I blush and he chuckles. Man, some guys. Even when they’re seventy and partially paralyzed, they still got game. No wonder the boys are the way they are.
But where is everyone? As my parents chitchat with Mr. Morgan, I make my way into the living room. And here’s the answer. Seven tall sentinels look at me, making it difficult to breathe. Seven pairs of blue eyes, all trained on me the minute I walk into the room.
I note that the last brother, Sam, has finally arrived. He’s quite a bit older than me. His dark hair is wavy like his brothers’ but has a little bit of grey strewn throughout. He still has the Morgan build, though, muscular and fit. And his eyes are that bright blue of topaz Caribbean waters.
Man, what a silver fox. All dressed up in a button-down shirt and dark jeans. In fact, all of the guys look nice tonight, in designer clothing, freshly showered and smelling like musk and pine. Immediately, my senses prickle.
“Hi,” comes my soft greeting. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Is that all I can say? Really? After all that’s happened? A blush covers my cheeks immediately.
But the brothers are smooth.
“Hey Macy,” greets Matt. “Good to see you. Macy, this is our brother Sam.”
Sam looks unimpressed as his eyes look me up and down, assessing every inch from the crown of my head to the peep-toe heels on my feet. He takes my hand and shakes it.
“Nice to meet you,” comes a smooth growl. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
My heart starts beating fast and furious. Because Sam’s so gorgeous and the fact that he’s older just makes teacher-student fantasies run through my head. I press my thighs together to keep from getting too wet, squirming a little already.
But Sam doesn’t seem affected at all. In fact, the opposite. He’s a little dismissive, looking off into the distance. Like he’s not nearly as impressed with little Macy Jones as his brothers have been.
Oh shit. Or maybe he knows what I’ve done? Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed. Maybe I really am a whore, a super slutty piece of trash. Maybe what I’ve done is not okay, even if it does feel good.
The confidence I came in with has now left the building, and I’m wrapped in a full-body blush. Sam’s eyes go dark as he takes in my physical reaction to this encounter, but still, there’s no glimmer of lust or arousal or even interest. Just flat blue.
But the other brothers are on a different wavelength. Matt sits and pulls me onto his lap, his lips to my ears. “Don’t worry about him,” he whispers. His breath on my skin makes me shiver. “He’s a crabby old bastard but he likes you.”
This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t be sitting on a man’s lap, ready to let go after five seconds.
But I can’t help it. My insides are already burning hot, despite Sam’s cool reception, and I let Matt’s hand wander up beneath my skirt, scrunching the material around my hips. Oh god, oh god, so soon? But like a woman in a daze, I can’t help it. I’m caught in a dream, and it’s the best dream ever.
So Matt continues. His brothers watch intently as those big fingers press ever so lightly against the thin satin of my panties. They’re a pale pink, and sure enough, his fingers come away damp, making the alpha chuckle. He spreads my legs wider for everyone to see, and there’s a wet spot at my crotch, a tell-tale sign of arousal.
A low, throaty moan rises in the room, seven pairs of eyes on my steaming cunt. The brothers tense, like coils ready to pop, as Matt rubs my clit through my underwear, his other hand moving into the V of my dress, splaying against the skin of my breast.
“Let’s get this off you, hmm?” he rumbles low. “Will, get her jacket.”
In a flash, Will’s by o
ur side, helping me struggle out of the blazer. And then it’s just me in this too-tight dress, sitting in the lap of a handsome man with six brothers watching ravenously.
I’m nervous. Real nervous. The men are so intense, and with our parents just one room away, a thrill runs down my spine. Because it’s playing with fire. If before, we’d taken risks in the kitchen and shower, this time we’re asking for it. Literally, Maddy, Ted, Jim, and Marsha are mere feet away, talking like nothing’s wrong. I can hear their voices even, a low murmur punctuated by the occasional chuckle.
But the Morgans can’t be stopped.
“So Macy,” Sam drawls, “I hear you’re quite the budding chef.”
What? Why is he asking me this when I’m literally draped all over his brother, legs spread, panties wet?
But I nod, trying to keep my voice unaffected, even as Matt’s hands do a number on my body.
“I love to cook,” comes my soft mewl. “It makes me happy.”
Sam nods approvingly, eyes still sharp.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Sam says. “Do you have a boyfriend?”