by Marla Monroe
Rissa’s Men
Rissa may be rich, but she’s aching for someone to care for her as a person. She’s tired of the cold men in her circles. She wants someone who will take her seriously for once in her life. Could it be that there are two someones out there for her?
Jethro and Deacon fall for her almost instantly when they stop to help her with a flat tire. When they end up being her contractors on the building she’s refurbishing for her dream, Jethro sees it as fate. Can he convince Deacon to take a chance on love with Rissa and can they convince the socialite to be their woman? Even if it means leaving her old world behind.
Rissa is all for taking chances. That’s what she’s doing by moving away from all that she’s ever known to start her own business. Taking on two men as lovers couldn’t be all that more difficult, can it?
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 49,637 words
RISSA'S MEN
Marla Monroe

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
RISSA'S MEN
Copyright © 2018 by Marla Monroe
ISBN: 978-1-64010-951-3
First Publication: February 2018
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2018 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marla Monroe has been writing professionally for over thirteen years. Her first book with Siren was published in January of 2011, and she now has over 85 books available with them. She loves to write and spends every spare minute either at the keyboard or reading. She writes everything from sizzling-hot cowboys, emotionally charged BDSM, and dangerously addictive shifters, to science fiction ménages with the occasional badass biker thrown in for good measure.
Marla lives in the southern US and works full-time at a busy hospital. When not writing, she loves to travel, spend time with her feline muses, and read. Although she misses her cross-stitch and putting together puzzles, she is much happier writing fantasy worlds where she can make everyone’s dreams come true. She’s always eager to try something new and thoroughly enjoys the research she does for her books. She loves to hear from readers about what they are looking for in their reading adventures.
You can reach Marla at [email protected], or
Visit her website at www.marlamonroe.com
Her blog: www.themarlamonroe.blogspot.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Landmarks
Cover
RISSA'S MEN
MARLA MONROE
Copyright © 2018
Chapter One
“Oh, phooey.”
Rissa Johansson kicked the flat tire of her sports car and crossed her arms. Of all the times she could have a flat tire, it had to be when she was already late for a dinner date. She fished inside her purse for her cell phone and contacted Brad to let him know she’d be even later.
“Hello?”
“Brad. I’m going to be late. I have a flat tire.”
“Well, I’m across town, so you’ll have to phone a service to change it for you.”
“I know that. I only wanted to let you know.”
“You’re always late, Clarissa. If you’re going to be more than thirty minutes, let me know, so I can order for both of us.”
He ended the call, leaving her to glare at the cell before scrolling through her contacts for the car service she used. Before she could connect the call, a big truck pulled off the road behind her. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the headlights then realized it was nearly dark, and she was a woman alone on the road. She started to climb back into her car and lock the door, but two men walked toward her, their features completely dark in the headlights.
“Need some help?” one of them asked in a stomach-clenching, deep voice.
“I was just calling a service. Thank you for stopping, but I have it under control.” Rissa edged toward the car door.
“No sense paying someone when we can fix it for you. Spare in the back?” he asked.
“Really, there’s no need.”
“Really, there is. You don’t need to be out on a deserted road any longer than possible. Pop the trunk, lady.”
She pushed the button on her key fob, and took a step back from them. So far, only one of them had said anything. The other man had remained silent. On top of that, she still couldn’t see them clearly in the glare.
“Maybe I should sit in the car while you change the tire,” she said.
“Nope. Not safe with someone inside. The jack might slip.” This came from the other man. His voice, though not as deep, sounded rougher somehow. Like sandpaper over a metal chair that you planned to repaint.
“Oh. Well then. I’ll wait over there.” She pointed at a spot off the edge of the road and away from the car.
Neither man said anything as one of them knelt to remove the lug nuts while the other one held the spare tire. They made quick work of changing it, and before she realized it, they’d returned the jack and flat tire to her trunk.
“All done,” the first man said.
“Thank you. How much do I owe you?” She reached into her purse to pull out several bills.
“Don’t want your money, lady. Just helping out,” the second man said.
Rissa wished she could see their faces clearly. She thought one of them had black hair while the other one had brown, but that was all she could detect outside of their considerable height. She wouldn’t feel like an amazon standing next to them. They had to each be a little over six foot to her five feet ten inches.
