Triple Daddies Read Online Madison Faye

Categories Genre: Billionaire, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Triple Daddies

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Madison Faye

Book Information:

Some brats like to break the rules
Boys, fast cars, and skipping school
But for dirty girls who flirt and tease
Sometimes big daddies come in threes…
She’s the forbidden fruit. The apple of temptation. The girl I never saw coming. Too innocent. Too so-much-younger. Too much my student. Too much our student, actually. Fate threw her in front of me. The feel of her lips on mine had me taking what I never should have touched.
…My inability to walk away from trouble had me saving her when I should have let it be. But now she’s here in my house – me, her college professor. And it’s not just me either, there are three of us living here. Three big, rough, hardened older men – men twice her age.
…Men who can’t f*cking look away from the tempting little tease sleeping right down the hall. But saving her or not, there are rules that she’ll follow under this roof. And when Cora Hartley decides she doesn’t need to follow them, she’s going to learn just how wrong she is.
Three men like us can only be teased and tested for so long, before she gets a firm hand of discipline.
…Or three. Hang onto your tushies, we’re about to wild. Don’t show your friends this book, they’ll probably judge you. Luckily, I won’t, and my lips are sealed ;).
Alpha af, wildly over-the-top, silly, steamy, and sweet enough to make your teeth hurt. This mfmm romance is all about her – no m/m. Safe, no cheating, and a HEA guaranteed.
Books by Author:

Madison Faye Books



The gasp caught in her throat, the whimpered moan breathed into my ear. My muscles clenched, hands grabbing her tighter as I pushed deep inside. She moaned louder, fingers sliding up my neck and twisting through my hair as her legs clamped around my waist, urging me on.

I growled into her neck, inhaling the scent of honey and lavender and whatever the fuck it was that’d been driving me wild since the minute she bumped into me — magic pheromones, or voodoo. Whatever it was, it’d had me tripping over my goddamn tongue to taste her since the moment we’d met.

…An entire ten minutes ago.

She cried out, arching into me and hugging me tighter as I pinned her to the bathroom door. Her plaid skirt bunched around her waist, the slutty, too-tight too-short white blouse hanging open, her hard, pale pink nipples grazing across my muscled chest. My hands gripped her ass tight, my teeth grazing across the sensitive skin of her neck. Her softy body undulated into me as I drove deep inside, her soaked panties pushed to the side as the slippery heat between her legs welcomed me in.

No words. No names. No faces — both of ours obscured with the black masks that covered our eyes that the bar had been giving out at the front door. Me, I was dressed as, well, me — dark jeans and a white button-up shirt. The front door guy had asked if I was dressed as a mafia guy. I’d just said “sure.”

The dirty little school girl rocking her hips against me though — shit, that was something else. Short plaid skirt, barely-there white blouse, knee-high socks and heels. The pigtails and the little white cotton panties were the filthy icing on the cake. The fact that I was actually an educator made the whole fantasy that much more completely wrong, but that didn’t change the fact that my cock was harder than a fucking steel rod.

“More,” she gasped into my ear, her body tensing against me as her legs pulled me in. I growled as I cupped her jaw with one hand and crushed my lips to hers.

I wasn’t exactly complaining, but this was not how I’d pictured my night going.

It’d been the bachelor party that wasn’t. Or rather, it’d still been a bachelor party — as in, a couple of unmarried guys partying it up, but that was it. There was no “and then he got married” part at the end of the story. No, when the bride-to-be runs off with her massage therapist, weddings have a ways of going up in flames like the fucking Hindenburg.

Oh, don’t feel sorry, my buddy had dodged a big fat bullet on this one.

No, it wasn’t me who’d been left with my dick in my hand in favor of a douchebag of a “massage therapist” with a spray tan and frosted tips. It was my best friend, Garret, which is why it’d been Max’s and my duty to take him out tonight — the night that was supposed to be his bachelor party — and get him properly fucked the hell up. The mission had been a roaring success, by the way. We’d been asked to leave two bars, been flat out kicked out of a third, and closed down three more. Max had shouldered on and matched Garret drink for drink. I’d followed at my own pace — after all, I had class in the morning and still had a shitload of papers to grade.

Just because I wasn’t going to get totally fucked up though, it didn’t mean I wasn’t going to be damn sure that I was there for one of my best friends in the world in his hour of need. That’s what the three of us did — we were there for each other, always. Always had been, always would be. We’d grown up basically as brothers — when my parents got taken out by a drunk asshole in an Chevy, it’d been Max’s parents — their best friends — who took me in. Garret lived next door with his mom, and the three of us had been thick as thieves.

Life had taken us a few different places — me to Wall Street and now academia, Garret to the Navy and now teaching at Gilman College with me. And Max — the skinny kid with the nosebleeds who’d somehow grown up to go first round draft in the NFL and killed it for four seasons before a knee injury took him out.

Max had already cabbed it back to my place with a completely wasted Garret, but I’d driven my own car. I’d kept my own drinking at a pretty moderate pace most of the night, so I was fine to drive. For whatever reason that night, I took the long way back, and swung by Lake Drive on the way home. I still have no idea why — maybe I just wanted to look out over the water that night. Maybe I just wanted one drink alone before heading home. Maybe I was thirty-five and trying to figure out what the fuck I was doing with my life.