Her Cocky Doctors (A MFM Menage Romance) (The Cocky Series Book 1)

by Tara Crescent

  “Please,” I beg, my voice jagged with raw need. My climax hurtles toward me, and I can’t hold it off.

  He surveys me with a smile. He’s not as calm as he pretends to be. His cock is tenting his pants, and when I reach out and trace its outline with the tip of my fingers, a shudder runs through him. “You’re going to come more times than you can count tonight, baby,” he promises. Blake’s tongue laps at my clitoris, and it’s too much.

  “Come for us, honey,” Declan says, and the dam bursts. Sweet release overtakes me. My muscles clench, and wave after wave of pleasure washes over me. Blake doesn’t pull away. He holds me down and his tongue circles my clitoris until I’m limp and wrung out.

  “If that was the appetizer,” I say weakly, “I’m not going to survive the main course.”

  Blake and Declan chuckle as they get naked. I watch greedily as their hard, muscled bodies come into view. Declan reaches for the lube. “We’re going to take you now, Lana,” he says. He inserts one finger in my ass, coating my tight bud with the lube before adding another finger.

  I’m soaking wet. “Come here,” I beg Blake, who’s watching me with lust-filled eyes. His cock points at me, straight and stiff and ready, and I can’t resist. I reach for his shaft, eager to give him the same pleasure he gave me. I run my tongue over his head, tasting his clean, masculine flavor before I open my mouth and take him as deep as I can.

  “Fuck,” he groans, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Declan, hurry up and get her ready. I’m not going to be able to take much of this.”

  Satisfaction fills me at his words. Biting back my smile, I lick from the base of Blake’s cock to his velvet-smooth head.

  Declan’s fingers twist and scissor in my ass. “Are you ready, Lana?”

  I nod. I’m more than ready.

  Blake pulls out of my reach. He rolls a condom over his cock. Lying on the bed, he pulls me on top of him and thrusts into my swollen pussy.

  So good. So fucking good.

  Blake’s shaft penetrates deep into my core, and it feels amazing. His fingers squeeze my breasts as I ride him, rolling my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. I lift myself up and down, grinding my hips on his rock-hard shaft, my insides twisting and clenching. Arousal curls in my belly. I’m engulfed in raw heat as Blake’s length pounds my pussy.

  Declan moves behind me, his fingertips stroking my back. He drizzles more lube down my crack, while Blake distracts me by tracing circles around my clitoris. I force myself to relax. I have nothing to be afraid of.

  Declan presses a soft, gentle kiss on my shoulder. “I’ll take it slow,” he promises me. “I want this to be good for you.”

  It’s always been good. Every time these two men have checked off an item on my sex bucket list, I’ve experienced nothing but pleasure. I’m not worried. I’m ready for this. I’m ready for them.

  Declan’s cock nudges at my tight hole, and he pushes in, slow and steady, giving me time to get used to his girth. He’s much bigger than the butt plug. I inhale sharply as my muscles stretch to accommodate his thickness, my nails digging into Blake’s shoulders.

  Declan stops moving. “Do you want me to stop, honey?” he asks, his voice tender.

  “No.” The discomfort has subsided, and what’s left is heated anticipation. “Please don’t stop. I want this.”

  Blake’s lips curl into a smile. “Your pussy is soaking wet,” he says, his fingers teasing my nipples.

  “I can’t believe how turned on I am,” I admit, blushing and burying my face into his shoulder. “This is so hot.”

  “Good girl.” Declan slides in deeper, and then he’s in, buried to the hilt in my ass.

  Oh. My. God.

  My orgasm comes from nowhere. I feel so completely filled by them. Their hard bodies bracket mine. Their cocks are buried in my pussy and ass, and the sensation is overwhelming. One moment, I’m nervous about anal sex, and the next moment, my muscles tremble. My insides clench and tighten, and I explode in a haze of pleasure.

  They start to move in me. Declan gives me a few seconds to get used to the feeling of his cock in my ass, and then he pulls out and slides back in. While Declan slides out, Blake thrusts deeper. My entire body tingles. Pleasure hammers at me from every direction as the men alternate strokes.

