FOSTER BROTHERS - A MFM Menage Romance

by Samantha Twinn

  “What are you waiting for?” I groan at him.

  He chuckles and sits up quickly onto his heels. His cock is swollen and bobbing in the heated space between us, I can see the glistening at the tip. “I’m waiting for you to come to your senses,” he says. “Because I don’t have it in me to stop.”

  “You think I’m going to change my mind?” I ask him, stroking his arm. “You think when I have you like this in front of me that I could ever resist you?”

  Flint’s eyes close slowly, as though my words are too much for him to take in. He shifts me forward, draping my legs over his until we’re lined up, the head of his cock brushing over my pussy. I moan because he’s taking his time still, even after my assurances. I push up to him and feel him slide into me, his cock stretching the entrance to my pussy.

  He stops again, staring down at me, his cock throbbing just inside me. He cups his palm over my mound and strokes his thumb down over my pulsing clit. “Pretty girl,” he says, and I can’t stand it anymore. “Please, Flint…don’t make me wait anymore.”

  One more rub over my slickened clit is all takes to take me to the edge. One smooth thrust is all it takes for him to part me completely and then I’m coming and coming, body seizing, mind trembling, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that everything is oil-slick black. Flint doesn’t move but I can feel his cock pulsing inside me, as my pussy clamps down in pleasure. When I finally open my eyes, his gaze on me is intense, his pretty eyes dark with lust. “That’s what I was waiting for,” he says.

  33

  HUDSON

  I lie in my bed, Missi’s soft cries of pleasure drifting down the hallway into my open door. Maybe we should learn to start closing our doors around here.

  I’m not exactly jealous that they’re fucking. I was expecting it to happen in a way. My cock thickens at the sounds she’s making and the memory of how she felt wrapped around me. My mind travels further, imagining watching Missi with my brother. I’d love to see her face as she comes, catch her up in a kiss when she drifts back down and then be the one the take her up again. It wouldn’t be anything new to Flint and me, we’ve done this kind of thing before.

  But with Missi, it would be different. All the other times were just quick, dirty fun.

  Flint said, we share a past, not a parent. Do I really believe that? Does it make a difference to how I feel? I’m so conflicted.

  I ball my fist up and pound it against my forehead. Do I want Missi or do I want Raven?

  Missi is my sister. Do I still really think of her as my sister?

  Missi’s mewling cries are getting louder. Jesus, fuck me, I never realized just how good the acoustics in the house were. My cock twitches again and I reach down, giving the head a squeezing tug. It’s more frustrating than anything.

  I blow out a sharp puff of air and grab my phone from the bedside table. Thumbing it open I sign into the forum where I found all the other women. I scan my messages. There are almost a hundred, all from women willing and ready to be anonymous. Women looking to experience a stranger and willing to never see my face. Women who just want to escape the world for a moment and then leave without a word, satiated.

  I throw down my phone without answering any of the messages. That’s not what I want now. That one night with Missi was enough to show me how much I missed being close to a woman. No matter how much I tear myself up about it, I want her so badly.

  I make my way down the hall, stopping just out of sight next to Flint’s door. My dick juts out before me, hard and throbbing. I stand there, listening as she begs. I know if I went in the room that Flint would make room and welcome me. But would Missi? It’s one thing to sleep with me and Flint separately, but together. Maybe it’s better this way, that she’s just with Flint. He’ll be around to take care of her.

  I need to face that I’m living with memories now.

  It’s all I’ve got.

  34

  FLINT

  I’m bouncing back and forth on the balls of my feet, pulling deep breaths in through my nose and pushing all the air back out through my mouth in a noisy rush. I crack my neck side to side, trying to loosen the tension building across the top of my shoulders. I can’t harness the energy crackling through my muscles. It’s fight night.

  Red comes to check the tape across the bruises that are still scattered over my ribs, now the yellow of a toxic sunset. I’m still a little tender to the touch but once I’m in the ring the adrenaline coursing through my blood will block the pain. Red punches me lightly on the shoulder, “Fuck, will you calm down? You need a Xanax?” I shake his arm off and go back to my deep breathing.

