Triple Threat_An MFMM Romance

by Daphne Dawn

  Finally, after what feels like forever, my orgasm fades away. I hang my head, bracing myself against the wall with my hands and my wet hair falls over my shoulders.

  Wes pulls out of me, and I gasp as he does. I straighten up, let the water wash my hair back to where it belongs. I run my hands over my tender body, between my legs, washing away everything that comes out again after he released inside me. When I’m clean, Wes turns it off. He steps out of the shower first and hands me a towel I wrap around my body. He hands me another for my hair – who says men are inconsiderate? – and I wrap it around my head.

  He steps closer to me and kisses me. “I’ll be right back,” he says. “I’m just locking up the house.”

  He disappears, and I proceed to dry myself off, blowing out my hair with a hairdryer I find in that looks like it’s never been used.

  When Wes comes back my hair is dry enough. Wes heads for the bed. I realize he hasn’t asked if I want to stay. I would have stayed, either way. It’s not sentimental. It’s much too late to leave now. I get under the covers next to Wes, and he pulls me against him.

  His body is warm, his dark hair slightly damp. This is not emotional, I remind myself. It’s practical.

  Wes

  I open my eyes and stretch. The room is dim, the sun filtering through my drawn blinds. My body feels great – a little sore the way good sex makes it feel and an echo of Kylie’s body on my cock.

  I turn my head. Kylie lies on her side, bare back to me, hair splayed on the pillow. She’s still here, in my bed. She spent the night.

  I watch her body rise and fall with her rhythmic breathing.

  The last time I had a woman in my bed when I woke up in the morning, it was when I was still dating my ex-fiancée. Since she left me standing at the altar, wondering what the hell I did wrong, I don’t let women stay over. I fuck them, yes, but they have to leave after that. Sleeping next to them, spooning and cuddling and all that romantic shit is too close for comfort. When you let someone in you can get hurt, and I don’t have much of a heart left to be broken.

  Melodramatic? Maybe. But I thought Marisa was the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I had given up the idea of sleeping around, of being charming and irresistible because Marisa had been the one. She was the one I had wanted to build a future with, the one I defined love by.

  When I asked her to marry me, she didn’t hesitate. We were the happiest couple in the world. Both our parents were delirious about it when we told them. We had engagement parties and kitchen teas and parties that followed the protocol for getting married.

  We did everything by the book, and by God, I loved her. When she wasn’t staying at my place, I was staying at hers. We didn’t live together before we got married, but we dreamed about the day we were going to share a space we could call our own.

  On the day of the wedding, everything started out according to schedule. It was a big wedding, over three hundred guests, and it had been planned for a year. I stood at the front of the chapel, my entourage with me for support. We waited for her to come to me so that I could confess my everlasting love to her and prove it by making her my wife.

  And she never came.

  The bitch left me at the altar with no idea why. She didn’t once let me know something was wrong. I didn’t once doubt that we were going to go through with it.

  In the blink of an eye, everything was over, and my life changed.

  Since then, I only fuck women. I don’t fall in love with them. I don’t let them stay over.

  This was an exception, and I expect to feel horrible about it. I wait for that feeling to pop up – the one where I want to wake Kylie up and ask her to leave.

  It doesn’t come. I don’t mind that she’s in my bed. I don’t mind that she stayed over. Kylie is the type of person that I understand. I know what we are to each other and what we’re doing and that’s all that matters here.

  And I’m not unhappy about it.

  I get into the shower and let the hot water cascade over my body. I get flashbacks of what we did here – her body with droplets running over her skin, her pussy on display to me and her wet hair clinging to her cheeks. I close my eyes and shudder. My cock hardens again from thinking about her.

  When I reach for the soap, I rub it over my body, creating a white lather. I slide my hands over my body, washing the sex from me. I cup my balls and slide my hand over my hard cock, but I don’t do anything more than just clean. I don’t want to jack myself off in here when she’s asleep on the other side of the door.

  I don’t know why I want to respect her like that, but I want to.

  I rinse the soap off and get out of the shower. With a towel wrapped around my hips, I walk into the bedroom again. Kylie is awake, her sheets pulled over her chest in a semblance of modesty and her liquid brown eyes are turned to me.

  “Morning, sexy,” I say to her. Her mouth curls up into a smile. “How did you sleep?”

  She nods. “Alright, thank you. Not a lot.”

  I chuckle. We were at it until the early hours of the morning.

  “What about some breakfast?” I ask. “We can go out and get something to eat.”

  Kylie hesitates before she answers. “Is that really a good idea?” she asks. “I don’t think we should be seen in public together. Leon is already making life difficult for us.”

  I nod. She’s right. We can’t go out together. There’s no way I would be able to keep my hands off her today if we do. Having her in my bed, naked, her hair a testament to how wild our night was and me knowing exactly what lay between those sheets I want to be all over her again. And there is no reason the two of us would be seeing each other on a Sunday morning for business.

  “Let me go get something, then,” I say.

  She smiles, unsure. “You want me to stay?”

  I shrug. I know what she’s asking. She’s as unsure about spending the night as I was.

