BILLIONAIRE BROTHERS: A MFM MENAGE ROMANCE

by Samantha Twinn

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Samantha Twinn

  Billionaire Brothers

  A MFM Ménage Romance

  BY

  SAMANTHA TWINN

  © 2017 Samantha Twinn

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author's imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  Kindle Edition

  Cover Art – www.vivianmonirdesign.com

  DESCRIPTION

  I shouldn’t want to have s*x with my boss and my patient, but I do…

  When Michael Wright hires me to take care of his twin brother I’m so grateful. He’s polite and professional, as you would expect from a man in his position, and way too gorgeous for his own good. I shouldn’t notice the way his eyes sparkle when he talks or how broad he looks in his pristine suit. I shouldn’t notice the size of his hands or want them to touch me in places I haven’t been touched in years.

  Then I meet his brother Joseph and things get crazy. He’s just as sexy as his twin with his wicked grin and suntanned skin. And because he’s my patient I get to see other parts of his body that blow my mind.

  I’ve never felt like this about a patient, and certainly never about more than one man at the same time.

  I’m a nurse and I have to keep my distance.

  But sharing a penthouse with these men puts me in situations I can’t avoid. They’re wonderful with my daughter, and little by little all these inappropriate feelings begin to fill my mind and my heart.

  Then something happens to Olivia and suddenly all the promises that I made to myself fly out the window. I need Michael and Joseph to help me bring her back, but if they do I will owe them way more than just gratitude.

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Samantha Twinn

  1

  JOSEPH

  There’s just something about that first touch.

  The slide of my finger into a woman’s panties and over her clit. Damn. It gets me every time, like a lightning bolt to the nerve endings in my dick.

  She parts her legs, moaning softly as I caress her, feeling her arousal slickening my fingers. God, she’s beautiful. Gorgeous shiny long hair, wide eyes, pouty lips. All the things that make her such a hit on Instagram.

  I kiss her neck, nuzzling against her warm soft skin as I get my first feel inside her. Two fingers first because she feels really tight. Three fingers. Four. I know I have to open her up nicely so she’s ready to take my big dick. She grunts a little at the stretch and I love it. She’s gonna grunt even harder when I bury myself inside her. Her little tits are high and round, pink nipples hardened into points. I lick my way around each one before biting gently. The way she arches her back tells me she likes the pain more than she would probably ever confess.

  I want in her so badly; to feel her come around my cock and then let go of all the pent up sexual tension that’s building with every touch and stroke. Her panties are in the way so I drag them over her amazing legs…

  My throat feels raw. It’s dark. I try to take a deep breath but I can’t. I try to open my eyes but I can only get them open enough to see two crescents of light. It burns. I squeeze them shut again, giving myself some time to get used to the bright orange behind my lids, slowly opening one, then the other. Something's shoved up my nose, and my head is throbbing painfully, even more painfully than that one time I woke up after hitting my head on the side of a nice sharp boulder while rock-climbing. The steady beeping going on to my right is enough to make me want to rip whatever it is apart, it's so annoying.

  That's when I realize that the deja vu I'm feeling is a little too real. Fuzzy images of the fresh powder flying into my face as I'm going head over snowboard assault my already groggy mind, and I bring my hand up to my head, groaning. That diamond trail proved to be more than I could handle, and the last thing I remember is a sick crack, a pain driving home right through me. At least, I think that's the last thing... everything seems so mixed up.

  Like a jigsaw puzzle scattered across a table.

  When I finally get a good look around, the blurry room's details come swimming into view. It's not the stark white room, the old ass TV set on the wall, or even the litany of machines I'm hooked up to, wheezing and beeping, that leave me frowning.

  It's the way Michael is dressed up like he's going to a goddamn meeting with the board members, yet he's slouching just so, asleep in an ugly brown armchair next to me. Oh, I can just imagine the smug look he'll give me the moment he wakes up...

  I go to move the sheets away from my legs so I can slowly swing them out and see just how fucked I am, but my legs are asleep as I push the thick white covers down. Shocking lines zigzag across one calf, while the other one is mainly bruised, black and purple blooming out all along it. Gritting my teeth, I know it's going to hurt like hell trying to maneuver out of bed, but I know I have to test my weight on my feet.

  It's harder than I realize to move my legs, and there's no annoying pins and needles feeling in them after waking up like usual, there's just a dead weight to them. I try to wiggle my toes, and focus hard, watching for the smallest twitch, but still nothing.

  "What the fuck?" I shove the blankets all the way down, trying to pull myself up using the flimsy bedrails, desperate to move my legs because holy hell, they can't be this messed up. I can't be fucking paralyzed. There’s no fucking way. Sweat pricks across my scruffy face as I push at my thighs, panicking because I definitely can’t feel them.

