Triple Treat: Back for Seconds (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)
Triple Treat: Back for Seconds
Morgan McLean, Glenn Hilton, and Xonra Gibson want to move in together, but everything is too complicated and the joy is fading from their relationship. How can they sort out their lives and bring back their original happiness in just being together? They sit down together and try to think logically through everything. Finally, Morgan decides they can make it work by moving into Xonra’s apartment, as long as they have the kitchen renovated. Except that the mess and dirt and noise of the renovations becomes another huge hassle to live with. And that’s before Morgan runs down the hallway to join Xonra and Glenn in bed. He jumps on the bed and smashes it. Will they ever be able to reclaim the fun and happiness in their lives? Will they even be able to make their relationship work? Or is it just all too hard?
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 20,429 words
TRIPLE TREAT: BACK FOR SECONDS
Berengaria Brown
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
TRIPLE TREAT: BACK FOR SECONDS
Copyright © 2015 by Berengaria Brown
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-708-4
First E-book Publication: January 2015
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
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DEDICATION
For Xonra and Lilian. R.I.P. my friends.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About the Author
TRIPLE TREAT: BACK FOR SECONDS
BERENGARIA BROWN
Copyright © 2015
Chapter One
“Fucking hell. Why isn’t life ever simple?”
Xonra Gibson tapped her bright green nails against her desk, leaning back in her ergonomic office chair and sighing deeply.
Moving in with Glenn Hilton and Morgan McLean had seemed like the simplest thing in the world to agree to when the men had begged Xonra to join them. At the time her brain was still reeling from a world-class orgasm and in the euphoria of thinking about being with them all the time, it had seemed like the best idea ever.
But the contract on her apartment still had five months to run, and the fee to break it wasn’t going to be cheap. Also her apartment was only a block from the train station and in winter, when all the streets weren’t plowed and there were far too many idiots who didn’t drive safely in ice and snow, traveling by train was a damn good idea.
On the other hand her kitchen was just an alcove. Cooking for Xonra was mostly microwaving soups and eating salads, yogurt, and fruit. Both men ate a lot more than she did, which was totally unfair as she was the one fighting a flabby stomach, whereas despite the mountains of food they ate they were both toned and taut. As well, Morgan enjoyed cooking and had a really nice oven.
At first she’d thought they could just buy an oven and get it installed in her kitchen. But there wasn’t room. So now she was stuck between moving out of her apartment and into theirs, or figuring out a way to completely renovate her kitchen. Which would cost a hell of a lot more than terminating her contact early.
Fucking hell. She wanted to be with them. She really, really did. They were her best friends as well as magnificent lovers. But life kept getting in the way of her happiness.
And that was without even thinking about the ongoing legal case against Jeremiah J. Curlin. The portly middle-aged man had been one of the most important clients at HR Resources Ltd., where Xonra was Vice President of Advertising. He owned Berisford Village, a historic tourist settlement. That was, until it was revealed that the village was a front for slave labor, child labor, underage marriages, financial fraud, and so many other questionable or downright illegal practices that even Mr. Curlin’s millions couldn’t keep him out of jail.
Especially when it turned out that among the underage marriages was his own second—bigamous—marriage to a sixteen-year-old girl with whom he’d had two children. His first, and only legal wife, hadn’t been at all happy about that. Neither had his attorney, who happened to be the brother of his legal wife. Since his attorney brother-in-law had been very well aware of where Jeremiah’s assets were hidden, he’d made sure everything possible went to his sister, not to Jeremiah. The portly fraudster was now languishing in jail as his assets were frozen, prohibiting him from putting up the exorbitant amount of bail he needed. Besides, the police and a multitude of other authorities had convinced the judge that he was a flight risk.
And rightly so, in Xonra’s eyes. She’d never liked Jeremiah J. Curlin, who paid his staff minimum wage, yet expected them to work extra hard for no reward. She’d also hated that he wouldn’t employ any woman over the age of thirty. Now, of course, she knew about his taste for young women, which explained his earli
er request. And that only made her dislike him even more.
