All movements cease except for the endless pumping of our ball sacks, unloading into our lush brunette.
But Macy manages to squeak her head around, mouth dropping open.
“Mom?” she pants, eyes wild. “Mo -mom?”
I can imagine what this looks like. Sweet teen girl, a virgin not long ago, now sandwiched between two giant alpha males, one dick in her puss and one dick in her ass, semen spilling in great goopy runs between our bodies. Oh yeah, not a sight for any mother to see. Sorry about that Marsha. Cover your eyes with your hands, if that helps.
But Macy’s in a panic.
“Oh god!” the girl screams now, trying desperately to scramble free. But there’s no way. She’s literally pinned by two cocks in both her holes, stuck like a pig on a stick. So the girl shuts her eyes, pretending like it’s gonna go away.
But it’s not going away, not without some magic at least. So my brother and I pull out in a rush, thick shafts coated in superglue. Moving like ninjas, we scramble into our jeans as Marsha goes ballistic, screaming for her husband.
“Jim!” comes that banshee wail. “Jim!”
But she takes a deep breath and turns on Macy, eyes like burning coals.
“You ungrateful lazy little whore!” comes a scream, spittle flying from her mouth, splattering my leg.
Macy tries to hide under the blankets but her mother swoops over and snatches them away, exposing her daughter’s body drenched in male cum.
“Look at you, allowing these men to see you like this, to treat you like some … some … prostitute! You fucking slut! Saying you didn’t want to go back to school! It was because of this, wasn’t it? You’ve been letting the boys next door fuck you silly!”
The brunette begins to shiver and cry as Jim Jones runs in, half-asleep still.
“What’s going on here?” he demands, rubbing his eyes.
But then they go wide when he sees me and Will in only our jeans with his daughter nude on the bed, shaking and sobbing.
“What the hell?” he grunts from surprise more than anything. I’m sure any father seeing his daughter naked with two men in the room would be startled as all fuck.
“She did it!” screams Mrs. Jones. “Your daughter was fucking these two men when I came in! I caught them red-handed! Whore! Whore! Whore!”
It’s like a scene from The Handmaid’s Tale where the handmaids chant at a victim, pointing and accusatory. Totally unnecessary.
“That’s enough,” I grind out, stepping forwards. “She’s not a whore.”
“Says one of the men who just had his fat cock inside her!” Mrs. Jones screams, literally frothing at the mouth now. “Whore! Whore! Whore!”
Shit, this can’t keep going. Macy’s cowering on the bed now, only semi-covered by a thin sheet. We have to get her out of here, and evidently my brother has the same thoughts.
Because Will grabs a robe from her dresser and wraps the girl in it protectively.
“You’re fine,” he rumbles to the trembling brunette, tears sliding down her cheeks uncontrollably. “You’re gonna be fine.”
But Mrs. Jones is on a roll.
“Whore!” she screams again, still pointing. “Whore! Whore! Whore!”
God, does she know any other words? Besides, this is a fucked-up way to treat your daughter, your only child at that. Seriously, shut up for a minute and see what Macy has to say.
But Marsha Jones is too far gone. Her eyes roll wildly, the muscles in her neck tight and strained, arm stiff as she stares and points.
“Whore!” she screams again.
That’s it. That’s the end of this.
“Get her out of here,” I growl at my brother.
He nods and sweeps Macy into his arms, pushing past her parents as Marsha continues her robotic chanting. It’s like a devil has taken over her body, requiring an exorcist.
Will pounds down the steps and out the door, my massive form following in their wake. Marsha seems to snap out of it somewhat, but not in a good way.
“If you walk out of here, Macy Lynn Jones, don’t you think you can come back!” she screams shrilly, not caring if the entire neighborhood hears. “Don’t think you can bring that nasty business back into my house! You’re the spawn of the devil, with evil between your legs! Repent now or never return!”
That’s too much. First, there’s no need to be so dramatic, like this is a horror movie or something. Really? “Repent now”? “Evil between her legs”? “Spawn of the devil”? More like Macy’s her own flesh and blood.
Second, the Joneses have been on their daughter’s ass all summer, telling her she’s wasting her time with cooking, that her dreams are worth shit. They devalue this incredible female, and to me, that’s unforgiveable.
So I grunt, turning nastily to face her parents as Will loads the trembling female into our car.
“Shut the fuck up,” is my raging roar. “Shut the fuck up, or I swear ….” comes my bitten-off threat. I want to do all sorts of nasty things, but this isn’t the time. Already lights are turning on in neighboring houses, and I’m sure someone has their cellphone pointed our way.
So instead, I grimace menacingly at the Jones parents, and then rush into the car myself, slamming the Mercedes door emphatically.
We zoom through the neighborhood, just trying to create some distance at first, wheels squealing as rubber meets the road.
Macy’s in the backseat, face frozen, unable to move because of shock.
“Sweet thing,” I rumble reassuringly. “Don’t let it get to you.”
