ROMANCE: THREESOME : Billionaire Brothers' Party (MFM Menage Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Threesome Short Stories) (59 page)

“Panther,” he said with a grin, and Cindy smiled in return, taking in his jet-black hair, lean, muscular body, and golden eyes.

“Makes sense,” she said with a sigh. Cillian sniffed the air. The smell of their mingled juices ignited a flood of adoration inside him; forgotten, now, was the woman who’d broken his heart. He was enslaved once more. Purring, he pulled Cindy from the desk, seating her on his lap. She let out a cry of surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck once more, for balance.

“Oh…my God…this is…” she said, and he watched her blue eyes shift from languorous delight to fear and worry. “What did we just do?”

She struggled to get away, but he clutched her tight, a growl in his throat.

“Please,” he said. “We’ll figure it out, I…”

“Am I gonna get pregnant?” she said, eyes going wide. “I…I can’t get…”

Cindy cursed herself for not being on birth control; but why would she have needed it? She never thought she was going to have sex again…and while the idea of being pregnant filled her with anxiety, Cillian’s heart quickened at the idea of her swollen and plump with his kits.

“I don’t know,” he said, voice husky. “It’s been awhile for me…I wouldn’t be surprised…”

“Let me go! I have to get that morning after pill, right now,” Cindy said, struggling once more. Cillian held tight around her waist with one arm, his free hand coming to cup her chin and pull her face towards his. When they locked eyes once more, she wilted.

“How is this happening,” she whispered, feeling herself get lost once more in the molten gold of his eyes. “What am I…oh, this feels so…”

“Cindy, please stay,” he said. “We can figure it all out. We can wait until you’re ready. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose another mate…”

“Another mate?” Cindy found herself strangely jealous, knowing he’d looking into someone else’s eyes this same way. She wanted him all to herself, his affections aimed at her alone. But the only way she’d be jealous would be if…

Well, if she considered Cillian hers, in the first place.

“It was a long time ago,” he said. “And now that I’ve claimed you, she is like…nothing to me. I was so afraid to act on this…to do what we both wanted, what we were meant to. But now…now I’m only afraid you’ll leave. Cindy, I’ll do anything for you. You’re mine, and I’ll give up anything to keep you. Anything.”

Cindy bit her lip.

“We don’t even really
know
each other…” she said, feeling her heart tugging her towards him, feeling that, yes, this
was
what they were meant to do…why else would she have been so numb for so long?
Because you were waiting for him,
she realized.

“If you find you don’t like me, I’ll change. Anything you need,” he said, and his eyes told her his words fell short of his meaning. She felt her heart jump. She remembered what she’d read of the feline shifters.
Fiercely protective. Desire to please. Claiming.

“I want to make you come every day, for the rest of our lives. I want to tend your every need, fulfill your every fantasy,” he growled, pulling her closer. “Fill you up every night, plant my seed deep inside you…”

Cindy swooned. She’d never imagined herself as a mother, but there was no denying his words were making it sound appealing…or, at least, the
road
to motherhood sounded appealing…

“But…I wanted a career…” she muttered, already feeling her resistance crumble as his scent filled her nostrils.

“I’ll make it happen,” he growled. “All your dreams. Every last one. Cindy, stay, and see what your life can be if you make yourself mine...”

His lips closed over hers, gentle but firm, making her melt all over again in his arms. The kiss dragged her back, back to that dark and secret jungle, where pleasures unimaginable lurked in the shadows, watching her, waiting for her to accept, to step into the paradise he promised…and, in that manner, her mind was made up.

THE END

UNBEARABLE DESIRE

Billionaire Stepbrother Romance

Home equaled haven for Callie Bradford; especially when compared to the temporary digs that had served as her residence for the past four years.

Oh, not that dorm life at Dorchester Women’s College was all that bad; if one indeed could classify sharing close living quarters with one roommate who suffered from a chronic snoring problem and another who suffered from an equally chronic case of Multiple Personality Disorder (ah, but only one of the personae snored—that was one bonus, at least) as ‘not all that bad.’

Still it felt far better to lay nestled beneath a homemade patchwork quilt in a four poster bed; one sheltered by the same Wonder Woman canopy that had overseen her dreams throughout her childhood.

