Welcome to Morgan’s Bakery, where tasty treats are sold one at a time and hot guys come in groups of three!
Take Three, Please: For months, Morgan has been flirting with a trio of handsome customers, local gym owners Brandon, Ethan and Mark. She knows they’re interested in her, but none of them steps forward and makes the first move.
Morgan would do it herself, if it weren’t for one annoying problem — she can’t choose between them! What woman could?
When the day finally arrives that brawny Brandon asks her out, she’s thrilled. Yet she can’t help regretting the loss of his two friends. Morgan thinks she’s prepared to settle for one. The men in her life think differently. Very differently. In fact, they’re hoping she’ll take three.
Three for Cici: Surly Cecile’s ready to settle for Morgan’s leftovers until a tempting trio arrives in the neighborhood. Cecile acknowledges the newcomers are sexy, but doubts any one of them is the right match for her.
Hunky lawyers Charles, Kevin, and Dane desire Cecile from the moment they spot her. The men have been best friends since college, but that won’t stop them from jostling for the lovely Cecile’s affections.
The competition is on for the lady’s favor, making it tough for Cecile to choose between her suitors. She isn’t sure she can do it … maybe she won’t have to.
Jackie’s Triple Play: Jackie believes the universe has sent her a sign when she discovers what her secretive friends, Morgan and Cecile, have been doing with their trios of hot suitors. When she crashes her car into a tree and the accident is investigated by three of the sexiest patrol cops in the city, Jackie is certain she’s meant to follow in her friends’ unconventional footsteps.
Unlucky in love, Officers Gil, Quincy and Liam have sworn off dating. Cute and quirky Jackie makes them reconsider that decision, and they believe she’ll soon choose one of them for her own.
But Jackie has no intention of singling out one hot cop. With the universe on her side, she’ll settle for nothing less than the perfect triple play.
This sample of the Ménage, Sexy and Short Romance series contains language and sexual situations that are only suitable for adults.
Read on to enjoy a free sample, then purchase your copy today.
Take Three, Please
CECILE POPPED HER GUM. “Would you pick one already? I’m tired of waiting around to make my move.”
Morgan sent her an impatient frown. “Go ahead. They’re not my property.”
“The hell they aren’t.”
The two women eyed the objects under discussion—three handsome, muscular men who currently overfilled the large circular booth in the back corner of the bakery. They each had dark hair and sculpted physiques, bronzed skin.
Any one of them could have graced the cover of a fitness magazine. They were in their early thirties, a few years older than Morgan.
She thought any woman, once she became acquainted with the men, would ache to secure them as her personal property. Too bad that Cecile exaggerated Morgan’s own claim.
The first time the trio entered the bakery, Morgan disliked them on sight. She knew their kind: overbearing jocks with more brawn than brains, self-entitled jerks who thought their good looks and hard bodies meant they didn’t have to be courteous or even passably decent to other, lesser mortals.
She expected them to leer at her, treat her like meat, then complain about how much fat was in the soup and debate how many carbs were in the bread. Blech.
She was so convinced she knew who they were, in fact, that she’d sent Cecile to take their orders. Not having to deal with customers like the beefy threesome was one of the perks of owning her own business.
It was a surprise when the three men turned out to be polite, friendly and all-around terrific customers. Profitable, too, since they’d been coming to the bakery for lunch nearly every weekday for several months. Oh, and most saliently of all, they were single and straight. Salient facts to be sure.
Morgan tore her gaze away from the handsome men and looked at Cecile. “You know you aren’t supposed to chew gum while you’re on duty.”
“Geez,” Cecile said, spitting the gum into a napkin, “my boss is a grouchy hardass. You need to get laid.”
“Shh—they might hear!”
“Good, then maybe one of them will get on the stick and knock off the googly-eyed act and finally ask you out so I can scoop up the leftovers.”
Morgan considered ordering Cecile to the kitchen, then noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. One of the men in the booth was waving a hand, trying to get her attention.
She turned, smiled and muttered under her breath to Cecile before she walked away, “If you weren’t my cousin, I’d fire you.”
“If you weren’t my cousin, I’d let you.”
