Their Reckless Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 11)

It had been a long night without her, even though we had yet to spend one night with her. I hadn’t slept well, thinking of her, of how we’d touched her, how she’d responded. Fuck, I could still taste her sweet pussy on my tongue. I’d wanted to use my hand and ease the ache in my balls, but I’d declined, saving all my cum for Grace. I’d fill her with it until we were all sated. I didn’t know how long that would be. Days.

When we’d returned from Simms, confirming the Grove men were alive—albeit ornery and mean—and behind bars, we’d immediately gone to Kane and Ian’s house to see Grace. The women had returned from the mercantile and had frittered about Grace like birds, but they’d refused Hank and I her presence until now. Kane had slapped me on the back and sent both of us to clean up for the wedding, stating if he let us in the house, he’d be sleeping in the stable for a week.

Hank nudged me in the back when she stood before me, prompting me to take her hand. I did, then met her upturned face. I wanted to reach down and shift my cock to make it more comfortable in my pants, but that wasn’t going to happen until I got them off. Soon.

“Ready, love?” I whispered.

Hank moved to stand on her other side, putting her directly between us, right where she belonged.

Her dark eyes were bright and eager, her smile was genuine, the pink in her cheeks showed her excitement.

“Yes, I’m ready to be yours,” she replied. She looked to Hank. “Both of you.”

She was ready. Hank was ready. I was ready. So was my cock. I turned to Robert. “The short version.”

And in about two quick minutes, I was cupping her face with my hands and kissing her. When Hank cleared his throat, I lifted my head and she turned to kiss him next.

We didn’t even let the others do more than offer us quick congratulations. Grace was ours and we weren’t wasting a second finally claiming her. I tossed her over my shoulder and carried her back to the house, not putting her down until we were in my bedroom.

I held her waist as she regained her bearings. She didn’t look fierce in soft pink, or with her hair up in such a dainty fashion. I hadn’t worried overmuch that we’d be too rough with her. Yesterday. But now, seeing her all soft curves and sweet perfection, I worried we’d be too much for her, that we might possibly hurt her.

“Don’t be afraid, love. You might be getting two big cocks in that virgin pussy, but we’ll take care of you.”

She looked up at me through dark lashes, and I was ready to see apprehension or even a touch of fear a woman felt taking her husband for the first time. Grace

had two, so…

Instead of lip biting and hand clenching, thinking of the Queen and all that, Grace flung herself into my arms and kissed me. Hard. Wild. As fierce as she was.

Holy bloody hell.

GRACE

I WAS SO HAPPY. Truly. I felt light. Carefree. Loved. I’d never felt like this before. But standing between two men who’d vowed, in front of their closest friends, that they would honor, cherish and love me, protect me with their bodies, love me with those bodies as well… I knew they weren’t lying.

Unlike Father or Travis, or the bastard Barton Finch, they weren’t talking shit to get what they wanted. They weren’t thinking only of themselves.

Charlie and Hank definitely wanted to fuck me. Their constantly hard cocks were obvious proof of that, but they’d put a ring on my finger first. I was Grace Pine now.

I swallowed back all feelings of my own perfidy by giving them not my true name, but my mother’s maiden name. I’d married Charlie as Grace Churchill, not Grace Grove. But the vows I’d said were honest. I wanted them. Both of them.

I hadn’t fought when Charlie carried me back to their house. Our house. I’d relished the feel of his eagerness, his desire to make me his in all ways. I’d seen Hank’s legs as he followed, and I knew he was just as eager. Just as ready.

I had one day to be Mrs. Charlie Pine, to be Hank’s wife, too, in everything but name. Tomorrow, they’d hate me. Tomorrow, I’d be in jail where I belonged. Tomorrow—

No. I wouldn’t think of tomorrow. I’d think of today. Of now. Of them. If I were going to hang beside Father and Travis, then I wanted one day of perfection. One day of happiness before I died.

And so I didn’t allow Charlie one moment of worry. One moment of being careful with me. I wanted him. I wanted Hank. I wanted it all.

So I threw myself at him. Kissed him with all the pent-up need I’d felt since they’d left me at Emma’s house the night before. There was no time for modesty or questioning. They would never hurt me. They’d only give me pleasure.

For an instant, I’d stunned Hank. Then he wrapped his arms about me and kissed me back. A growl escaped as I boldly thrust my tongue in his mouth.

Once again, he set me on my feet and his hands began to roam. Not just his hands, Hank’s too. My dress was unbuttoned with haste—a few even flying off because of our untamed eagerness—and off my shoulders, down my arms and in a puddle at my feet all the while Hank’s mouth was on mine.

Their hands continued to roam, to caress, for I was naked except my stockings and boots. I was the one to break the kiss when both men’s hands were on my pussy. I was wet for them and they slid easily over me. I gasped, for it felt so good. Heat spread through me, like mercury slipping beneath my skin.

Both men sank a finger inside me, filled me at the same time. It was so tight, they stretched me wide.