Triple Layer Love: MMF Menage Romance

By Cari Griffin

Delivering an emergency birthday cake has never felt so delicious...

 

Riley's exhausted after another long day, but she's working hard to make something of herself. She's focused on her future—her degree and her art, and making ends meet working at her friend's bakery. But when a deliciously seductive voice calls afterhours to order a birthday cake, she just can't find the heart to tell him they're closed. And when he claims it's an emergency—and offers her a thousand dollars to bake it right now and deliver it to one of the ritziest addresses in the city—Riley's inner accountant decides it's an offer she can't refuse.

 

Tanner and Michael have almost everything they could want—wealth, respect, each other—but they don't have that missing element—the female element—that they've relished in the past. So when Tanner comes home to find the sexy, curvaceous backside sticking out of his fridge, delivering his cake and making all the right moves, he's ecstatic that Michael has gotten him the best gift ever—a long overdue threesome with a beautiful girl!

 

Michael has to admit—he can't get the voice of the girl from the bakery out of his head. But when he gets home and finds Bakery Girl and Tanner chugging champagne, the last thing he expects is for Tanner to thank him for his present—a threesome! And it's obviously the last thing Bakery Girl was expecting, either...

 

Reader note: contains MMF menage romance, billionaires and BBWs, and includes male male love

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wolf Hill Publishing
• Release date: Oct 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215221709

Book preview

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

About the Author

Also by Cari Griffin

More Romance from Etopia Press

Look for these titles from Cari Griffin

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Triple Layer Love

A Spirited Threesome

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)

Triple Layer Love

Cari Griffin

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

Triple Layer Love

Copyright © 2018 by Cari Griffin

ISBN: 978-1-947135-63-5

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: March 2018

~ Dedication ~

For Tamara. Thank you for the kind words.

CHAPTER ONE

Riley

I yawned and stared out the plate glass window of Katie’s Kakes and Bakes as I turned the deadbolt in the door and turned off the open sign. The sky was turning that classic color of dusk, when everything looked to be covered with a wash of Mauve Blue Shade, or maybe Permanent Mauve, and the city lights began to sparkle along the busy streets of San Francisco as traffic grew heavier. I watched a few people rushing past the window, starting to come out in jackets now that it was September, even though the weather was still mild. The two girls who worked at the gym next door passed by and waved. They came in every lunch time for our vegan/paleo cauliflower everything bagels. Sandy, the younger one, pointed at her wrist watch and grinned at me, as if to tell me it was time to go home. I pointed to the darkened open sign I’d just turned off, and she laughed and went on her way. They were nice, the gym girls, but they always kept telling me if I worked out, I could lose all that weight. I usually just gave them a little wink and a boobie jiggle, and told them if they eased up a little on the bench press, they might not look like the bench.

Still, Sandy was right. It was time to go home.

Well, go upstairs, anyway, to my one-room studio apartment. It was actually an old store room over the bakery, which Katie rented to me cheap because she felt sorry for me. I yawned again. I’d been up since two a.m., trying to get a little work done on my newest oil painting before work. I had to come down and start the breads and rolls at four for the restaurant deliveries. It was a long day, but I needed the overtime. Tuition was overdue, as was my credit card bill that my jerk ex-boyfriend had run up wining and dining my ex-best friend, and I hadn’t even bought books yet for my two classes at CCSF. San Francisco was a terrible city to live in if you weren’t a billionaire.

I scrubbed my hands on my no-longer white apron, shaking myself back to the present. I should really stop spacing out if I wanted to go home and crash.

As I started cashing out the register, the telephone rang. I glanced at the clock. 7:05.

Definitely time for letting voicemail pick up. I looked down at the pile of cash, and forgot where I’d left off counting. I started over.

The phone rang again. Then a third time. And a fourth.

Crap. I’d forgotten to set the phone for voice mail to pick up.

Sighing, I reached over the cash I’d lost count of again and grabbed the receiver.

Katie’s Kakes and Bakes, I greeted over the line, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. This is Riley.

Good—you’re still open. I’d like to order a birthday cake, please. Chocolate, if you have it. Triple layer, with buttercream frosting, not that sugary kind.

I wasn’t sure I heard everything he said. I’d fallen into the lull of his voice. Silky. Sultry and deep and smooth… Buttercream frosting all right. Dark, molten chocolate buttercream…

I recovered my composure with a quick breath and cleared my throat to get the frog out. Or maybe so I could breathe again. I’m sorry, sir, but we’re closed. I just forgot to send the calls to voice mail. I’m sorry.

The line went silent and I assumed he’d hung up, but then he spoke again. Please? I’m desperate. It’s life or death.

For a moment, I almost asked him what the emergency was and how I could help. Then I remembered where we were.

"Ah…a life or death cake emergency?" I tried not to sound snarky. As much as I wanted him to hang up and go away, I also wanted him to keep talking with that rich, dark-chocolate butter cream voice. Dark chocolate and cognac butter cream voice.