  I’m not sure I can take it. Their cocks are driving me crazy. I can’t stop whimpering as they fill me completely. They slide into me in unison, both pulling out of me, and then thrusting back in.

  Every muscle in my body tightens. I start to shiver as another impossible orgasm builds in me. Their strokes speed up. “You’re so fucking tight, Lana,” Declan whispers into my ear as he fucks my ass.

  My body is covered with a sheen of sweat. The pressure is too much. I can’t hold my orgasm back. I want to wait for them to come, but waiting is impossible as the men thrust into me.

  Blake’s face contorts with lust. His hands tighten around my waist. “I’m going to come,” he says, his voice ragged. “I can’t hold on, baby.” He groans, long and deep, his entire body shuddering as he explodes.

  Declan is just a minute behind. His thrusts speed up, and then he stiffens in release. I barely notice. I free-fall into my own climax, sobbing out their names and holding them tight as I come.

  For a few minutes, none of us talk. Finally, I break the silence. “That’s my list,” I murmur. “Everything’s checked off.”

  Declan chuckles and his arms tighten around me. “We’re not going anywhere,” he says. “Tomorrow, we’ll come up with a new list for you.”

  Smiling at that thought, I lie in bed, between Blake and Declan. My body is sated and content, and my muscles are limp with pleasure.

  But my mind refuses to be quiet.

  I know my editor too well. John’s drooling at the idea of this story. He’s not going to let anything get in the way of that.

  I’ve resigned from The Torch. I’ve made my move.

  It’s time for his.

  17

  Declan:

  The next day, the three of us wake up late. By the time we’re out of bed, it’s well past ten, and Marla’s breakfast hours are long over. It doesn’t help that we get distracted in the shower. “Goat Morning for brunch?” I ask when we’re finally dressed.

  “Sure thing,” Lana says readily.

  We walk down to the diner and settle ourselves in a booth in the back. The restaurant is almost empty. Only two other tables are occupied, one by a family of four that I don’t know, and one by Lettie Herman and a man that I assume must be her husband, Michael.

  Lettie notices us as well, but she pretends she’s never met us before. That’s fine by me. Blake told me about the real reason Lettie was at the Clinic of Love, and I’m sympathetic, but it’s going to take me a long time to forget the Incident of the Glitter Vagina. I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my years of practicing medicine, but that was by far the strangest.

  “What can I get you three to drink?” Betty Beaumont smiles widely at the three of us. “I saw the new sign go up this morning,” she continues chattily, not waiting for us to place our order. “I can’t tell you how happy the entire town is about seeing the last of those two doctors. What’s Rhonda going to do, do you know?”

  I smile politely. “She’s looking for other opportunities.” Rhonda had quit in a huff last night after telling us about her phone call to The Torch. Had she not quit, we’d have fired her. “Could I get a cup of coffee, and a tall stack of your pecan-banana pancakes, with a side of bacon? I’m starving this morning.”

  “Sure.” Mrs. Beaumont makes no attempt to write down my order. “Has George Rhodes sold the place to you then?”

  I sigh. So much for my pancakes. Blake, who knows the owner of the diner much better than I do, smiles at Betty Beaumont. “I’m sure Rhonda’s talking them into it even as we speak,” he says cheerfully. “I’m not worried. I don’t think very much of Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Swanson’s ethics, but they’re not stupid. They’ll sell.” He glance
s at the menu. “Don’t tell Marla,” he lowers his voice, his expression turning hopeful, “but I’ve been fantasizing all morning about your blueberry pancakes.”

  His flattery works better than mine. Betty Beaumont beams at him. “Of course, Blake,” she says with a wide smile. She looks expectantly at Lana. “What about you, dear?”

  “Pecan-banana for me,” Lana says promptly. “Thank you.”

  She writes down our order and starts to walk away. “New sign?” Lana asks us. “What new sign?”

  “We could hardly keep calling it the Clinic of Love,” Blake replies. “We renamed it this morning.”

  “What did you call it?” she asks with a grin. “Wait, let me guess. The Healthy Goat? Goat Well?”

