Double Team: A Menage Romance

by Sabrina Paige

  Her sweetness tastes amazing.

  49

  Grace

  On the bed, I lie on my side facing Aiden. Nestled up against me, Noah kisses my neck, sending a shiver of arousal through me and causing goose bumps to erupt over my skin. As Aiden softly kisses me, heat settles between my legs, my arousal building despite just having had an orgasm.

  Aiden slides his palm under my thigh, spreading my legs as he enters me. He slides easily inside my slick pussy, but I inhale sharply at the sensation of his bare cock entering me. “God, I missed that.”

  He rocks inside me with slow thrusts, looking into my eyes as Noah presses the tip of his lubricated cock against my asshole. “Fuck,” Noah groans. “Are you ready for me, Grace?”

  “Yes,” I breathe. The word becomes a whimper as he slowly works his way inside me. Aiden puts his mouth on mine, his tongue distracting me from the initial pain.

  When Noah is fully inside, they pause. I lie between them, totally filled up by both of them, adjusting to the sensation of their cocks inside me at the same time. Being between them like this, with Aiden cupping my face in his hands and Noah’s arm around my chest, is the most intimate thing in the world.

  “I missed your pussy,” Aiden whispers. “I missed your pussy and your tits and your perfect little mouth and your laugh and the way you’re looking at me right now. I just missed you.”

  Noah brushes my hair from my forehead, whispering into my ear. “You’re ours, Grace Sullivan. Say it.”

  “I’m yours,” I say as they begin to move slowly inside me. Then there are no more words because there's nothing left to say. We fall into a rhythm as they bring me higher and higher and I lose track of everything else in the world except them.

  None of the other stuff matters– not my parents, or politics, or what everyone in the world is going to think about the three of us.

  The only thing that matters is Noah and Aiden and I.

  They’re the only thing I can focus on as I float higher and higher, every part of my body turned on until I’m on the verge. When I finally come, it’s so intense it’s practically blinding, overtaking my entire body. My orgasm triggers theirs and soon they’re thrusting deeply inside me to flood me with their warmth.

  After, we stay just like that with both of them still inside me, our limbs tangled over one another’s for a long time. Noah’s fingers stroke lazily up and down my arm, and Aiden cups my chin, his thumb going across my lower lip.

  “I’m so glad you came back,” Aiden whispers. “We needed you.”

  “More than you know,” Noah adds.

  “I’m glad I came back, too.” I needed them, I want to say. More than they could realize.

  “Even though tomorrow, when you wake up, the entire scene in the street will probably be making its way all over the internet?” Aiden asks. “I’m sure one of the neighbors got some good footage.”

  “Fuck ‘em,” I whisper.

  “Fuck ‘em,” Noah and Aiden agree.

  One month later

  Sure enough, a video of the three of us in the street went viral. Aiden’s sister Annie called the next day, proud that her banana band prank had something like twenty million views. She triumphantly declared that she played an “instrumental” (pun intended) role in getting the three of us together. “Even if it’s totally gross that you’re hooking up with Aiden and Noah,” Annie explained, “and I don’t know what in the world you see in them, but since you are seeing them, you should definitely let me interview you for my senior thesis.” At that point, Aiden snatched the phone out of my hand and told Annie to “stop being a creepy stalker”.

  We went public a few days later on a talk show we knew would present our story sympathetically.

  Then we walked away.

  We ignored all of the fallout, the million other requests for interviews and my family’s reaction, my parents’ threats to ruin us, and all of the fucking opinions that everyone had about what we were doing.

  It should have been easy enough to ignore. I mean, for the past month, when Noah and Aiden haven’t been training, we’ve been basically holed up inside Noah’s house laughing and talking and fucking and hanging out.

  The truth is, it wasn’t easy, not at first, and especially not for me. Noah and Aiden were far more used to saying “fuck it” than I was. I’ve learned a lot about saying that over the past month.

  The funny thing is that each time you say it, it gets a little easier.

  I walked away from what I knew– a Grace who was safe and cautious, too afraid to rock the boat to do anything inappropriate. I took a leap into the unknown with Noah and Aiden, and I’m starting to become a different Grace, the kind who doesn’t let anyone else dictate what she wants her life to look like.

  And that Grace is far happier than Old Grace.

  Noah walks up behind me and slides his arms around my waist. “What are you doing out here? We made dinner.”

  I relax against him, breathing him in, and look out over the backyard cloaked in evening darkness. “Just stand out here for a minute with me.”

  “We got crazy and made chocolate-dipped strawberries for dessert,” Aiden calls as he walks up to us on the balcony. “Unless you want us to have you for dessert. Wait, are you guys out here having a romantic moment or something?”

  “We can have chocolate-dipped Grace for dessert,” Noah suggests.

  Aiden tilts my chin up and puts his lips to mine, the sensation so familiar now. “I’d definitely eat you for dessert,” he says. “That’s romantic as hell.”

