendy and I, in her shoebox-like office, laughing and kissing. In one photo, Hudson’s palm cups her ass possessively. In another, my fingers graze the side of her breast.

  Fuck. I’m a fool. I should have known Thorne would have cameras in her office.

  Already, there’s gossip about the three of us. Hudson and I have a reputation; we’ve never been particularly invested in keeping our sexual preferences a secret. Jeff Choi’s curious about our relationship, but he’s too professional to ask for the details. Amanda, the woman acting as our liaison at Hancock, is more openly inquisitive.

  These photos will pour fuel on the fire.

  This is how things started with Lauren. Thorne raped her; there was DNA evidence. I foolishly assumed we had an open-and-shut case.

  Then the first shot was fired. An article in the campus paper, accusing Lauren of faking the whole thing. A ‘friend’ came forward, swearing that Lauren had planned the entire sordid affair, hoping that Thorne would pay her off for her silence. Countless interviews were conducted with her former boyfriend Mike, who claimed that Lauren was desperate for money.

  Lauren lost her scholarship. She spiraled into a depression from which she never recovered. Losing faith in the system, she dropped the charges against Thorne Hancock.

  The note has fluttered to my bed. I pick it up and scan it. It’s short and to the point.

  Remember Lauren Bainbridge? It’d be a shame to see history repeat itself. If you don’t want these photos to go public, both Hudson Fleming and you need to walk away from the Staten Island project.

  It’s unsigned.

  I don’t need a signature to know that Thorne’s behind this. A feeling of helplessness sweeps over me, one I remember well from ten years ago. Lost in our burgeoning relationship with Wendy, I’ve become complacent. I’ve let myself forget how ruthless Thorne Hancock can be.

  Lauren is dead. I couldn’t protect her, but I can protect Wendy. All I need to do is walk away from her project. All I need to do is let her fail.

  Even if she ends up hating me.

  19

  Wendy

  We sail within a vast sphere, ever drifting in uncertainty, driven from end to end.

  Blaise Pascal

  For the last ten days, my stomach’s been acting up. I haven’t been sleeping well; I’ve been waking up nauseous. I’ve bailed on the Thursday Night Drinking Pack more than once. The only thing I seem to do is work.

  I should be miserable, but I’ve never been happier, and it’s all because of Asher and Hudson.

  I’d accepted their help reluctantly; I’m still hesitant to trust them completely. But I’m changing; I can feel it. The caution built up over a lifetime is slowly slipping away, and a new me is emerging. I like it.

  Then there’s my amazing sex life. Meow. Let’s just say I now understand why Bailey glows when Daniel and Sebastian are around; why Piper positively radiates joy in Wyatt and Owen’s presence. It’s only casual, I keep reminding myself. We aren’t in a relationship. Hold on to your heart, because Hudson Fleming and Asher Doyle have the power to shatter it.

  “You look exhausted,” Hudson says in the cab, looking at me with concern. “You have dark circles under your eyes, and you’re far too pale.”

  I snuggle into his side. “Some sleep would be nice,” I admit.

  His fingers stroke my hair. “Want to skip tonight?” he asks.

  Out of some unspoken agreement, the two of us haven’t made love while Asher’s been away. It doesn’t feel right without him. Eight days without sex and my need has grown, inflating like a balloon that’s ready to pop at the slightest touch. Sleep can wait. “Hell, no,” I say indignantly. “Don’t even think about it.”

  He chuckles softly and presses his lips down on my hair. “Ah, Wendy,” he says appreciatively, “you’re so fucking amazing. Asher and I are the luckiest guys in the world.”

  Does that mean you want to be in a relationship? Those insecure words almost pop out of my mouth, but I push them back. An instinct warns me that the time isn’t right for that question.

  As soon as Asher walks in, he tosses his coat across the room, sets the pizza and salad down on the table, and pushes me against the wall. “I want you,” he growls, raw, carnal heat glittering in his eyes. “Now.”

  I can feel the weight of Asher’s hand on the back of my neck. His fingers entwine in my hair. At his rough touch, need builds in me.

  He tightens his fingers and pulls my neck to his lips. My breathing shortens. He’s just walked in the door, and I’m already wet for him.

  His fingers trail a path down the nape of my neck. “I’m not in the mood for gentle,” he growls. “I’m not in the mood for sweet and soft.”

  I lift my head up and meet his eyes squarely. I’m as hungry for him as he is for me. I want everything they’ve got. “Bring it on.”

  His lips lift in an involuntary smile, and he takes a step back. He undresses me with his eyes, slowly, deliberately. “Would you like me to take off my clothes?” I offer, eager to feel his naked body against mine.

  He shakes his head. “Did I ask for help?” he demands. He continues to stand in front of me, letting the heat build up in the small gap between us. I lean back against the cool wall and wait, shivering at his scrutiny. Asher’s often dominant, but this feels more intense.

  “Are you attached to this blouse?” he asks.

  I glance down at the shirt I bought on sale at the Gap. Hancock Construction’s offices aren’t anywhere as formal as the law firm I used to work for. My conservative suits languish at the back of my closet, and I spend my days dressed in casual shirts and slacks. Except for today. Today, in anticipation of sex, I’ve worn a skirt. “No,” I reply.

  “Good.” He brings his hands up to the collar of my blouse and tugs hard. Buttons fly all over the foyer, and the fabric rips.

  Hudson stalks toward me, tugging me forward, and he positions himself behind me, never letting his hands
leave my body. As he grips my waist, I feel his hard cock against my ass.

  We’re not hungry for each other. We’re starved.

  My breasts push against the confines of my bra. The anticipation is unbearable. Desire pools in my pussy, and I clench my thighs together.

  Asher notices. “In a hurry?” he asks mockingly. He traces the outline of my nipple through my bra, and then he tweaks the bud hard.

  Behind me, Hudson’s hands loosen from around my waist. One hand pushes me against Asher’s strong chest, while another lightly caresses my back, cupping my ass, then trailing down the back of my thigh.

  My breathing hitches as Hudson’s fingers move up my skirt. Asher bends forward and brushes his lips against my neck.

  “No,” I whisper harshly. “Enough with the foreplay. Take off your clothes, both of you.”

  “Bossy,” Asher chides, but I’m not cowed. I reach for his belt and undo it. I unzip his fly and let his pants fall to the floor.

  He’s hard. Really hard. His cock jumps at me, thick and erect, and I lick my lips. I’m ready for him, for them. My pussy is slick, and I’m rubbing my legs together, trapping Hudson’s hand between my thighs.

  Speaking of Hudson, his hand slides further up my thighs until his thumb meets my wet panties. “Tell us who makes you this wet,” he orders, his tone possessive. “Tell us who your pussy is dripping for.”

  “You,” I pant out immediately. If he just moves that thumb an inch higher. I try to grind my hips down on his hand, desperate to feel his touch against my clitoris, but Asher stops me, his hands grabbing my hips. He holds me immobile, while continuing to brush his lips against my neck, nibbling and nipping at my tender flesh with his teeth.