Four under the Mistletoe: A MFMM Menage Romance (Christmas Billionaire Menage Series Book 2)

by Tia Siren

  “I love your ass. It's so perfect,” he said as his hands ran over her buttocks. They kissed again, standing next to the bed.

  When she felt his hand reach behind her and lower the zipper on the back of her dress, she put her head into the nape of his neck and inhaled his scent. At the beginning of the afternoon he'd smelled of aftershave, but now he smelled of a wonderful blend. When her zipper was open, his manly hands caressed the soft skin on her back. As he stroked her, he turned every nerve into a small fire. The mix of his hands caressing her and his hard shaft pushing between her legs set her on fire, and she reached up and put her tongue into his mouth. When she tasted him, she felt a wet wave flow through her, preparing her for what he was going to do to her.

  As he kissed her, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed the top half of her dress down. Her naked breasts sprang free, her nipples stiffening against the material of his shirt. She wanted to feel and smell his skin now. As he watched her breasts move, she unfastened his tie and popped opened the buttons on his shirt. She thrust her hands inside and felt him. His body was hard, and his skin felt so smooth. She put her nose to his chest and inhaled him. It sent another wet wave crashing to her underbelly.

  When she pushed his shirt off, he picked her up and put her down on the bed. He stood at her feet and pulled her dress off. The sight of her lithe body, naked except for a white thong and her shoes, made him harder still. She reached down to take her shoes off.

  “No. Leave those on. I like it,” he said. It was one of his things. He loved fucking women in black heels.

  She put her feet on his chest as he stood in front of her. His hands slid over her ankles and momentarily massaged her calves before working their way up to her outer thighs. When he turned his palms inward and stroked the softness of her inner thighs, he felt a gush of warmth come from her womanhood.

  “Don't stop. That's so wonderful,” she said. Slowly his hands massaged her, working their way ever closer to their goal. When his fingers danced around the folds to the side of her thong, she threw her hips toward him, inviting him to remove the material. He ripped it from her and put his hands back on her. His fingers ran small circles over her delicate folds, caressing softly, intermittently dipping into her. Her breathing became labored, and she clutched at the bedclothes as he slowly but surely brought her to an orgasm. When he stopped massaging her and bent down and placed his mouth on her, she exploded, grinding herself against his face. He lifted her lower half from the bed, flung her legs over his shoulders, and took more of what he wanted until she pleaded with him to stop. He let her fall to the bed and took off his pants. He wasn't wearing shorts. She gave an involuntary lick of the lips when she saw his penis. She looked at his body. It was long, no fat, just hard muscle. His thighs looked strong, and they were covered in dark hair.

  He pulled her to him and took his penis in his hand. When he rubbed the tip over her clitoris, she moaned and tried to get him to push into her. He liked teasing her and continued to rub her. She was on the point of another orgasm when he shoved himself into her.

  She clung to him, her hands gripping his biceps as he rode her with hard thrusts. It was a warm evening, and soon his body was bathed in sweat.

  “I love your body. It's so firm,” she cried as his thrusts took her higher once again. “Come with me,” she pleaded.

  “Close,” he gasped. She bucked against him, encouraging him. When he cried out, she came with him, both of them clawing at each other.

  *****

  “What the hell?” Amy cried as the bed sheet flew from her. Christian woke up with a start and looked at Fabio, who was standing at the end of the bed. Amy put her arm over her breasts and a hand over her pubic hair.

  “Who the hell is this?” she asked Christian.

  “It's Fabio,” he replied.

  “He's just pulled the bed sheets from us. I'm naked. Do something.”

  Christian got up, took the sheet from Fabio and covered her with it. “There's no need for that,” he said to Fabio.

  “You didn't listen to a word I said yesterday, did you?” Fabio said.

  “Of course. She's here, isn't she?”

  “What do you mean she's here?” Amy asked. “Christian, who is he?”

  “You beat Alberti up and made a real spectacle of yourself in town. Were you trying to draw attention to yourself on purpose? And now I see you've fucked her.”

