Seven Brothers of Sin: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  “I’ve met someone,” announced my dad.

  Silence except for chewing noises and the crackle of bacon browning on the griddle. My dad met new women each week, this was nothing new. But he pressed on.

  “She’s really special, I hope you’ll welcome her with open arms.”

  At this, Peyton looked up.

  “Sure Dad, no prob,” he tossed off between bites of food. We weren’t worried. After all, he dated like a madman, this woman probably wasn’t any different from the others.

  “And she’s moving in,” continued my dad. “Next week.”

  At that, we looked up. What the? My mind whirred furiously. Had he brought someone by who was particularly pretty? I tried to remember but there was merely a blur of faces, no one stood out especially. Oh, there was that one woman who cackled when she laughed, she got on my nerves, but whatevs. It wasn’t permanent or anything.

  “What do you mean, moving in?” I asked slowly, finally opening my mouth. “Why?”

  “Because that’s what people in love do,” said my dad simply. “In fact, Virginia and I have been dating for three months.”

  I rolled my eyes. My point exactly, it’d only been three months. That was hardly enough time to get to know each other, much less move in. But my dad pressed on.

  “Virginia’s the one,” he said in a rush. “And we’re getting married!”

  This time, my brother and I choked, food flying from my mouth as I spat out a mouthful of scrambled egg.

  “What?” I gagged. “Why? When?”

  “Really Pax, do you have to ask why? We’re in love,” he said airily. I guess even old people fell in love, anything was possible. But Gordy continued. “Virginia’s the one, I hope you’ll welcome her with open arms.”

  “But why?” demanded Peyton ruthlessly. Like peas in a pod, my twin and I. “What the hell is this about?”

  My dad shot him a warning glance.

  “It’s about life,” he stated. “I’ve been lonely since your mom passed, it’s time I found someone to take care of, to take care of me. We all need a companion.”

  “Hmmph,” grunted my twin.

  My dad just sighed and looked around the kitchen. Okay, it wasn’t exactly clean, not like when our mom had been alive. In fact, the place was downright sloppy, dishes in the sink, dirt caked on the floor, a wet dishrag on the ground. But that stuff could be solved by hiring a cleaner, not marrying a wife.

  “You boys need it,” announced my dad. “And I need it too,” he hinted darkly.

  That made me sit back, realization suddenly dawning. Could it be? Did my dad need to get laid and this chick Virginia was the answer? I shared a glance with my twin and could see that he was thinking along the same lines. Oh yeah, dear old dad needed a bed buddy, and he probably couldn’t afford to keep taking women out on countless dates. So marriage it was. Holy cow, we didn’t realize dating and relationships were so complicated.

  “When are you getting married?” I asked, more curious now than anything. If he needed to blow his load on a regular basis, the sooner the better as far as we were concerned.

  “This weekend,” Dad replied simply. “Virginia’s handling the details, you guys just need to show up.”

  I shook my head, it was happening so fast. But you know what? I didn’t blame Gordon. The need for food, water, shelter and sex are commandments, and if that’s what would float his boat, get his goat … then so be it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Stacey

  It was shocking, my mom getting married.

  “Ana, I’m getting married,” she announced one day, not even looking up from her laptop. Her nails clacked, fingers flying in a fury, and that’s how I found out I was going to have a new dad … and two new stepbrothers.

  I was surprised, beyond surprised really. My mom is a workaholic, someone who travels a lot as a bank executive, and it’s been a good living for the last ten years. It was a shock when my dad divorced her, leaving nothing in his wake. He’d been a sneaky bastard, emptying their joint bank account, their safe deposit box, heck, even taking some of the jewelry my grandma left her.

  But my mom is tough. She was a bank teller back then and despite her broken heart, the endless crying jags, she showed up at work each morning like nothing had happened, her suit perfectly pressed, ready with a firm handshake and calm smile. Some women are born resilient, and Virginia was the best.

