ROMANCE: Party of Three: A Lustful Collection of Menage Romance (Menage Romance, Bisexual Romance, Stepbrother Romance) by Brittanee Farrow
Authors: Brittanee Farrow
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gun,” Jack retorted easily, a challenge in his voice.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. Men . Brothers. They both stopped abruptly when my hands ran down each of their thighs. They both looked down at me, suddenly very interested in what I had planned. I only smirked up at the both of them before forcing my legs apart and dragging my hands back to my own pussy, slowly teasing myself.
“You raise a valid point,” Sam murmured, and soon both men had a leg hooked around their elbows and two fingers each inside of me, and for my part I could only cry out, my hands gripping painfully tight at their necks as they stretched me opened and teased at my clit with their thumbs.
“How long did you say you were gonna be here for?” Jack asked, his voice a little muffled as he sucked a mark into my neck.
“Hnng,” was my answer as Sam wrapped his lips around my nipple and bit down.
“Mmm, that’s okay. I’ll ask later,” he hummed into my skin, and I cried out when he pushed down on my clit the same time Sam curled his fingers and hit my sweet spot head on.
Three weeks. Well, two and a half. Two and a half weeks of this .
I wondered if they were available on work weekends too?
Secrets of Salem:
Sins of the Witch
By Brittanee Farrow
Bonus! CLICK HERE to get instant access to my Insider’s List! Receive Updates whenever a fresh new title hits the shelves!
Sins of the Flesh
“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,” the Reverend intoned. “The Bible commands we root out this evil, and act with absolute force to eliminate the servants of Satan. Witness the harm worked on the youth of our community. Biting and pinching by invisible agents, thrashing about in fits, rending their clothes—we are under attack for the very fate of our souls.”
The heat of panic reverberates among the congregation—women become pale, men look angry and impassioned.
Reverend Parris continues shaming the congregation. “We are born into sin, working at every moment to overcome our base nature. It is our sacred duty to root out the devil where we find him, even amongst our families and ourselves.”
Even while he rants about the fate of our souls, I find my attention divided. By now most women my age are married, keeping house and bearing children, but my family’s past hinders any such contract. My father divorced my mother, citing adultery. In truth, he wanted to be with another woman, but my mother was still found guilty, and so my father was free to marry a new wife while my mother was whipped.
He left me behind, arguing there was no way to know if I was truly his daughter, so I have little to offer a husband. Coupled with my living situation, I am unequivocally undesirable. In all honesty, I do not so much yearn for marriage. It ruined my mother, for no reason other than a man’s boredom. It might be a change to the monotony, but I am more curious about the physical aspects of marriage.
Marriage holds little value for me, but men…men are another story. I can feel myself grow hot beneath the layers I wear, achy at the sight of him: Zachary Grove. From here I can see the broad outline of his strong shoulders, and I picture them without clothes. In town, I have seen how strong and muscled his forearms are and how large his hands are. His golden hair falls in a soft wave, and I long to run my fingers through it, knotting the tendrils around my fingers as I pull his lips to mine.
It makes me want to jump out of my skin—the desire to be subdued by him occupying every spare moment. But I am invisible to him. So I watch from a distance, burning with the need to be filled.
After church, I walk with my mother and our maid, looking upon the others as they pass. The women bow their heads, feigning submission and piety, but they are only bored. Men pass with puffed out chests, standing tall
I sighed and rolled my eyes. Men . Brothers. They both stopped abruptly when my hands ran down each of their thighs. They both looked down at me, suddenly very interested in what I had planned. I only smirked up at the both of them before forcing my legs apart and dragging my hands back to my own pussy, slowly teasing myself.
“You raise a valid point,” Sam murmured, and soon both men had a leg hooked around their elbows and two fingers each inside of me, and for my part I could only cry out, my hands gripping painfully tight at their necks as they stretched me opened and teased at my clit with their thumbs.
“How long did you say you were gonna be here for?” Jack asked, his voice a little muffled as he sucked a mark into my neck.
“Hnng,” was my answer as Sam wrapped his lips around my nipple and bit down.
“Mmm, that’s okay. I’ll ask later,” he hummed into my skin, and I cried out when he pushed down on my clit the same time Sam curled his fingers and hit my sweet spot head on.
Three weeks. Well, two and a half. Two and a half weeks of this .
I wondered if they were available on work weekends too?
Secrets of Salem:
Sins of the Witch
By Brittanee Farrow
Bonus! CLICK HERE to get instant access to my Insider’s List! Receive Updates whenever a fresh new title hits the shelves!
Sins of the Flesh
“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,” the Reverend intoned. “The Bible commands we root out this evil, and act with absolute force to eliminate the servants of Satan. Witness the harm worked on the youth of our community. Biting and pinching by invisible agents, thrashing about in fits, rending their clothes—we are under attack for the very fate of our souls.”
The heat of panic reverberates among the congregation—women become pale, men look angry and impassioned.
Reverend Parris continues shaming the congregation. “We are born into sin, working at every moment to overcome our base nature. It is our sacred duty to root out the devil where we find him, even amongst our families and ourselves.”
Even while he rants about the fate of our souls, I find my attention divided. By now most women my age are married, keeping house and bearing children, but my family’s past hinders any such contract. My father divorced my mother, citing adultery. In truth, he wanted to be with another woman, but my mother was still found guilty, and so my father was free to marry a new wife while my mother was whipped.
He left me behind, arguing there was no way to know if I was truly his daughter, so I have little to offer a husband. Coupled with my living situation, I am unequivocally undesirable. In all honesty, I do not so much yearn for marriage. It ruined my mother, for no reason other than a man’s boredom. It might be a change to the monotony, but I am more curious about the physical aspects of marriage.
Marriage holds little value for me, but men…men are another story. I can feel myself grow hot beneath the layers I wear, achy at the sight of him: Zachary Grove. From here I can see the broad outline of his strong shoulders, and I picture them without clothes. In town, I have seen how strong and muscled his forearms are and how large his hands are. His golden hair falls in a soft wave, and I long to run my fingers through it, knotting the tendrils around my fingers as I pull his lips to mine.
It makes me want to jump out of my skin—the desire to be subdued by him occupying every spare moment. But I am invisible to him. So I watch from a distance, burning with the need to be filled.
After church, I walk with my mother and our maid, looking upon the others as they pass. The women bow their heads, feigning submission and piety, but they are only bored. Men pass with puffed out chests, standing tall
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