  “I’m calm, I’m calm. You see Missi out there?” I peer over the crowd and finally spot Hudson standing near the far side of the ring. I know Missi will be standing next to him but I can’t see her head hidden among the people around her. She wanted to come to my fight tonight and I didn’t want her in the crowd alone.

  “Don’t worry, Hudson’s got her,” Red remarks with a nod towards them. “Nothing’s going to happen to her here. You concentrate on the fight. Me and Hudson will keep an eye on her.”

  I know he’s right but I continue to scan the crowd. Something spooked her bad last time she’d come to a fight. Places like this do have a tendency to attract a certain rough element. I wonder if it was someone from her past or if it had anything to do with her apartment getting ransacked. Red sees my mind wandering from the upcoming fight. “Hey,” he spits at me, “snap out of it. You need to be on it tonight, man. Kong’s no joke. This is his first match against you, you better believe he’s on his game tonight. You be on yours.”

  I nod and turn away from the crowd. Hudson has Missi. He’s not going to let anything happen to her. He takes his protector role to another level and tonight I’m glad for his obsessiveness. I don’t know if Hudson’s aware of what happened between me and Missi or not. I didn’t tell him but that doesn’t mean he didn’t hear us. The air felt tense at breakfast this morning. Especially when I asked him to bring Missi to the fight tonight. I know he’s got a lot on his shoulders but I can help him handle everything, he just needs to learn how to let me.

  Blaring music and the roar crushing up from the crowd jerks me out of my thoughts. I clap my hands together and bounce on my feet again. Time to get serious. Time to make my money. Time to win. And I will win. Because I always do. I stroll down the ramp towards the ring, taking my time, bumping fists with a couple of young fans behind the ring barriers. I feel my nostrils flare and my lip curls into a snarl on one side. This is my ring face, my fight face, my your-time-is-coming-fucker face. My opponents usually take my threatening face personally but I have nothing against them. Well, except that one guy from Reno two years ago. I couldn’t stand him. He deserved his beat down, but this is my job, a job that I enjoy and that I’m damn good at. The best, in fact.

  By the time I reach the ring the crowd noise has reached a deafening level and I feel the pulling rush of tension in my muscles. All my focus zeroes in on the far side of the ring, on the behemoth of a man standing on the other side. I pounce up onto the side of the ring like a panther and part the ropes, sliding into my corner. Red is right behind me, kneading at my shoulders, directing a steady stream of pumped encouragement into my ear. I glower across the ring at Kong and he glowers back. He seems astonished when I laugh and grin at him. This is going to be fun.

  The ring announcer is in the center, covering the fall rules and amping the crowd up before finally introducing us. Red slants my mouth guard over my teeth and gives me an encouraging tap before the announcer trills out my name and I step forward to the thunderous screams and applause. One day, someone will be beat me. But not today.

  The crowd roars louder when I sling my fist into the air.

  These are my people and tonight I’m their hero.

  My opponent and I tap hands and drop into slight crouches, circling each other like wary dogs. I feint to one side, and when he moves in on me, I drop my shoulder and jab at his
ribs, landing two quick blows before plowing him over with my head and pinning him to the mat. His flailing arm catches me with a stinging blow to my ear before the referee pulls us apart. I palm a line of sweat off my forward and smile at him again.

  My attitude has thrown Kong off and he barrels in at me, arms wide open as he tries to catch me up in a full body hug. I throw a single hard right at his face and feel the bones of his nose crunch under my fist. He staggers back and grabs at his face, blooding dripping between his fingers. I think he’s going to tap out then and there, but he charges back across the ring and jumps, catching me across the temple with the heel of his foot in a well-placed roundhouse. Shit. The world starts to go gray around the edges and I feel my knees weakening. A warm trickle slides over my cheek. Suddenly, I think I hear Missi’s voice over the din of the frenzied crowd.

