But Nana shakes her head wisely again.
“Marsha told me how you dropped out of college. She told me how you want a baby, even though you’re eighteen. She told me how you want to be a cook on TV, with a line of cookbooks to your name.”
I stare at my grandma.
“Well yes,” I say. “My ambitions are different from what my parents want for me. But that doesn’t mean I’m using the Morgans! It’s totally separate, a completely different issue. What does that have to do with anything?”
Nana looks at me closely once again, her gaze searching before shaking her head.
“Not very smart,” she clucks slowly. “Real slow, I would never have guessed.”
Now I’m truly angry, bolting to my feet.
“Tell me how I’m using them,” comes my angry demand, eyes spitting fire. “Tell me how I, a teen girl, am using seven adult males who are billionaires. Come on Nana. Spill it.”
And my grandma sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes. But she’s totally calm.
“Who’s paying for your lifestyle?” she asks rhetorically, fixing me with a stare. “Who’s giving you that baby? Who’s going to pay for your baby after he or she is born? Tell me, Macy. Who’s using whom, just to be clear?”
And suddenly, I see what she means. Because I wanted out of my old life. I wanted to be a different Macy, one with professional ambitions that didn’t include school, tests and problem sets. I wanted to get pregnant. I wanted to separate from my parents without checking myself into a halfway house for stranded single mothers.
And the Morgans are how I’m doing it.
I’m living in the lap of luxury, courtesy of the brothers.
There’s life growing in my womb, thanks to them.
All my allegations of using people?
That finger’s turned right back at me.
Because one look in the mirror tells me that Nana’s right. I’m using them just as much as they’re using me. But is that okay? Is it right? Because I love the brothers desperately, so it’s not “using” per se, right?
“Nana, what do I do?” come the words trembling from my lips. “I thought I was caught in their web, but maybe it’s the other way around.”
Nana chuckles in her throat then, a wheezy, gaspy sound.
“That’s my smart girl,” she nods approvingly. “That’s the Macy that I know.”
And suddenly, I have to go. I have to tell Will, Tim, Trent, Ford, Smith, Sam and Matthew that I was wrong. Completely wrong. That I fucked-up beyond belief. I have to apologize and tell them that I want a life with them going forwards. The past is the past, and we have to leave it at that.
Plus, these revelations about me are astonishing. Yes, I’m a teen girl. Yes, I dropped out of school without a penny to my name. But I’m going after what I want, and the Morgans are helping me do it. Them using me or me using them, I’m not sure it matters anymore. Because I’ve been living my best life, happy and satisfied as a clam, until Marsha ruined it all.
So I have to turn this ship around. I’ve made a huge mistake, and hopefully it’s not too late. I love the Morgans, and they love me, and we have to make it work, some way, somehow.
“I’m so sorry, Nana, gotta go,” are my rushed words, hair flying as I fumble around for my keys. “Gotta go, urgent.”
She pinches my cheek and looks me straight in the eye then.
“Look, young lady. You are an adult and you can make your own decisions. That other young lady’s got nothing to do with you. She has choices too. She could just as easily choose to wake up and hit restart, take that money and make something of herself. And your mama can’t tell you what’s right for you. Only you can. So make the choice that makes your heart happiest. Okay?”
Tears start pooling once more, and I reach for my grandma’s frail shoulders. We hug for a long time as I cry once more, tears soaking her silk blouse. Maybe I’m silly for acting such a fool, but the heart wants what it wants no matter what.
Because can I make this choice?
Can I make this work for me?
For my baby?
For us?
My mind spins the entire drive home, and once in the kitchen, I run my hand over the cold marble of my custom kitchen counters, remembering the hours I’ve spent in this room already, cooking and putting on shows for the seven men I love.
And I adore them completely. Somehow, sexy Matt Morgan saw me that day at my parents’ house. He saw my ill-fitting bikini and found me attractive. He saw me stammer over my words and struggle with the way my body looked, and somehow he found that sexy. And six more Morgan brothers fell in line behind the first, appreciating me in a way I wasn’t sure any man ever truly would.
They opened me like a blooming flower, showing me how beautiful my body is, and what freedom feels like. And I do feel free when I’m with them. Free to explore, free to be myself, free to do what I want. The seven alphas give me everything I could ever desire, without making me feel trapped.
I got a good hand. Better than so many others. So should I feel bad that Heather Mastricci had this same hand and lost it? I don’t know. I guess it makes me human to care about someone else’s welfare. But my grandmother is also right – they tried. The Morgans tried to give her a head start on a new life, and Heather just won’t take it.
So life isn’t perfect. The Morgans aren’t perfect. I know that now. They’re gruff and demanding. They’re a bunch of workaholics, obsessed with wealth management and protective of the company they’ve built. And they have a past. Like all complicated human beings, they didn’t spring from the Earth like a blank page. They’ve led full lives, full of good and bad, and I’m a part of that pattern now. The past is the past. I care about how they make me feel, and that’s wanted. Cherished. Cared for.
I’m going to have to get used to the gossip, the looks. There will always be whispers of “slut” or “whore.” Or even horrified looks of, “Seven? At once?”