But she can’t process anything right now because too much has happened in too short of a time. It was dramatic and overwhelming, and the brunette’s stock still, frozen in the back of the car as we whiz along at eighty miles an hour.
Finally though, Tim pulls up in front of a fancy hotel.
“The Meridian’s a good one,” he growls, turning to look at our girl. “You’re gonna be fine.”
And slowly she nods, eyes wide, still unmoving.
But hell, this is a time to go five star if there ever was one. Because our female deserves the best, and we’re gonna give it to her. Booking a suite, we walk our beautiful girl up to the twenty-seventh floor. Opening the door, I can’t help but whistle appreciatively. Shit, this place is the bomb, with white pile carpet, two giant flatscreens, and priceless artwork scattered in the living area.
But Macy doesn’t care. Eyes unseeing, she wobbles into the suite before collapsing on a plush couch.
“Baby girl, you’re gonna be okay,” I grunt reassuringly. “A-okay, I promise.”
She doesn’t answer, staring at nothing in particular.
I take a seat by her, my brother on the other side.
“Sweet thing,” begins Tim, both of us grabbing a hand. But then Macy’s face crumples, breaking into tears.
“Macy,” comes my hoarse rasp, “It’s gonna be fine. We promise.”
But the brunette’s overwhelmed.
“My mom just walked in on you two co-fucking me, one in my puss and one in my ass,” she mumbles incoherently. “She saw that. Oh god, oh god. My mom saw that. What if I am a whore? Because who does that? Oh my god, oh my god.”
The words come tumbling out, agonized and painful, filled with grief and sorrow. Macy’s curled forwards, her face in her hands as hot tears drop between her fingers.
Will and I glance at each other over her bent head. Aw shit, we’re not great at emotional stuff, especially shit like this. But we have to try, Macy means so much to us.
“Baby girl, it’s gonna be alright,” I rumble again, covering her hand with mine. “Trust me it’s gonna be fine.”
“You’ll see,” grinds out Will. “It’s all gonna work out.”
And at that moment, the front door opens, the rest of our brothers filing in, their massive forms taking up space in the living room. Because the first thing we did upon leaving the Jones’s place was dial Smith. And he alerted the rest of the fam to the comedy cum tragedy.
After all, what could be more important? Disaster’s struck and in times of crisis, the Morgans stick together. Even more important, we’re claiming our girl now. The time has come and there’s no need to hold back anymore.
“Sweetheart,” begins Sam slowly.
But Macy won’t hear it. Instead, she shakes her head furiously, eyes cast down on the carpet.
“What my mom said was right,” she says in a broken voice. “I’ve been doing all of you,” she cries, raising her gaze to look at us now. “I’ve been letting all of you touch me, over and over again. I’ve spread my legs so many times, letting you into my secret spots, stroking my ….” The girl can’t finish, she’s so ashamed.
But there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.
“Naw, honey,” grinds out Trent, blue eyes blazing. “You’re just the one for us.”
Macy raises her head wildly then.
“Says who? I’m a slut who let seven men use my body this summer! Seven men! And not only that but I’m probably pregnant, we’ve never used protection. Not once!” she wails, eyes wild now, curls flying.
My brothers and I exchange a look. Did she just say the p-word? Evidently so, because Sam starts again.
“About that …” his voice rumbles.
“How could you not use protection?” Macy shrieks then, eyes wide and rolling, glaring at us accusatorily. “How could you do that to a teen girl? You know I’m not on anything.”
Those were the words that we wanted to hear, the perfect opening. And slowly, I squeeze the brunette’s hand.
“Sweetheart, that’s what we wanted to talk to you about,” come my calm words. “A baby. Because that’s what we want. With us as the fathers, and you as the mother.”
For a moment, Macy doesn’t move, still staring at the carpet. But then her chin snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief.
“What?” comes her sputter. “No, it can’t be. That’s impossible.”
Trent nods then.
“For sure,” he rumbles in a low voice. “There could be nothing better.”
“But why?” the brunette gasps, looking at all of us now, her gaze swinging from one big form to another. “Why? This is just so ….” Her words trail off, wordless and incoherent.
But we know what we want. It’s been all too clear for months now, and Sam fixes her with a hot blue gaze then.
“Baby girl,” he begins slowly. “We’re rich as fuck. Did you know that?”
The brunette blinks at us, uncomprehending.
“No, I didn’t,” she says in a trembling voice. “But why would that matter? Why, what difference does it make?”
Sam speaks then, his massive build leaning against a wall casually. But nothing about this is casual. Our goal is about to be revealed, and everything depends on Macy’s reaction.
“It matters because these two losers,” he says, pointing to me and Will, “have their own company. It’s not public so far, but it will be soon. And then our fortune will be out in the open.”
But Macy’s confused, shaking her head.
“But what does that have to do with me?” she asks plaintively, tears in her eyes. Oh god, she’s so beautiful that I want to kiss it all away and be done with it. Unfortunately, this isn’t the time.
“What Sam’s saying,” interrupts Ford. “Is that there’s a lot of money in our family,” he continues smoothly. “And there’s seven of us.”
