Too Hot to Handle: MMF Menage Romance

Table of Contents

Cover

Table of Contents

Look for these titles from Cari Griffin

Title Page

Copyright Warning

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Cari Griffin

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Too Hot to Handle

Finding Their Treasure

Serving All Three

Cookie Nookie

Wild Ride

Fortune’s Fancy

Rideaway Bride

Sweet Satisfaction

The Stowaway Bride Series

Stowaway Bride (Book One)

Stowaway Bliss (Book Two)

Too Hot to Handle

M/M/F Ménage Romance

Cari Griffin

Etopia Press

Copyright Warning

EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Published By

Etopia Press

1643 Warwick Ave., #124

Warwick, RI 02889

http://www.etopiapress.com

Too Hot to Handle

Copyright © 2018 by Cari Griffin

ISBN: 978-1-947135-98-7

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Etopia Press electronic publication: August 2018

~ Dedication ~

For Marci.

CHAPTER ONE

Amy

It was raining of course. It was Seattle. My day had been terrible, so the rainstorm’s timing couldn’t have been worse…or more fitting, depending on how I chose to look at it. To top it off, my backup umbrella for the car had broken a few days ago when I accidentally stepped on it. So I had no choice but to cowgirl up and slog through the rain to my front door.

But at least I was finally home.

I managed a catering company, and we specialized in weddings. Weddings could take a lot out of everyone involved. That was one of the reasons I’d probably never get married. Or if I did find Mr. Right, I’d elope to Las Vegas and do the Elvis Chapel drive-by. Although running my own catering company meant I did a lot of weddings, these days I found myself feeling drained after each of them. Usually feeling tired would simply mean I’d done a hard day’s work, but this last ceremony had left me more downhearted than usual.

Still, I was determined to change that right now. Even though getting rain-soaked and dodging puddles was the perfect period on a crappy day, I refused to let it keep me down. I was going to bake a batch of brownies and flop on the couch and watch some kind of comedy to lift my spirits. Preferably some kind of lighthearted romantic movie. Those always brought a smile to my face. Jack Anderson, my housemate, always laughed and told me that I was terribly cliché. I just stuck my tongue out and gave him the finger.

I jumped a huge puddle and ran up the steps, finally under the eaves and out of the rain. My keys fought me, trying to jump out of my hand in the darkness. Finally, I fumbled the keys into the lock and managed to get inside, kicking the door shut harder than I intended. Hopefully, Jack wouldn’t notice the scuff mark on the white paint. That man was more particular about our place than I was, and that was certainly saying something.

As I slumped onto the stairs just beyond the foyer and undid my boots, my cell phone started going off, vibrating in my pocket. If it was a client at this hour, I was either going to put the phone on silent…or open the door and throw it into a puddle. Right now I was fifty-fifty on both options. After today’s wedding fiasco, I couldn’t handle work issues right now.

But the number that flashed on my phone screen made me smile. It was my friend Hope. My boots forgotten, I sat back and answered it.

Hope’s cheery voice came over the connection. Hey, Amy. Texted you a bunch of times but didn’t hear back. Everything all right?

Hope’s Southern accent was usually enough to make me feel warm and smiley. "Sorry. It was a long day. A long, loooooong day."

Hope sighed. At least you aren’t the wedding planner. Did you know that nine out of ten wedding planners are raging alcoholics?

My mouth dropped open. Is that true?

No, but from the horror stories you tell, it sounds like it could be.

I laughed. You’re terrible, and I imagine that catering isn’t as bad as planning the whole shindig.

So you say. Tell Mama Hope what happened. And be sure to describe any hot men you noticed. In detail.

"It’s not anything you haven’t heard me complain about before. The mother-in-law was on a tear after hitting the open bar a little too hard. Complaining about the bride, about the food, about the music, about the food!"

Sounds like a real nutcase, Hope said dryly.

Exactly. She kept taking these nasty digs at the bride. The groom was caught in the middle. Tempers were hot. It was ugly. No one had a good time. I wanted to cry. I know it sounds stupid, but I just want people to be happy. Why aren’t there more happily ever afters?