Opening her eyes wide as she settled herself in these whisper soft sheets, Callie stared up at the walls still adorned with posters depicting female lock legends such as Joan Jett, Lita Ford, Janis Joplin and Suzi Quatro; and at the pristine white shag carpeting now cluttered with all of the dirty laundry she’d brought with her from campus—along with a mahogany cased 5 string guitar that—or so she hoped—formed the corner stone of her future.

Currently pursuing a master’s degree in music education, Callie nonetheless fervently hoped that she never would have to spend one day at the head of the classroom. For although she did consider teaching to be a noble profession, she would far prefer to be singing and playing her guitar before a crowd of most appreciative folks at a night club. Or a performing arts hall. Or, what the heck, a stadium. Hey, a gal could dream.

As she now regarded the fine-tuned guitar that had carried her through dorm room rehearsals, the occasional slumber party, and random shows at the student union hall and at Benny’s Bar and Grill just off campus, she thought back to the first time she played the instrument; a 17
th
birthday present from her parents, Tom and Jama Bradford.

She’d performed an acoustic rendition of Joplin’s “Piece of My Heart” for her senior recital; and as she saw the proud, beaming faces of her parents staring up at her on stage, she felt her heart swell with a certain pride - a feeling that meant more to her than that which she would experience if a million dollar record contract dropped magically out of the sky and into her jean clad lap.

“OK, well maybe we needn’t go quite that far,” she mused, still warming at the thought of the parents who had pretty much been there for every one of her major life milestones.

Except, of course, for those that had occurred within the past two years; the time that had elapsed since the untimely and tragic death of her beloved father; a man taken at age 56, after a sudden heart attack.

Her father had been there only in spirit for her 21st and 22
nd
birthdays and for the day that she had earned her bachelor’s degree in music theory and education. And now she looked forward to a summer where the sun would shine just a little less brightly, where typical summertime activities would be a little less fun, without her smiling, kind hearted daddy to share them with her.

Still she was determined to make sure that her mom Jama, a once vital woman who’d been unusually quiet and moody since the death of her husband, got her smile back this summer; and as she hopped up from her bed and ran a comb through her shoulder length shock of brilliant red hair, she prepared to present the special surprise that she’d had planned for months—the surprise that she hoped would brighten the life of the woman who—in the wake of her husband’s passing—had spent most of her time working the days away at a standard office job.

“I can’t wait until I hit it big as a musician, so I can retire her from that place,” she mused, adding as she slipped on a casual gem green jump suit that flattered her curvaceous form. “I can’t believe that such a kind, tolerant woman has to work in such close quarters with an obnoxious rich guy who himself should have been an opera singer—the way that he is always saying, ‘Me, me, me, me, me!’”

She laughed quietly to herself as she cleared the threshold that led her to a carpeted stairway; one that accessed the first floor of the clean but modest suburban home that her mother now occupied alone.

Soon she stood before a breakfast table adorned with a crisp white linen tablecloth; one topped with a pile of buttermilk pancakes drenched in hot, thick maple syrup.

The woman who prepared her favorite breakfast for her this morning, a petite raven haired beauty dressed today in a figure flattering denim dress, sat at the head of the table; greeting her daughter with a brilliant white toothed smile and a cherry “Good mornin’, Darlin’.”

Soon the two feasted happily on their sumptuous breakfast feast; chatting between chomps about their plans for the summer.

“I realize, Sweetheart, that the past couple of years have been so difficult for both of us,” Jama told her, reaching forward to wipe just a trace of sweet syrup from the corner of her daughter’s smiling mouth. “Something tells me, though, that this summer will be different.”

Callie nodded.

“Well I must tell you, Ma’am, your instincts are quite correct,” she assured her, adding as she dug deep in the pocket of her jump suit, “You and I have some big plans for this summer—you just don’t know it.”

With these she produced two oversized tickets; both imprinted with likenesses of cruise ships at sail on rolling azure waves.

“Next month, Mama,” she announced, tossing the tickets on a corner of her mother’s breakfast plate, “you and I are sailing off for a week in Acapulco!”

Jama froze.