Women will probably try to lure them away or make me feel ashamed because I’m with seven men, all brothers.
But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I choose them and they choose me. And together, we’ll raise a child that will have an amazing life.
As Patty told me time and time again, life has good parts and tough parts in equal spades, and I’m ready to face all of those with the seven men that I love.
Suddenly, I can’t wait for the billionaires to get home … because I have something special planned.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sam
I get a text from Macy asking me to get my brothers home early for a family meeting. She hasn’t spoken to us in two whole days and just seeing her name on my phone makes my heart jump. I don’t know what the little girl’s been up to, but we’ve been biting our nails, wondering when she’s gonna snap out of it. Imagine that. Seven billionaires asking “how high?” when Macy orders us to jump.
Because she’s something else entirely. Sure, there’s the curvy bod, with the generous breasts and constantly wet pussy. But also, it’s her shy smile and the way she’s looks at us from under her lashes while talking. It’s her sexy cooking videos and the delicious food on the table each night. She’s a prize and we all know it.
Because we miss her desperately. These two days have been fucking painful. The brunette was made for us, little Macy Jones from next door. Fuck her stupid family and their moral high-ground. Fuck them for making her feel bad about herself, for calling her a whore. Women have the right to choose what to do with their bodies and that curvy body was made for us. She’s wet and ready all the time and that old bat of a mother of hers probably needs a fire hose to keep that dry snatch lubed.
So yeah, stuff it. We’ll take better care of Macy than any dumbass banker or lawyer or whatever asshole they envisioned her with. They can go fuck themselves.
My brothers and I aren’t particularly gushy or emotional. But we’re not exactly subtle, either. We want what we want and we take it when we want it. But little Macy, she’s under all
of our skins. She’s in our heads, taking over our hearts.
In fact, we love her so much that we’re willing to let her figure out what she wants for herself. Sure, we want her in our lives. We want her in our beds. We want her to be the mother of our child. But what is she looking for? Only Macy can say for sure.
And damn Heather for causing these problems. Do I feel bad for her? Of course, but not bad enough that I regret finding Macy. It’s just how the chips lie. I’m a believer that if something’s meant to happen, we can make it happen. And that shit just didn’t take fire with the other woman. It’s not Heather’s fault but, shit, were we just supposed to give up on what we wanted?
Finally, we’re all in the apartment. As usual, Macy has prepared dinner. She’s dressed sweetly, in a pink dress with a v-neck that spills those creamy tits out for full view. I’m pretty sure there are seven hard-ons under the table, straining and achy.
“So,” she says, biting that luscious lower lip of hers, “I’ve called you all here to tell you that I’ve done a lot of soul-searching these past two days.”
“Hold on,” I say, putting up a hand. “First, let me tell you that we support whatever decision you want. We’re not great at sharing feelings and shit, but we need you to know that we love you, Macy. We love you enough to let you go, if that’s what you want.”
“We don’t want you to go,” Matt adds, voice rough. “We want you with us, but your happiness is important too. More important than anything else,” he finishes on a growl.
The chorus of agreement brings tears to the female’s eyes. She looks into her lap and collects her emotions before speaking again.
“I love all of you,” she says quietly. “So much. And I was blind to anything outside of this world we’ve built, so when I found Heather, it was a real dose of reality that I wasn’t ready for. But I realize now that you did what you thought best by letting her go.”
“We got her a counselor,” Trent says. “And some really good doctors. She’ll recover and find a way to move on.”
Macy’s shock is evident on her beautiful face, eyes wide, mouth open. But then the girl nods.
“Thank you,” she says, taking a deep breath. “That makes this so much easier to say. Because ….”
You could hear a pin drop in the silence that ensues.
“I’m with you,” she says, smiling. “I choose you. All of you.”
And the conquering roar of seven alphas is pretty damn loud. It starts as a hum, slowly growing to a cacophony, shaking the room with our triumph and lust.
Macy clasps her hands over her ears, nodding while smiling. But that’s not enough. In a flash, we’re out of our seats, picking up the curvy female, spinning her around, showering that delectable form with kisses.
“You won’t regret it,” comes my raspy promise. “Ever.”
“Sweetheart,” growls Ford. “You’re ours, now. For keeps.”
And of course, Macy gives in. She kisses me, opening her mouth under my tongue, mewling and wet, compliant in our arms once more.
“Yes,” the sweet female breathes. “Yes, this is the way it should be.”
And fuck but we’re ready to feast now. But it’s not food that makes our stomachs growl. We haven’t been in that pussy for two days now, and the addiction is a raging demon in our blood, turning us into insatiable, ravaging beasts.
But Macy knows. The girl spreads her legs and I dive right in, my mouth finding her sweet cunt wet and willing. My brothers lick and bite at those creamy breasts, suckling her nipples as the girl cries out, lost already. Macy’s a meal we’d gladly eat every single night of the week without complaint.
After all, the female is the most responsive lover any of us have ever had, hands down. She wins the prize for being the most ready, the most willing, the most generous. And she comes like nobody’s business, sometimes as many as ten times in one session between the sheets.
