Their Conquered Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 9) (Grace Goodwin)

“I’m fine, Logan. Thank you.”

He entered the kitchen with a grin before leaning down to kiss my temple, his heart in his eyes. I felt a longing then, a happiness at seeing him that surprised me, and I smiled back, leaning into his gentle touch.

“Your wife is learning all about Bridgewater men and their… expectations during dinner.” Connor slapped Logan on the back as he carried the platter of ham away.

Emily lifted her hands to her hips and raised a brow, looking every bit like an angry schoolteacher as she spoke to Logan. “Lizzie was telling us that you are neglecting her training, not satisfying all of her needs.”

“What?” I sputtered, seeing Emily’s eyes fill with the very devil as Anne burst out laughing. “I said no such thing.”

Logan arched one dark brow. “Is that so?”

“It is,” Emily confirmed.

“Anne, please go tell Ford that our wife needs tending,” Logan said. He came over to me and took my hand, leading me to the back door, which was open to let the heat out. “Emily, will you finish plating the rest of the food with Connor?”

I eyed her with fake anger. “Emily!” I cried.

Her grin was infectious, but I was too nervous to return it now. She had the nerve to wink at me as Logan pulled me to the door. “We’ll be even after this, Lizzie, although I doubt your men will let me watch.”

I sputtered as Logan pushed me out onto the back porch.

“Now wife, you feel as if your men have been neglecting you?”

I shook my head and backed up until my bottom hit the porch railing.

I wasn’t afraid of him, for he was grinning amiably. I was afraid of what he was going to do to me right there on Kane’s back porch.

“No, I’m fine.”

Ford appeared from where he’d been, waiting at the breakfast table. He stepped out onto the porch to stand beside Logan.

“It’s been a whole hour since we played with that arse of yours and pulled the plug free,” Logan continued, not sparing Ford a glance. “Perhaps we need to put the next size up in you now, let you think about how well your men take care of you all through breakfast.”

Ford pulled a plug from his shirt pocket and held it up.

“You kept that in your pocket?” I asked incredulously.

He shrugged unabashedly. “We are always ready to take care of you, sweetheart. We want to take you together and you need to be prepared for it. It was only a matter of time before we pulled you aside to fill you up again.”

Ford turned around and reached into the kitchen to grab a jar from a shelf on the wall. It was the same slick ointment they’d used on me in the cabin the night before. Kane and Ian kept it on the kitchen shelf? Out in the open?

“Face the railing, lift your skirts and bend over. If you’re a good girl, we’ll fuck you after breakfast.”

“Everyone in the dining room will know!” I shouted, then bit my lip.

“Sweetheart, they already know your husbands are taking care of you. You might as well get some pleasure out of it.”

Both waited patiently and watched me, their dark brows raised in the same questioning look. Would I obey them or defy them? Would I accept their pleasure? Would I accept them?

I took a deep breath, then another, then turned around and began to lift the hem of my dress. With my ass on display, I kept my eyes closed as my men first added the slick lubricant to my back entrance, working plenty of it deep inside me before working the bigger plug in. I tried to conjure up the old feelings of humiliation and guilt, but I simply could not find the shame or self-loathing I once wore like an old familiar coat. Submitting to their touch gave my men pleasure. I gave them pleasure, and I refused to feel bad about that.

And they were my men. I might not be legally married to them, but they were mine. A darkly possessive beast rose to the surface as I felt them play with my ass. I started to pant through their ministrations, my fingers gripping the railing. They were mine, not in the eyes of the law, but in their eyes and mine, and as far as I was concerned, we were the only people who counted.

Perhaps I’d get lucky, and simply never see Mr. Jenkins again as long as I lived. That would be a fine solution, and this ranch was several days’ ride from Hayes. I would keep my new husbands, and no one would ever have to know the truth.

As I sat through breakfast with Ford on my right, Logan on my left, and a very large reminder of their claim on both my heart and my body deep in my bottom, I accepted the truth. I had fallen in love with my husbands, and if I had to lie to keep them, I would. Forever.

Chapter Eleven