  I shake my head to clear it and turn back to Kong. He can’t believe I’m still standing. After the power behind that kick, neither can I. Blood has dripped down onto his chest and plopped to the floor. He’s a big guy and the exertion has him panting to catch his breath. I feint a lunge at him and he stumbles back, losing his footing and toppling over like a felled tree. I’m on him before he hits the mat, pummeling into his face with my knotted fists, feeling the flesh bend under my assault. It takes me a minute to realize the referee is screaming in my ear, tugging on my arm to get me off the man. I look up, bleary with fatigue and coated with sweat. He motions toward my opponent. Kong has tapped out. I’ve won.

  I scrabble up to my feet as the referee grabs my fist and hoists it high into the air, the announcer screeching my name over the loudspeaker. My vision still has a fuzzy quality and I jerk away when I feel someone wiping a towel over my forehead, I relax when I realize it’s only Red. The towel he swipes over my head comes away crimson. That’s when the screams push their way into my hazy brain. It’s Missi. And those aren’t celebratory yells. She’s scared again. Shit! I look around, trying to my clear vision. Is someone after her? “It’s Missi, get me to her,” I yell at Red over the crowd. I stagger over to the far corner of the ring, one arm slung around Red’s shoulder, and push my way under the ropes.

  Hudson is crouched over his seat, his face twisted into a mask of pain, his hands squeezing at his temples, eyes screwed shut. Missi has him by one arm, trying to use her slight weight to keep him from falling over. I shove my way over to them and pull up Hudson’s other arm, catching him from underneath to keep him from tipping over. I’ve never seen the pain on his face like I see it now. This is the worst he’s ever looked. “What’s wrong, man? Can you walk at all?”

  He shakes his head once and breaks off into a low, pained moan, legs buckling underneath him. “We need to get him home. Now,” I say in an urgent voice. “You and Red get the car, meet us at the fighters’ exit.”

  She nods and Red grabs her hand, pulling her through the crowd and out the backstage door. I hitch Hudson up and turn him in that direction, barking at people to get the fuck out of my way. The announcer is still in the ring, covering the fight highlights and judges’ remarks, but I ignore it all and wrestle Hudson’s weight to the door. His feet are dragging and it’s taking all my remaining strength to pull him to the exit. “Come on, man, come on, we’re going, you’re going to be in your bed real soon. Just a few more feet, Hudson, pick up your feet, man.” I mutter a string of encouraging words at him, tugging him through the door and out into the parking lot.

  Mist slants through the sulfur-colored street lamps and I shiver, realizing I’m covered in cooling sweat and blood, and still wearing only my fighter trunks. I don’t even have on any shoes but I ignore the chill cutting up through my bare feet and concentrate on keeping Hudson mostly upright, heaving a sigh of relief when the SUV’s headlights slice through the mist and come to a stop in front of us.

  Missi jumps out and pulls open the rear door, her face pinched with worry. I see the lines on her forehead deepen even more as Hudson starts a low, steady groan. Shit, shit, shit. This is bad. So fucking bad. I’ve never heard that sound come out of my brother. I shove him into the rear seat, Red now at the opposite side of the car with the rear door open. He grabs Hudson under his arms and pulls him across the leather seat as I shove his legs over. Missi is back in the front now, turning and watching over the rear of her seat as Red and I buckle Hudson into a semi sitting position. When I jump in, I slide over close to keep him from keeling over and smacking his head on the back of the driver’s seat. Missi never turns around, just sits facing us the entire ride home, her ocean eyes shining at us in the dark.

  35

  HUDSON

  I can’t see. I can’t even really hear. The throbbing in my head is a loud roar, a volume so loud it’s crowding out all other noises around me. It’s even crowding out the thoughts in my own head. I can feel my body shift and sway but I know it’s not my doing. My whole world is nothing but a concentrated, pinpoint pain that’s blanking out everything else.

  I’m only vaguely aware of being moved, of arms hoisting me up, pushing and pulling at my shoulders, even tugging at my feet and legs. A low keening cuts across the throbbing in my head and it takes me a moment to realize the noise is coming from me. The tortured moan is pulling from my throat. I don’t care. The pain is too intense for me to care at this moment. I just want to die. If that’s what it’ll take for this pain to leave, I’m ready.