“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate your help.” She eased toward the car, planning to step out onto the road to walk around to her door. All of a sudden, one of the men plas
tered her against the side of the car so that their bodies were touching from thighs to chests. She started to scream when a semi raced past them.
“Are you crazy, lady? You don’t walk out on the road in front of a fucking truck. You could have been killed.” This came from the second man, the one currently touching her all over.
She was very aware of every inch of his hard, muscular body. She’d never been so close to someone who felt like he did. Hard and sinewy. She would bet his muscles came from hard work and not toned up from a gym like most of the men she’d dated.
“I—I didn’t see it. The lights from your truck are blinding,” she said.
“Jethro, turn off the lights,” he called out.
When the lights cut off, Rissa blinked several times to erase the bright circles in her eyes, so that she could see the man in front of her.
“I’m Deacon and that’s Jethro.” He pointed over to the other man walking slowly toward them.
“Hi. I’m Clarissa, Rissa for short. Thanks again for fixing my tire.” She wanted to ease away from him so that she could get into her car, but her body wasn’t cooperating. He no longer held her pressed as tightly to the side of the car as when the truck had passed them, but they still touched enough that she was very aware of him. Of the hard length of his cock against her hip.
As the circular lights in her eyes dissipated, Rissa could see that the man all but plastering her to the car had black shaggy hair that almost reached his T-shirt-covered shoulders. The shirt was stretched over mountain-broad shoulders with arms made of tree branches and impressive thighs like tree trunks. He was built like a lumberjack, and she was sure if she dared to wrap her hands around his waist she’d find that he had a generous-sized, tight ass.
And she wanted to do that. Badly.
His name was Deacon, and somehow it fit the tall, dark, and handsome man with the equally dark brooding eyes. His square jaw with a slight dent down the center of his chin looked masculine in every sense of the word.
His friend, Jethro, had brown hair with so many different shades it reminded her of autumn leaves rustling in the wind. It wasn’t quite as long as Deacon’s, but equally shaggy. She supposed both men could pull it behind and fasten it with something, but the shaggy look suited them. Hazel eyes held a look of interest as he took in how they were standing with Deacon still pressed against her.
Both men were sizzling hot and drool-worthy should she be interested in that type of man.
She wasn’t. She had Brad. Well, when they actually had time for each other. He was always busy with some deal or another at work, and she tended to keep busy arranging some party or function for charity. Still, why would she be interested in two, obviously middle-class men who she knew nothing about?
But she was.
A lot.
Okay, a hell of a lot.
Deacon slowly backed up, allowing her to step away from the car. This time she looked down the road, and seeing no further traffic, walked around the side mirror and opened the car door.
She cleared her throat as she stood ready to slide inside. “Thanks again. It was a pleasure to meet you both.”
“Right,” Deacon said.
“Same here, hon,” Jethro added.
Rissa smiled at them then closed the door and started the car. She waited until the two men moved away from the car then pulled out onto the road once more. She fumbled in her purse and punched the number for Brad’s speed dial and waited.
“It’s about time you called. It’s been over thirty minutes. I thought you were going to let me know if it was going to be longer.”
“Sorry. I’m on my way now. You can order me the grilled salmon salad. I should be there by the time they have it ready.”
“I’ve already ordered for you. I don’t have time to wait around like this.” Brad’s voice dripped with anger.
“Okay. I’m sorry I had the flat tire. I didn’t expect it, or I wouldn’t have agreed to meet you for dinner, Brad,” she said in as sugary a voice as she could manage while anger bit at her stomach like snapping turtles.
“Look, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, and I’ve got more to do tonight when I get home. If I hadn’t already ordered for us, I’d say let’s just put it off for another night,” he said in a more pleasant tone.
“If you’re strapped for time, ask them to make it to go, and when I get there I’ll take mine and you can take yours back home with you. We’ll plan another night together when you’re not as busy.” Rissa wasn’t nearly as interested in sitting across the table from him as she’d been before her flat tire.
If she were honest with herself, it wasn’t because Brad was being snippy but because she’d met Deacon and Jethro, who’d gotten her juices running in five minutes when Brad never had. She’d told herself that all that wild thumping hearts and gushing juices were just in romance novels, but now she wasn’t so sure. Her panties were definitely wet, and Brad hadn’t had a thing to do with it.