  “Our version of romance, anyway,” I agree.

  Epilogue

  Grace

  One year later

  "I swear, if either of you have another sparkly sex toy up your sleeve for this Fourth of July…" I threaten, but my tone is playful. Noah slaps me on the ass, and I try to swat him but miss.

  "Well, now I feel like it's my patriotic duty to find another July Fourth sex toy,” Aiden says.

  “Do not,” I tell him. “We’re staying at that bed and breakfast near town. Thin walls– that means no shenanigans, or else the entire town of West Bend will be talking about it."

  “Shenanigans? You sound like Noah,” Aiden comments.

  “She’s picking up my vocabulary,” Noah agrees.

  “Great. Now I’m going to sound like an eighty-year old woman?” I groan exaggeratedly.

  Bess pulls the door open, slinging a checkered red-and-white towel over her shoulder. “Why are the three of you standing out here on the porch instead of walking inside the house like normal people?” she asks, shaking her head. “You’re not strangers, so you don’t need to wait out here for me to come get you!”

  “Hi, Mom.” Noah kisses her cheek and Aiden follows suit.

  When Bess reaches me, she gives me a one-armed hug, her flour-covered hand away from my shoulder. “I’m baking, and I’m going to cover you with flour here if I don’t watch it.”

  “It’s all right.” I laugh as we follow her to the kitchen and then out to the backyard. Bess decided that the Fourth of July backyard barbeque should be a tradition, so here we all are together.

  “Hey, big brother!” Annie sees us from across the yard and runs headlong at Aiden.

  “Dude, when are you going to stop tackling me?” he asks. “You know you’re never pushing me over, kiddo.”

  “Whatever. You’re getting soft in your old age,” she says, grinning.

  “You’re really going to smack-talk me?” Aiden asks. “You know what happens when you do. I’m going to give you a noogie right now.”

  “No way!” Annie squeals. “I just had my hair blown out! Grace, tell him not to mess it up!”

  She takes off running and Aiden takes off after her. Bess stands in the doorway to the kitchen, looking out at us and shaking her head. “They’ll never grow up,” she calls. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “I’ve figured that much out by now,” I tell her.

  Annie has grown up,
though– except for when she's around Aiden. She's bright and articulate and exactly what my new foundation needed. So I hired her on a month ago now. That’s right, I’ve started my own foundation. It's six months old now, and it's challenging and exciting and I’m not doing it under the thumb of my parents.

  I haven’t spoken to my parents in the past year– well, other than when my mother called to express her disgust at the interview I did with Noah and Aiden. To be fair, they were in a tough position; even if my father had secretly wanted to support our very public relationship, the people who put him in office wouldn’t have stood for it.

  And if there’s one thing I’ve always known about my father, it’s that he’d choose politics– he'd choose himself– over anything else, every time.

  So he and my mother expressed their profound regret at my “lifestyle choice” and that was that. He was banged up in the polls for a little while, but even so, he was re-elected. He tried to call me last month– I got the “Please hold for the President of the United States” call– but I declined it.

  Maybe he was going to try to patch things up, since he'd won the election, or maybe he was calling to remind me what a mistake I was making with my life by being with Noah and Aiden.

  But either way, I didn't care.

  Noah and Aiden never lost their contracts. In fact, Noah said his head coach's exact words were: "This couldn't make me like you any less than I do right now." He never could stand Noah anyway. Noah just shrugged it off and went back to playing what he loves.

  Now that it's been almost a year, everyone seems pretty used to the idea of the three of us together. I've been at every game cheering them on. I did learn a little bit about football during the month I was hiding out from everything. But mostly, I remain blissfully ignorant of everything except the fact that Noah and Aiden look pretty damn hot in those tight pants.

  My phone buzzes. Vi sends me a photo of her in a piece from her new swimwear line, sitting on a yacht and holding a champagne flute while two shirtless men kiss her on the cheeks.

  Aiden comes up behind me and peers over my shoulder. "Is Vi hanging out with strippers?"

  I squint at the photo. "I'm about eighty percent sure they're not strippers."

  The phone buzzes.

  Two rugby players! I might have found my own Noah and Aiden. If I ask them to spit-roast me, do you think they'll say yes?

  Aiden chuckles. "She's talking about asking the rugby players and not me and Noah, right?"

  "Um… I'm eighty percent sure," I joke.

  I text her back.

  Use the words spit-roast and spooge. Let me know how it goes.

  Noah walks up and slides his arm around my shoulder. "This year, we get to take you downtown to your first ever West Bend Fourth of July celebration. Aren't you excited?"

  "I don't know. Are you going to win me an over-sized stuffed animal at one of the carnival games?"

  "Obviously. I'm also going to buy you a funnel cake and cotton candy and take you on rides until you puke."

  "You know, I don't care what anyone says about you. You're such a romantic."