  “Alberti was blind drunk by the time we got to the car. He deserved a beating.”

  “You complete idiot,” Fabio shouted. “He was drunk because you took so long to bring her out of the fucking wedding. Imbecile.”

  “I couldn't just go in there and take her. It needed doing with finesse,” Christian said.

  “If you don't tell me what's going on, I'll call the cops,” Amy said.

  Fabio laughed. “Call the cops. I don't think so.”

  “Then tell me why,” she said.

  “You've been kidnapped,” Fabio said.

  “Christian?” she squealed.

  “He took you because we want to speak to your father. If he knows we've got you, he'll come to us.”

  “But I don't understand. Why do you want my father?”

  “He had an affair with my wife, and I want revenge.”

  She wondered whether she should tell them, but she decided to let them find out for themselves in the fullness of time.

  “So you weren't interested in me at all. On the contrary, you wanted to harm me,” she said, gazing at Christian.

  “It's not like that,” he replied.

  “Are you going to keep me against my will, or am I free to go?”

  “You're staying with us,” Fabio said.

  “Christian, tell this asshole you care for me. Tell him not to be so ridiculous. Jesus, we made love last night. How could you do this to me?”

  “Don't worry. All you have to do is sit tight here, and you can go when your father arrives,” Christian said.

  “She's not staying here,” Fabio said. “I want her moved. After the commotion you caused last evening, it's too close to the city. I'll get Alberti to come and take her to number two.”

  “I'll take her,” Christian said.

  “You won't. I don't want you anywhere near her now. Get your things and leave. I've got other jobs for you to do,” Fabio said.

  “Christian,” Amy said, a hint of desperation in her voice. “Please, you can't let him do this to me. Please.”

  Christian looked at her. “Sorry,” he said.

  Amy flew from the bed in a rage. She threw her fists around, catching Fabio on the jaw. Christian wrapped his arms around her and held her until her energy was spent. “You fucking lowlife,” she said to Christian. “Call yourself a man. You're just an apology for a man. All that Mr. Hard Man last evening. You don't fool me. You're just this asshole's stooge.” She pointed to Fabio, who was holding his jaw.

  There was the sound of a car in the driveway outside. Alberti came into the house sporting two black eyes. When he saw Christian, he scowled. “Why did you take so long yesterday?” he asked.

  “So what if I did? It was no reason to get blind drunk,” Christian said.

  “Stop talking,” Fabio said. “Alberti, when she's dressed, take her to number two and lock her up. Stay with her and make sure she gets some food now and again. Understand?” Alberti nodded. “Christian, come with me.”

  Christian followed him outside. “You're on collection duty. I don't want you anywhere near her anymore. Got it?”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Go fuck someone else. You've fucked her for the first and last time.”

  Christian reluctantly took the car he had driven there the previous evening and headed back to LA. Collection duty meant he would be taking money from business owners in return for protection.

  *****

  “I'm sorry, Amy. Please forgive me. You mean everything to me. If you leave me, I'll hang myself.”

  “On your knees. Beg for
me,” Amy said.

  “Anything you want. Just stay with me. I can't live without you.”

  The digital alarm clock that had sent a flickering green across the bedroom all night burst into life. Christian opened his eyes and groaned. Again he was bathed in sweat, and again he'd had that awful recurring dream. She was haunting him. He couldn't get through a night without being subjected to it. It was as if she was taking her revenge. For the last few nights, he'd dreamed he was so full of remorse for what he'd done, Amy so angry, that he let her dominate and humiliate him. It didn't matter what he told himself when he was awake; when he was asleep, he turned into a soft, subservient, hen-pecked man who was so full of remorse he would do anything to appease her.

  In the car on the way to his first collection, he wondered how long his dreams were going to last. He was hardly able to function during the day. He was tired, irritable, and even his penchant for eyeing up pretty women seemed to have deserted him. It was serious.