* * * *
“That was a wet dream on two legs if I ever saw one,” Jethro said.
“Dangerous is what she was. Someone like her is used to wimpy men they can control, jewels, and shit like that. She doesn’t have the time of day for men like us,” Deacon said.
“Some women like her like to take a dip on the wild side with men like us. Just think what it would be like to get her between us. She’d come apart in our arms, Deacon. I guarantee it.” Jethro climbed into the cab of the truck while his partner took the driver’s seat.
“Doesn’t matter anyway. We’ll never see her again.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
Jethro sure hoped they’d cross paths again. He wanted to know more about her, what made her scream in pleasure, and what she liked to do when no one was watching. He bet she was every inch a lady with a wild woman buried deep down inside. He wanted to be the one to reach that woman and show her how to live. He and Deacon.
They worked as a team, sharing women and the reins of their contracting service. They’d built it from the ground up, and now it was so large they had to turn down customers. While they’d grown quickly, they’d decided to curtail that growth until they felt comfortable with their crews, ensuring the best work possible, so that their reputation remained intact. Hall and Mullen’s Contracting specialized in both building and restoration of large homes. Some of the nicest houses outside of Dallas bore their mark.
“Loved all that auburn hair trailing behind her like flames overflowing down her back. And those green eyes held a spark of interest, Deacon. She was as intrigued by us as we are of her.” Jethro cocked his head to one side. “I know you noticed her curves. You really go for the voluptuous ones. Tell me you didn’t notice.”
“Okay. I noticed. Now lay the fuck off.”
“I bet she screams when she comes.”
“She’s out of our league, Jethro, and gone for good. There’s no way we’ll ever see her again. She travels in circles out of our reach. Besides, she’s probably one of those frigid ice queens who doesn’t look twice at the likes of us. We’re invisible to them.”
“We weren’t invisible to her, Deacon. She saw us well enough. There was fire in those eyes.” Jethro nodded to himself.
Yeah, she’d seen them. They hadn’t been off her radar one bit. He’d wager she was still thinking about them wherever she was.
I know I’ll be thinking about her for a long time. Hell, I’ll probably jack off to thoughts of her for the next six weeks.
There was something about her that resonated with him. Rissa. Just the sound of her name elicited dirty thoughts of her whispering his name while he fucked her. He could imagine hissing her name as he emptied himself inside of her. Yeah, she was something special, but not because of her social status or whatever financial status she held. There was a wildness there, he would swear to it.
“I can hear you thinking all the way over here. Stop it. All you’re going to do is disappoint yourself obsessing about her.” Deacon looked over at
him then returned his attention to the road.
“I bet you’re already thinking about jacking off to thoughts of her. Can’t fool me. I know you too well,” Jethro said.
“Yeah, well, I know the difference between using her image and living the fantasy of it. You won’t catch me thinking about her tomorrow. You will. Waste of time, man. Waste of time.”
Jethro didn’t think so. Something deep inside of him said they’d cross paths again. He wouldn’t have felt such a deep connection to her if it wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t obsess over women like he was over Rissa. Deacon wasn’t wrong. He was obsessing over her already. Less than ten minutes had passed since she’d pulled away in her fancy sports car and already thoughts of her filled his head.
I want her more than I’ve ever wanted another woman.
That should have worried him, but it didn’t.
“What time is our meeting with the new client tomorrow?” he asked, forcing his mind in a new direction.
“Nine. Not sure what they are wanting, but it sounds like a condo. Maybe something like the one we did in Jacksburro last year,” Deacon said.
“Condo, huh. Wonder if there’s going to be limitations due to building permits. We’ll have to make sure and check those before we agree to work on it. That way there’s no arguing about the construction plans.”
Deacon and Jethro had learned that lesson years ago when they’d agreed to work on a house in a neighborhood that had a home association. They’d started on the refurbishing only to be slapped by injunctions to stop work. The owner hadn’t gotten approval from them before hiring Jethro and Deacon to do the work. That had been a complete disaster.
As a result, they often refused to work on homes with home associations at all. If they did, they personally got their approval on the construction plans before signing the contract to do the work. It had saved them plenty of headaches in the long run.