Taken by the Dom

by Cassandra Dee

  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.

  “Like this?” she whispers again. “Like this, boys?”

  My mouth grows dry. Damn, is Macy really doing this? Is the female teasing us, or does she have no idea? My dick jerks, spurting heavily in my jeans, and I can tell my bros are suffering the same. Fuck, Matt’s actually got his zip down, one hand in as he strokes. What a dirty mofo. Fuck him.

  But this is the Macy show, and we don’t want to scare her the first time. So we go slow.

  “More,” I breathe on a harsh rasp.

  “The other one, too,” Will rumbles, leaning forward, blue eyes intense.

  Macy takes a deep breath, and then pushes the other strap down, her shoulders now bare. Her left breast bounces out, full and creamy, and it’s all I can do to not groan aloud. Holy shit, that rack! Her tits are two perfect sacks of cream, and she touches them then, stroking gently down the sides, rubbing gently.

  “Is this what you want?” she whispers shyly. “Like this?”

  Holy fuck. I’m gonna pop. I can’t take it anymore. My stiff cock needs a quick touch, even through the confines of my pants, and Macy knows. Her eyes meet mine, then travel downward. She watches, fascinated, as I stroke my tool through the stiff fabric, our eyes locked.

  “That’s right baby girl,” I growl, “This is all for you.”

  “Unnnh,” grunts Will. “Aw fuck. I can’t take this anymore.”

  And like a bolt of lightning, suddenly we’re on her, a pack of wolves surrounding our prey. Matt is first, dipping his head to suckle one nipple. Will’s fingertips reach for the other, rolling that pinkness between his fingers before leaning in for a kiss.

  Meanwhile, Tim and I are busy too. I fall to my knees, licking the underside of one tit, and Tim follows suit with the other, pressing his lips to the crease between the underside of her breast and her torso.

  Macy literally shakes, her head falling back, eyes closed with pleasure.

  “Ahhh,” she moans. “Oh god.” Her breasts quiver beneath our mouths, the soft flesh heaving.

  “This is wrong,” she mewls wildly, shaking her head. “This is so wrong.”

  “Naw, baby,” grunts Tim, looking up for a sec. “Why is this wrong? This is good.”

  She comes to for a moment, just staring at us as we rotate at her tits, sucking and kissing, stroking our tongues along that creamy flesh.

  “Because there’s four of you,” she breathes, holding still as we lavish her with attention. “There’s four of you, and only one of me.”

  “So?” I grunt. “What’s the problem?”

  But she can’t answer because it’s too mind-blowing. The girl gives in then, leaning back as we kiss and suck, her entire body quivering with pleasure.

  Meanwhile, four erect cocks beg to be freed from bondage. I rub mine every so often, wishing more than anything that I could have her pillowy mouth on me right now, that I could enjoy the sweet feel of her cunt.

  But it�
��s too early, so instead, we play at her breasts. I bite one nip lightly and she yelps, eyes going wide for a moment before going heavy with lust once more. Matt and I tease as a team on her left side, savoring that creamy flesh.

  Meanwhile, the twins work her right side, doing some depraved shit, I don’t know. I’m too busy with my small piece of heaven to know what’s going on over there, but suddenly it all ends. Because Macy moans once, loud, head thrown back and eyes closed.

  “Come for us, sweet girl,” I urge. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “I – I,” she stammers, right on the edge. Her body twists, pussy begging to be touched, aching like hell.

  I want to bury my dick in there, but it’s not time. It’s all breast play tonight, so I bite down on her nip, hard. Simultaneously, Will sucks her right side, literally coming off that tit with an audible popping sound.

  “Ahhhh!” she screams then, curves twisting, wildly writhing in our arms. “Unnnh!”

  And oh yeah, it happens. We don’t touch her puss, no. But Will lifts her skirt so we have a view of that panty-clad pussy, and it’s a gorgeous sight. Her nether lips quiver under the thin lace before spasming, clit so huge that it literally presses against the thin material like a bullet.