Morgan bit back a laugh and headed over to the three hunky men, Brandon, Ethan and Mark. Their big bodies made the table seem diminutive.
“Do you need something?” she asked.
“We wanted to tell you how much we enjoyed the soup today. I don’t even like pea soup, but yours was excellent,” Ethan said, usually the most outgoing of the three.
Brandon’s blue eyes shined at her. “Best soup ever.”
Mark, the quiet one, simply looked steadily at her and nodded his agreement. Something about him always made her want to push his hair away from his face, to reveal him.
“Thank you. I wish all my customers were as easy to please as you guys,” she said.
“We’re not easy,” Brandon said.
“You’re just that good,” Ethan said.
She smiled as she always did when they completed each other’s sentences. She’d asked them once if they were brothers, and they said yes, but not of body, of spirit instead. They said they’d been friends since childhood and were closer than most brothers could ever hope to be.
“Thanks,” she said. “Tomorrow’s soup is chicken and rice, if you come back, of course.”
“You know we can’t resist … your food,” Ethan said.
Morgan couldn’t ignore the deliberate pause. Ethan liked to flirt. Nothing ever came of it, though, other than more flirting. Pity. “Well, I can’t resist … cooking it.”
He licked his lips. Oh my, she thought. He had the fullest lips. And the biggest, sparkliest brown eyes. Knock it off, she told herself.
“I’ll have Cecile bring over your check. Thanks, fellas,” she said in a rush, eager to be away before she made an ass of herself.
“Actually,” Ethan said, “Mark and I are headed to pay up at the counter. Brandon has a little something he wants to talk to you about.”
The implication of what he said surprised her enough that she stood there stupidly mute while Ethan and Mark slid out of the booth and headed off, leaving her alone with Brandon. He looked nearly as rattled as she felt.
“Uh, that wasn’t well done,” he said, with a self-conscious expression. “Sorry about that. Would you mind sitting down with me for a second or two? If you’ve got the time?”
Oh, she had the time. But did she have the nerve?
She sat down. “I hope there isn’t a problem. With the food, I mean. Or service. Whatever.” Geez, she was acting like an idiot.
He didn’t seem to notice. “No. There’s never a problem. You’re perfect.”
“You are too. I mean, customer. A perfect customer.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that. About becoming something more than a customer to you. You’ve known I’ve wanted that for a while now, haven’t you?”
So this was it. Finally. One of the trio was making a move on her. Wow.
Now that it was actually happening, now that the long-wished for event was here, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Brandon. Huh. Was he her favorite?
She definitely liked him, was attracted to him. But she was attracted to Ethan and Mark as well. Liked them, too. Did she want either of them more than Brandon?
When she’d daydreamed about this happening, and she’d definitely daydreamed about it dozens of times, she hadn’t imagined that it would be a mixed blessing. On the one hand, Brandon told her he was interested in her. Hurray! On the other hand, Ethan and Mark had not. Bummer. What a silly way to feel about things.
More than once, in her daydreams, she’d plucked up her courage and faced one of the men, asking them out on a date. One time she’d imagine it was Ethan, another time Brandon, next time, Mark. She couldn’t choose.
Maybe that was why she’d never taken the initiative with one of them, why she’d simply flirted casually and waited for them to decide.
Well, the decision was made. And Brandon was the man. It was no wonder she didn’t know how to feel about it.
Brandon looked at her with a puzzled expression. “You did know that, right … that I’m interested in you?”
“What? Oh, yes. Right. Well, I wasn’t sure, honestly.” She wasn’t sure which one of them was interested, she almost, but didn’t say.
“I hope I’m fixing that now, then. Are you busy tomorrow night? I’d like to cook for you, for once.”
“I didn’t know you cook.”
“I’m not as skilled as you, but I can grill a steak and bake a potato, if that sounds okay.”
She studied his handsome, intent face. He had a square jaw and a high forehead, a Roman nose and clear, smooth skin. And he was looking at her with an open honesty, an obvious attraction that thrilled and flattered her at the same time.
She’d always liked Brandon. Liked him as much as the other two. Maybe more. It didn’t matter, anyway. Brandon had stepped up to the plate, and he got bonus points for that.