  "Whoa, whoa. What's going on?" Michael's voice is coming from the chair but I'm still so out of it, that it takes a moment for me to remember he's here with me.
I point to my legs, my mouth hanging open because I can’t fucking speak I’m panicking so much.

  Michael's solemn expression makes me want to punch him right in the damn mouth. Just say it, motherfucker. Just say it. "What the fuck…” My throat is sore, my voice gravelly. “What happened to my legs? Am I…?"

  My just barely-older brother runs his hand through his short-cropped hair, before leaning forward and pushing the faded red button on the bedrail. There's suddenly a nurse's voice right by my ear, asking if we need help. "Can I get a nurse to room 302? Thank you," Michael says in his cool and collected tone. As if his brother isn't lying in a hospital.

  Coming to stand at the foot of the bed, he places his hands on the footboard, leaning, the bed creaking. "I'm glad to see you're finally awake. You've been out for two days already. They had to fly you to Mariners Medical Center, right outside of Aspen." There's definitely concern in his voice, but it's colored with the smallest edge of him wanting to shout 'I told you so.' But I know he won't. Michael isn’t really the shouting kind. He usually leaves that up to me.

  I bite my lip. "What happened to my legs, Michael? Why aren't they working right?"

  "You'll be fine, especially now, after the surgery. They've got a spinal block in to keep your lower spine immobile while you're still healing. Apparently, you fractured the L5 lumbar bone in your spinal cord, but luckily the doctors think you'll eventually make a full recovery."

  A huge rush of relief blows through me. Lifting up my head to the ceiling, I shake it. "Thank god. So I'll be fine?”

  “Fine? You fractured your spine taking unnecessary risks, Joseph”

  “Risks. It’s a winter sport, Michael.”

  “Not the way you do it,” he says impatiently.

  I take a deep breath. Rowing with him while I’m in this state isn’t exactly the most sensible idea. “So, I’m gonna be laid up in bed then, recovering?”

  Something flickers in his eyes for a split second. "You're lucky that you survived the accident, Jo. I don’t think you should be pissed off about being able to take some time out to recover," he replies, his back straightened as he looks me over. I can almost see the rage boiling inside him, but he keeps it all so bottled up and stays so outwardly calm that it almost freaks me out. Me, in his position? Forget it. I'd be throwing shit around, screaming, spit flying out of my mouth, but not Michael.

  It's probably one of the reasons why he's the better businessman between us. Dad was proud to be priming my brother for running the casino, always sharing his pointers with him, what to look for, who to rub shoulders with. And you can bet that Michael ate all that shit up, too.

  I'm more like our mom, myself, and that’s the way I like it. Short fuse, quick to fire, more liable to trust my gut over facts and figures. She was the heart to my father's everything. Hell, she was the heart to all everyone’s everything. She picked us up and kept us rolling, even after Dad died when Michael and I were twelve, doing what she had to do to make sure we survived. She kept the business thriving, diversified it, made sure we were legit and well-accounted for no matter what, and with her gone... well, Michael and I are all that's left.

  Ignoring his passive-aggressive jab, I pull the plastic tube thing out of my nose and grab the pitcher of ice water next to me on the rolling tray table, pouring myself some. "When am I getting out of here?"

  He walks the length of the room, peering out between the yellowish blinds. "They'll be discharging you in a few days' time. I've already arranged for you to get back to Vegas. And… I've found an in-home nurse to help you with your recovery since I know how much you hate hospitals."

  He has a good point there. The bleached-out smell is already making me nauseous.

  "It should all be fine. Well, as long as you don't do anything especially stupid to ruin or hinder your healing, that is." He raises a brow pointedly at me. "But I know you wouldn't want to do that."

  I gulp down the water, closing my eyes. "In-home nurse? What kind of nurse are we talking? Not some old dude, right?" I wince as a sharp pain dives down through my head.

  "Actually, I interviewed this rather brilliant and giant Russian man named Bruno who used to be part of some kind of Russian law enforcement. Only the best that money can buy for you, obviously."

  I can't quite tell if he's just bullshitting me, or if I'm really about to get sponge bathed by some huge Russian dude. The mental image isn't a pretty one.

  The corner of Michael’s mouth quirks as he pulls something out from his briefcase. Leave it to my brother to carry one around like that. Handing me a small manila folder, he ends up chuckling.

  Flipping it open, I'm surprised to see the beautiful yet shy looking woman with the curly dark hair smiling up at me in a picture clipped to a resume for a 'Lana Romero.' I scan over the piece of paper, looking over all the certifications, somewhat impressed. "She seems perfectly fit for the job."