  And as we watch, a wet spot grows at her crotch. Oh shit, she’s so fucking dirty! Her puss is leaking like a faucet, and pretty soon the entire seat of those panties is drenched, the delicious scent of hungry cunt rising like musk through the air.

  But Macy doesn’t know. She’s wrung out, dazed, lolling in her chair like a limp doll. I lick her nipple once more, teasing, before pulling her top up and covering heaven.

  “You alright baby girl?” I growl. “You alright?

  Shit, I need to rub one out fast, but the female’s welfare is most important right now. Because the innocent teen just got a breast job from four alphas, and that’s enough to overwhelm anyone.

  And frankly, she’s not doing super well. The brunette sags heavily against me as I lift her in my arms, standing to full height. We’ve had our fun, and it’s important to do a clean sweep now. We take care of our women, especially girls as sweet and innocent as this little brunette.

  So with long strides, I take the stairs two at a time. Nudging a door to the right with my foot, I peer inside. Oh yeah, this is her room. Or her childhood room, more accurately, because it’s still covered in posters of boy bands and puppies in baskets. I want to laugh, but there are more important things right now.

  My brothers trail me into the space as I lay her gently on the bed. Oh god, she’s beautiful, like a sleeping princess, skin flushed, a dreamy smile on her lips.

  “Trent?” she asks in a dazed voice. “Matt? Tim? Will?”

  And it’s too much. I can’t resist. Leaning forwards, I pull her top down once more, going in for a kiss. Matt, Will and Tim do the same, worshipping that pinkness, her crests still hard and sensitive, our mouths popping off one after another. Those ruby nipples gleam wetly, pointing skywards.

  “Ummm,” she murmurs in her sleep, pressing her thighs together. “Ummm.”

  My brothers and I share knowing smiles. Because goddamn, the girl came from just a tiny bit of breast play. We didn’t touch her pussy or massage her asshole, nor stroke any other sweet spot. So if Macy’s this good from just that much, what’s she gonna be like when we touch her elsewhere? What’s she gonna be like when we put our cocks in those sensitive holes?

  With one last look, our massive bodies file out of the room, still hard and painfully aroused. But one thing’s clear now … we’ve found our girl, and we’re teaching her a lesson this summer.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Macy

  Oh god, oh god.

  I startle awake on top of my blankets, tits hanging out of the dress I wore yesterday. Did I seriously let four guys play with me like that last night?

  Because I’m a bookworm, a huge nerd. There’s still a Harry Potter poster in my room, for Christ’s sake. I cook and I study and I read. What I don’t do? I don’t let four hot, much older men get me off just by playing with my private spots.

  But it happened. It wasn’t just a dream. Matt, Tim, Will, and Trent. More than half of the week, by my count, all focused on me, all worshipping my body. It was so delicious, amazingly mind-blowing. Who knew sex could feel like that? Suddenly, my body roars to life, thighs clenching once more. Because oh god, it was good. I’d come like a hurricane, blasting everything in sight, panties sopping wet.

  But for some reason, the boys never pulled out their hard cocks. And what cocks they must be. I saw the ridges in their jeans and shorts, they were unmistakable, enormous and proud, like four replicas of Thor’s hammer just waiting to pound and conquer every pussy in the world. Ted and Maddy Morgan must have done a voodoo ritual to get boys that well-hung.

  Slowly, I shake my head again, still dazed from the memories. What in the world happened last night? I mean, my neighbors spent the entire afternoon making sexual comments, but I assumed that was just their personalities. They’re like their own little fraternity – the Seven Brothers of Sin.

  And I know that what I did was definitely not normal. Not by an inch. Not by a tenth of an inch. But it felt so good. It was amazing to be feasted on, and they’d loved my body as much as they’d loved the food I prepared. The men had sipped and nuzzled, their only goal to make me come.

  And come I had, like a champ. Holy cow. How can I be acting like this? So slutty and yet … so satisfied.

  Because I have to admit that I loved it, every single second. I loved being the focus of four men, their eyes worshipping, hands caressing. And their mouths. Oh god, the memory of those mouths on my breasts, caressing my hard nips, licking along the soft bulbs makes me cream even now.

