Royal Baby Double Trouble_A Two Princes MFM Menage Romance

by Sierra Sparks

  As I climax, Jordan says “You're amazing, my lady. How many times does that make? Four? Five?”

  “Four,” I gasp, a fifth on the way. It sings through me almost immediately. Once again, Jordan’s doing that thing with the head of my clit and my hood. Rubbing them together. Jerking me off.

  My legs jelly and convulse with the intensity of this orgasm.

  “Five,” I amend. “This has never happened before” Even as I talk, pleasure races through me. Through my hips and clit, ending in my ass. Even though he’s not fucking me, it feels like he is. “I’ve never had so many one right after the other.” As if to prove my point to him, I come a sixth time just from thinking about that fact. Just from talking to him.

  “You’re so amazing, Jordan.” I shiver, feeling hungry and yet satisfied simultaneously. Even after having six separate orgasms with my clit and pussy, I’m hungry for Jordan. His cock.

  “Take me,” I practically beg. “Fuck your mistress.”

  “I’ve eaten my fill,” Jordan whispers, as if, once again he can read my mind. “Is my mistress hungry?” He pauses. “If she is, I would be happy to have her pussy devour me.”

  “Yes, Jordan!” I say urgently, letting my inner-schoolgirl out, “Yes, my good boy! I want your cock! I want all of it! I want to eat until I’m full.”

  “Sit on me, Mistress. Fill your pussy with me,” Jordan answers.

  I don’t waste any time. I back myself off the window and impale myself on his naked cock.

  The second I do, his girth and length wash into me like a fleshy ocean. I enter Nirvana. Ultimate bliss.

  All my hunger is instantly satisfied.

  At least until I start riding him.

  Jordan

  When Bianca impales herself on me — on my rock-hard rod — I’m not prepared for how pleasurable it is. How sensitive I am to each whisper of her lips. Each dance of her ridges on my length. I moan out loud. The kind of moan I tried to keep her from hearing earlier. But this time, I just decide to let her hear it. Let her hear what she does to me.

  I already confessed my love for being dominated and punished by her. What more is a moan? A soft, possibly higher-pitched one than most guys would utter?

  When she rides my cock, bounces up and down on it like she’s riding a wild bull, I just about lose my head. Lose my entire load right there, but I force myself to keep a grip on it. Hold it back for a little longer because I know how much she’s enjoying it. I can tell by the way she has her head thrown back as she moves. By the way her fingers clench my thighs and hips in the seat. And by the sounds she’s making.

  Reverse cowboy never looked or felt so good as it does with Bianca. With her beautifully curved back twisting above me. Her large, shapely ass bouncing and jiggling in front of me. On my legs and pelvis.

  I reach around and pinch her nipples between my fingers. To increase her pleasure, and to distract myself further from my desire to come.

  Without a condom on, I’m feeling twice the warmth. Twice the texture, and twice the love and devotion coming through her.

  With every bounce of her hips and ass against me, I float. Getting closer to my sweet, warm paradise. The itch of pleasure starts in my shaft, practically melting into my balls and up toward my head.

  I grunt, giving her nipples one last good pinch. Tug.

  Seconds later, I realize that was probably a bad idea because that one action sends us both quickly climbing toward orgasm. And I realize once again that I’m not wearing a rubber, any protection for my mistress.

  “Bianca,” I growl, “I’m not covered! Don’t let me shoot—!”

  Just as I go to say “shoot in you,” Bianca orgasms. Cums hard and fast, popping herself off me just in time for my thick, hot milky-white cum to splash harmlessly across her ass cheeks, not anywhere in or around her pussy.

  A noise barks out of my throat as I lose it. As I squeeze the shit out of my shaft, in order to make sure that if I shoot anymore, it’s aimed at her ass and not anywhere else.

  For a good solid minute after that, neither Bianca nor I have the energy or strength to say anything. All we can do is hang on each other. Gasping for breath. Kissing and marveling in each other.

  When we’ve recouped enough from our exercise, I make a decision, but the decision means I have to head out for a little while.

  After I lay her on the bed and tuck her in, I throw on some casual clothes.

  As I put on my baseball cap and put the ridiculously big coat Paul made fun of me for (I’ve kept it in her closet since going to get it during our time between breakfast and lunch), I say, “Gonna head out for something real quick.”

  Bianca raises an eyebrow. “What for?”

  “Something special, for when I get on my knees again later tonight.”

  “Oh?” Bianca, Queen of Domination, looks surprised. Curious. “Is it something I don’t have in my repertoire?”

  I nod, fighting the urge to tell her she won’t find it in any pink bag. Just a little black box.

  “Be back soon, my lady,” I say, and leave her.

  From her room, I hurry to the nearest jewelers.

  Bianca

  While Jordan’s gone, I can’t stop thinking about him. About what he means when he says he wants to get down on his knees again for me tonight; that he is going out to get something special in order to do that; something that’s not in my bag of tools.

  Today has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and I’m drained emotionally. Taking him back and forgiving him for his actions in the café was the right thing to do for both of us. I can’t imagine my life without him and I don’t want to. I believe him when he says he wants to serve me and that he loves me.