Macy shakes her head mutely, still not understanding. I don’t blame her.
“So?” comes a whisper. “What difference does that make?”
“It means that if we all get married and have kids, there’s gonna be dozens of grandkids and hundreds of great-grandkids. There’s gonna be a million heirs, dividing the fortune a million ways. And that’s not what we want.”
Macy shakes her head mutely.
“But what you described is normal. That’s what happens to families with money.”
My brothers and I share a knowing look.
“It is normal,” I say gently. “And many successful families divide their fortune multiple ways so that each generation gets less and less. But that’s not what we want. We want our business to stay intact, and our money to stay intact as well. So we’ve decided to have only one heir.”
The brunette cocks her head at us then, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.
“One heir? But how does that work?” she asks, stupefied. “There’s seven of you. Are some of you not going to have kids?”
The million dollar question is here at last. And it’s important to phrase our answer just right, to strike the perfect balance.
“It works if we share one woman,” is my smooth growl. “All of us brothers have decided that we’re only going to impregnate one sweet female so that she has one baby. And honey, so far that female is you.”
Shocked silence fills the room. The second hand on the grandfather clock can be heard ticking loudly as Macy stares at us, brown eyes disbelieving.
“I’m sorry?” comes her whisper. “I’m sorry?”
Smith nods then.
“That’s right baby girl,” he says, voice as smooth as honey. “We’d like you to be the mother of our child. You, and no one else.”
Macy’s frozen on the couch.
“But why?” comes her shocked whisper. “How?”
Sam chuckles deep in his throat, blue eyes blazing.
“I think you know the ‘how’ already, sweetheart. We’ve been taking turns enjoying your body, haven’t you noticed? Each of us gets an equal shot at impregnating your curvy form, coming bareback in that sweet snatch.”
Macy blushes then, remembering how we come to her room each night, dicks out and ready to spurt.
“Yes, but why then?” she presses in a whisper. “I don’t get it. Why?”
“It’s easier this way,” bursts in Matt, eyes fierce. “Like my bros said, we only want one heir.”
But the brunette wasn’t asking about that. She shakes her head furiously and tries again.
“No, not why as in ‘why are you doing this?’ Why, as in ‘why me?’ What makes me so special? You could have anyone,” she chokes, face falling. “You don’t need some girl without a college degree, with no options, and no family now,” come the tortured words.
All of us gather around her then, our gazes fierce, protective and possessive at once.
“Because you’re perfect,” growls Matt, eyes wandering hungrily that curvy form. “You’re young, fertile, and beautiful as hell.”
“You love to cook,” grunts Smith. “You’ll take care of us and our child.”
“Your priorities are in the right place,” rumbles Sam smoothly. “Hearth and home mean everything to you.”
But I know my brothers are circling the real answer. And I give it to Macy, straightforward and smooth.
“And because we love you,” comes my simple reply. “You’re the only woman who can handle us all, generous and giving. You never hold back, even if you’re tired or sick. You’re always there for us, every single male, and that’s not an easy feat given that we’re demanding assholes. So yes, baby girl. We love you and want you to be the one.”
And at that, Macy softens, those caramel eyes going liquid, her body relaxing for the first time in hours.
“I see,” is all she manages in a whisper, small hands releasing their tense grip on a sofa cushion. “I see.”
Immediately, I’m on my knees next to her, grabbing one small fist in my own. My brothers gather close, forming a protective circle.
“Will you, Macy Jones?” comes my urgent rumble. “Will you be our woman, the light of our lives, the mother of our child?”
And for the first time all night, happy tears come to the brunette’s eyes instead of sad. She manages a tremulous smile, clasping my hand in her own and squeezing tightly.
“I- I’ll try,” she stammers. But then the new Macy takes hold because she seizes my hand tighter and looks me straight in the eye before turning to include my brothers.
“Yes, I’ll be yours. All of yours.”
And a low rumble rises from the Morgan boys, a growl of approval and ownership. Because this is the most important acquisition we’ve ever had in our lives. The brunette’s worth more than her weight in gold. Even if Macy doesn’t realize it yet, her presence, her goodness and light, are crucial to a peaceful, stable future for our family, and we’re overjoyed that she’ll be the linchpin that holds us together. Crowding in close, we kiss the beautiful girl, showering her with love, appreciating everything the brunette has to give.
“We adore you, Macy Jones,” comes our low rumble. “Always.”
And the girl writhes and twists beneath our lips and hands, moaning, yet filled with love, light and renewal. Because with these revelations, our future together is sealed, our heir assured … or so we think.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Macy
Six months later …
I’ve missed my period again. That’s two in a row.
Not that pregnancy should be surprising. After I left my parents’ home, the Morgan brothers took me to a fancy hotel. I was too out of it then to appreciate the luxurious surroundings, but we weren’t gonna stay there forever. With my new lovers, it’s all about stability and permanence, and hotel living is the opposite of that.
His Baby: A Babycrazy Romance Page 54