Thanksgiving for Three: An MFM Romance (Holiday Studs Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  CHapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twleve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  CHapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twleve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Thanksgiving

  for

  Three

  An MFM Romance

  Jewel Killian

  Copyright © 2017 Jewel Killian

  All rights reserved.

  Also By Jewel Killian

  Once Upon A Happy Ever After Series

  Cinderella

  Beauty and the Beast

  Snow White

  Rose Red (Abby’s story!)

  A quick and dirty series with kink-

  The books in this series are short reads sure to satisfy

  Holiday Studs

  Halloween with the Hunk

  Thanksgiving for Three

  Christmas Crush

  New Year’s Baby

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  Chapter One

  Jeannie

  If there was one thing I couldn’t stand it was tardiness. I get it—early classes were the worst and anyone in my eight a.m. class either didn’t know better or waited too long to register for afternoon classes.

  But if those two stumbled into my class late one more time...

  “Sorry Professor Webb, sorry Jeannie,” the Mercer twins said in unison, nodding to the professor and me.

  Okay, so it wasn’t my class per se. Technically it was Jeffery Webb’s class and I was his T.A. But still. Those arrogant little shits were late every single day.

  I crossed my legs under the desk and pretended not to hear them. Easy to do with a pile of poorly written essays to grade.

  I also pretended not to notice when one of them approached my desk. “Really, Jeannie we are sorry,” he said.

  Don’t look up. Don’t look up!

  Fuck. I looked up. Right into those sparkling, dark green eyes and the cocky, rich-boy smile that showed off his unnaturally white teeth. “Go sit down, Nick,” I said.

  He smirked at me, half his mouth twisting upward in an arrogant, maddening lilt. “I’m not Nick. I’m Noah, Jeannie.”

  I looked him dead in his painfully gorgeous eyes. “You still need to sit down.” I stared at him until he finally walked away, taking a seat in the middle of the lecture hall with his brother.

  God, I couldn’t stand those two. They walked around campus like they owned it and were perpetually late. They irked me the way few people could.

  And yet...

  I caught myself wondering if their bodies were as beautiful as their faces. Or what it might be like if we...

  I never let the thoughts go on for long. Nick and Noah Mercer were the laziest, most arrogant people I’d ever met but somehow that didn’t keep me from wanting them.

  Both of them.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  I shifted the stack of essays around revealing the e-reader I’d tucked between them and sighed. That was the problem, my voracious reading habit.

  I read everything from space opera to high fantasy and anything in between. But recently, I’d started dipping my toe into the world of romance novels. The dirty kind. The kind with Fabio on the cover. Well, he would have been if they were published thirty years ago. Extra sappy, extra sexy, no real plot to speak of, romance novels.

  I loved them. They were my guiltiest pleasure. I could knock out two or three short ones in a day. They didn’t require a lot of thought. I didn’t have to wonder about the subtext or what the author was trying to get at with a particular theme. They were pure and simple fun. And with a doctoral presentation due in a few months and several hundred undergraduate students wanting their papers graded or a study session or to know what was on on the next exam, I could use the mental break.

  Besides, they were fun and I liked them.

  But they may have warped my sense of what a realistic relationship should be. I mean, really. Who daydreams about banging two guys at once? I stuffed the e-reader back in my bag and got back to grading papers.

  Or I tried to at least. My thoughts kept wandering back to the Mercer twins and their beautiful faces and I’d have to remind myself of everything I hated about them. Because it wasn’t just that they were always late. It was that they seemed so comfortable doing so.

  They walked around with privilege that only old money bestowed. Why they were at NYU and not a fancier, more expensive school was beyond me. Maybe this was the only school their parents had any sway with. Maybe they were only here because their parents or grandparents or hell, a great-grand-aunt donated a wing or a library or something. Maybe that’s why they were here torturing me.

  I grew up around money. A lot of it and it never quite felt right to me. That my family should have so much while others had so little seemed so wrong—like we’d taken too much of the pie and there wasn’t enough for anyone else. So when people like the Mercers flaunted their privilege so obviously, when they showed up late knowing nothing would happen because parents would call board members who’d call department heads who’d talk to Professor Webb who’d tell me to let it go, it really irked me.

  And yet I still daydreamed about them worshiping me. About them on their knees, begging to be the first brother to touch me. And when I finally picked which one I’d have first, I fantasized about being devoured and consumed, being completely ravaged until I was spent and satisfied.

