Taming Avery_A MFM Menage Romance

by Tara Crescent

  Then Maddox removes his fingers, and I feel his thick cock nudge my anus. He pushes into me, slowly and steadily. It’s not painful; the plug has prepared me for this. I feel stretched. Very, very, aroused.

  “Ready for another?” Kai cups my chin, looking deep into my eyes. The gesture feels so intimate.

  “Yes.”

  While Kai positions himself between my legs, Maddox pulls out almost completely, and slides in again. I can’t hold back my moan of pleasure. His grip tightens around my waist, and he flips me so he’s lying on his back and I’m resting on him.

  “Fuck, Avery,” Kai groans. “You’re so wet, baby.” He holds his cock in his hand and swipes it up my slit. Just when I’m about to start begging, he stops teasing and thrusts into me.

  There are no words.

  There will never be any words.

  It’s shattering.

  Overwhelming.

  It’s everything I dreamed it would be, and more.

  Kai starts to fuck me, long, deep, powerful strokes. I bury my nails into his biceps. I’m not going to be able to hold on. My orgasm is rushing toward me, and there’s no power on Earth that will hold it back.

  Steady thrusts, in and out. My yelps and whimpers as my muscles start to convulse around me. Maddox’s voice, giving me permission to come. Their breathing, harsh and labored, their softly whispered words telling me how beautiful I am, how special, how perfect. Their fingers tightening over my hips, their muffled groans as they find their releases.

  The images flash through me, but I’m awash in a fog of desire, adrift in a sea of pleasure. I roll from one orgasm to the next, until I finally collapse between them, exhausted, sated.

  I think I’m addicted to Kai and Maddox.

  27

  Avery

  Monday morning, I wake up, as Maggie would put it, ready to kick ass and take names. I’ve helped my mother with her medical expenses. Even though she still hasn’t returned my call, I’ve done my duty toward my parents. Now, I’m ready to be done with Victor.

  Ten years ago, I’d had to choose between the men I was starting to fall in love with and Victor Lowell, and I’d chosen poorly. This time, things are going to be very different.

  My first call is to Garrett Breyman. “Dr. Welch,” he says, sounding harried and busy. “Thank you for calling me back.”

  “I didn’t realize I had a choice in the matter,” I retort. “It sounded like you were threatening to arrest me.”

  “Umm.” He sounds apologetic. “Listen, I’m going to be honest with you. I think this whole case is stupid. A complete waste of time. Out in the city, men are beating their wives. People are being murdered by gangs. That’s what I should be working on. Not refereeing some pissing match between two people who have been divorced for almost a decade.”

  “There’s a ‘but’ in that sentence.”

  “Your ex-husband is kicking and screaming, and he’s well-connected,” he says frankly. “He wants you arrested.”

  My blood runs cold. It’s one thing for Victor to threaten me. It’s another thing entirely for a cop to confirm that yes, there’s a real likelihood that I will face jail time for a crime I didn’t commit.

  “My advice to you, Dr. Welch, is to sort this out privately with your ex-husband before things escalate and the police have to get involved.”

  Things have already escalated. The police are already involved.

  The moment I hang up on the detective, I reach for my handbag, looking for the business card that Nadya Zacharellis gave me on Saturday. I have no idea how I’m going to afford her, but I’ll figure it out. I’m not going down without a fight. What Victor is doing is absolutely outrageous, and I’m not going to let him get away with it. I won’t let Victor win.

  Her assistant answers her phone. “Nadya Zacharellis’s office,” she says. “This is Gina. How may I help you?”

  “My name is Avery Welch,” I reply, trying not to be intimidated. At the club, Nadya had been perfectly friendly. “I was wondering if I could talk to Ms. Zacharellis for five minutes?”

  “I’m sorry, she’s in a meeting. Can I take a message?”

  I leave one. To my surprise, Nadya Zacharellis calls me back in fifteen minutes. “Avery, Gina said you’re looking for representation?”