  And I’m proud because she’s done well. Management liked Mom, the way she was always punctual, her natural way with numbers, how she was meticulous with money, even though it was just helping little old ladies with their retirement accounts at first. Mom was promoted, then promoted again, then again and again, until she was Senior Vice President with a shot at the top job. Can you believe it? My mom, who doesn’t have a college degree, is in competition with a bunch of Wall Street guys with slicked back hair and perfectly-cut, thousand dollar suits.

  But it’s a lonely life, working 7 a.m. to midnight, so I was surprised to hear that she’d even met someone, much less gotten all the way to marriage.

  “Who is it?” I asked, my eyebrows raised. Had she met someone on the job? That was the only plausible explanation, she had no time to socialize. But I was wrong.

  “He’s a nice man, I met him at a coffee shop,” she said, still barely looking up, fingernails clacking away at the keyboard. “You’ll like him.”

  Okay, at least this wasn’t an interoffice romance that would get her fired. But I was still curious.

  “Name?” I pressed. It was unlike Virginia to be so secretive.

  “Gordon Jones,” she replied, finally looking up. “He’s an insurance exec, a widower, lives out in White Plains with his sons.”

  I knew I should have asked more about the man, about his family, but all I could hear was “White Plains,” a desolate suburbia thirty miles north of Manhattan.

  “Um Mom,” I said slowly. “Sorry to intrude, but does this mean we’re moving out to White Plains? Or are they going to move in here? Or,” and here, I hoped against hope, “we’ll just stay separate?” To me, anything other than NYC was the boonies, much less the outer boroughs. In fact, White Plains wasn’t even outer boroughs, it was Westchester County. Right? Maybe I was wrong, but I sure as hell didn’t care. Anywhere other than Manhattan was a living death.

  Finally, my mom closed her laptop with a click, meeting my eyes.

  “Yes Ana, it means that we’re moving,” she replied. “In fact, I’m getting married this weekend and we’re moving into Gordon’s home next week.”

  I sat stock still, my mouth open. You probably could have tossed a golf ball in without missing, I was so flabbergasted. WTF? Mom made a nice living in the City, why were we moving? What did they have out there anyways? A jail? A mall? Nothing, seriously nothing, at least not compared to Manhattan.

  “Mom, no,” I said forcefully. “I can’t move, you know how well I’m doing at school, Trinity is awesome, I love my coach, I love my friends, I can’t go.”

  But she cut me off.

  “Ana, there’s more to life than track, and besides you can still run at your new school. You’ll have new brothers to show you around, they’re your age and athletic too. You’ll get along like a house on fire, I’m sure of it,” she said emphatically.

  Um, she was completely wrong, boys had never been interested in me. I was “The Bean,” a girl ten miles tall and shaped like a string of rope. No guy had ever looked my way, but that was beside the point.

  “Ma,” I shook my head furiously, “no way am I moving. No way.”

  But Mom just ignored my protests.

  “Yes you are because I’ve already given up the lease on this apartment, you’ll have no place to live.”

  Oh no. Our beautiful triplex on the Upper West Side, and it was going to be gone? The rug was pulled out from under me with a whoosh and I could literally feel a jolt to the stomach, the surprise overwhelming and disorienting.

  “I don’t care!” I whined. “I�
��ll stay with Jenny instead.”

  But Virginia just shook her head. Jenny was my friend since kindergarten, and we’d practically grown up together.

  “Jenny’s parents would never let you stay, they don’t have the room. You have no idea how lucky you are living here anyways,” she replied. “Not everyone has their own room and bathroom in the City.”

  And I sat back, floored, because unfortunately she was right. Even at a fancy school like Trinity filled with well-to-do families, real estate in NYC is expensive and most families are squeezed into tiny apartments, siblings sharing rooms, even opposite-sex siblings sometimes sharing a living space. Jenny lived in a three bedroom with her parents and two sisters and I knew the Millers didn’t have a square foot to spare, much less a spare bedroom for me.

  So mentally, my mind started exploring new options, furiously trying to come up with something. There had to be a way out of this. I had to resist moving to the boonies, I couldn’t go there, not even if my twin brothers were gorgeous … as I discovered in the most intimate way.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Peyton

  The wedding was elaborate, over the top even to my inexperienced eye. All-you-can-eat shrimp and lobster on ice, free-flowing champagne, and an open bar with top shelf liquor. Oh yeah, whoever was paying for this was going to be out a pretty penny.