“It sounds wonderful,” she said. “More than okay.”
“Then it’s a date.”
She couldn’t believe that after all these months she finally had a date … with Brandon. A tendril of excitement coiled in her belly.
Parting was a little awkward after that. Mentally, she felt all thumbs. And she was embarrassed when, before Brandon stood up to leave, he caught the eyes of his waiting friends and gave them a small, pleased nod of affirmation.
At least, she thought it was pleased. Whatever. He’d basically told the other two with a gesture that she’d agreed to go out with him. She didn’t meet their eyes again before they left the bakery.
She was going to have dinner with Brandon.
Cecile would lose it when she heard.
Morgan considered how Cecile would make her move now, on either Ethan or Mark. Morgan frowned at the thought. Didn’t like the idea. Didn’t like it at all.
Her reaction surprised her. She’d made her choice. And yet—
Maybe she wouldn’t tell Cecile about Brandon right away.
One never knew. It might not work out.
Ridiculous. She couldn’t go out with one of his friends if it didn’t work out with him. What was she thinking?
Regardless, Cecile didn’t need to know everything about her life.
Not yet, anyway.
SHE WAS AFRAID IT would be awkward when Brandon and the others came to the bakery for lunch the next day, so she spent most of the time in the kitchen, sending her excuses to the table with Cecile.
Brandon texted her. “Changed mind about dinner? Avoiding me from fear of indigestion?”
She texted back. “Too early in relationship for you to expect reassurance of your culinary aptitude. I’ve never even tasted your cooking.”
His response chimed in. “My ego is the only part of me I’ll never expect you to stroke—I swear.”
Oh my. The kitchen seemed warmer than normal.
She spoke to him and the others only briefly before they left. Brandon mouthed a “see you tonight” at her. She’d nodded in return.
The rest of the day passed slowly, and Cecile pestered Morgan about acting oddly, as if she had a secret. Morgan told Cecile she was nuts.
Morgan closed the bakery at the usual hour then headed home to shower and change for her evening. She forced herself not to over think her hairstyle, her clothes, her makeup. For the most part, she was successful.
At precisely seven-thirty, she stood outside the address Brandon had given her, a stylish, well-maintained older building, multi-storied. She gave her name at the front desk and the security guard buzzed up to Brandon’s place before showing her to the elevator.
It was a very nice building. The gym Brandon owned with his friends must be doing well if he could afford an apartment on the top floor of this building.
Brandon met her outside the door to his place. He looked more than fine, dressed in an immaculately-cut suit, with an open-necked shirt underneath, giving the impression of combined elegance and ease. His dark hair was rakishly smoothed away from his face.
He smiled when he saw her, and took both her hands in his own before leaning down and giving her a soft kiss on her cheek. He smelled of mint and spicy, masculine cologne. “You’re here. Finally.”
“I’m sorry.” She looked down at her watch. “Am I late?”
“No. I’ve just been wanting this for a long time. And now you’re here. At last. You look absolutely beautiful. That dress is … wow.”
She returned his smile, couldn’t think of anything to say.
It wasn’t necessary that she speak. He took her purse and set it on a table inside the apartment, then he shut the door. He held out an arm to her and she placed her hand on his solid forearm, a question in her gaze.
He led her down the hall, toward a different door. When he held it open for her, she saw it hid a set of stairs going up. She walked up the narrow steps to a landing, then stopped in front of another door.
The roof. It was apparent that’s where they were headed, since Brandon’s apartment was on the top floor. Brandon threw open the door and gestured for Morgan to lead the way. Sure enough, she stepped out onto the roof. And into a fairyland.
Party lights were strung back and forth across a large square of roof, the colored lights emitting a soft glow over the area. Tall, potted tropical plants lined two sides of the space, making the interior space seem like an enclosed jungle grotto that overlooked a sparkling city stretching away into the distance. It was lovely.
And the weather was perfect. Cool, but not too cool. No strong wind, only a light breeze. Morgan had worn a silky dress that clung to her body in all the right spots and had at the last minute added a shawl because of a sudden attack of self-consciousness. Without that shawl, she might have gotten chilly on the roof.