  “Mr. Singh, please don't make this any harder than it already is. You know the amount you and Mr. Affini agreed. There's only half of it here,” Christian said, looking into a brown envelope. He didn't even have to count it. He'd been collecting money for years, and he could tell how much was in an envelope by eye.

  “Please, Mr. Christian. Next time double, okay?” Mr. Singh said in a thick Indian accent. “We're in a recession.”

  “Does that stop people eating?” Christian asked.

  “No, but it stops people buying luxury items.”

  “Listen to me. If you don't pay in full next week, something very nasty will happen to your wife. Got it?”

  Mr. Singh scowled but nodded. He knew Christian wasn't joking.

  Christian walked out of the shop and into the sunlight. A young man was sitting on the hood of his car. “Get the fuck off my car, you punk,” he shouted. The boy stuck a finger up at him and jumped down.

  “Rosie, are you at home?” he asked into his cell.

  “Sure, baby. Come round whenever you want.”

  Twenty minutes later Christian pulled up outside the mansion. He got out of the car, walked up the stone steps, and rang the bell.

  “Jesus, you look terrible,” Rosie said. “What happened?”

  He didn't say anything until he was sitting down on the sofa in her sitting room. “I feel like shit, and I don't know what to do about it.”

  Rosie was Christian's mother. Not his real mother, but the next best thing. She was fifty-five, the widow of one of Fabio's former enemies. She and Christian had met at a party and gotten on so well that they'd talked through the night about a whole range of things, many of them deeply personal. They began to meet and talk. There was never any mention of the having sex. It was purely platonic, just two people who got on.

  “Tell me,” she said. She ran a hand through her dyed blond hair and crossed her legs.

  “A woman. I feel like shit because of a woman.”

  “Have you killed someone?”

  “No. Nothing like that. I feel I have betrayed her. It was one of Fabio's jobs. I had to win her trust and kidnap her.”

  “Ah. One of those jobs. Tell me, how many people has that asshole kidnapped in his life? It seems to be his stock-in-trade.”

  “I don't know.”

  “So you led a girl to believe you were a nice guy, had sex with her, and then handed her over to Fabio,” she said.

  “You know me so well, Rosie. I often feel I don't have to explain anything to you. I shouldn't have had sex with her. It was a horrible thing to do.”

  “Jesus, Christian, it's not like you to have regrets like that.”

  “No. That's why I feel like shit. Do you know what I've been dreaming the last few nights?” Rosie shook her head. “Dreams of remorse. I kneel in front of her, naked, and plead with her not to leave me while she mocks me.”

  “Wow.” Rosie raised her eyebrows and folded her arms under her considerable breasts.

  “What the fuck should I do? “

  “You're in love with her.”

  “No way. Me? I don't love anybody but myself.” He looked around the room and wondered how many people Rosie's late husband had robbed to get that rich.

  “It's true. You are arrogant, self-obsessed, and vain, but take it from me, you love her. What do you feel when you think about her?”

  “Like I've let her down. Like she's important to me. But I've screwed women and abused their trust before and never thought twice about it.”

  “That just proves it. You care about her.”

  Christian stared at the Ming vase on the table in the corner. “I guess so.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I don't know. It's too late. She'll never forgive me whatever I did.”

  “Set her free. Tell her it was a huge mistake and that you're sorry. Then tell her you love her and want a chance to date her.”

  “Sorry and love are words that don't leave my mouth. Besides, Fabio will kill me if I do that,” he said.

  “Then stop being a wuss. Leave her where she is and get on with life.”

  “I can't. I want her.”

  *****

  Fabio stormed into the room and looked at Amy. She was tied to the bed by her arms and ankles.

  “Why didn't you tell me?” he growled.

  Amy was lying on her back and had to crane her neck to see him. She'd spent the last few hours staring at the ceiling.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Let me go. You should be ashamed of yourself. You're a bully. I'm just a young woman who has done nothing to you.”

  “Your father doesn't give a shit about you, does he?”