However, all this drama and hassle was just making extra work for her and her team. What she really wanted was a couple of days free from worry to relax with her men. And maybe work out what they were going to do about their living arrangements. Right now all three of them had their possessions scattered between her apartment and the men’s home, which always seemed to mean that whatever she wanted was at the other venue. Fortunately, she always kept her nail polish in her purse.
Xonra grabbed her purse from under her desk and touched up the “Frog Prince Green” varnish which had chipped on a couple of her right fingernails. Always the right hand chipped first, likely because she was right handed. But damn, that was a nuisance.
Tonight. I need to talk to Glenn and Morgan tonight. We have to make some kind of decision about where we’re going to live. I hate being in limbo like this.
* * * *
CityPlan was a large corporation which rented most of an office building in the heart of town. Glenn worked in the Planning Department and his office was on the sixteenth floor. Morgan’s workspace was on the twenty-second floor in the huge, brightly lit open-plan space that was Design.
Right now Morgan was running his hands through his dirty-blond hair, his pale blue eyes focused on the drawing on his computer. Once again, he flipped the screen, showing the design from every side. And once again, he shook his head. There was no way in hell a stove large enough to hold the six hot plates he wanted would fit in Xonra’s pathetic excuse for a kitchen.
Well, fuck. That wasn’t the answer he’d needed to find. Never before had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted Xonra. For years now Glenn had been the anchor in his world. They were partners, two sides of the same coin, two minds that thought so alike it was spooky at times. Yet they both had always required a woman now and then. Nothing could or ever would separate them, but for them both to be fully realized, truly complete, they needed a woman.
Sooner or later they usually located a woman willing to try a ménage, a woman they were both attracted to. But until Xonra, he’d never had this all consuming need to make a woman an equal part of his life with Glenn.
He’d been ecstatic when he and Glenn had convinced Xonra she belonged with them. That should have been the end of the story. They were a united threesome forever. Living happily ever after, as the children’s books said.
But it hadn’t happened. Nothing had changed their need and desire for each other. That was still intact. But getting them together in a place where they could enjoy their happy ever after was proving so difficult he was ready to grab Xonra and Glenn and run away to a desert island where the three of them could be alone and sheltered from the stresses of everyday life.
Except likely there weren’t the kind of amenities he was fond of on such in such a place. Simple things like running water, electricity, the Internet. Yeah. Staying here with jobs to support them was likely a better decision. But right now it was all too fucking hard to deal with.
Morgan stared at the screen for a while longer and then brought up the floor plan of Xonra’s apartment. It was a very basic design. A spacious bedroom with en suite bathroom, which opened off a short hallway. A small second bedroom, or office, or home gym, and the main living room, a dining area, and then the kitchen.
It was almost exactly the same arrangement as his own apartment, except their kitchen was the full width of the room, not tucked into a corner of it like Xonra’s.
Morgan looked harder at the plan. Xonra’s living room was more than big enough for three people. Instead of having her dining table beside the kitchen against the windows, there was more than enough room to have it between the kitchen and the living room, where it was in his apartment. Then the kitchen could be extended width ways across the apartment. That would give him a much longer counter as well. Likely there’d be room for a washer and dryer under the counter as well, which would be a huge bonus for all three of them.
His fingers flashed over the keys, extending the line of the counter, adding more shelves, making a space for a mini laundry under the counter, and most importantly, adding in his beautiful cooking appliances.
In less than half an hour, he’d redrawn the plan, and everything fit perfectly. It would cost a bit of money to build, but they’d only be paying rent on one apartment not two, so that would be a saving. And being able to do their own laundry would be a huge improvement. It seemed to him he spent an entire night every week washing, drying, and folding laundry. With this new kitchen, he could do it in the privacy of his own apartment and never need to worry about arriving back late and finding someone else had dumped his clean shirts on the floor.