He sighed, his voice going even deeper and richer, if that were possible. I really need to get a cake. I’m already in the car on the way, I’ll be there in… he paused, as if checking his watch. Three minutes. If you don’t have chocolate, I’ll take whatever you have. Surprise me. Just box it up and I’ll be in and out.

My heart sort of broke for him. Whatever his cake emergency was, it was clearly an emergency to him. Sir, I’m sorry, I’ve already cashed out the register and cleaned the entire—

One thousand dollars, he said, an edge of desperation to his voice.

Excuse me?

I’ll pay you one thousand dollars.

"For a cake?"

For a chocolate, triple-layer birthday cake. With butter cream frosting, not that sugary kind.

I closed my eyes and felt the hairs on my nape jump to attention as I pictured him whispering sweet nothings to me, his lips brushing against the tip of my ear. I shivered in excitement. Or maybe it was at the mention of a thousand dollars.

"I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have any cakes left. We bake mostly to order. Whatever’s left over at the end of the day we donate to the homeless shelter. They’ve already picked up."

Then I’ll place an order.

I smiled. I knew I could get him to see reason eventually. Perfect. When would you like that for?

Two hours?

My mouth actually fell open, and I closed it. "You want me to bake you a cake, now?"

And for an additional thousand, I’ll need it delivered.

"Delivered? I thought you said you were three minutes away?"

That was before I offered you two thousand dollars.

I swallowed hard and let out a long, deep breath.

I have an important conference call in five minutes, he said. Please.

My bones ached with the need to curl up and sleep, but something about this situation started pinging my brain.

I needed money. He apparently really, really needed a cake. Why was this not already a done deal?

Besides, what I really wanted to do was see the man whose voice was making me tingle all over with awareness.

All right, I said. But Katie usually does the cakes, I’m more of the bread and rolls girl. I can’t guarantee this cake will be up to our usual standards. As tired as I was, I couldn’t guarantee it would actually be cake.

Will it be better than the bakery section of the grocery store?

I made a guttural sound of disgust. Please. If you insult me, the grocery store’s where you’ll be calling next.

The man chuckled. I trust you completely. Just bake me a chocolate, triple layer birthday cake with buttercream frosting, not that—

Sugary kind. I got it. I said.

I’m sure it will be as beautiful as you sound, he added.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. Gimme a break. Or I’ll have to add another thousand for pain and suffering.

As long as it’s edible, he said.

My voice dropped to a sweet and honeyed tone. Everything at Katie’s Kakes and Bakes is extremely edible.

Oh, my God. What was I saying?

He chuckled. I’ll be looking forward to my first taste then.

I ran my tongue across my lips, feeling the gooseflesh tingle to life at the image his words conjured. Tasting, devouring… After your first taste, you’ll be addicted for life.

My pulse raced. I didn’t know I could talk to a customer like this. I must be overtired. When I was little, my mother used to say that made me act insane.

Well, thanks, Riley. You’ve really made my night. I’m sure it’ll be worth every penny.

You too, I said, then realized that made no sense. I mean…what name shall I put this under?

It’s Michael.

Michael…? I said, encouraging him to add his last name. Not that I needed it. It wasn’t like I had a stack of orders piling up for the next hour. I just wanted to know.

Just Michael, he responded playfully. "99 Nightingale Drive. Gate code is love u."

"Sure it’s not world’s most expensive birthday cake?"

He laughed. I only had five digits. That’s L-O-V-E, then letter U, not Y-O-U.

I laughed back. Gotcha. And how will you be paying?

Hard, cold cash, he said. I’ll leave it on top of the fridge. Don’t be late. I need the cake by 9:00 at the latest. He clicked off, and the line went dead.

I looked down at the receiver and sighed, unsure whether to feel excited about finally seeing the mysterious caller—who made their gate code love u?—and more to the point, who had a gate with a code? Or perhaps I should chalk the whole thing up as a bad prank call and just go to bed.

I could see it now. A bunch of high school guys sitting around calling to order fifty pizzas for a random address that turned out to be a cemetery or a porn store or something.

Was this that?

It had to be a joke. No one would call a bakery and pay two thousand dollars for a cake.

I went to my phone and did a search for 99 Nightingale Drive. I nearly fell over when I saw the satellite image. It was a huge mansion right on the water in the swankiest of swanky San Fran neighborhoods.

I went to the phone and did *69 to get the call back number.

Private.

Crap.

Well, there was nothing to do but give it a shot. For two thousand dollars, it was worth a try. And if I got there and it turned out to be a joke, then I’d have free cake for a week.

Win-win.

Then I remembered I didn’t own a car.

* * *

At exactly 9PM, my Uber pulled up to the gate outside 99 Nightingale Drive. Should I let you out here? Jerry, the driver, asked.

No, let’s go in, I said. I wanted to be sure that if this did turn out to be a joke, I’d have a ride back to the city. This was definitely beyond walking distance. "The gate code is love u. With a letter U."

The driver rolled down his window and then looked back at me. The key pad’s got numbers, not letters.

What? I sat forward from the backseat and peered