  “I’m having a dispute with my ex-husband,” I reply. “I could use some legal advice.”

  There’s a slight hesitation on the other end. “I’m trying to think of a tactful way of phrasing this,” she says at last. “I’m not cheap.”

  “Fifteen hundred dollars an hour, according to Maddox.”

  She laughs. “He’s exaggerating. I’m expensive, but it’s not as bad as he’s made it out to be. Can you make it to my office for a consultation and I can give you a more realistic estimate?”

  “That sounds great.”

  “Great. My schedule is a bit insane. How about seven tonight?” She chuckles. “You’ll have to talk fast. If I’m home later than eight, Jonathan will be exceedingly annoyed with me.”

  “I’ll be quick. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem, Avery. Any friend of Maddox is a friend of mine.”

  “Your ex-husband sounds like a dick.” Nadya Zacharellis leans back in her leather chair. “No offense meant.”

  “None taken.” I’m finding it difficult to reconcile the clearly successful lawyer with the woman who was suspended naked in the middle of Club M. “I don’t particularly care about the diamond. I just want Victor out of my life, once and for all.”

  “The ring is with the MPDC right now?”

  “Yes.”

  She nods. “This is a bullshit case,” she says. “There’s some dispute about who owns the engagement ring if the marriage is called off, but there’s absolutely no doubt that once the marriage takes place, the ring is the property of the woman. However, there’s a wrinkle. You’re not American, and neither is your ex-husband. You can’t afford to get arrested. You could be deported for this.”

  Shock courses through my body. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m not going to let that happen,” she says. She appears to be lost in thought for a moment, and then her expression sharpens. “I think the MPDC had it right. Call your ex.”

  “You want me to negotiate?” My heart sinks. I was hoping that Nadya would tell me that Victor had no case at all, and beating him would be trivial.

  “Not at all.” Her smile turns feral, and I remember that Maddox called her a barracuda. “I just want to hear what he has to say.”

  Her expression encourages me. I reach for the phone she hands me and dial the number Victor gave me when I had dinner with him last week. It rings a long time before he picks up. “Avery, I thought I might be hearing from you.”

  Nadya rolls her eyes.

  “You thought right. How far do you intend to take this?”

  “Right to the point. How very American of you. I’m afraid I’m not quite as blunt as you, my dear. Why don’t we discuss the matter in a couple of weeks over dinner?”

  He intends to drag this out. Have me sweating. I almost never lose my temper, but I’m fighting the urge to scream at him and tell him exactly what I think of him.

  I look at Nadya for direction. Play along, she mouths.

  “Fine. I’ll do this your way. For the moment.”

  “What now?” I slump in my chair. “This is going to drag on for another two weeks? I just want to get on with my life, Nadya. Go to the club with Kai and Maddox, see my clients, make sure my mother’s cancer is getting treated. I don’t want to play Victor’s games.”

  “Your mother has cancer?”

  “Yes. That’s how this all started. She needed money, and I took the engagement ring to a jeweler to see if I could sell it.”

  “Hmm.” She scribbles something on a legal pad. “Look, don’t worry. Go ahead and live your life. Let me handle this.” She lifts her eyes up. “You have told Kai and Maddox about this, haven’t you?”

&n
bsp; “No.”

  She frowns in puzzlement. “Why not?”

  “It was Maddox who gave me the money to pay for my mother’s treatment,” I murmur. “I can’t expect them to solve all my problems. You’re not going to tell him, are you?”

  She shakes her head. “Our conversation is privileged. But Avery, can I give you some advice, even though this is none of my business? I’d reconsider if I were you. I saw the three of you in the club this weekend. What you have… it doesn’t look casual. It looks real. You don’t have to let them solve your problems, but you have to let them into your life. That’s what being in a relationship is about.”

  She’s right. I know she’s right. She’s telling me exactly what I tell my clients on a daily basis.

  But this thing between us is fragile. Victor came between us once. I don’t want him to come between us again.