  I hated them and wanted them in equal measure.

  It was fucking torture.

  Chapter Two

  Noah

  The office was cold and expensive. Hard leather chairs and a steel framed window only served to punctuate the unease settling into my stomach at being here.

  The number didn’t make sense to me. I saw it, scrawled on the estate attorney’s letterhead with far too many commas, but it didn’t mean anything. What was that, billions?

  The dimple-chinned attorney smiled as if I should be happy about the ludicrous amount of zeros on the paper in front of me. I passed it to my brother.

  The lawyer cleared he throat. “Obviously the majority of the holdings aren’t liquid. Those that are will be put—”

  “I don’t want it,” I said, interrupting him.

  The man looked at his lap, graying eyebrows knitting into a frown. “Noah, I understand this
is a difficult time for you.”

  I felt the weight of my brother’s warning stare before I’d said a word.

  “Difficult time, Mr. Langstrom?” I tried to modulate my tone, tried even harder not to raise out of my chair and shout down at the man. “Yes, I’d say it has been difficult watching not one but both our parents waste away in a long-term care facility. Difficult doesn’t begin to cover what it’s like to watch as they take their last breath because you gave the order to stop life support. Difficult isn’t what comes to mind when I think of how much more life they should have had, Mr. Langstrom,” I said, venom dripping from my voice.

  Nick flashed me a disapproving look.

  Langstrom straightened in his chair, adjusting his tie as he did. “Of course, Mr. Mercer. I can’t imagine what you two have been through. Which is why you’re in absolutely no condition to make any decisions, long-term or not, about your financial future. This meeting is simply to inform you of the situation, as detailed by your father’s last wishes. The holdings have already been transferred to your names in the form of a trust. The monthly estate expenses will be deducted automatically, tuition and living expenses will be transferred to your personal accounts on the fifteenth and thirtieth of each month. You should also know that on your twenty-fifth birthday...”

  He kept talking and while I knew what he said was important, I couldn’t keep my attention from wandering. Flashes of the few childhood memories I had with my parents streaked across my mind, unwanted, unbeckoned. Bitter images of the one holiday we spent with our parents, instead of at our grandparent’s house so our mother and father could traipse across Monaco or hole up in their country house in the Hamptons, played behind my eyes. The lopsided snowman we built in Central Park, the hot dog and cocoa we got on the walk back to the car and the look of pure adoration on my brother’s face as he watched our parents buckle us into the back seat. We’d had so much fun and I wanted so much to do it every holiday. But year after year the disappointment of getting shipped off to Grandma’s house instead had tainted the memory.

  Nick was a lot easier on them than I was. He always told me to look for the good in them but all I could see were two people so self-involved they couldn’t be bothered to raise their own children. Ours was a life of privileged distance—of nannies and boarding schools and obligatory weekly phone calls sprinkled with extravagant guilt gifts. On our fourteenth birthday, they got us matching Ferrari’s, mine in black and Nick’s in blue—our favorite colors. At least they’d gotten that part right. Too bad they were two years too early.

  If only I had known that by the time we’d be able to drive those ridiculous cars our parents would be comatose.

  I glanced at Nick, studiously paying attention to Langstrom’s words. At least one of us was.

  “Well, I think that covers everything,” the lawyer said, getting up and ushering us to the door. “You have my number if you have any questions, yes?”

  “We do,” Nick said. “Thank you for walking us through it and for meeting us so early.”

  Langstrom nodded and we left the Manhattan office.

  “We’re going to be late. Again,” I said as we got in the black sedan waiting for us.

  “I know,” Nick said, staring out the window.

  “If you had let me storm out when I wanted to this wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Mhmm. But then neither of us would know the contingents of our trust.”

  I shrugged. “I got worked up. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not their fault,” Nick said quietly.

  I sighed and tried not to feed the newly stoked embers of my anger. I didn’t want to yell at my brother. “Of course it’s their fault. If they hadn’t been in Vale without us they wouldn’t have even been on that plane.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe if we’d all been together we’d all be dead. Who knows. My point is that you can be mad at them if you want, they were terrible parents and maybe they deserve your undying anger but they didn’t deserve to die. So don’t be mad at them for that.”

  I hated when Nick was right. He was right a lot. Maybe I should try to let go of it. Of all of it. But how do you let go of twenty-four years of resentment?