  And Gordon wasn’t footing the bill. He’s done well, but insurance guys aren’t exactly rolling in dough, they need to save just like everyone else.

  “Who’s paying for this?” I asked my brother.

  “Dunno,” he shrugged. “I guess Virginia? Not Dad.”

  Well, whoever it was had gone all-out, judging from the décor, the food, and the country club setting. Probably renting this space cost an arm and a leg right there.

  But no matter, we were just here for the food. In the meantime, a girl in a yellow dress brushed past me, short, rotund, with straw-like hair.

  “Oops sorry!” she giggled, almost dropping her plate of appetizers. “Hi, I’m Jenny,” she tittered.

  “Hi,” I said shortly, giving her the once over. Not our type, too many giggles, but no reason to be rude.

  “I heard you’re the best men,” she said, eyeing us openly. Yeah, it happens. Women of all ages look us up and down with open lust, and this girl was no different.

  “Yeah, that’s us,” drawled Pax. “And you are?”

  “I’m Jenny,” giggled the girl, her high-pitched laugh grating on my ears. “I’m a friend of Ana, your new stepsister.”

  Ah, the mysterious Ana. Our dad had mentioned that Virginia had a daughter, some chick named Ana who was exactly our age, also a senior in high school.

  “Tell Ana we say hi,” grunted Pax. “We haven’t met her yet.”

  “Oh I will!” squealed Jenny, “she’s so lucky, she’s transferring to White Plains High. I’m so sick of Trinity, I wish I were transferring too.”

  “Oh really, Trinity’s no good?” I asked, eyebrows arched. I’d vaguely heard of the school and figured it was a rich kid playpen, filled with trust fund babies and the like.

  “Trinity’s awesome but we want to be with regular kids for a change,” sighed Jenny. “I mean, Trinity kids are snooty you know? I like them and all,” she rushed on, “it just takes a lot of money to fit in.”

  That was interesting. We thought Ana was a rich bitch, judging from her background with the high-flying mom, the lavish wedding, the elite private school. But her friend was making it sound like they were unpopular.

  “Well, I hope to see you again,” gushed Jenny. “I think Ana’s in back getting her hair done right now, but we’ll look you up after the ceremony, okay?”

  “Sure,” I rumbled, barely looking at the plump blonde. “Laters.”

  And my bro and I turned back to each other as the girl dashed off.

  “Interesting huh?” remarked my brother.

  “Sure is,” I rumbled in return. Our interest in our new stepsister was piqued. Not a rich bitch, but still rich, with a desire to be “regular” for a change.

  I shrugged. We’d meet her soon enough. Suddenly, something caught my eye in the bushes, maybe the rustle of a small animal, except it was accompanied by a flash of pink material.

  “Yo,” I grunted to my brother, “over here.”

  We prowled, following the noises, the snaps of twigs, the shuffling of leaves, even little gasps and shrieks sometimes. Definitely not a small animal.

  As we went further and further into the woods, the vegetation grew denser, sounds muffled, the party fading into the distance. I thought country clubs were known for their manicured grounds but I guess once you go off course, they let nature take over and we were basically in the forest now, trees everywhere, not able to see more than five feet in front of us.

  Suddenly, we burst into a glen and there was a girl standing there. Or more accurately, she was lying on the ground, her dress a mess of material around her, hair filled with twigs.

  “Oh my god!” she squealed, covering her breasts with her arms, “who are you? What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to turn away from us, shielding her body from our gaze.

  Because we were staring. The girl was amazing to look at, and my brother and I have seen a lot of naked females. She was a little thin, sure, but her boobs were big, bouncy Double D’s, and her legs were long and shapely, her dress pulled up around her waist, showing off those creamy thighs. Her hair was spread out on the ground like a blanket, filled with grass like she’d been rolling around.