  “We both have to eat, right? Might as well eat something together before we go our separate ways.”

  She nods, apparently satisfied. I walk to my closet and find clothes to put on – khaki pants and a white polo shirt. I pull Italian loafers onto my feet and walk to the bed.

  I kiss Kylie on the forehead before I leave the room.

  Tartine Bakery is my favorite place to go – aside from the usual, they have French pastries, bread and sandwiches. It opens at eight on Sunday mornings, and I arrive just after opening time.

  When I step in through the door, someone calls to me.

  “Wes,” I hear, and when I turn, Leon is standing at the display case where they’re filling it up with freshly baked rolls.

  “Hello,” I say. He’s the last person I want to see today – I’m in a good mood, and I don’t want it spoiled – but I can’t avoid Leon since he is an employee so I have to try to be pleasant.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I shrug. “Probably the same thing you are,” I say. I look at the rolls as they lay them out. The delicious aroma hangs in the room, and I can almost taste them it smells so good.

  “I heard about this place from a friend,” Leon says. “I thought it would be nice to get Martha something.”

  I nod. “I come here all the time. They have a great selection.”

  We stand side by side, and the conversation is strained. Yes, I’ve known him the longest of all my employees, and I see him every day. But we’re not friends, and I know very little about his life other than what he shares in the office. I don’t have all that much to say to the man.

  “My son said he comes here often, too.”

  I nod. I remember he has a son.

  “Of course, he’s not going to come here, today. He’s been out partying all night. He only came in at the crack of dawn.”

  I chuckle, not knowing what to say.

  “I think it’s good not to have your kids on too tight a leash,” Leon says. “Brad can talk to me about everything.”

  I nod again. I don’t kn
ow what to say. I don’t really care about his son, but I must listen politely until he decides what he wants.

  “Can I help you?” the woman behind the display case asks

  “Four croissants, two eclairs and two coffees, please,” I say.

  Leon looks at me. “Do you have company?” he asks.

  I smile politely at him. “It’s Sunday. Don’t we all spend time with friends and family?” Who I’m entertaining is none of his business, even if it is someone I don’t care Leon knowing about.

  Leon nods. “You should hear some of the things that Brad tells me about. He’s always meeting women in the bars he goes to. They’re always so eager to tell him their life stories. It’s so easy to talk to someone when they’re probably never going to see each other again.”

  The woman behind the counter is taking too long to put together my order. I want to leave.

  “Really?” I say. “It sounds like Brad really gets around.”

  Leon shrugs. “He’s a man. Don’t we all go through a phase at one point? I remember what it was like before Martha. And I’m sure you’re on top of it all, too.”

  I don’t like when he talks to me like this, but we’re not in the office. I may be his boss from nine to five on weekdays but I’m not sure how it works outside the office, and the man is just making small talk. I don’t have a good enough reason to tell him he’s overstepping the line because I’m not sure where it is, now.

  So, I shrug, too, trying to look nonchalant. “I do know what it’s like,” I finally say. “But I don’t have the liberty to discuss any of it with my father.”

  Leon laughs. He knows my dad. Wesley Wagner Sr. is good friends with Charles Hendricks, the owner of RidgeCo. It’s how I got to be CEO. And I know for a fact that I will never tell my father about any of the women I see.

  “Well, we all have different relationships with our fathers,” Leon says. “I prefer he tells me what he’s doing so that I can give him advice when he takes a wrong turn or sees the wrong woman. You of all people can understand how badly it can blow up in your face if you’re fucking the wrong woman.”

  Leon grins. I narrow my eyes at him. It sounds to me like he’s looking for trouble but I don’t know what to do about it. He’s having this conversation with me for a reason – Leon has an agenda – but I can’t call him out on it without looking guilty. So, I politely nod and smile.

  The woman behind the counter hands me my order. I walk toward the cash register and produce my card. Leon follows me.

  Leon carries on, “He slept with a woman last night that apparently wouldn’t stop bragging about how much game her friend has.”

  “She didn’t brag about herself?” I ask, not really paying attention. I don’t care about this woman his son apparently slept with. The card machine is slow – just my fucking luck – and the transaction declines. She swipes it again, and I am anxious to get away from here.

  “Yeah, it is interesting,” Leon says. “This friend apparently fucks her boss.”

  I snap to attention when he says that. When I look at him, his eyes bore into mine, and he looks smug.

  “Well, I guess morals vary from person to person,” I say, and I chuckle. I must be very careful about what I say next. I’m starting to panic. The card machine is working against me, and I feel like the bakery is suddenly too small for the two of us.

  “I know who Brad’s talking about,” Leon says.

  I don’t respond. What am I going to say?

  “He’s talking about Kylie.”

  When I glance up at him, I try to keep it as light as I can. I make sure I’m smiling, at least.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, man. You heard from your son who heard from a one-night stand who heard from a friend? It sounds like everyone has been drinking too much.”

  The card finally goes through, and I’m relieved. I take it from the woman and put it in my wallet.

  “I have to get going,” I say to Leon. “I’ll see you in the office tomorrow. Send my regards to Martha.”