Because life isn’t a movie, and you can’t marry your vibrator, Hope said wisely.

I laughed again. Hope always raised my spirits. Especially whenever I got a little tipsy and cried about the lack of good, single men in my life. With the men in this city, I always felt like I was showing up an hour late to a cutthroat shoe sale. All the good shoes were taken.

Yeah, I said. I wish they’d hired Jack to do the photography. At least I would’ve had someone to commiserate with when all the inter-family drama was heating up. But the mother-in-law had a cousin do the photo shoots.

Their loss. Jack is smoking hot. I mean, he takes great pictures too. I don’t want to objectify that scrumptiously tight ass of his. That wouldn’t be fair.

Don’t forget. That ass belongs to Lance. And Lance seems really protective of it.

The lucky bastard. But I heard through the grapevine that they’re both bi. That’s enough to give a girl hope. Any truth to that?

I frowned. I had my suspicions. Sometimes…sometimes Jack would look at me, and I would swear I saw heat in his eyes. You know, the blazing I want to rip off your clothes and pin you up against the wall and kiss you senseless kind of heat that my body immediately reacted to as if a switch had been thrown and my pussy flooded. He never acted on it. I was always left wondering if it was just me projecting my own wants. But I would never dream of tempting him to cheat on Lance. I wasn’t a man-stealing skank. But fantasies…well, no one could blame me for a few secret fantasies, right?

But what I told Hope was simple. Jack loves Lance, and Lance loves him right back. They give me hope I can someday find Mr. Right and we’ll go get married in front of a judge with no one else invited.

You selfish bitch, Hope said, laughing. You’d better invite me or prepare yourself for a catfight.

All right, all right, you can come. But that’s it.

We talked for a little longer, but I was already tired and distracted. And these days, talking about sex in any capacity had the tendency to make my mind wander to the gorgeous man I shared a house with. I knew it was a hopeless situation, especially since Jack was in a relationship with the just-as-gorgeous and filthy rich Lance Warren. Maybe there was some harm in fantasizing after all. It made me yearn for something I couldn’t have. Also, my current Mr. Right was out of batteries, so any fantasies of Jack or Lance kissing their way down my naked body, getting closer and closer to my heated core, teasing me, driving my desire wild before diving in—

Whoa. Time to put the brakes on. My pussy throbbed against the carpeted stairs, and I squeezed my legs together against the tight, distracting need. How had we derailed onto this subject? Now my body was getting primed to take his cock, and that was never going to happen.

I bit back a growl and tried to force away thoughts of seeing Jack naked or fantasies of him spreading my legs and eating me out until I was nothing but a pile of sated jelly.

Driving away those thoughts was easier said than done.

Okay, sweetie, Hope finally said. I’ll let you go and leave you to a fantasy of a threesome between you, Jack, and Lance. I’d give up chocolate for a month at the chance of being pounded by two gorgeous studs like that. Maybe I’d even give it up for a whole year.

You are a terrible person, I told her, giggling. A threesome… I suddenly felt as though I were burning up. Two scorching-hot men in bed with me, naked…

I realized I was starting to sweat and my breathing was getting faster. Hope was going to hear me and know how turned on I was getting if I wasn’t careful.

I need to grab something to eat. I’m starving, I said quickly, standing up with a slight sway. Call you tomorrow?

Absolutely.

But I barely heard Hope’s response as I disconnected and hurried up the stairs. The last thing I wanted was for Hope to guess what I was thinking. I wouldn’t hear the end of it.

It wasn’t the first time I’d thought of Jack and Lance together with each other…or with me. I heard them having sex on occasion when Lance came over, and it was hot enough for me to reach for my vibrator. Now imagine if I was in the middle of that. Part of a hot-guy sandwich. I laughed at how stupid that sounded, but it still turned me on.

I was on the second floor and walking toward my room when I heard Jack call out from the spacious third-floor attic he’d converted into a studio. Amy? Is that you?

His deep, powerful voice had me almost