  I laugh. “Nothing that exciting,” I tell her. “We were boring. It’s now called Goat Clinic. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Her lips twitch. “It’s not me you need to worry about, it’s the rest of the town. They’re going to be quite disappointed with your lack of imagination.”

  The bells on the front door chime and two men walk in. Betty Beaumont freezes in her spot as George Rhodes and Ted Swanson enter the Goat Morning. Her eyes dart from us to Michael and Lettie Herman, and then back to the two sleazy doctors, and her mouth forms in an O. She scurries away behind her counter but makes no effort to ring up our breakfast order. Instead, she appears ready to watch the drama.

  “Is that the sleazy doctors?” Lana murmurs. “Tell me you’re going to hit them,” she continues, her voice low. “Please? One good punch in the jaw for the aggravation they’ve caused you?”

  I chuckle. “What a bloodthirsty little thing you are,” I say, giving Lana a fond look. “Sorry, honey. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner we’re rid of these two, the better.”

  “But they got you in one hell of a mess,” she says under her breath, watching the two doctors walk toward us. “It sucks that they get to walk away without any consequences.”

  Blake’s lips twitch. “I don’t think that’s going to happen,” he says. “Watch.”

  As the doctors walk past Michael and Lettie, Michael rises to his feet, his hands clenched into fists. “I’ve been waiting to run into the two of you,” he snarls. He punches Ted Swanson in the face, and the man goes down in a heap. “You touched my wife, asshole?” he says to George Rhodes. “Come on. Take a swing at me.”

  George Rhodes’ eyes dart around the room. “I don’t want any trouble,” he says nervously.

  I watch the scene unfold. Lettie’s clutching at her husband’s shirt, trying to get him to calm down. Ted Swanson’s rubbing his jaw, his face contorted with pain. Rhonda’s just walked into the diner, a man behind her, and she’s frozen in the doorway.

  Lana looks up and pales when she sees the man. “That’s my editor, John Beene,” she whispers. “If he finds out about the Clinic of Love…” Her voice trails off.

  Blake and I exchange glances. As satisfying as it would be to watch Michael Herman beat the crap out of Rhodes and Swanson, we’ve got to end this now. Otherwise, everything will go up in flames.

  Blake grabs Swanson by the collar and hustles him out of the diner, pushing past Rhonda and Lana’s boss. Rhodes scurries out behind them. The family of four eating their breakfast watches us, their expressions avid. John Beene steps into the diner, and the moment he sees Lana, he marches straight for her. “What do you mean, you quit?” he yells. “You can’t do that.”

  “You quit?”

  “We were too busy last night for me to tell you,” she whispers back. “I hoped that it would be enough to make John forget all about the Clinic of Love.” She lifts her head up, her jaw clenched, and stares defiantly at her former boss. “Yes, I quit,” she replies.

  “What about your story?” he demands. “Do you think I’ve been paying for you to stay in a bed-and-breakfast the last two weeks for nothing? You owe me this article, Lana.”

  “There’s no story. The Clinic of Love has closed down.”

  His shoulders slump, but he doesn’t relent. “That doesn’t change anything,” he says. “I can still write about them.”

  Poor John Beene. He doesn’t know Goat. The town will close ranks against him. No one will admit the presence of the Clinic of Love.

  “With what source material?” I ask the man, getting to my feet. “I warn you, Beene. You better make sure you cross your T’s and dot your I’s, because the moment you publish this story, the town of Goat will sue your sorry ass for slander. By the time we’re done, you’ll be declaring bankruptcy.”

  He glares at me, and then at Lana. “This isn’t over,” he warns.

  She returns his glare without flinching. “Actually, I think it is, John. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

  An hour later, everything’s back to normal. Lettie Herman drags Michael away before he punches either of the doctors again. Rhodes agrees to sell the clinic to us. Betty Beaumont’s pancakes are delicious, and the three of us devour our food in silence.

  “So you’re out of a job,” Blake says to her. “Any regrets?”

  Lana shakes her head. “Not really. I’ve wanted to quit for a long time, but fear held me back. There aren’t a lot of jobs for journalists anymore.”

  “You could write a book about a cat solving crimes,” I suggest.

  She looks thoughtful. “You know what, I think I could,” she says. “I did enough research on cozy mysteries for my cover story, and the one thing I do know is how to write on a deadline.”