She stepped out onto an indoor-outdoor carpet. In the center of the square sat a single, round table with two chairs. A lone candle in a red glass jar flickered on the cloth-covered surface. Brandon pulled out a chair for her.
“This is incredible,” she told him once they were both seated. “I’m flattered.”
“It’s not hokey, then?”
“No! Definitely not.”
“I don’t know. I thought it might be cliché. You know, the overdone romantic gesture on the roof of the building thing. I thought maybe something more original would—”
“Even if it’s cliché, it doesn’t follow that it’s not beautiful. I appreciate that you went to so much effort for me.”
“Oh, it wasn’t just me.”
At his words, the door to the roof opened. Ethan and Mark stepped out, both of them dressed as nicely as Brandon, and every bit as handsome, she noted with some chagrin.
Ethan carried a tray with several glasses and a pitcher on it. Mark was bearing a guitar of all things.
“My help,” Brandon said.
Ah, so they’d come to help serve their dinner, Morgan thought. She greeted Ethan and Mark, who took her in like a long-craved treat and she fidgeted under their appreciation. She quickly peeked at Brandon, but he didn’t appear to mind that his friends were scoping her out.
“You look spectacular,” Ethan said, setting his tray down on a nearby stand. Then he leaned over her and kissed her cheek the same as Brandon had done.
She murmured her thanks. Then Mark stepped over, also kissed her cheek.
“Gorgeous,” he said softly, before he rose up.
Heat rose on her cheeks.
Brandon didn’t blink at the way his friends’ complimented his date. He leaned forward in his chair. “You do drink, don’t you?”
“I didn’t think to ask before.”
Ethan filled their tumblers with water, set them on the table, then he filled the wine glasses from a bottle of wine that had been cooling in a bucket of ice next to the table.
Morgan sipped the wine and complimented the selection.
Mark thanked her from nearby, confusing her for a moment. Mark had selected the wine. Well. Hmm.
He had pulled out a chair from somewhere and was settling himself down with the guitar. He began playing the instrument with hands that seemed impossibly large to create such a soft, romantic melody. She didn’t recognize the piece, though she recognized his skill.
“Has Mark ever told you that he’s a musician?” Brandon asked.
“No.” Mark had never told her much of anything, what with him being rather mysterious and reserved in general.
“That’s his own composition he’s playing.”
They listened to Mark play. She noted Ethan leaving the roof, heading down the stairs.
A few minutes later, Ethan rejoined them, carrying another tray, this one covered with several plates of hors d’oeuvres and a basket of bread.
Morgan and Brandon enjoyed the tasty appetizers, which Ethan said he’d made, and the crusty bread which she recognized as coming from her own bakery. They chatted, listened to Mark’s lovely music, bantered with Ethan whenever he popped back up to remove the plates.
Next, Ethan served the salads. And after that, the entrée Brandon had promised of steaks and potatoes.
Ethan served them with a flourish and a, “Your man food has arrived, milady.”
She grinned and wasn’t certain if he’d intended the double entendre or not.
After Ethan cleared their plates, Brandon asked her if she’d like dessert or a dance first. She took off her shawl, chose the dance.
IT WAS LOVELY AND romantic on the roof, being held in Brandon’s powerful arms for the first time, the soothing tones of Mark’s guitar in the background. Brandon wrapped his hands around her waist and he seemed huge to her. She felt utterly feminine, and appreciated the hardness of his muscled shoulders under her own hands.
Soon, he pulled her closer, and she pressed her head against his firm chest, wrapped her arms around his neck. One of his hands caressed the bare skin of her upper back, in the open spaces between the crossed straps of her dress. His other hand rested on the small of her back, just there, so close to more.
Having him there, touching her, and her touching him, it was heady stuff. Her heartbeat quickly flew up-tempo and her mouth went dry. All those weeks of waiting, wondering which one of these men she might eventually date, be with, do … possibly everything with. Yes, her imagination had stretched to everything. She was a healthy woman with healthy appetites, after all.