  Oh god, oh god.

  It really was me.

  And it really happened.

  I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands, stretching out, a little bit dazed. Thank god my parents didn’t come home when Boobfest was raging in the kitchen. Holy shit that would have been a different kind of shitshow.

  And speaking of parents, what kind of parents tell a kid how much they’ve missed her and then just go about their empty-nester-business like said kid isn’t even home? Marsha and Jim were out late last night and I suspect they’ve left again, off to bridge club or country club or golf or whatever it is people do when they’re early retirees. If you ask me, they were just waiting until I flew the nest because “real life” started then.

  But I guess it works. Because yesterday was crazy, beyond incredible, and thank god Jim and Marsha didn’t bust in. What would they have thought?

  Sweet daughter, getting licked by four men.

  Opening her legs, begging for it.

  Pushing her boobies into the mouths of four ravenous alphas.

  Yep, that’s me.

  It would have been disastrous, to say the least.

  So I sit up, determined to put a stop to the constant loop of images in my mind. There’s real life, and yesterday was a dream.

  Suddenly, a loud, rumbling noise sounds outside, making my head pound. Talk about adding insult to injury! What could be going on so early in the morning?

  Squinting, I haul myself to my feet, pulling off my dress and pulling on a threadbare t-shirt that my mom likes to call my “blankie,” since I often wear it when I’m feeling out of sorts. It’s been a part of my life since seventh grade and has a very faded picture of a younger Nick Jonas on the front.

  That hiccuping, rumbling sound fills the air again, so I haul myself to the window, still squinting against the bright sunlight. And oh lordy, but my breath catches then. Because there’s brother number five, working on a motorcycle in the Morgans’ driveway. The bike is oversized, chrome-covered, and built like a beast. Just like the man bent beside it.

  A brick wall, the dude has bulging biceps glistening with sweat as he works shirtless in the late-morning sun. His hair is longer than the other brothers I’ve met, but still richly dark and wavy. And I b
et there are sky-blue eyes under his slick, black sunglasses.

  What is it with the Morgan boys? How can they all look like cover models? But all I know is how they make me feel, because as I watch the Adonis outside, my hand moves almost unconsciously, stroking ever so lightly at my clit as my pussy juices flow, soaking my panties.

  These Morgan guys can’t be real. They have to be a figment of my inexperienced and therefore sexually crazed brain.

  But it’s real, oh yeah, it’s real. The man bends toward his bike, head low, almost breathing onto the chrome, and I just about come. Is he going to kiss it? Lick the metal? But as I lean forward, squinting to see, the man howls and jerks back, cradling his hand.

  Shit, what happened?

  A discarded piece of metal lies on the floor now, jagged and rough, covered with blood.

  Oh my god.

  If I can see blood from my second-story window, then he must have really hurt himself. He could be bleeding out.

  Instinctively, I dash for the door, hurtling myself down the stairs and outside. It doesn’t occur to me until I stop that I’m only wearing a flimsy, see-through t-shirt, complete with Joe Jonas’ face on the front.

  And seeing this guy up close does nothing to stop what’s happening between my legs. He’s bronzed and tattooed, hair shaggy around his ears and neck. But yeah, it’s that same coal-black hair, the same penetrating blue eyes.

  Stop ogling! the voice inside screams. Someone’s injured, he needs your help! So I force myself to focus on the hand he’s cradling. A torrent of swear words is filling the air like a hillbilly symphony. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t hear me when I murmur, “Can I help?”

  So louder, I say it again.

  “Hey, can I help? You okay?”

  This time the pained Adonis nods and I hurry over.

  “Keep pressure on it. You got a first-aid kit in your house?”

  Growling like a dog, the man nods and starts walking, heading into the house and up the stairs to a small bathroom. As he cradles his hand, still howling, I dig through the cabinets furiously, throwing things left and right. Oh god, oh god, he’s so close. This bathroom is tiny, and between my curves and his bulky mass, we’re practically touching. In fact, I can feel the steam from his skin, radiating like a star on fire.