“You booked us on a cruise next month?” she muttered, staring with wide eyes at the azure tickets freshly deposited on her pancake plate. “Seriously, dear?”

Callie frowned.

“Now Mom, don’t get too loud and excitable in your enthusiasm over these tickets—which, incidentally, cost me two weeks’ salary at the Grounds Level Coffee House,” she told her mother, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “With all of this noise you’re making right now, the neighbors are bound to call the cops.”

Jama shook her head.

“Oh honey, you don’t know how much it means to me that you bought these tickets,” she told her, adding through gritted teeth, “Unfortunately, though, I simply can’t go on the trip.”

Callie sighed.

“Look, Ma, I know that your boss will probably give you a tough time about taking off for a weeklong vacation,” she acknowledged, adding as she pointed an authoritative finger in her mother’s direction, “but you just remind that arrogant jerk that you have slaved away in his office for two years now, and that you deserve a break—if not an official declaration of sainthood for putting up with his crap!”

Jama looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.

“Well actually, dear, Harry agrees that I deserve a break, and—as it turns out—he wants to take one with me,” she revealed, adding as she lowered her gaze to her plate, “He and I are going off on vacation together—to Las Vegas, as a matter of fact.”

Her gaze flew upward, and her mouth fell agape, as an enraged Callie brought her fist down hard on the table beneath them.

“Oh no he didn’t,” she growled out, shamelessly plagiarizing her roommate’s favorite expression—well, the one favored by her second alternate personality, anyway. “Look Mom, I know all too well that you need this job. But you should not have to sleep with your boss to keep it. So you tell him to take this little trip he’s planned and stick it up his….”

Jama had heard enough.

“Well for your information, Callie, I planned the trip,” she revealed, adding as she looked her daughter straight in the eyes, “I always wanted the opportunity to plan my honeymoon. And now, it seems, I’ve gotten the chance.”

An uneasy silence followed these words; one Callie broke with the use of her other roommate’s favorite phrase.

“WTF?” she bellowed, adding as she shook her head from side to side, “Mother, are you telling me that you plan to marry the man you once referred to as the Son of Satan and that’s on His Good Days?” she paused here, adding in a softer, reflective tone, “I mean, admittedly, I do know of women who have similar nicknames for men that they’re currently married to—but Mom, you know better! And you can do better; you were once married to one of the greatest men—someone who was kind, charitable, and down to earth. How could you trade Dad’s memory for a man who isn’t even half his worth?”

Jama sighed.

“Callie, I love your father more than I can say—and I always will. He was my first love, and I can say for certain that no one will ever take his place in my heart,” she declared, adding as she grasped Callie’s hands across the table, “But he’s not here anymore, Sweetheart. And, as the months go by, I find that I feel the need for companionship.”

Callie rolled her eyes.

“Then get a freakin’ poodle,” she scoffed, adding as she slipped her hands away from her mother’s grasp, “At least a poodle would be cute, and wouldn’t keep you over time every night—as an added bonus, he wouldn’t spend excessive amounts of time boasting about his Swiss bank accounts, his foreign corporate takeovers, and his superior Bocce game score.”

Grinning in spite of herself, Jama shrugged and said, “Well as it happens, Hon, Harry just happens to be very cute—and, unlike the typical poodle, he has his facial hair under control. And for a widow who has been struggling to get by on a secretary’s pay, a man of his stature and success holds a great deal of appeal.” She paused here, adding in a softer tone, “And I must admit, Callie, that, as I’ve continued to work with and get to know Harry, I’ve come to know a whole other side of him. He’s actually a very nice man; one who also happens to be a devoted family man.”

Callie gaped.

“A devoted family man?” she echoed, adding as she buried her head in her hands, “Shoot me now. My dear, sweet ma is seeing a married man!”

Smiling and ever patient, Jama peeled Callie’s hands away from her face and looked her straight in the eyes.

“Harry is not married—not yet, anyway,” she informed her, adding with an uneasy shrug, “And as it turns out, you will get the opportunity to meet both him and his son at brunch today.”

Callie had heard enough.

“Since when do we have brunch?” she groaned outright. “And since when does Harry Sanders have a son?”