ROMANCE: THREESOME : Billionaire Brothers' Party (MFM Menage Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Threesome Short Stories) (99 page)

Chapter Two

Julie had met Jeff in high school, where they’d been sweethearts for two years. She’d been completely, head-over-heels gaga in love with him. And then he’d cheated. And she’d still been completely, head-over-heels, gaga in love with him. Enough so to forgive him and accept his proposal, which doubled as his promise to never even look at another woman again.

She picked up their wedding photo that still stood, framed, next to the bed they shared – a bed they shared out of habit more than anything else. They hadn’t made love in over a year and a half. Julie had put a quick end to that when it became obvious where Jeff was spending his nights. She didn’t know whether he was sleeping with the strippers he spent all his spare money on or not, but it didn’t matter. The fact that he chose to give his free time to those women instead of her was bad enough.

Now, as she sat on the bed, listening to his muffled phone conversation through the door, she picked up the photo and stroked the glass. She had been so young. Her blue eyes in the photo glistening with happy tears, her full, red lips spread in a dazzling smile, her black hair done up in elegant ringlets.

The dress had been her mother’s. She’d lost both her parents to a car crash when she was in the seventh grade, something that had crushed her entirely at the time but which, she thought, made her stronger in the end. Her grandparents, who were kind and loving, but generally too old to give her any real guidance about dating or marriage in the modern world, had raised her.

The wedding dress had needed to be altered; her wide hips and C-cup breasts nearly busted the small dress at the seams when she’d first tried it on. But they hadn’t had money to buy a new dress, and she rather liked feeling the connection to her mother, anyway.

Now, at 21, Julie knew she was still young, and looked it. But she felt old. She felt old and used up and utterly duped by reality. Marriage had been nothing like she wanted it to be. Love had been a bust. And now, things were only going to get worse.

What would these bad boy bikers have her do? Dance at one of their clubs? She didn’t like the idea, but she’d do it, if it got Jeff out of her life with his body in one piece. At the end of the day, she felt like she was doing it more for her teenage self, who would have done anything for him. This was the last thing she’d ever do for him. And as long as the guys didn’t try anything funny, she could do it with her head raised high.

She put the photo frame down as Jeff entered the room, clicking off the phone as he approached her.

“Well?” she asked. She’d made him call to find out what, exactly, the terms of the agreement would be. She wanted to know how long it would go on, and what they would have her do.

“They want you to be their maid,” he said with a sheepish smile. “For six months, though they said you could stay longer if you wanted.”

Julie scoffed at that, but felt some relief that she wouldn’t be forced to strip for strangers.

“It’s not really so bad, is it, baby?” Jeff said, sitting beside her and trying to take her hand in his. She yanked it away quickly, as though his touch was an acid burn. It might as well have been.

“Fuck you,” she spit, rising. “I’m going to take a bath.”

“Okay, but I want you to…”

She shut the door in the middle of his sentence, giving approximately no shits about what Jeff wanted her to do. She ran the water as hot as she could stand, adding a healthy dollop of bubble bath. If ever there was a time she needed to take a relaxing bubble bath, it was then.

Their maid, she thought, somewhat baffled. It must not have been too much of a debt if they were willing to trade it for maid service…they have plenty of money. Surely they can hire a girl to come and wash their dirty underwear.

It was true; the Cold Hearts were rich as could be. It was no wonder, too; they were the sole providers of marijuana for the entire county. They had the police on their payroll. Besides that, they owned two strip clubs, ran high-stakes poker games, and probably had their fingers in a dozen other money making schemes.

That was how Jeff got in with them in the first place. He had some fool dream of being invited to join the club. Stupid bastard couldn’t even afford a bike and he thought that if he threw enough money at their dancers and bet enough at their poker games, they’d be begging him to join up.

She lowered herself further into the fragrant bubbles, letting them cover her lips as she closed her eyes. She lowered herself even further, until her nose was submerged. And she stayed there as long as she could, until her heart leapt with desperation for her to breath.