Now she was dancing with Brandon, and it was even better than she imagined. And it being better had nothing to do with Mark watching them while he played his guitar, or with Ethan leaning against the door, waiting for who-knew-what, and following her with half-hooded, sexy eyes.
No. The audience of two other, hot men didn’t add to her growing desire. Surely not.
Okay. Maybe it did. A little.
She pushed it aside, closed her eyes and swayed in Brandon’s arms.
Brandon’s fingers were electric, and his touch on her exposed skin tingled, tickled. His other hand inched lower down her back, now resting on the tops of her buttocks. Tantalizingly close to cupping her ass.
She could practically hear his heart beating hard in his chest. She lost herself in the feel of him against her, around her.
Then came the sound of a voice clearing and the question, “Do you mind if I cut in?” broke her out of her reverie.
She pulled back, and looked up at … Ethan. He grinned down at her, his tousled dark hair pushed casually behind his ears, his expression mischievous and intent all at once. Sexy. Damn.
She turned to Brandon. He appeared to be waiting for something. An answer? From her? Wasn’t Ethan asking if Brandon minded him cutting in? The way they stared at her suggested the question may have been directed at her.
Barring the possibility that Ethan wanted to dance with Brandon (she nearly let out a bark of nervous laughter at the thought), this was her call. Wasn’t it bad form to dance with your date’s best friend at a time like this?
Yet Brandon didn’t look like the situation perturbed him. He looked like … well … like this was expected. She wasn’t sure what the appropriate protocol was.
Bottom line, though, was that dancing with Ethan was an enticing proposition. Fine. She’d be honest about it, and see what came of it. He was probably just being polite anyway.
A small voice warned her about thinking nonsense. Polite. Pure bunk.
“Okay,” she told Ethan, “I don’t mind if you cut in.”
Brandon nodded politely, and without further comment, stepped away from her. Ethan swept her up into his arms and twirled her away, calling for Mark to play something lively, and he soon had her whirling around the rooftop.
He smelled of sandalwood and lightheartedness. She laughed out loud and clung to him, letting him lead, trying to keep up, not stumble.
He held her tightly against him, so she had to throw her head back to look up at him. Her hair swirled around her, and his hands, like Brandon’s, set tingles leaping over her skin.
Soon she was flushed, and gasping for breath. Whenever Morgan caught a glimpse as Ethan twirled her past, Mark’s fingers were a blur over the frets of his guitar. She caught sight of Brandon occasionally, too, sitting in his chair, leaned back, legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed. He regarded them with a keen expression, belying his casual pose.
When Mark strummed the final bars of the song, Morgan was left gasping in Ethan’s arms.
“Again,” Ethan said.
“No, no. I can’t. I can’t breathe.” She laughed.
Without thinking, she rushed over to Mark and bent down, kissed him firmly on his smooth cheek. “That was wonderful! Thank you.”
He smiled, reached up and pushed her long hair back from her face, an intimate gesture that she wished she didn’t enjoy so much. “Thank you for the show,” he said, his voice deep and rumbly.
She let Ethan lead her over to the table and onto her chair. He pulled out another chair from behind the plants and joined Brandon and her at the table. Mark pulled his chair over, too.
She looked at the three men, each of whom watched her closely, inspecting her perhaps. Alike, they were, in a way. All muscular, tanned, handsome and robust.
At the moment, they appeared to be far too interested in her person to be considered, strictly speaking, polite. And yet, she couldn’t be offended if their warm gazes fell too often on her breasts, her lips, her long legs.
She admitted to herself that she enjoyed their appreciation.
They chatted about the dancing, and even Mark chimed in a time or two. But it was apparent that no one was much interested in the conversation. Morgan certainly wasn’t. The men kept looking at her, and not in an innocent way.
This wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined her date would go. And yet, didn’t she have her own secret hopes?
Oh yes, she’d had her little fantasies. Brief flashes of might-be’s, maybe’s, a glimpse at possibilities before she shoved them aside as greedy fancies.
Perhaps she wasn’t being so fanciful after all.
Everyone at the table slowly fell silent as the conversation dwindled under their growing attractions to one another. They waited for something. What? Morgan had no intention of breaking the silence. One of them would have to do it.
