Seven Brothers of Sin

I nod in appreciation. Hey, understanding your weaknesses is just as important as understanding your strengths. My respect for her grows because at eighteen, she’s already light years ahead. When I was that age, all I thought about was girls, boobs, and butts, in that order.

But clearly, Macy doesn’t want to talk about it because she turns away abruptly, pulling plates out of the cabinets and cutlery from the drawers, handing the whole stack to me before smiling sunnily, the clouds in her eyes gone.

“Dinner’s ready. Join us, Trent?”

I don’t have to be told twice. All four of us males sit down, stomachs rumbling, dicks throbbing for this girl. But there’s no sense in scaring her, so we feed our guts first, diving into the savory stew.

“Holy shit,” grunts Tim. “This is fantastic.”

“Yeah,” Will burps happily. “Yeah. Fuck yeah.”

Not exactly helpful comments, so Matt busts in with something literary.

“It’s savory and sweet, but there’s heat that gets left at the back of your throat,” he says, gulping in huge swallows.

And I’ve gotta uphold our honor too, so I try to say something complimentary.

“The smell actually drove me crazy all the way from next door,” I growl. “That’s why I showed up like a stray dog outside your gate.”

Macy smiles and I feel it in my toes. And other places, too. Let’s be honest.

“Mouthwatering,” I add again, my eyes lingering on her lips.

Macy takes notes as we enjoy her food, scribbling in her notebook when our comments are helpful, blushing and pushing her hair behind her ears each time our comments are ridiculous.

About halfway through the meal, she loosens up a little, giggling at our constant innuendo, sometimes almost dishing it back. Shit, she’s sassy and sweet, yet innocent all at once. I watch hungrily, devouring every move, every luscious curve.

And too soon, the meal’s over. The brunette shuts her notebook, sighing happily.

“This was really helpful,” she murmurs, making eye contact with all four of us. “Thank you so much.”

I grin.

“No worries, little girl. No worries at all.”

But Macy’s been taught her manners because she looks at us earnestly then.

“Is there some way I can repay you? Like I said, taste-testing is real work, and I’d like to do something for you as well. Your input has been invaluable,” she adds.

The air goes still, possibilities hovering in the atmosphere.

Because really?

Really really?

And shit, it’s time to strike. My brothers and I exchange looks, the air in the kitchen crackling with energy.

Oh yeah, we want.

And we’re gonna take.

But it’s important to go in slow, to ease into things without startling the sweet filly.

“It’s nice of you to offer, baby girl,” comes my drawl. “Because we’re ready for some dessert.”

Macy blushes and jumps up.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” she breathes. “I forgot about dessert,” she says, hands flying to her cheeks. “I didn’t make any, maybe my parents have some ice cream in the freezer,” she rushes, running over to peer into the fridge.

But it’s not that kind of dessert we want. So I get up and lead the brunette gently back to the table, making sure she’s sitting down.

“Naw, not that kind of dessert honey. A different kind.”

The female’s confused.

“I can find something else,” she says quickly. “Did you mean non-American? Like a Mexican flan? Or a Swedish caramel? Chocolate from Denmark is also really good, I hear.”

Macy’s so innocent, it’s cute.

But we’re not after anything Mexican, Swedish or Danish.

No, we’re looking for American. A hundred percent American, Grade A quality.

“Naw honey,” I drawl. “We want you.”

The words hang in the air before us, quivering almost. Aw fuck. Is Macy gonna run screaming? Did we go too fast, too soon?

She stares for a moment before taking a big breath and then exhaling in a rush.

“I’m sorry,” her murmur comes. “You want me? I don’t understand.”

Another pregnant pause.

“Yeah,” Tim says silkily. “We want you. At least an appetizer, baby girl. Just a small taste.”

The female’s big brown eyes swing between the four of us, but there’s no denying the hunger, the obvious insinuation. Because we’re four ravenous males, and there’s only one thing for her to do. Submit.

And she understands.

Because with a slow nod, the female agrees.

“Yes,” comes her breathy murmur. “Yes, I want it.”

And slowly, her hands move. As if in a trance, they untie her frilly apron, letting it drop to the ground. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. The girl’s got a white dress on underneath, and slowly, she slips a hand under one strap and lets it fall off her shoulder.

“Like this?” she whispers, quivering a bit, hunger in those caramel eyes.

We nod, eyes all over her luscious bod. Oh shit, the show’s starting and my dick’s already beginning to perk. Fuck me.

She pushes the dress down further, freeing one heavy, creamy breast, running her index finger over the stiff, pink rosebud of a nipple.