My 3 Rockstar Bosses

The brunette shakes her head again, refusing to meet our eyes. Getting up slowly, those curvy limbs carry her to the door gracefully, like she’s floating on air. I figure we’ve seen the last of Macy, for now at least.

But instead, the brunette quirks her head back and meets our gaze fully then.

“I need more,” are the simple words.

And with that, she’s gone, out the door and across the lawn, leaving the six of us mystified. Goddamn. Women always get your goat. They say one thing and mean another, and none of it ever makes sense.

But one thing’s for certain, though. We’ll give her whatever she needs whatever she wants. Because she belongs to us now. After that beautiful show, there’s no way this gorgeous girl is getting away. Macy belongs to us now … completely and irrevocably.

CHAPTER SIX

Macy

What do I know about the Morgan brothers? Let’s review.

Devastatingly handsome, charismatic, and hungry as hell.

Commanding, sensual, and so damn good at making a woman forget her own name.

My neighbors from childhood, even if I don’t remember much.

But still, what do I really know?

Matt, the youngest, is an aspiring writer. The twins have an internet business. Ford does motorcycles. Trent’s a doctor. And Smith’s the boss, a whiz with numbers.

But that’s about it. All I know is that I’m dazzled whenever they’re around, hardly able to think, my limbs moving as they command. And the way it’s been going so far takes my breath away.

Because why would brothers want to share the same woman? Why are they doing this? There are so many ladies out there who’d love even five minutes with one hard, male body. So why all the attention on me? Is it weird?

And in my heart, the answer’s clear. It’s weird. Really, really weird. A team of hot, huge men, with their cocks out together? With just one woman as the center of attention? Makes no sense at all.

But the impossible just keeps happening again and again. Because I let five men watch me shower. And not just shower, but I gave them a show, pulling apart my cheeks so they could see my holes. I came for them, creaming and spasming hard, crying out their names.

“Trent! Ford! Matt!” were my helpless cries. “Will! Tim!”

Holy shit. Because after that shower, it didn’t stop. I wandered into the hallway to meet Smith for the first time, and let him finger me as his brothers watched.

Legs spread, on the couch, devoured by six pairs of hungry male eyes.

Oh my god.

What’s going on?

How can this be happening?

Smith is probably in his forties, for fuck’s sake. He could be my dad.

Well, maybe I can call him Daddy then …

Maybe I can call all of them Daddy, come to think of it. They’re all at least a decade older than me.

The scene runs through my brain on repeat, again and again. Oh my god. It really happened. I totally just did a show for those men. I bent over and showed my asshole. I rubbed myself to climax. I let them see between my legs while I answered Smith’s questions. And I liked it. The truth is that I loved it.

Because I have a secret. Sure, I’ve been addicted to my vibrator since sophomore year of high school. I’ve seen my fair share of porn, read all the red-hot romances with a hand between my legs.

But real boyfriends? Nada. Zip. Zilch. I’ve never been touched down there, and in fact, even the thought makes me self-conscious. Because I’m a big girl, with protective walls guarding my heart. Maybe guys won’t like me. Maybe they’ll be grossed out when they realizes how much flesh there is.

But the Morgans make me feel the opposite. They make me burst with confidence and positivity, like my curves are a turn-on.