Brandon eventually reached over and took her hand in his own. “I don’t know any other way to do this than just to say it.”
She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“We’d like to take you downstairs now, into our apartment.”
Ethan and Mark added their agreement with a lifting of their heads.
She eyed each of them. “We … and our. You live together?”
“Yes,” Ethan said.
“Are you … well …”
“We’re not lovers, if that’s what you’re going to ask,” Ethan said.
“We don’t bend that way. We like to share, though,” he said.
“You understand, don’t you?” Brandon asked, his expression more intent than ever.
“Maybe,” she answered.
“You want me to say it.”
“I do. Just to make things clear. No mistakes.”
Brandon nodded. “You’re right. Would you have said yes if I’d been clear when I asked you out?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t seem easily frightened. It’s what drew us to you,” Ethan said.
“I’m not. But three of you … it’s … different. I’m not sure.”
“But it’s clear, now, what we’d like from you, what we’d like with you?”
“I think so.”
“We’re not just talking tonight, Morgan,” Ethan said. “We want you, yes, but not just for tonight. We can wait longer if you want. Longer than we already have, if there’s hope.”
And there it was. The truth, at last, spoken aloud. They’d been wooing her from that corner booth for nearly three months and they were prepared to take even more time, if that was what she wanted.
Everything fell into place then. It was past time to recognize what she’d been hiding from herself all these weeks.
Part of her had known how it was, that these men were a package, a trio become one, and she had known it a long time. And of course, she’d understood that they all wanted her, each of them, separately, and in combination. Even Cecile had sensed it, in her own way.
How long had Morgan known, understood? She hadn’t admitted it to herself because it defied belief, went against expectation and standards of normality. Three friends, wanting one woman. Wanting to share.
Her heart pounded now. Yes, behind her confusion and doubt, she’d known deep down. And tonight when Mark and Ethan became part of her date with Brandon, she’d tried to find it strange, inappropriate. Instead, she’d found it arousing, exciting.
Brandon glided a fingertip over her palm. Ethan leaned over and touched her thigh. Under the table, Mark pressed the side of his foot against hers. It was sweet, and her heart skipped a beat.
“Say it,” she said, looking at Mark.
“We want you,” he said, his eyes sparkling under the party lights. “All three of us, together. If you’ll have us.”
Well, there it was then. No misunderstandings would be happening tonight.
Brandon shifted in his chair. “If it’s too much, all of us at once, we can try one at a time, if it would be better for you that way.”
“But it’s not how you’d prefer it,” she said.
“No,” Ethan said. “Not how we’d prefer it. But better that than nothing of you.”
Their desire for her and their willingness to compromise conspired to send a jolt through her core.
“You can take us however you want,” Mark said.
One. She stroked a fingertip across Brandon’s big knuckles.
Two. She laid her hand over Ethan’s.
Three. She nudged at Mark’s foot.
She moistened her dry lips, looked at her handsome suitors, filled her lungs with the fresh night air. She lost herself for the briefest of moments in the idea of what they offered. Lost herself in the way they wanted her, enough to try to change for her.
But change wasn’t necessary, not for Morgan.
She smiled, slow and sultry. “Let’s try it your way.”
ETHAN CARRIED HER TO the bedroom and tossed her on the gigantic bed. It was bigger than king-sized. Did beds come in triple emperor size?
Brandon kissed her first. He shucked his jacket and crawled onto the bed after her, and it wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a true scorcher from a man who’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. Exactly the kind of kiss Morgan hoped it would be.
He tasted of the wine they drank with dinner. She opened her mouth, and now he drank of her.
Large hands held her foot, tenderly removed her shoe. Then came a caress, skimming over her instep, sending an electric charge skittering up her leg and through her torso. Then her other foot. Her other shoe. Another charge. Another shiver.
Whose hands? She didn’t know.
She knew Brandon’s hands were far from idle. He played across the plane of her stomach, then brushed upward, cupping the undersides of her breasts. A second hand followed. But it wasn’t Brandon’s other hand. No, it couldn’t be. That hand was behind her head.
She opened her eyes to see, peeked around Brandon. It was Mark, his gaze fastened on the rise and fall of her chest, his fingertips stroking over the up-curve of her breast.