  I turn around. Leon calls after me, but I don’t want to talk to him anymore. I can’t keep a smile on my face for that long when I’m everything but happy. I’m starting to panic. There’s no way Leon could know. His source is terrible. And he’s pissing me off. I can’t believe he won’t let this go. It’s like he has something against Kylie personally, which is not only unfair toward her but it’s making my life more difficult, too.

  When I finally get back, Kylie is wearing one of my shirts and nothing else. She’s hot as hell but my mood has evaporated.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she says, tugging at the shirt.

  I think I should take her into the bedroom and fuck her brains out, but I don’t. I shake my head and walk through to the kitchen. “Help yourself,” I say. Kylie follows me.

  I start unpacking the food, putting it on plates.

  “Oh, a French breakfast,” Kylie says behind me. I don’t respond. After a while, she asks, “is something wrong?”

  I sigh and turn away from the food that I started putting on plates.

  “I ran into Leon in the bakery,” I say.

  Kylie’s face falls right away. She might not know what I’m going to say, but I know she has an idea.

  “And?” she asks.

  I take a deep breath and tell her what Leon said. She listens before she closes her eyes and blows out a long breath.

  “Tell me you weren’t with one of your friends last night before you came here,” I say.

  Kylie opens her eyes again. “I wish I could. I was with Paris. We went to a bar, and she met a guy named Brad. I did tell her.”

  She swallows hard and looks apologetic. I’m suddenly angry.

  “I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone,” I say. “I thought you would keep it a secret, too.”

  “I tell Paris everything. She’s my best friend, and she would never do anything to harm me,” she says. She sounds apologetic. I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten in my head. When I open them again, Kylie is chewing her bottom lip, and it makes her look extremely young. I am angry with her for talking about it, but fighting with her now will be pointless. Yes, she fucked up, but now we need to get ourselves out of this mess. But first, something that has nagged at the back of my brain refuses to be ignored any longer. I have to know.

  “Kylie, I have to ask you something. And I want you to be completely honest with me.”

  I can almost see the shields go up. “What is it, Wes?” she asks carefully.

  I drag my hand through my hair and huff out a breath. “I know your plan.”

  She freezes. “Plan?”

  I almost feel bad bringing it up. But I can’t deny any longer how much I crave her. I don’t want to give her up. And if we’re going to risk breaking the no fraternizing rule, I have to be completely sure about her.

  “Are you only fucking me to try to take me down? As part of your plan to fuck over RidgeCo?”

  Kylie gasps. She looks stricken. “What? How? Who?” She stops and draws a deep breath. “I mean, where did you hear about this?”

  I walk toward her and grab her hands. “It doesn’t matter, babe. I just need to know the truth.”

  She shakes her head, but that doesn’t tell me anything.

  “Look, I know I should be mad that you’ve had this plan all along. But I just can’t. Partially because I had my own plan to take you down first.”

  “You what?” she interrupts, her agitation turning toward anger.

  I hold up my palms. “Hang on. Hear me out. I never got around to that. Because the minute you started working for you, you consumed every thought I had. Yeah, I originally wanted to get the upper hand and have the luxury of firing you and making sure you never worked in the tech industry again—”

  “If this is your way of explaining what’s going on,” she says, shaking, “you’re doing a really shitty job.”

  She’s right. I’m massively failing at this. I run my hand over my jaw and try again. “Look, K
ylie. None of that matters. That’s not what I’m about anymore. All the time we’ve spent together has shown me that if you were planning on doing something, you must have had a good reason. But I also don’t believe you’re going to go through with it. And I have no desire to go through with my plans. I just want to be with you. However that has to happen.”

  Her eyes soften. “Really?” She sounds like it’s too good to be true.

  “Really. But please tell me the truth. Is sleeping with me all part of your plan to make me lose my job and take RidgeCo away from me?”

  She shakes her head emphatically, and I believe her just like that. “It was never part of my plan. And you’re right, Wes. I don’t care about any of that anymore. Things have changed for me.” She looks down shyly, not meeting my eyes. “Because of you.”

  I smile and reach out to tilt her head up so she has to look at me. “Good. That’s all I needed to hear. So now we have to figure out a way to fix this problem with Leon.”

  “What are we going to do?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “There’s nothing we can do about Leon knowing what he knows. Brad is his son, and that’s not something we can change. But he has no proof. It’s gossip and rumors, and that will never hold up if we keep our slates clean. We’ll just have to be more careful. Even more so than we already are.”

  “You’re not mad?” she asks. Her arms are folded over her chest, outlining her naked breasts through the thin material of the t-shirt. She leans against a counter with her ass.

  “I won’t lie. I was furious,” I admit, and she flinches. “But I don’t need to tell you that you made a mistake and we can’t change what happened. So instead of losing my temper like Leon does, we’ll just have to figure it out.”

  She swallows and nods.

  “I’m sorry,” she says softly.

  I shake my head, but I don’t tell her not to be, or that it’s okay because it’s not. We may have removed the obstacle of her potential subterfuge, but Leon is still a very real threat to both of our futures at the company.