Their Rebellious Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 10)

How had I known that? How had my body even grasped what it needed? Still, I wondered, for my body seemed separate from my mind. I shifted in the saddle, trying to ease the ache that would not go away.

“Do you feel the hard prod of my cock against your back?” Mr. Wells asked. His voice carried enough that James turned his head, watched me for my answer.

I did feel how hard he was. How big. Everywhere. I didn’t respond, for he knew I couldn’t miss the insistent prod.

“You did this to me. Made me hard. I could pound nails with it.” His voice was gentle, but deep and rough.

A thrill rushed through me, for I wasn’t the only one affected. But were his words a bad thing?

“I… I didn’t mean to,” I replied, licking my lips. “Are you going to spank me again?”

“For making our cocks hard?” James asked, shifting in his saddle. He reached down and cupped himself. When he moved his hand away, I couldn’t miss seeing the outline of his cock beneath his pants, like a tree branch it was long and thick angling upwards. It had to be of similar girth to my wrist. My inner walls clenched at the sight. And at the feel of Mr. Wells, I assumed he was of similar proportions. Oh my.

“I suspect you’ll always make our cocks hard. You think you are a bad girl for being exactly what we want?” Mr. Wells murmured, his hips shifting and nudging me forward. It only pressed my center into the saddle more.

“I must be. I shouldn’t be like this. Feeling things. Aching.” I shouldn’t feel anything for these men. I couldn’t be with them, married to them. I had to leave, and that was all I should focus on. But I couldn’t. My attention was on my body and what these two made me feel. “Maybe you should have left me at the saloon.”

“Oh no, Kitten.” He rolled his hips again, which shifted mine. I gasped at the feel of it, the heat that spread through my body. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re aroused. Your body longs to be fucked by me and James, to come. Have no doubt, you would not feel in such a way for the men who would rut and roll over you for a few coins back in Butte.”

“See?” I said, turning my head to look over my shoulder at him, all the while beginning to move my hips in the rhythm Mr. Wells had started. His face was so close I could see pale whiskers on his jaw, the fullness of his lips. The blue of his eyes. I licked my lips again. “This is wrong. I’m a loose woman. I shouldn’t be like this.”

“But you should,” James added, tipping his hat back. “Only with us though. We are your men, and soon, your husbands.”

Oh god. Husbands. I remembered seeing Abigail with her men outside Mr. Grimsby’s. She didn’t look upset at the concept. Quite the opposite in fact. She looked at them with love. Need. An almost frantic desperation, even when one of them mentioned spanking her when they got home. Would her men make her feel as I did now? Was I wrong in my thinking?

I grabbed hold of the pommel before me as I began to move, my thighs parted widely as I straddled the horse. I couldn’t stop the sensations, and while I was unsure of it being right or wrong, I had to move. Had to do something. With Mr. Wells pressed against me, the motion was small. I didn’t know what to do specifically, how to shift to help these feelings course through me, the ones Mr. Wells had awakened as I’d been draped over his lap.

His fingers had slid from my bottom and between my legs, touched me, slid over me in a way that should have been unseemly, but had been… wanton. Hot. Incredible. I had no idea a man’s touch could make me lose my mind. He’d said good girls get to come. I didn’t know what “come” meant, but I wanted it so very badly. I wanted to be a good girl. Their good girl.

“Please,” I whimpered. Sweat dampened my brow even though thick clouds now blocked out the sun. I should have felt refreshed by the cool breeze, but it was as if a fire raged within me.

Mr. Wells tightened his hold. “Shh,” he crooned in my ear. “I’ll ease that ache.”

His hand slid under my dress, the hem bunched up about me since I wasn’t sitting sidesaddle. James had taken my drawers off after my spanking and had not given them back to me, therefore, Mr. Wells’ hand slid down my bare thigh and to my uncovered center.

“Oh!” I cried, the sway of the horse and the pressure of his palm cupping me had the feelings become so much more intense.

“Rock your hips. Good, like that.” He instructed me how to move, even assisted with the arm banded about me. Up, down, even in a small circle. I ground myself against his hand. There was a spot that ached, throbbed and even pulsed with growing need, but my entrance, the place I knew would have to take a cock to make a baby—the vague knowledge I’d learned from a marital class at the finishing school—craved to be filled.

I lifted up and tried to take one into me, but I was denied.

“Please. I need it,” I all but begged, turning my head to look up at him.

“You can hump yourself on my hand, rub that hard, little clit against my palm,” he replied. I recognized the deeper timbre of his voice. “You can even drip all over my fingers. But filling that virgin hole is James’ job. The first thing going in there is his cock.”

“That’s right,” James said. He’d sidled even closer so our legs bumped as the horses continued on, not caring what was happening. “I’m going to open that pussy up, Tennessee. Pop that virginity with my cock and make it mine.”

“Yes, oh yes,” I agreed, working my hips even more on Mr. Wells’ palm. I wanted that, envisioned something big and thick filling me up.

What I was doing felt so good, but I knew somehow that it would only be better with a man’s cock.

“Ride Jonah’s hand,” James directed. “That’s right. Such a greedy girl, taking your pleasure like that. Out here for us to watch. Using him to ease that ache in your hot little pussy.”

My eyes fell closed and I gripped the pommel tightly, moving and following the pleasure that was growing. My breathing grew ragged as I worked myself, my hips moving faster and faster. I was lost, wild, yet I felt safe somehow. With Mr. Wells surrounding me, with James watching, I knew nothing was going to happen to me, that I could do this, feel this and he wouldn’t let me go.

I lifted, lowered, rolled, swayed, using Mr. Wells’ hand to my pleasure. More and more until I was gasping, begging for it to end, hoping it would never have to stop.

“I think we know why she got herself in all that trouble. Needy pussies make a girl very cranky. She didn’t have an outlet for all this need,” Jonah said.