  But what the hell was she doing, rolling around on the ground in the woods half-naked? Was this some kind of weird fetish, Red Riding Hood gone wild? At least there was no one else in sight, the girl all alone on her patch of grass, sunlight gleaming off those limbs.

  “What the?” growled Pax. And I could tell he was hungry already, not bothering to hide his stiffie. We hadn’t been with a girl in at least a week and it’s not every day that you come upon a hot chick looking like a succulent nymph.

  “What are you doing out here?” she gasped in reply. “I thought I was alone. The party’s back there,” she said, jerking her chin in the direction of the wedding.

  “Yeah, we know,” I drawled, looking at her with amused eyes. Man, her furious efforts to pull down her skirt were futile, that thing was way too tight and she couldn’t get it over those luscious hips while lying on the ground. “Need some help?” I added, my eyebrows raised.

  That caused the girl to blush furiously, it was so cute, pink spreading all over her bosom, her boobs heaving even faster. And whaddya know, her struggles intensified, only causing her dress to drop lower, the strapless material falling away to reveal pale pink nipples, pointed and ready to be kissed.

  Because I had a massive boner. This woman was grade A+ and I was ready to get down. There was still another hour of milling around, so-called “cocktail hour” until the ceremony actually started, and blowing my load would be just the way to pass the time.

  “I was … I was …” the girl sputtered, still writhing on the forest floor.

  She didn’t get out a sentence before my bro and I were on either side of her, our massive builds towering, casting shadows over that nubile, female form. Her eyes opened wide with apprehension, as if taking in our cocks for the first time.

  Because she’d sat up and our stiffies were just about face-level … or more accurately, mouth-level. Our dongs poked out at her ruthlessly through our tux pants, one on each side, almost jabbing her in the cheeks, brushing against that velvety smoothness. Her mouth dropped open automatically, and what do you know, but it was so perfect, that round “O”, that perfect pink pout, our shafts so near. How would it feel? Would she be able to suck with the best, accept our cocks deep, stretch wide and take two?

  And she was on the same wavelength because all of a sudden, her eyes grew ravenous, her boobs heaving quickly, her breathing rapidly accelerating. And were my eyes deceiving me or did she suddenly wiggle her hips, like her cunny had ju
st shivered and given her the go?

  My instincts were spot on. The girl wanted us and her eyes suddenly looked at us wide-eyed, accepting her fate.

  “That’s right, little girl,” rumbled my brother, a big hand reaching out to caress her hair, those dirty blonde locks tumbling over her smooth shoulders, her dress now completely dropping away to sag at her waist, those big gazongas bare to our gaze. Her nips were hard as rocks, they could cut glass, pointy and sticking out like the prow of a ship, begging to be sucked.

  But my twin and I weren’t there to suck … at least not just yet. Instead, we were here to be sucked and the girl’s cheeks were already hollowing, anticipating our need.

  “That’s a good girl,” I grunted, my big hand tracing over that smooth hair as well. “Get it out,” I commanded.

  And with trembling hands, the blonde obeyed. With a small, soft hand, she reached up and undid my waistband, slowly undoing the zip until my cock popped out, almost hitting her in the face.

  “Ohhhhh,” came her whisper, a look of shock in her eyes, her mouth literally dropping with amazement and open hunger.

  Because I’m fifteen inches and today was no exception. I’m a monster and my dick is my weapon. Girl after girl has struggled with it, hopelessly humping against it, desperate to get it however they can, their mouth, their puss, their hiney, anywhere to make them feel good. And even better … there are two.

  Because Pax had whipped out his cock as well, his donkey dong bouncing off the girl’s cheek, and that boner was at full mast, a hard vein pumping along the top, his balls raised and ready to shoot. Fuck, this girl had done us good and she hadn’t even touched us yet, we were ready to cover her in sperm.

  And the woman was a natural. Getting up onto her knees, she reached for a cock in each hand, her eyes filled with wonder, those boobs trembling as she stroked and squeezed our shafts. I threw my head back, my eyes closed and groaned as she massaged my fuckpole, feeling that soft hand move up and down my rod again and again, milking me, exploring every contour, pumping me like a machine as the tension built.