That’d only happened once but he’d been pretty much ready to kill whoever had done it. He’d learned his lesson though. He paid much closer attention to the length of time he was away from his laundry these days. But that was all beside the point. The point was, could he convince Xonra and Glenn that this was the best way forward? It would cost money and there’d be inconvenience. One of them might even have to take some vacation time while the work was being done. Although maybe the boss would let him work from home if someone only had to be onsite for a few days.
“Hey, Morgan. How’s that project coming on? You almost done yet?”
Fuck!
“Ah yes, sir. I’ve just had a major breakthrough on it. I should have it to you today.”
“Good work.”
Fucking hell. Hastily, Morgan e-mailed the apartment designs to himself and then concentrated on his work. Thank God the boss hadn’t actually looked at his screen. There was no way Xonra’s kitchen looked like the golf course he was supposed to be working on.
* * * *
Glenn was glad he had his own office, because he sure as hell hadn’t done any work so far today. Normally he read his e-mails while he sipped coffee once he arrived at work. He found he needed a few minutes of peace and introspection before plunging into the day’s tasks. But today, his e-mails had been all run-of-the-mill things that didn’t require much thought and he’d made the mistake of checking the news websites to find out what was happening in the court case against Jeremiah J. Curlin.
That man turned his stomach. He knew plenty of older man wanted young brides. But those younger brides were usually starlets or celebrities who knew exactly what they were doing when they became the third or fourth wife of a man old enough to be their grandfather. Curlin had browbeaten and brainwashed underage girls to marry much older men. But even worse than that, most of these men were still legally married to their first wives. Likely because the weddings to the girls would never have been approved of as legal anyway.
Fortunately, Curlin’s chances of being allowed out of jail were still small. All his money couldn’t help him now. Cheating on his wife had been a major mistake. Instead of being his greatest supporter, she was now in the process of becoming his ex-wife and his bitter enemy. Her brother the attorney had tied up every cent as tightly as possible to save it for her.
Glenn felt like cheering when he read that. But the facts were this case was a complicated mess. There were so many different charges and aspects to it, the ramifications were going to be around for years. At least the older women who’d been taken away from their husbands had been given the freedom to choose whether or not to be reunited with them. And all the money they were owed in unpaid salaries was being restored to them, which meant the women would have the means to move on and away if that’s what they chose.
In a way, he wasn’t sorry he, Morgan, and Xonra had spent that weekend at Berisford Village. Looking back now he could see some red flags as to the way the people lived, and he knew he’d always remember that and be more alert in the future. Not that he ever expected to encounter, even second-hand, such a horrible misuse of power by a wealthy man.
But now his eyes had been opened, and that was a good thing. It’d be an even better thing if it hadn’t impacted Xonra so hard. But he and Morgan would alw
ays cherish and protect her. Xonra, their beautiful, wonderful, enchanting woman. He couldn’t wait for them to be living together properly, instead of this moving from place to place situation they were in now—some nights at his and Morgan’s apartment, sometimes at hers. They needed to sit down, rationalize their possessions, get rid of stuff they didn’t need, and officially move in together.
“We can talk about it this weekend. It’s time.”
Chapter Two
“Sorry I’m late. Work was insanely busy today,” said Xonra as she closed the door to Glenn and Morgan’s apartment behind her. She slid her feet out of her stilettos, stretching her toes and dragging them through the soft rug, luxuriating in the relaxing sensation after her hectic day. She checked the door was locked, and dumped her purse on the small table in the hallway, which already held Morgan’s laptop and two sets of keys.
“There’s no rush. Morgan just put a pot roast in the oven. It’ll be another half hour at least. How do you feel about a quickie while we wait?” asked Glenn, appearing from the hallway and tugging her gently into his arms.
Nothing like that had crossed her mind. Xonra had expected to eat and then talk about deciding where to move together, and what to do about their living arrangements. But the moment she looked into Glenn’s liquid chocolate eyes, her nipples tightened, her breasts felt heavy and achy, and her cunt cream dampened her panties.