Gasping, she surfaced, and felt the familiar rush of oxygen to her deprived lungs. It made her feel alive, and in control. She hadn’t felt either way in quite some time. And she reckoned she wouldn’t feel much of either until her six months of servitude had ended.

Fucking moron, she thought, but she wasn’t sure, in that moment, whether she was thinking about Jeff…or herself.

Chapter Three

Julie’s sister eyed her choice of outfit. After Jeff had moved out, the day after they’d struck their little deal, her sister had moved in.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Kit asked, and Julie looked down at her old, raggedy sweatshirt and stained jeans.

“Uh, yeah, sis,” she said. “I’m going to clean their headquarters. I don’t exactly need to be looking my best.”

“Maybe not your best,” Kit scoffed. “But looking like something other than a total mess wouldn’t be so awful.”

“I’m settling a debt, not looking for a new husband,” Julie said, tying her hair up and throwing her wallet in her purse. “Do you think they’ll have cleaning supplies themselves or…”

“You don’t have to find a new husband,” Kit said. “But you haven’t gotten laid in like a million years, and those guys are hot and rich.”

“Yeah, they’re also assholes who’ll accept a human being as payment,” Julie shot back, settling the purse on her shoulder and grabbing her keys from the bowl next to the door. “Listen, I’m still a little nervous. If I’m not back before dark…”

“Call the cops, I know,” Kit said, turning back to the magazine she’d been reading on the couch. “You got your mace and your gun, right?”

“Right,” Julie said, willing the butterflies in her stomach to settle. She didn’t really know what she was going to be walking into. The Cold Hearts were no good. She had no doubt that they could say they just wanted her to clean up after them, then turn around and expect her to perform unspeakable acts.

Even as she thought about what some of those acts might be, she felt herself getting a little too lost in the fantasy. It had been a long time, and she was an able-bodied, hot-blooded 21-year-old woman. Her fingers had been fine for a long time, but she couldn’t lie: she missed having a real man between her legs. And while she had no intention of being some little sex toy for a gang of smelly criminals, the idea of being seduced – or even forced – by some burly, bearded biker wasn’t wholly unwelcome.

But she shook it off as she left her house, locking the door behind her. She knew where the headquarters was, having been there once before to pick up her brother when she was still in high school and he was going through some sort of whacked out initiation. It had never come to fruition, of course. It had ended much bloodier than a blood oath.

Still, it had been awhile since she’d seen the palatial estate, and she craned her neck as she pulled up to the wraparound driveway, taking it all in. It was amazing that a biker club could occupy such luscious digs, but they were loaded. They fairly ran the little New Mexico town that Julie called home. With a final flutter of the swarm in her stomach and a deep breath, she left her car and walked up to the wide front doors, ringing the bell and hoping that no one was home.

No such luck.

The man who answered the door looked like he’d had a long night the night before. But he also looked – holy shit – handsome as any Calvin Klein model, albeit a little less manicured. His chin was covered in a thick black scruff, his eyes were brilliant green (through a noticeable red film), and he had close-cropped black hair. Add to it a physique that belonged on Olympus and intricate, brightly colored tattoos that ran down his massive biceps and roped forearms, and he looked every inch the biker of a girl’s dreams.

“Who’re you?” he growled, his voice all gravel and force.

“Julie,” she said, aware of the breathless tone in her voice. “I’m, um…your new maid. Here to settle my husb – erm, ex-husbands debt.”

The man eyed her up and down, then sighed, rolling his head back and calling out into the cavernous hallway.

“Tor! Cleaning lady’s here! And you should see what she chose to wear…”

As he looked back at her, throwing the door open, she hesitated. Only when he gestured, with a fair amount of annoyance, did she step past him into the house.

“Really, woman, what is this shit?” The man asked, picking at the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt. She pulled away defensively.

“I’m here to clean shit,” she said. “What did you expect me to wear? A little black dress?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the man said, suddenly smirking. “We have an outfit for you.”