Brandon lifted up and Mark bent over her, claiming the lips Brandon had ceded. He tasted of wine, too, and faintly of cinnamon. Mark’s kiss was forceful, a surprising thing, really, considering how reserved he always was.
He pressed his tongue inside her mouth and groaned when she touched him with her own. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down closer, tighter. He squeezed her breast and made her moan.
She heard the rustle of clothing, the sound of shoes and belt buckles hitting the floor. Then Mark pulled away and she looked around.
He got off the bed and began stripping away his clothes. Morgan drew a deep breath when a very naked, very aroused Ethan crawled onto the bed, his brown eyes gleaming as he took her in, sprawled there before him, legs akimbo, dress rucked up.
He was a bronzed god, she thought. But then, so were Brandon and Mark. They looked amazing in clothes, but naked they were simply astounding. So big. So very, very big. She gulped, suddenly felt tiny.
Their cocks stood out from their bodies, stiff and proud, pointing to the ceiling. They were rock hard and ready, all three of them greedy for her attention. Her stomach turned over, a thud and thump of desire. Good God. Was she really up to this?
Ethan kissed her, briefly, then wasted no time in pushing her dress the rest of the way over her hips. She sat up so he could finish undressing her.
She hadn’t worn a bra, hadn’t needed one. A hush fell over the three men as they gazed at her bare breasts. Their hungry looks raised gooseflesh on her arms.
Ethan reached out and ran his finger over her nipple, which was already standing up, hard. “You’re more beautiful than I imagined.”
“Yes,” Mark said, his voice rough.
Brandon’s eyes were half-lidded. He nodded and made a deep, short grunt.
If she hadn’t already been wet, she would have been after that. She could feel the moisture building with her excitement.
“Panties,” Brandon said.
Ethan didn’t ask permission, not that he needed any. He stripped her lacy panties in one fell swoop, then he gently pushed her legs apart, spreading her for them all to see.
She watched Mark’s Adam’s apple rise and fall from a hard swallow. Another grunt came from Brandon.
Ethan’s hand glided up the inside of her thigh, then teased over her swollen, bare labia. Her only hair down below was a closely trimmed triangle above her mound.
“Perfect,” Ethan declared her.
It was, she thought, and she wasn’t referring to her physicality. She meant being here, like this, with these men on this night. They made her feel perfect, and it was wonderful to bask in their approbation, to savor the thrumming sense of anticipation between her legs, the beat of her heart, and the heat in her belly.
And then all restraint was gone. They fell on her, all three at once.
Brandon settled in near her head, returned to kissing her breathless, stroking and squeezing her breasts, his lips sometimes leaving hers to traverse her neck, sending shivers racing over her skin.
Ethan and Mark sometimes handled her breasts, but mostly they were interested in her other delights. They taunted and teased her, their fingertips stroking her labia, dipping into and out of her moist slit, tracing around the edge of her clit.
Having two men touch her in this most private of places nearly sent her over the edge before they hardly got started. They played with her as if she were a sexy toy, as if she had the most fascinating and arousing body parts ever displayed to a lusty male.
She didn’t know which one of them pushed a finger inside her first, but when a second finger entered her, she knew it didn’t come from the same man. She arched upwards, her small cry of pleasure captured inside Brandon’s mouth, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her breasts as she shoved up against him.
Then Ethan and Mark were moving inside her, and their free hands roamed over her body, her stomach and legs, her breasts, too. She squirmed under them, raised her hips, spread herself wider for them. One of her hands tangled in Brandon’s hair and the other one reached down to find another man’s hair. Ethan’s. Mark’s. She didn’t know which.
Brandon’s lips finally left her own and he kissed a path down to her breasts. He licked around her areola, sucked her nipple into his mouth.
Ethan and Mark didn’t stop with the fingers inside her. They picked up the speed of their movements and she gasped at how they entered and pulled at cross purposes to one another, driving her wild from the unfamiliar sensation.
Her hips bucked of their own will and when a hot mouth closed over her clitoris, she groaned the loudest yet, and knew she wouldn’t last long.