  “I pay you a retainer, right?”

  “Yes. It’ll be ten thousand dollars. Gina will take care of the details. We’ll bill to your account. I think we can settle this without things getting ugly, but if it goes to court, you’re looking at maybe another thirty or forty thousand dollars in legal fees. Maybe more.”

  Bloody hell. It’s a good thing Victor isn’t here. Otherwise, I’d be tempted to strangle him.

  I hope my new lawyer takes credit cards.

  28

  Kai

  Lucián Alguacil comes into my office on Thursday for a consultation along with his wife. “I’m nervous about this operation, Dr. Bowen,” he says, gripping his wife’s hand.

  Me too.

  “Every surgery carries risks,” I agree with him. “But the mean success rate for coronary bypass operations is ninety-eight percent. You’re young. The blockages aren’t severe. You’re a very good candidate for this procedure.”

  He really is. As much as I want to rage at Joanna, she’s lined up the perfect patient. No surgery is totally routine, but this is as close as it gets.

  I answer their questions for the next fifteen minutes and soothe their nerves as best as I can. Once they’ve left, Jayla walks into my office. “So you’re doing it?”

  “Sure looks like it.”

  “How’s the hand?”

  I hold up my fingers. “It’s steady,” Jayla remarks. “Are you seeing signs of improvement?”

  “Yes.” I have to give Avery credit. As much as I snapped her head off, it really had helped to identify my fears and work on a backup plan. “It’s getting a lot better. I’m hoping to be good to go in time, but if not, Rajesh is lined up to step in.”

  She smiles slyly at me. “Admit it,” she says. “You found the workshop useful. I’m assuming I’ll see you there tomorrow?”

  “Stop gloating,” I tell my friend severely. “It’s a bad look on you.”

  She laughs. “So you know this woman, do you?”

  “I’m surprised it’s taken you almost a week to pump me for information,” I tell her wryly.

  “Unlike you cardiovascular surgeons, we neurologists actually work, Dr. Bowen,” she replies with a grin. “Tell me everything.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.” Nothing except for the fact that we’d gone out to dinner on Tuesday night, the three of us, and caught a movie after. We’d sat in the darkened theater, and I’d made her come with my fingers, while Maddox kissed her, muffling her little whimpers of pleasure.

  She had to work late yesterday, but she’s coming over for dinner again tonight. Maddox is going to grill some steaks on my scarcely-used grill, and I’m going to make a salad, and we’re going to have a meal together, just like normal people do. Like a date.

  Sometimes, when you really want something, getting it feels anti-climactic. Not so with Avery. Hanging out with her, talking to her, making conversation, touching her body, listening to her sweet whimpers of pleasure—it’s every bit as good as I thought it would be. Better.

  Jayla raises an eyebrow. “I very much doubt it,” she says. “I saw the way you looked at her at the bar. You couldn’t take your eyes off her.” She pats my shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for a very long time for you to find someone who will make you happy. I’m so glad you’ve finally met her.”

  Avery does make me happy. I haven’t been this content since Dublin.

  And how did that end?

  I dismiss that voice. What happened ten years ago is in the past. Things will be different this time around.

  29

  Maddox

  All week, I’ve been trying to decide if I’m going to attend Damon Ettenberg’s show. Friday afternoon, at a late lunch with Kai and Avery, I finally make up my mind.

  “What are the two of you doing tonight?” I ask them. “Do you want to go to an art gallery?”

  Kai raises an eyebrow. He knows about the glass show; I’d filled him in during the weekend. “Really?” he asks, not bothering to hide the note of surprise in his voice. “Sure, count me in.”

  Avery looks at the two of us. “You sound stressed. What am I missing?”

  If this week has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t want our relationship to be only about sex. I want far more from Avery than ten hours once a week. I’m greedy. I want all of her.

  She’s a part of my life. I can try to pretend otherwise, but I’d only be lying to myself.