  Blake chuckles. “If you don’t want to write about cats,” he says, “there’s always Connor Perkins’ paper. Mr. Perkins has been sweet on Aunt Elvira for years. He’ll hire you in a heartbeat once he finds out you’re involved with me. I’ll set up a meeting on Monday.”

  Her eyes sparkle. “It’s Friday now,” she purrs. “What are we going to do for the next three days.”

  I toss some money on the table to cover our breakfast and get to my feet. “Grab a pen and paper, honey,” I instruct the woman I’m crazy about. “We’ll make a list.”

  Epilogue

  Lana:

  One year later…

  I’m naked under the thin hospital gown, lying on my back, my feet dangling next to the stirrups at the end of the examination table.

  Christmas came early this year.

  The two doctors move into the examination room, and my pulse quickens. Both men are wearing white coats. Stethoscopes are draped over their necks. They look perfectly professional. At least until you notice that they’re both sporting huge hard-ons.

  My mouth waters.

  “Ms. Davey,” Declan says, his eyes glued to the outline of my nipples underneath the translucent fabric. “What brings you in today?”

  “I’d like the special service, Doctor,” I whisper, my cheeks flushed. “Will you make me feel good?”

  I’m a lucky, lucky girl.

  It’s been an eventful twelve months.

  A couple of days after Blake and Declan bought the clinic from the sleazy doctors, we drove to Portland, where my two hot guys helped me pack all my possessions into Blake’s Jeep. It didn’t take long. “Are you keeping the dead cactus?” Blake asked me, holding the small pot with the dried-out husk of a plant in his hand.

  “No,” I’d replied. The cactus represented a life that was no longer mine, and I was ready to let it go.

  I’d hoped that I was done with John and The Torch, but my editor had one last bit of pettiness. He sent me an email informing me that he would not be able to give me a reference because of my bad attitude and he also refused to reimburse me for my stay at the Nanny Goat.

  Thankfully, Blake was right about the editor of the local paper. Mr. Perkins had taken one look at my resume and offered me a job. “If it meant that I was on Elvira’s good side, I’d have hired you anyway,” he’d said to me, his eyes twinkling. “But I’m relieved to leave the Weekly Goat in competent hands.”

  So I started working at the local paper. In my spare time, I wrot
e a story about a purebred Siamese Cat called Smokey who solved crime along with the aid of his human, a bumbling middle-aged journalist named Bree Calloway.

  Elvira Grantham, who’d read cozy mysteries all her life, acted as an enthusiastic cheerleader slash beta reader. With her encouragement, I published the book. It sold much better than I’d expected.

  Buoyed by my success, I wrote a follow-up book in which Smokey tracked down a baker who laced her oatmeal cookies with arsenic. It did better than the first one, so I wrote a third and a fourth after that.

  I have fans now. Smokey gets emails from readers around the world, and so do I. In fact, I’ve done so well that I resigned from my job at the Weekly Goat last week, but never fear, I found Connor a replacement. My best friend Hailey is moving to Goat this summer. She’s taking over the Weekly Goat, and she’s going to keep running Girl Power on the side.

  And Blake and Declan? Our relationship has matured. Our sex life has stayed smoking hot, but it’s not just sex that connects us. It’s so much more. We have similar tastes in books, music, and movies, but more importantly, they treat me with love and respect, and they never take themselves too seriously.

  Lettie Herman and her husband Michael are still together. Word around Goat is that the two of them spent most of last year seeing a marriage counselor. I think it helped because whenever I see them around town, the two of them are holding hands like newlyweds.

  Blake and Declan never heard from Drs. Swanson and Rhodes again. The Goat Clinic is doing really well, and it keeps my two hot doctors pretty busy.

  Like I said, I’m a lucky, lucky girl.

  Which brings me back to the clinic, where the three of us are role-playing a very slutty version of Doctor and Patient.

  Blake moves to the foot of the bed. He nudges my knees apart and positions my legs into the supports, spreading me wide open. While he does that, Declan reaches behind me and undoes the tie that keeps my gown closed. “You won’t need this today,” he says sternly.