Because Macy’s been hungry too. Writhing on the kitchen countertop, the girl’s breathing becomes heavy, harsh pants making those big boobies rise violently. Her back arches from the table, spine going ramrod stiff for an instant as that pussy gives it up. Oh yeah, that cunt clamps around my fingers like a vise, and her clit literally shakes against my tongue, so fucking hard.
“Unnnh!” the female cries out, eyes closed and head tilted back to reveal her perfect profile. “Unnnh!”
“Go with it honey,” I rumble into her folds, licking her through the spasms. “Let yourself go.”
But she lets go in another way altogether. We thought Macy was gonna spurt, that a beautiful geyser of fluid would shoot from her pussy, drenching us in female juice. But something else happens as well. In the throes of orgasm, the girl spasms once more, hard, before crying out, “I’m pregnant!”
Holy fucking shit!
Is it true?
My tongue stills for a moment, meeting my brothers’ eyes over her throbbing clit.
But it has to be true, why would she lie?
Our sweet girl is having our baby!
I lap her clit furiously then, biting down once, hard. She screams with ecstasy and juices gush down my throat, the manifestation of her love. My dick spurts on its own as I eat everything she has to give, hot white jizz painting the kitchen table white, drizzling down to the floor below. That’s right. Like a fifteen year-old boy, I ejaculate, unstoppable, sperm flooding everywhere.
And my brothers do the same. When my head lifts from Macy’s folds, I see that every single one of us has come hard at the realization that Macy’s pregnant. There are pools of sperm everywhere, on the table, the floor, coating the girl’s body. Hell, Ford even did it on her breasts, blasting those creamy white sacks with man goo.
But Macy’s a slut. Slowly her eyes open, lashes fluttering, taking in the seven alphas at her side, groaning and milking their balls for the last drops of semen. Oh yeah, she knows what she’s done, for sure.
“Was it good?” comes her coy murmur. “Was it good for you all?”
“Unnnh,” is all Trent can manage, still stroking that fuckstick. A last small spurt jets out, splattering against the refrigerator.
“Fuck it was amazing,” rasps Ford, shaking his dick off over her breasts. White droplets paint that succulent flesh, running in sweet rivulets down the side.
But I want more.
“Sweet thing,” comes my rumble. “Now that you’re pregnant, can you still take it in your pussy?” I growl. “Because maybe it’s not safe. Maybe we’ll have to take the party down here.”
Slowly, my hand strokes through her swollen folds before dipping to that brown star, trailing over her sensitive pleats. They contract involuntarily as the woman gasps, eyes wide, staring at me over those heaving tits.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” grunts Matt. “You ready for some hard anal? With seven guys? Because we don’t want to hurt the baby, you know.”
Of course, who knows what a buttfucking would do to the baby. After all, our dicks are huge, maybe we’d nudge the child’s head even if we’re up her back passage.
But Macy goes with it. With a giggle and a sigh, she shifts on the table, lifting her legs to roll backwards a bit, hauling those thighs higher and higher until both her holes wink at us, dirty and tempting.
“There’s only one way to find out,” the girl coos. “And that’s to try. So whaddya say, boys? Should we go for it?”
And just like that, we’re on her. We want this girl until the end of time, and we’re gonna ravage and cherish the female until she screams our names, over and over again. Matt, Tim, Will, Trent, Ford, Sam and Smith. MattTimWillTrentFordSamSmith. Oh yeah. She’ll moan it until her voice is raspy, that butt fucked so hard. Because Macy’s the answer to our dreams … the woman for seven sinners who adore her.
EPILOGUE
Matt
Eight months later…
Macy’s three days past her due date, cranky and uncomfortable but beautiful and sensual still. She’s made every one of our kinky pregnancy sex fantasies
come true over the past couple months. Her belly is huge, a swollen, round basketball that sometimes ripples as if an alien is inside.
And right now, that basketball-belly sits on my stomach as Macy bounces up and down like I’m a dime-store children’s ride. The woman vibrates, hungry cunt a vise on my cock, sloppy and wet. Shit, she’s got so much fluid these days, there’s literally a pool of female juice smeared on my groin as the brunette humps frantically.
“Unnnh,” she moans deliriously, big boobs swaying back and forth as my cock hits deep within. “Unnnh, fuck.”
“Come on, sweet girl,” I coax. “Give Daddy a good ride. Almost there.”
And tilting her head back, Macy explodes then. The orgasm is electrifying, her sweet puss clenching my dick, nipples tight and hard as I tweak the hard orbs.
“Fuck!” comes her helpless shriek, my hips going stiff as baby batter erupts. “Unnnh!” comes Macy’s sensual moan once more.
Because yeah, I just dumped a load inside that sweet cavern, painting the female with my man milk. Never mind that she doesn’t technically need it anymore. Macy always craves semen, every second of every day.
And now is no exception.
Panting heavily, the girl’s cunt explodes once more on my dick, juicing madly, clenching so fierce I’m afraid she’ll go into premature labor.
His Baby: A Babycrazy Romance Page 58