  Michael just snorts, something he only ever does in front of me. "I thought you'd appreciate her credentials. She's incredibly qualified—I don't pick just anyone, you know. I've got Thelma on it, securing Miss Romero the job."

  Thelma, our executive assistant, probably has this Lana woman on the job already somehow, as incredibly efficient as Thelma is. "I appreciate it."

  I don't want to mention to him just how piss-poor he looks. It's in his eyes—the way they're not as bright, and the dark circles are starting to sink in under them. His hair could be perfectly gelled, his suit perfectly pressed, but I can tell when my twin brother needs some zzz's. A small part of me feels guilty for leaving him worried like this.

  There's a short knock at the opened door and in walks an older nurse, carrying a plastic tray of what's supposed to pass as food but smells pretty gross. "I guess there are worse fates than being tended to by some intelligent and smoking hot nurse," I finally admit as the nurse with the food leaves. Poking around at looks like scrambled eggs and bacon, I shake my head. "Like this shit they call food right here."

  2

  LANA

  "You know, it would be nice if they actually gave you some croutons with this thing," Nomie mutters, moving a fork around her salad. "They drown the greens, then leave you high and dry with the croutons. I swear this is the last time I'm getting this stupid thing here." Taking a big bite, she manages to smear French dressing across her mouth, and I have to look away until she wipes at it with the napkin.

  "You always say that. But then you turn around and order it again every time we come back here," I say with an exasperated grin.

  She just shrugs her shoulders and shields her eyes from the sun. "I think I'm just crabby. It's probably the heat getting to me. Sometimes I like to imagine what October feels like in Maine, instead of this blazing hell. It's like Vegas is allergic to changing seasons."

  She isn't wrong. I've lived out here my whole life and have rarely left. The only changing of seasons I know is going from mild sweating to the burning depths of hell. "How did Katie's project turn out by the way? I was meaning to ask you about it."

  "It was fantastic. She was so proud of herself, explaining all the body systems to the class and pointing to everything just like you showed her. I'm pretty sure she got an A on it," Nomie smiles. She'd called me a week before, nearly in tears, begging me to help her daughter Katie with her science project on the human body. Even though Nomie is a stay-at-home mom and had time to help her with it, she felt like it might make more sense coming from me, an actual nurse.

  "I'm glad to know my job came in handy with her."

  "I bet Olivia's project was brilliant. She's such a smart cookie, that girl," Nomie says.

  "It was," I reply, my own cheeks blushing with pride. My daughter, Olivia, is wise beyond her years in ways that still mystify me. Her schoolwork is only one way she excels, particularly in science. "The teacher was very impressed."

  A quick bzz-bzz goes off in my purse, and I drop my gaze for a moment, reminding myself that now is not the time, and ignore it, but I'm not quick enough a
nd Nomie picks up on it. "Have you heard anything from Javier lately?"

  It's so very hard not to grit my teeth. I don't want to think about Javier or anything to do with him. In fact, he's the very last thing I want to think about.

  I take another sip of my soup now that it's completely cooled off, pretending as though Nomie didn't bring him up. The phone buzzes again, and I ignore it, again. If the school needed me, I know they’d call.

  Next to us, a young couple in their early twenties take a seat out here on the patio, holding hands and making me want to vomit—just a little. Live it up while you can, girl, I think. Just don't make the mistake of marrying the guy.

  "I'll take that as a no," Nomie finally says, watching my expression. Realizing that she's not getting a word about my ex-husband out of me, she switches gears. "Have you had any more interviews this week?"

  This I'm totally fine talking about. "I did have one earlier this week, but I'm thinking it's not going to work out."

  She frowns, poking at the salad some more. "How come?"

  When I pull up the image in my head of the patient, I just shake my head. "Well, he's a recent amputee. In his mid-forties. But he managed to insult me in the same breath that he tried complimenting me on my 'delicious-looking tits.' So. There's that."

  "Ugh. Men are fucking pigs, Lana. Don't worry about that asshole, I'm sure there will be another interview with someone way more appropriate and respectful than that."

  I nod along with her again, but I'm not as confident as she is, I guess. Since Mr. Aberdeen passed, I'm in desperate need of a job if I want to work my own hours and not have to go back to working at the hospital.

  "And of course, you know that if you need me to, I'd be happy to watch Olivia. She and Katie get along so well, it would be my pleasure,” Nomie adds, pointing at me with her fork.

  "I know, Nomie, and believe me, I appreciate it very much."

  Working at the hospital again would mean those horrible twelve-hour shifts, and with me essentially starting over as the junior staff nurse, I'd probably get stuck with the graveyard shift since no one wants to work it. It's not like I could turn down any kind of specific shift —not if I needed the job.