  “If you'd spoken nicely to me in the first place, I would have told you that you were wasting your time. My father hasn't bothered with me since I shopped him to the authorities for his lurid behavior with young girls.”

  “‘I don't give a shit about her. You can kill her as far as I'm concerned.’ That is what he said to me,” Fabio said.

  “So your plan to get him back here won't work. Let me go.”

  “No. I'm afraid that won't be possible. If I let you go, you'll tell the cops.”

  When Fabio left the room, Amy screamed and tried to break from her shackles, but it was useless.

  The kitchen in the terraced house they called “number two” was in a terrible state.

  “You're a pig, Alberti. Look at the state of this place. Clean the fuck up,” Fabio said.

  “Okay, boss,” Alberti replied gruffly.

  “Her father doesn't care about her, so he's not going to exchange himself for her. We're stuck with her. If we let her go, she'll go to the cops. Here's what I want you to do with her. You remember how we killed the mayor's wife?”

  “Morphine, boss?”

  “Yes, morphine. I'll get someone to deliver it. Inject her, wait till she's dead, and then dispose of her body. Dump her at least ten miles out in the ocean.”

  “Yes, boss. Will do.”

  “And, Alberti, if you fuck up, I'll kill you.”

  *****

  Maria was lying face down on a sunbed next to the pool when Christian arrived. She hadn't seen him standing in the corner of the yard of her brother's house. He'd been observing her for a few minutes. He'd seen her breasts when she'd removed her bikini top to prevent white stripes. They were beautiful breasts, the type he liked—full and heavy. Normally he would have felt himself getting hard at the sight of them, but nothing happened. It was as if he was suddenly impotent. He hadn't even bothered to look at any of the scantily clad young women on his journey to Maria. Worse still, he was now presented with an ideal opportunity to seduce her, and he didn't care.

  “Maria,” he said. She turned over, forgetting she was topless, and suddenly thrust her arm across her chest.

  “Jesus, Christian, you frightened me to death.”

  “Maria, I need your help.”

  “Why should I help you? You threatened me the last time we saw each other.�
�

  “You have to tell me when Alexander Gorev is next coming to the States.”

  She reached for a towel and wrapped it around her. “Why? You'll only kill him.”

  “I won't, but Fabio might. Do you care? It was only a casual fuck, wasn't it?”

  “I won't tell you. Why should I send a man to his death? You can torture me all you want, but I will never reveal when he comes to the US. Why do you want him anyway?”

  “Fabio wants him to exact his revenge. He's taken his daughter hostage.”

  “So wait until he comes for his daughter.”

  “I don't think you understand. Fabio won't release her when Alexander arrives. He'll kill them both.”

  “Go and rescue her then. You always play the big hard man. See how hard you can be when you're up against Fabio. You won't last a minute.” She laughed. “Now fuck off. You're standing in the sun.”

  *****

  Alberti waved to the man and watched as the car drove to the end of the road and turned left. He looked at the bottle and syringe in his hand and smiled. He enjoyed this kind of work. It turned him on. He might even have a bit of fun with her before injecting her, he thought. First he needed a drink, though.

  *****

  Christian stopped outside Fabio's house and nodded to the guards who were hanging around outside the front door.

  “Christian, have you come to hand in the money you've collected?” Fabio asked as he poured himself a glass of wine.

  His office reminded Christian of a lawyer's office. There was a large desk in the middle of the room and bookshelves on all the walls. Not that Fabio read much. He just had them for effect.

  “Here,” Christian said. He tossed an envelope full of cash onto the table and sat down on the opposite side of the desk.

  “What's this?” Fabio asked, taking the money from the envelope.

  “A few couldn't pay. They promised to pay more next week.”

  Fabio flew into one of his rages. “Fuck you. You're going soft. I told you before, if they don't pay, thrash them. And if they still can't pay, kill them. Jesus, I'm surrounded by idiots.”

  “There's more. I want you to let the girl go,” Christian said.

  “You've gone mad. No way. I told you before, she'll just grass us up. She's going to die.”