Julie felt her heart sink. She could only imagine…

Just then, a second man turned the corner. He shared his friend’s propensity for tattoos, but little else. His bright blue eyes danced with amusement as they washed over her, his long blonde hair shagging across his forehead, his dimpled chin shaved and smooth. His tight-fitting black t-shirt showed off what was obviously a very well-defined body, and Julie felt herself responding to the hotness that was surrounding her on all sides, her mouth going dry.

“Ha,” the blonde, Tor, laughed. “I see what you mean, Nox. Well, that’s what we got the outfit for anyway, right?”

Nox shrugged at his companion.

“What outfit?” Julie asked, fidgeting now. “And I should have asked, well…I didn’t bring any cleaning supplies with me or anything…”

“We got all the Ajax and bleach you could ever want, babe,” Tor interrupted, coming forward his with hand extended. She stared at it like it was covered in ants.

“C’mon,” he said, smirking. “I don’t bite. Often.”

She met his joke with a sneer, but shook his hand all the same, feeling an unwelcome jolt of pure desire flush down her spine.

“Great,” Nox said. “Now that we’re all buddy-buddy, let’s go.”

He started walking down the hall and Julie watched after him but didn’t move, still too overwhelmed to do much of anything but try to process. Tor raised his eyebrows; that smirk still plastered on his face.

“Go where?” she finally stuttered, and Nox turned, clearly frustrated.

“To get you set up,” he said. “C’mon. Jesus Christ…”

With a bit of bounce to her step, Julie followed him. Along the way, she peered into the rooms that jutted off the hall. Groaning, she realized that these guys were, in fact, very much in need of a maid. Empty pizza boxes, crushed beer cans, strange stains and cigarette ashes seemed to litter every inch of every surface. It was like a damn frat house.

“How many people live here?” she asked, hustling to keep up with Nox’s fast pace.

“Only Tor and I live here,” he called out. “But everyone uses it for, you know, whatever the fuck we want. Tor’s the big man, I’m his number two.”

“Oh,” Julie said, her fear subsiding as she began to realize she was actually going to have to work her butt off trying to keep the place tidy. With only two days a week that she had to be there, and a growing suspicion that the whole mansion was in equal disarray, she didn’t think she’d be able to make a dent in the mess. But that wasn’t really her problem, was it?

“Alright,” Nox said, opening a closet at the end of the hall. There were, in fact, plenty of cleaning supplies stocked up inside. “Here’s the stash.”

“Why don’t you guys just hire a maid?” Julie asked, stepping forward to take inventory of the supplies.

“This is more fun,” Nox said, stepping into the closet and bringing down a box that held what looked to be some black silk. Pushing it towards her, he gave her the first hint of a smile he’d given her since opening the door.

“And this is your uniform,” he said. Julie looked down. Bright red colored her cheeks as she realized what she was holding. She looked back up, her mouth open and ready to argue.

“What?” Nox growled, and Julie swallowed hard.

“You can’t honestly expect me to…”

When he stepped toward her, she shrank. His green eyes bored into hers, and she could smell last night’s party on him, but underneath that was something masculine and earthy.

“Last I checked, we’re doing you a damn favor, letting your husband off the hook,” he growled.

“Ex-husband,” she squeaked out, still unable to draw her eyes away from him, caught in his animalistic stare. To her great shock and shame, his closeness was having a very obvious effect on her body. Namely, her nipples, which were hardening beneath her ratty sweatshirt.

“Whatever,” he said. “We’re not gonna fuckin’ hurt you. Just put the damn uniform on, and you can go about your merry business.”

Julie knew she didn’t have much of a leg to stand on in the argument, so she just sighed and nodded, drawing another smile across Nox’s lips.

“Good,” he said, and as though he could see the affect he was having on her, he stepped forward again. “Like I said, we won’t lay a finger on you…until you want us to.”

Until? Julie thought, appalled at his arrogance. But there was no denying it; he was dead sexy, and for a woman who hadn’t had any real release in over a year, she was prime for the taking.

But not like this, Jules, she told herself. Not like this.