  I feel myself being put down, pushed into a softness that I register as my bed. Invisible hands tug at my boots and strip off my clothes before tucking blankets up around my chin. I keep my eyes screwed shut, afraid that if I open them, the pain will get even worse, if that’s even possible.

  There’s a sudden darkness behind my eyelids that lets me know the light has been switched off. A drift of cool air from the vents over my bed feels pleasant blowing over my face. I let my head relax into the support of my pillows. Sounds are drifting in and out of my head. Or maybe it’s me that’s drifting in and out. I think it’s me. Something pushes around the pain.

  It’s voices. They’re hushed at first, trying not to disturb me, I guess. Treating me like an invalid who can’t hear. I can’t make out what they’re saying but I can tell it’s Missi and Flint. Her voice is getting louder, taking on a high, strained pitch. I hear Flint try to shush her but she’s frantic by this time, getting louder with each word, panic tinting her voice dark. I try to push up, to sit up and tell her to leave but I feel Flint's strong hands pushing me back down into the bed. I don’t want her here.

  I don’t want her here because I don’t want her hurt. I don’t want to her to see me weak. This battle is mine alone. It’s my job to make sure they’re okay, not the other way around. I keep trying to listen to their words but everything sounds like it’s covered in bubbles. I hope Flint doesn’t tell her what’s going on. I don’t want her to know yet. I know Flint won’t break my confidence that way. He never has, not once in all these years. I know he hates this but he’s smart enough to realize that he doesn’t get to choose. He at least respects me enough to realize I get to decide my own fate.

  It’s quiet now. Someone is urging me up and Flint tells me softly to sit. He’s pushing pills into my mouth and tapping my lips with the edge of a water bottle to let me know it’s there. I take a deep pull from the bottle, the cool water soothing my tongue and throat, washing the pills down easily. I sigh and lie back again. I feel the clamping across my temples ease up slightly. Someone lays a cool, damp cloth over my forehead. It feels incredible, cooling off my heated brow, leaching some of the pain away from my temples.

  When I go to put my hand over the cloth I feel a small hand already holding it in place. Missi. She’s so quiet that I didn’t even hear her, her touch so light it’s almost like she’s not there.

  She readjusts the cloth and fusses lightly over my blankets. Leaning over she brushes her lips over my hair, making it stir just slightly over my temple. “Are you okay, Hudson? Is there anything I can do?” she asks.

  Pressing my
lips together and turning my head from her, I make a noncommittal sound in my throat. I don’t have the strength to tell her a lie right now, and I am definitely not in any position, physically or emotionally, to tell her the truth.

  I slit my eyes open at her and pull the wet cloth off of my head and slap it onto the bedside table, wincing when a jolt of pain flares across my eyes. “I’m fine, just tired.” I screw my eyes shut again.

  “Let me help you.”

  “No.” I know my voice is sharp with pain. “Get out. I just need to rest.”

  She’s taken a step back but hasn’t left the room. I can feel her eyes moving over me, assessing my squinted eyes and scrunched face and the way I turn away from the light coming in from the hall. She chews on her bottom lip and I can tell she’s working through the possibilities of what’s happening. If she stays, she’ll figure it out soon enough. The more time that passes, the more obvious it will be. I want her gone so she doesn’t have to watch this.

  “Please, Hudson, just tell me what’s going on with you.”

  “It’s none of your goddamned business, Missi. You shouldn’t even be here. I told Flint we needed to put you in an apartment. I don’t want you in my house.” I flinch at my own words. I’m trying to hurt her, to push her away so she doesn’t see me like this. “Nothing is going on. I need you out of here. Do you understand that? I want you out! I don’t want you seeing me like this!” I turn my head into the pillow, trying to press deep enough into it to block out the pain that’s starting to strobe along my forehead again.

  She doesn’t leave, stubborn little thing that she is. Instead, she’s on the floor at the side of my bed, hands stroking my hair back from my sweating face. I try to twist my head away from but she won’t let me. Her cool fingers smooth over the tightened lines on my forehead, pushing them away, easing the pain. Then, I hear the whispered words that rock me from the inside out, shocking me and shaking me down to my core.