Three Men and a Woman: Annabelle (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

Three Men and a Woman: Annabelle

Rowen Jackson is a hot Broadway actor who doesn’t have to work for women. But he’ll work for the thing he really wants—a woman to share with his two best friends.

He seduces the lush, lovely, and all but innocent Annabelle Talbot. Defenseless against his efforts to awaken her simmering sexuality, she blossoms and basks in Rowen’s delicious loving. She trusts him with her heart and lets him push her sexual boundaries to pleasure them both.

Rowen’s friend Kevin Orcutt visits, and Annabelle realizes Rowen is offering to share more than just a room. Kevin joins them, also seducing his way into Annabelle’s heart.

She loves them both. Then handsome, stubborn Braeden Reese comes, and Annabelle falls once more. But Braeden refuses to share. Determined, Annabelle must prove her love is strong enough for three men.

Genre:
Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

Length:
46,910 words
 

Rachel Billings

MENAGE AMOUR

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

THREE MEN AND A WOMAN: ANNABELLE

Copyright © 2013 by Rachel Billings

E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-176-3

First E-book Publication: January 2013

Cover design by Christine Kirchoff

All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 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

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of
 
Three Men and a Woman: Annabelle
 
by Rachel Billings from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

This is Rachel Billings’s livelihood.
 
It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Billings’s right to earn a living from her work.

Amanda Hilton, Publisher

www.SirenPublishing.com

www.BookStrand.com

To Ton, my true believer, and our three remarkable children.

To my family: we may be bent but we ain’t broke.

To Karen, who didn’t laugh (at least not to my face) when she explained what
POV
meant.

THREE MEN AND A WOMAN: ANNABELLE

RACHEL BILLINGS

Copyright © 2013

Rowen Jackson was doing one of his favorite things. From four floors up, he was looking out the window, watching and waiting for Annabelle. Just six blocks off Broadway, the street he looked out on was always busy, thronged with theater people. There were starving actors, barely-getting-by actors, and even a few, like he was fortunate enough to be, very nicely successful actors. There were writers, directors, stagehands, also starving, getting by, or finally, a few of them, succeeding. Traffic in the crowded street barely moved, but the pedestrians scurried by like they had places to go and were already late.

No matter how crowded the street was, he could always pick out Annie the second she rounded the corner from 46th. There was something about her that drew his attention like he was a homing missile and she his target. She wasn’t the tall, thin blonde of Wall Street, or even the statuesque, augmented babes typical of Broadway. She had shimmering sable hair and a lushly curved figure, just a bit shorter than average. She was an absolute turn on, and his dick stirred just waiting for her.

He’d met her five months before, at an after-theater party hosted by one of her employers. Annabelle was a talented botanical artist, producing beautiful, skillful paintings for gardens and nature centers, natural history museums, and the occasional private citizen who just loved his garden and could afford to indulge his every whim.

In this case, she was staying with and working in the swanky mansion of a major theater patron. She was very comfortable in the estate’s luxurious gardens, painting to her heart’s content, but she was entirely uncomfortable at this upscale, star-studded party. Rowen had picked her out the moment he’d walked in—a quiet gem that glowed from a light within, not needing the reflected light so necessary to generate all the glitter that surrounded her.

She was an intelligent, strong woman, but she’d been easy prey. She didn’t expect to be singled out of the crowd by a hot actor, one usually, a bit notoriously even, surrounded by smokin’ ladies. Like most successful actors, Rowen kept his body muscled and toned, and enhanced his gift of natural good looks with carefully tasteful if just a bit edgy grooming and tailoring. And he had a practiced skill at seduction that had come easily to him and brought many nice rewards.

Annie was different, though, and he knew it at once. Her bright intelligence was surprisingly appealing. IQ was not one of a woman’s measurements that Rowen typically noticed. But with Annabelle he enjoyed it. She saw things differently and through her artist’s eye. With him at the theater, she saw the beauty of sets and costumes with an appreciation that was unsullied by the jaded, even catty pretenses of most of the women he’d been with.

He loved those moments when he had her on his arm there. He could see it in the eyes of his friends and acquaintances. The women were subtly condescending, aloof to Annie’s warm overtures and innocent enthusiasm. She wasn’t one of them, they were thinking, not one of the golden beauties. They would flirt with him even in her presence, not seeing, he knew, how very seductive she was. The shameless hussies didn’t even consider her competition.

The men got it. They eyed her lush curves in a way that had Rowen curling his fingers into fists, a manifestation of jealousy that was entirely new to him. They basked, preening, damn them, in the glow of Annie’s natural radiance. Once she got over her basic shyness, she’d look up at them admiringly, in pure appreciation of their talent.

The idiots would take that as a sign of interest and come on to her. Annabelle seemed naively oblivious to it, her attention entirely centered on Rowen.

That was a hot thrill. She would be surrounded by exceedingly attractive men and still would see only him. Each night they spent with theater people, in his head he was pumping his fist in absolute male satisfaction.

In her favored settings she was even more a pleasure to be with. She opened his eyes to natural beauty in a way he’d never experienced. It was a delight to watch her as they walked through Central Park’s Shakespeare Garden or wandered around the New York Botanical Garden.

In pure simplicity, the effects of light and shadow, the glitter of a water droplet, or the soft blush of a perfect new bloom could move her profoundly. It was a sensual appreciation that stoked his desire for her.

She was a strong, independent woman. She very competently managed the business as well as the artistic facets of her career. Ever practical, when she was busy with a deadline, she’d politely but firmly turn down every play he made for her time.

That took him aback initially. In his experience women broke dates and any other commitments in order to spend time with him. Eventually, left without a choice, he humbled himself enough to accept it.

Apparently, he didn’t want a climbing, greedy, self-centered, bitchy actress for his woman. He wanted Annie, innocent, committed, self-reliant. Pain in the ass that it was.

So he didn’t
seduce
her that first night, or even that first month. He freaking
courted
her, a concept foreign to him in real life, but for which he’d had some stage experience to draw from. And it paid off in a hugely satisfying way. When he finally got his hand down her bra and his fingers past her panties, he knew he’d found a barrel of hot, suppressed sexuality just waiting to explode.

Lucky he was the man to light the fuse.

He’d spent the second month fucking her brains out every chance he got. Well, she wouldn’t think of it so crudely, and neither did he, in fact. The truth was during that month of courtship he’d fallen in love, just has she had. And when he kissed her, touched her, and, finally, buried himself deep in her hot pussy, no matter how rough and rowdy it was, he was
making love
.

He could only fall on his knees in profound gratitude that she had a sexual appetite to match his own.

She hadn’t known it, would never have guessed it. Bringing her to awareness of her own highly sexual nature was like watching a pale, delicate bud blossom into a vibrant, flaming-red, big fat rose. No one could be more surprised than the bud itself.

He’d brought her along, pushing her boundaries. They’d had gentle sex, urgent sex, and even a little bit rough sex. He’d done oral and she’d done it back. They’d dabbled a little in public, well, not sex—yet—but groping.

And it wasn’t just her willingness to have hot, rowdy sex in any position or setting he desired that he adored. It turned out his Annie, competent, independent, self-determining little soul that she was, had a bit of the submissive in her.

Rowen had always enjoyed the little edge he got from expressing his domination tendencies. During a fuck session he’d give a good spank or use his hands to direct a woman’s mouth to his cock. He’d never gone over the top with it, but he liked the bit of wicked tension it added.