  "Romantic as hell," Aiden agrees.

  The truth is, they are romantics– in their own ways. They're also rude, crude, obnoxious jackasses who didn't have a clue what to do with a relationship. The thing is, I don't have a clue what I'm doing either. I'd never been in a serious relationship with one man, let alone two. But Noah and Aiden are also kind- and thoughtful and funny– but most of the time, just so damn easy to be with.

  I needed them. I didn't know what I was missing in my life until the two of them barged their way in with all of the grace of bulls in a china shop.

  Noah and Aiden hug me close. "You ready to go play some carnival games?" Noah asks. "I've always been a ton better at them than Aiden."

  "Like hell you are," Aiden argues.

  "Play nice," I say, laughing. "I love both of you."

  "But me more," Aiden says.

  "Equally," I insist. I slip my arms through their arms, walking between them as they joke about something that I just ignore. My heart is full to the point of bursting. I'm happy and I'm content, and I know that- no matter what anyone else thinks- this is exactly where I'm supposed to be.

  Even if our story isn't exactly a classic fairytale romance—

  Girl delivers sex dolls to naked bongo playing boy's house.

  Boy chases girl on riding lawn mower.

  Girl meets second boy. Second boy accidentally tears off her dress and gropes her boobs.

  Girl and boys fall in love.

  There's lots of sex, and misunderstandings, and there's a condom-depositing drone. And a banana band. And for a minute, they break up. Then they come to their senses.

  And they live happily ever after.

  Or something like that.

  Continue reading for Prince Albert AND an EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PREVIEW of the book I’m working on next! If you want to read more books set in the town of West Bend, where Noah and Aiden are from, be sure to check out my West Bend Saints Series!

  Prince Albert

  Sabrina Paige

  Prince Albert is a royal prick.

  He’s the most famous one on the planet, too – wealthy, gorgeous, and a notorious playboy. He’s also the most conceited, insufferable, arrogant man I’ve ever met.

  Did I mention he’s a freaking prince? An actual, real life Prince Not-So-Charming.

  He’s tattooed and pierced, too. Prince Albert has a Prince Albert piercing. That's right – he's pierced you-know-where. Allegedly. I’ve never seen it.

  My mother is marrying a king. Being a princess is every girl’s fantasy, right?

  Except that means Albie is my new stepbrother.

  Oh, and one more thing -- I accidentally married him.

  We’re keeping the biggest secret on the planet.

  Ever heard the fairy tale about the Princess and her stepbrother?

  Yeah, I didn’t think so.

  I’m royally screwed.

  Copyright © 2015 by Sabrina Paige

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review. If you have not purchased this book from Amazon or received a copy from the author, you are reading a pirated book.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.

  This book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.

  NOTE: All characters in the book are 18+ years of age, non-blood related, and all sexual acts are consensual.

  To check out the rest of Sabrina Paige's catalog on Amazon, CLICK HERE!

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  To my husband, who’s the best man I know.

  To my darling daughter, who is the light of my life.

  To Joanna Blake and Jordan Marie, who put up with so many emails from me that began with “So…does this go too far?”

  To all of the readers who have been so supportive: I apologize for all of the over-the-top ridiculousness of this book. But not for the anal.

  Author’s Note

  Prince Albert has been brewing in my head pretty much ever since I published my last stepbrother book. It’s the most ridiculous, over-the-top, and totally implausible story I’ve written.

  And I hope you love it.

  The country, Protrovia, is fictional.

  And there’s more sex than you might be used to from my books. For that, well, I can’t say I’m all that sorry.

  1

  Belle

  “You,” I say. I blink my eyes several times in quick succession, silently offering up a prayer that I’m not seeing what I’m seeing.
Or, more accurately, who I’m seeing. Maybe I’m having a mental breakdown and this is actually just some type of stress-induced hallucination.

  Losing my mind would be preferable to this. Hell, pretty much anything would be preferable to this.

  “You,” he says. He stares at me, unblinking. I swear, time stops completely. The rotation of the earth comes to a grinding halt as he stands there, no more than ten feet away, looking at me. Then, the corners of his mouth turn up -- just a hair. The movement is most likely imperceptible to anyone else, but I definitely notice.

  That asshole. It’s like he’s pleased with this development. It’s as if he expected this.

  You’d have to be a fucking lunatic to be happy about this.

  “I wasn’t aware that the two of you had met before.” My mother looks back and forth between us, her expression unwavering. If there’s one thing Sofia Kensington excels at, it’s revealing absolutely nothing when confronted with something potentially scandalous. She’s entirely unflappable, standing there motionless in her sage green silk shift and heels, her chestnut-colored hair pulled up in a chignon, perfectly-manicured hands folded neatly in front of her.

  She’s always looked regal. Becoming the Queen of a small European country is a perfect fit. I know, without even asking, that it’s the culmination of her life’s ambitions. It's everything in the world she's hoped for.