  I hug the blankets around my body, sighing at the tenderness between my legs. Being a good mistress means knowing when to allow your sub to take control, to let him think he’s in charge.

  My mind wanders back to why my love had to leave in such a hurry. I want to have my mystery solved right now, but I have no choice but to wait. No choice until he comes back. So, I settle back on my bed and watch another made-for-TV movie.

  This one’s not as good as the last one I watched. Mostly because Jordan isn’t here to share it with me, but I try not to dwell on that.

  Finally, after what seems like an eternity, there’s a knock on my door. Then, “It’s me, Mistress.”

  At those words, I practically jump out of bed. I’m lucky I don’t get caught in the sheets and break my leg with how fast I move.

  I fly to the door and open it, not caring that I’m still naked.

  Jordan sneaks past me, keeping the sides of his big fur coat out of arm’s reach.

  I shut the door behind him and lock it, already excited by what the evening has in store for us. For whatever he’s hiding from me.

  As I turn around, Jordan’s on his knees, exactly as promised. “Jordan? What--”

  Before I can finish my question, he jams his hand in one of the big, almost-invisible pockets on his coat and fishes out a small black box.

  Holding it in his palm, and positioning his other hand dramatically over it, he looks at me. Already, even without a word uttered, my heart beats faster. My breath quickens, and my mouth dries.

  “Bianca, Goddess of My Heart, Lady of My Will and Life,” he says, prying open the top of the box, “over these past few days I have been blessed. Reborn by getting to know you. Love you. Serve you as no man has ever served you. And will never serve you if I have my way.”

  He opens the box the rest of the way, revealing an obnoxiously big solitaire. If I’m not mistaken, this ring is least twice the size of Jane’s big shiny nugget.

  “My lady. My love,” Jordan murmurs, scooting closer and taking my hand in his, “will you marry me?”

  When he says, “marry me,” I cry. I burst into tears, nodding. Somehow, I manage to croak, “I will.”

  “Will you make me your Forever Good Boy?” he asks, making me cry even harder.

  “Yes! Yes, baby,
I will!”

  Wordlessly, Jordan puts the ring on my finger. “Then consider this my contract. My agreement of submission until death do us part.”

  I pull Jordan up off his knees and kiss him. Shower him with all the love and affection my inner schoolgirl has been dying to give to him all weekend.

  Jordan giggles under all this, but I don’t stop. I keep kissing him until my mouth is numb.

  Then and only then do I cease, and that’s only so we can make wedding plans. “

  So,” I say, guiding him over to the bed, “how do you feel about Hawaii? I hear it’s perfect for a wedding in June.”

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  Two Billionaires for Christmas: An MFM Menage Romance

  Copyright © 2017 by Sierra Sparks and Juliana Conners; All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Juliana Conners’ Sizzling Hot Reads

  Chapter 1 – Mandy

  What the hell was that noise?

  Not the birds. But the banging that sounded like it was coming from the garage?

  I think it was about 7:30 a.m. when I awoke to the sweet sound of the birds outside, and the awful clanging noise of whatever was going on inside our house. Technically it was my boyfriend Jared’s house—or, more technically, it was his rich grandma Sue Ellen’s house she let him live in rent-free—but I had been living with him for over a year.

  There was a lovely pair of song birds that had nested near our bedroom window at the beginning of spring. They didn’t seem to just mindlessly chirp. There was a real song in their voices. It was a song that normally made me happy. But today, there was a knot in the pit of my stomach, just as there had been for the past few weeks, preventing any kind of happiness, even though it was my first day of my new job, and it was supposed to be a good day, a brand new start for me.

  Looking over to the wall, I followed the design of birds I had painstakingly painted as part of the room’s decoration—my own attempt to make the house feel more like “mine” instead of just “Jared’s.” Had the song birds inspired my painting, or had the design summoned the birds? I couldn’t remember. There had been a time when decorating the house and making it my own had been a joy for me, but that time had long past. These days, I was beginning to ask myself how much longer I could live in its suffocating entrapment.

  Taking a breath of the morning air that was billowing in the open window, and trying to shield my ears from the clanging, banging sound, I rolled over and reached out for Jared, but he was gone. Again.

  Now the whole vibe of the morning turned even more to worry. Jared has been so out of it recently and always gone. He never told me what it was all about it. He always said it was work related, but I knew it wasn’t. I knew it was something bad. Maybe I didn’t want to see it. But that didn’t stop me from feeling it in my gut.

  On this particular morning, I couldn’t just go running to him again, or waste time trying to figure out what was up with him. I had to get ready for my first day on the job. It had taken me weeks to get this position at Dunthrup Industries. With so many of my other friends struggling and out of work, it seemed like a miracle that I could land something so potentially lucrative. A decent salary, benefits after 90 days, vacation and potential bonuses— If only Jared were more supportive.

  It was clear to me now that Jared had something to do with the banging sound. He was probably working on his old, beat up car in the garage, even at this ungodly early hour. Or maybe that was just what I told myself so I didn’t have to face an uglier truth.

  In the shower, I pumped myself up mentally. “You can do this, you can do this, you can do this,” I told myself, to the same rhythm as the water running over my body.

