Cloud 9 – Multiple Love Read Online Stephanie Brother

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
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My vacation Down Under is a bust until a bar-load of Aussie men offer to take me to Cloud 9!
When my best friend shacks up with eight gorgeous tattoo artists, I decide it’s time to shake up my life. A ticket to Australia seems like a perfect way to find some desperately needed fun and leave behind the black cloud hanging over me.
The cool beach bar I stumble into draws me in with its chilled music and boho vibe. But it’s the nine scorching hot men who own and run the bar that make me want to stay. When they offer me a job, I make it my mission to experience absolutely everything Cloud 9 has to offer. And that includes the owners!
Bradley and Bryce are twins from Texas who cook up a storm in the kitchen and between my sheets.
Lachlan, from Scotland, is quiet and brooding, and his touch stills my restless soul.
Joshua and Jared are blond twins from London who’ve left the big smoke behind to indulge their love of surfing. They give new meaning to their catchphrase, ‘If it swells, ride it’.
Thomas, Logan, Michell, and Cooper are hot, rugged Aussie men with laid-back attitudes and a dedication to exploring all my foreign territory.
They go the whole nine yards to take me to heaven and back and are determined to make me their lucky number ten.
But even though they show me how good they are down under… and over… and everywhere in between, settling down was never part of the plan.
My YOLO tattoo makes me seem carefree and adventurous, but it’s there to remind me that imagining a future is dangerous. Getting the most out of life means moving on before my heart gets involved….and before I have to face up to my greatest fear.
Or does it?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

DAWN

"Can I get you another mojito?"

I eye the barman, with his faded white logo shirt and strange mullet hairstyle with disappointment. When I fantasized about coming on this trip, this wasn’t what I expected at all.

"No thanks," I say, twizzling the straw in my existing drink. There’s only the essence of alcohol left and it’s mostly melted ice water flavored with mint and lime. My head is swimming, and my bladder is urgently warning me to make a trip to the restroom. Worst of all, my heart feels lonely.

I miss home.

I miss my friends.

I miss going to familiar places and seeing familiar faces.

I’m even starting to miss my stupid boss. He was an ass, but predictable at least.

Cringing, I suck the last of my diluted drink and give myself an internal pep talk. What the hell was the point of me getting the YOLO tattoo if I’m desperate to live for yesterday? Today is where I need to be, focusing on the present, enjoying whatever life throws in my direction.

I need fun and laughter. I’m in Australia for goodness’ sake. It’s the trip of a lifetime and all I can think about is home.

Kyla, my bestie, pops into my head. She’s living her best life, shacked up with eight gorgeous tattoo artists. She’s living YOLO every day. I may have been the one to encourage her in their direction, and I’m so happy for her it hurts, but I’m also the color of Shrek jealous.

There’s not a single man in this whole bar who could hold a candle to one of Kyla’s harem. Or maybe I just haven’t looked properly. I started this trip bubbling with enthusiasm, but it’s slowly ebbed into something darker and sadder.

Ugh.

I am not this girl.

Sliding off the wooden bar stool, I swipe my hand over my tight dress, smoothing out the wrinkles and tugging at the hem so it’s a little closer to decent and a little further from panty-revealing. Although maybe a little panty revealing would go some way to improving my night.

The sign for the restrooms is in the corner and I stagger slightly on my heels through the throng of bodies. I’m almost there when a drunk man with blond braids and a pink shirt comes flying towards me, nearly knocking me off my feet. I’m sent hurtling directly into a tray of drinks that overturn all over the poor person carrying them, splashing my legs and feet in the process.

"Oh my god," I shout, stumbling to right myself. The man is soaked from his feet, to his jeans, to his shirt. My eyes trail upwards inch by terrible inch, taking in the catastrophe I’ve caused. It seems to take an eternity to reach what can only be described as a very surprised face.

It must match mine because not only is this dude tall enough to play for the NBA, but he’s also built enough to get into my pants. Seriously. I’ve suffered through a week of drought and the first man I come across with any kind of potential is the one I’ve showered with so much alcohol that his cock must taste like beer!

"I’m so sorry," I say, patting his shirt, finding it cold and wet and clinging to a ripped muscular chest and abs that roll in waves. Damn, he’s sexy. "You’re so wet, and so am I."

"That’s quick," he says, his mouth quirking into a gorgeously mischievous grin. "It usually takes a little more than a grope of my chest to get a girl ready."

My eyes bug out for a second as I absorb the fact that he’s flirting rather than mad, and then I burst into nervous laughter. "Yeah, this chest is something close to spectacular." I add a wink for extra flirtatious effect which he seems to appreciate.

He folds in his full lips like he’s imagining tasting the wetness he’s referring to, and my mind is already there. I bet he’d be amazing at oral. Men with sharp wit usually have very capable tongues. Combined with his flop of messy auburn hair and a nose that could give Julius Caesar a run for his money, this guy is the full package.

"Only close?" he grabs the hem as though he’s going to give me a flash of the good stuff, but it’s only a tease.

At that moment, before I can ask Mr. Hilarious-Sex-God for his number, the mullet sporting barman appears with a mop and bucket to deal with the lake of beer congealing around our feet.

"I’m sorry," I say again.

"It’s okay."

I stare at his lips as he replies and wonder if this is the first Australian dude with a hope of making my trip worthwhile.

"Mitchell, you bringing those drinks or what?" a man yells.

Mitchell shrugs, and I take the hint that he’s under pressure to go back to the bar. My bladder is about to call time too, so I tiptoe to dry land in the direction of the restroom, glancing over my shoulder as he disappears back into the crowd.


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