  “Damon Ettenberg, the glass sculptor, is my biological father, and he’s displaying his work tonight at a gallery in Georgetown. My mother’s never told him about me. I’m not planning on making a scene, but I am curious.”

  Her eyes go wide. “You want me to come with you?”

  She doesn’t know how good she is for me. How much she steadies me. She doesn’t know that she’s the most important person in my life. “If you don’t have other plans.” I take a deep breath. “I’d really like you there.”

  There’s a sheen of tears in her eyes that she blinks away. “Well, I did have a rather exciting evening planned,” she says teasingly. “There was laundry, there was Netflix, and if I got really crazy, I was going to paint my toenails.”

  I can picture her in her t-shirt, the one that comes to mid-thigh, sitting on her couch, her legs tucked under her, her hair falling in front of her face… That image is so attractive that I wish I’d never suggested the damn gallery. I’ve gone thirty-four years without meeting my biological father. What’s a few more, really?

  “But,” she says, her lips curling into a heart-stoppingly beautiful smile, “I can always do that another night.” She puts her hand on my arm, her expression soft. “Thank you for asking me to come with you, Maddox. I’d love to.”

  30

  Avery

  They’re letting me into their lives. Am I letting them into mine?

  My stomach sloshes with guilt as I get dressed for the gallery opening. I need to tell them about Victor, about the ring, about everything. I don’t feel right keeping this from them. Ten years ago, I was in trouble, and I kept it from them, and everything had ended in disaster. You think I’d have learned my lesson.

  I’ve slipped into my dress and am straightening my hair when my phone rings.

  It’s my mother. It’s taken Maisie Welch a week and a half to return my phone call.

  I checked with my bank earlier this week. The five hundred thousand dollars reached them on Monday, but though I’d waited for a call, an email, any acknowledgment of my help, there’s been nothing. I know it’s unworthy of me, but I feel used.

  “Mum.”

  “Hello, Avery.”

  I haven’t spoken to her in seven years. I don’t think I know what to say to her anymore. “How are you doing?”

  “Up and down. You know how it is.”

  Actually, I don’t, I want to scream. You haven’t bothered to let me in or keep me abreast of what’s going on in your life.

  “Did you get the money? When does your treatment begin?”

  “About that…” She sounds nervous. “There was something your father didn’t tell you when he talked to you. He didn’t want to burd
en you with the knowledge.”

  I’m not given to flights of fancy, but I have a dreadful premonition of impending doom. “What is it?”

  “I’ve been to Dusseldorf twice already in the last year, Avery,” she says. “Immunotherapy is an ongoing treatment.”

  “Okay,” I say slowly.

  “And it’s been a financial strain,” she replies. “We wouldn’t have been able to afford it had it not been for Victor.”

  The room seems to blur around me. “Victor?”

  “He loaned us the money for the first two rounds,” she says. “More than five hundred thousand pounds.” She exhales shakily. “I have no idea how we’re going to pay him back.”

  “Why did you ask him?”

  “He offered to help. He’s always been a good friend. Even after you broke his heart the way you did.” Her voice softens. “He’s never said anything to us, but it’s obvious that he wants you back.”

  My parents really have rose-tinted glasses when it comes to my ex-husband. Then again, they always have. My parents dream of mingling among high society, and Victor is a Baron. “Victor thinks he owns me,” I reply bitterly. “I’m not a person to him. I’ve never been.”

  Maisie Welch makes a dismissive sound in her throat. “You’ve always been so high-strung,” she says. “Victor treated you like a queen, and you were never grateful.”

  “Victor is threatening to have me arrested.”

  “I’m sure it’s all in your head, dear. He would never do any such thing.”

  I’m twenty-nine now. I can resist the gaslighting. When I was nineteen, isolated in Sussex, I had no such defense.

  “You were dreadful to him, Avery. And yet, he still helped us out.” She draws in a deep breath. “Your father is quite worried about paying him back. Of course, if you were still married…”