  I was in pretty decent shape, but I had really wanted to drop a little weight before starting this job. I liked my curves, but five pounds would go a long way toward keeping my belly from muffin-topping. Being 5’ 6” and always having struggled with my weight in the past, I knew if I just worked at it, I could tighten up. But Jared had me so stressed out and I had eaten so much ice cream in front of the TV.

  I got out of the shower and looked at myself in the mirror. I squinted at myself, deciding I still looked pretty damn sexy, extra weight or not.

  “You can do this,” I said. “You have what it takes. You can do this.”

  By this point, I was no longer sure I was talking about my first day of work. I had a gnawing feeling I was talking about dealing with the glaring problem that was my relationship.

  Our bathroom was an outdated pink and green. It was a horrific color combination conjured up by Sue Ellen’s 60’s or 70’s nostalgia. When I moved in with Jared, we undertook so much work to make it feel less like his grandmother’s and more like our own. We had to tear up carpeting, repaint walls and take down the ugly Safari wallpaper in the basement.

  Back then, the house was a project for both Jared and me together. That’s what had made it special. But over time, our enthusiasm for house renovation projects had faded, along with the zeal of our relationship, and we had never made it so far as to update this bathroom.

  I dried off, put on makeup and got dressed. I was starting to perk up. I felt I looked a little like Rebel Wilson, but with auburn hair and a prettier face. I sometimes wished I was her. She never seemed self-conscious at all. But with her as my spirit animal, I prepped my coffee mug.

  “Yeah, you can do this,” I said, starting to convince myself. “A new job is going to change everything.”

  Then, as I heard Jared clanging around in the garage again, it dawned on me that I really had to face this. I needed to confront him before my big day. Who knows? Maybe he’d have it together and see me off. Maybe he’d be the old Jared; full of life, hope and ambition.

  The moment I walked in the garage, I instantly regretted my decision. Jared looked like a cornered rat. He was on the floor of the garage, scrubbing away at the cement, and the acrid smell of chemicals was in the air.

  “Jared,” I said, trying to be in control. “What the hell is this?”

  “Nothing, go back to bed.”

  Jared had a gaunt Jesus body and face that I had initially been very attracted to, because it hadn’t been that skinny. But he had somehow gotten very thin. The muscle tone was gone from his face, as if he was wasting away. His hair, once his best feature, was stringy and greasy. He was wearing his old denim jacket from middle school. The thing was full of holes, but he kept insisting I mend it for him.

  “Jared, I can’t go back to bed. I’m starting my new job today,” I said, incredulous.

  “So, what? You think you’re better than me?”

  “I’m starting the job for us! Working for us!”

  “What do you think I’m doing?”

  “I don’t know what you’re doing! What are you doing?!”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just go back to bed.”

  “I’m going to work! Are you even listening?!”

  The smell of the chemicals was overwhelming. On a workbench, he had poured some translucent substance in one of my baking sheets. It had turned to crystal and was already cracking. That’s when I remembered something I saw on television. Breaking Bad.

  “Oh, my God! Is that meth? Are you making meth?”

  “It’s nothing you have to worry about,” he assured. “This is how I make money. Just like you’re doing. It’s nothing bad.”

  “I’ve seen Breaking Bad. I know what that is!”

  “Relax, baby.”

  Relax, baby, my ass, was all I could manage to think. Leave it to someone who was up all night making meth to tell me to relax.

  Apparently, before I could leave fo
r my first day of work, it was time to have a showdown with my boyfriend. I sure hoped Rebel was ready to be my spirit animal now more than ever.

  Chapter 2 – Mandy

  “Are you insane?” I demanded of Jared. “Do you have any idea how illegal that is?”

  “I’m cleaning it up,” he insisted. “You see, it’s the smell that gets people. You have to clean up after you cook.”

  “Jared, you’re not thinking straight!” I insisted. “If you’re caught, the cops will take the house! They’ll take everything. Your poor grandma will lose everything she’s helped you out with in life.”

  “No, the cops won’t find out,” he assured, unconvincingly. “And if they do, Grandma won’t get caught up in anything. I would just—I would just tell them it was me.”

  “We have to throw this stuff away,” I said, determined. “You have to get help. For your own sake, and for the good of our relationship. I can’t stay with you anymore, if you’re…doing meth. And making meth.”

  I couldn’t even believe we were having this conversation. It seemed I was in a bad dream. Or an episode of Breaking Bad. I had barely even tried pot. This could not be my life.

  Except it was. I had to face it. And change it. Because apparently Jared wasn’t planning to. Suddenly, all the lonely nights made a lot more sense. I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Jared must have been deep into drugs for far too long. It had finally just spiraled beyond his control, and gotten so bad I had to notice it, even if I hadn’t really been ready to face it.

  When I picked up the baking sheet, Jared immediately rose to his feet. His eyes were riveted on it; like Gollum watching the Precious.

  “Oh, my God! You’re a meth addict!”

  “No-no-no, baby, I just test the product. I’m not a customer.”

  As if to prove he didn’t need it, Jared got back down to scrubbing the floor.