She looked down. It was Ethan’s tongue dancing on her, trailing lightly over her sensitive bud. She clenched, cried out.
Mark joined Brandon and came to claim her other breast, her other nipple. His teeth nipped at her, making her shiver. One of his hands remained down below, a finger still inside her, keeping Ethan’s finger company as they plunged inside her.
Ethan’s tongue laved her clit and labia until she bucked harder, the pressure of imminent release building inside her at an astounding rate. She’d explode. She knew it.
They were a formidable team, these three, and it seemed to her that they were intent on making her lose her mind. She came close, so close to going over the edge, that she believed herself there, falling over.
But no. It wasn’t to be. Ethan’s tongue stopped its divine torment, and their fingers left her, their mouths no longer sucked and their teeth no longer nibbled at her nipples.
She cried out in frustration, so close. So close. But not quite. Damn.
And then they began again. The slide of fingers, the kiss of lips, the slippery firm tongues. The sound of their breathing. The labored sound of her own.
Again. So close. The build up. The ball of fire roiling in her core, on the verge of exploding outward. But no. The men stopped. And it was another not quite. Another damn.
The fourth time they stopped her and started up again, she’d had enough. She raised her head and glared at her three tormentors.
“That’s it,” she said, her voice sounding crackly, strained. “Do that to me again, and so help me, I’ll kick every one of you off this bed and finish it by myself!”
They grinned at her. Ethan laughed out loud, the waves of his laughter sending a new thrill through her clit. She arched up against him and nearly purred.
“I like a greedy woman,” Brandon said.
“Mmm, me too,” Mark said.
“Doesn’t mean we have to give her everything she wants, though,” Brandon said.
“I mean it!” Morgan squeezed his solid shoulder. “I’ll do it myself.”
“Hmm. I’d kind of like to see that.” Ethan voice was muffled slightly by his task between her legs.
“Me too,” Brandon said.
“Mmm,” was all Mark managed, since he’d returned to sucking her breast.
Brandon grabbed her hand and pushed it down between them, down to where it rested next to Ethan’s head.
Ethan lifted away from her. “Touch yourself. Finish it.”
Damn. “No, you.”
“Uh-uh. Now I want to watch you do it. We all do,” Ethan said.
She missed his hot mouth on her, the flick of his tongue. A dreadful loss. But she did still have his finger inside her, and Mark’s.
They’d wait her out, and she knew she didn’t have the patience to compete. She touched herself. Mark and Brandon raised their heads from her breasts, looked down to the center of new interest—her fingers on her own clit.
“God, that’s sexy, hot,” Brandon said.
And he was right. Having their fingers pumping inside her, pinching her nipples and squeezing her plump breasts while they watched her rub her clit … well … it was crazy hot.
It didn’t seem possible that the ball of fire inside her could get bigger, but it did. And she circled her clit faster and faster, clamped down on the fingers inside her, arched upward into the hands caressing her breasts.
The fire built until it spread from her core outward, expanding into an inferno that raged through her body, through her torso, her limbs, even over the top of her head.
She shuddered under the onslaught of this mighty release, trembled, groaned and noisily cried out her pleasure.
FROM SOMEWHERE CAME THE sounds of her lovers exhaling, saying naughty things to her, compliments and comments. If she were unable to clearly hear them through the deafening sound of the blood roaring in her ears, her panting struggles to catch her breath, then that was okay.
The three men thought she was sexy, they wanted her, they would take her now. She knew what she needed to know.
And she vaguely recognized the sound of a condom package tearing. And she most certainly felt a hard cock slipping through her slick folds, pressing against her opening, her clit still throbbing in orgasmic aftershocks.
Her eyes flew open to see who was between her legs. Mark.
He held his cock in one hand and guided it into her slit, just barely inside her, then he settled down over her, brushed a finger across her lower lip.
Take Three, Please: The Complete Collection
If you’d like to read all of Morgan’s sexy adventure and the other two magical stories that start in Morgan’s bakery, purchase your copy of the complete series today!
The complete Ménage, Sexy and Short Romance series is approximately 200 print pages long and contains language and sexual situations that are suitable only for adults.