  The ride to campus afforded me enough time to stuff my anger away and put on my extrovert face, my “everything’s fine” face. We strolled into Webb’s econ class ten minutes late as usual. Webb knew the bones of our situation. He knew the only time we had to take care of our parents’ affairs was before class which meant sometimes we were late. He also knew that the best time to visit our parents had been early in the morning which also made us late sometimes.

  He knew. But I wish he’d tell our T.A.

  Jeannie was the hottest hardass I’d ever met. She never cut Nick or I any slack, always taking full points off for minor errors in assignments and pushing us extra hard in study group. I liked that about her. She pushed me to be better. Though, she could stand to ease up occasionally. Econ was hard enough.

  I apologized to both Webb and Jeannie, making sure to add a little extra charm to Jeannie’s apology.

  “Go sit down, Nick.”

  I smiled at her. “I’m not Nick, I’m Noah, Jeannie.”

  “You still need to sit down,” she said, fire burning in her golden-yellow eyes. Jeannie was a tough nut to crack.

  Nick and I never worried about women. They were always charmed by our money or faces or whatever. As difficult as our home life had been, women had always been easy for us. But Jeannie wouldn’t even look at us fully.

  It made me wonder if we’d done something to offend her.

  Chapter Three

  Jeannie

  I pulled my attention back to the essays for the billionth time. If it wasn’t one of the Mercer twins trying to make eye contact with me, then it was the smutty pages of my latest read calling me back. I liked my work as a grad student, I really did. I liked helping other students with a subject I knew inside out. I liked my doctoral adviser, Professor Webb, who wasn’t just brilliant but a good guy and also pretty easy on the eyes. I even liked the long hours and the research I was prepping for my thesis. I liked all of it. But that didn’t keep me from getting distracted or from having an occasional A.D.D. day.

  Instead of fighting it, I gave in. The essays could wait until I had more attention span to give them. I pulled my e-reader out of my bag, situated it between the papers once again and picked up where I left off... the first kiss between the hero and heroine.

  Uh, scratch that. This book moved fast. They were already naked, ooooh and they really like each other, that always makes it hotter. I crossed my legs, a futile attempt at quenching the hot flames building between my thighs. Jesus, these books should come with a “don’t read in public” warning. I licked my lips and read on, imagining myself as the heroine being taken by the insanely hot but maybe not-so-bright guy. I bit my lip as the descriptions got more and more explicit and slowly I went from reading a book to being in it with the Mercer twins.

  One kissing me while the other holds me from behind, teasing and petting me over my clothes. Both worshiping me and completely content to please me in any way I desire. Then, suddenly they get a little rough. One pushes me against a wall and holds me there while there other tears off my clothes.

  I love it.

  One of them gets on his knees and props my leg over his shoulder. He’s just about to go down on me as the other twin sucks on my neck and pulls his cock from his his pants.

  “Jeannie? Ahem, earth to Ms. Kingston.”

  The sound of Webb’s amused voice brought me crashing into reality. “Sorry Professor, lost in the brilliant essays. What were you saying?”

  Webb cocked an eyebrow at me. He knew damn well the essays in my enormous pile weren’t brilliant. Most weren’t even cogent. “Yes, and when do you think you’ll have them back to the class?”

  “Oh, um, next week,” I said and looked back down at the stack of papers to hide my guilty expression.

  “Ms. Kingston will h
ave them back in plenty of time for you to use it as a study guide,” he said to one of the few students who actually had an aptitude for economics. “Remember, I’m not grading on a curve anymore. It’s November and you’ve had plenty of time to get your bearings around what I expect and the way I grade. The exam before Thanksgiving break will be a 4.5 on the Webb scale. Impossible if you haven’t studied, hard if you have. If you have questions or need a study session, please see Jeannie, clear?”

  The class nodded in his direction. “Good, now get out of here, I’ve got a lot of other students whose day needs ruining,” Webb smiled at the class as they laughed at his self-deprecating joke and packed up to leave.

  Webb always made me smile. He was the best econ professor I’d ever had. It’s why I picked him as my adviser. The eight a.m. Principles of Economics class was a weed-out class—a sort of gated entry into the Econ program. It was supposed to be hard, really hard so that anyone who wasn’t serious would drop it and find something better suited. Webb kept the course work brutal but he never made anyone feel like they didn’t belong or that they weren’t good enough to be in the program, unlike a lot of other professors.