Their Brazen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 8)

Gabe stepped forward, his dark eyes on mine, and I retreated. He moved closer, and I had to back up, step by step, into the room until the back of my legs bumped into the bed.

“Gabe, what are you doing?” I asked, trying to move so I didn’t feel crowded. “I… I wish to lie down.” It was the truth, but I left off the part about wanting to do it with him. With them.

“Good,” he replied as Tucker closed the door behind him. “You may lie down over my lap.”

Gabe sat down on the side of the bed and without much effort tugged me across his knees. I gasped, startled by the swiftness of his actions. My upper body was on the comfortable mattress, and I instantly pushed up onto my hands in an attempt to stand once again.

“Gabe—”

He took one of his feet and hooked it with mine, trapping my legs in place. With a hand at the small of my back holding me down, I wasn’t going anywhere. I glanced up at Tucker for help, but he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, completely relaxed. What Gabe was doing didn’t surprise or bother him. He wasn’t offering help of any kind. I’d expected him to do so, since he was a gentleman and wouldn’t let anyone manhandle me. Anyone besides Gabe, it seemed.

“Now then, precious,” Gabe began. The palm at my back was insistent, yet gentle, as it kept me still. I could feel the heat of his hand through my dress. “Tell us about this lie of yours.”

“What? Let me up!” I squirmed, not eager to tell them in such a fashion. Looking them in the eye and telling them I lied was bad enough; doing it with my bottom in the air was even worse.

“No more, Abigail. We’re done waiting. We want the truth, and we want it now.”

I was equal parts angry and afraid. I couldn’t get up, couldn’t escape the men with any more excuses.

“You can tell us, or Gabe can spank you,” Tucker said. His nonchalance was aggravating. “Then you’ll tell us with a bright pink and very sore ass.”

I turned my head over my shoulder to look up at Gabe. “You wouldn’t.”

Instead of responding, he grabbed the hem of my skirt and tossed it up and over my back, pushing all the material up so my drawers were exposed. I cried out his name again, squirmed.

He hissed out a breath and looked at my bottom almost reverently. Then he spanked me. Once, but it was enough to have me stiffen and gasp. The pain was sharp and bright, but, after a second, it only stung, along with my pride.

“Aren’t you tired of the keeping it to yourself?” Gabe asked, stroking his palm over the spot he spanked. “The weight of it must be oppressive.”

I pinched my lips together. It was oppressive not to ask for their help about Tennessee, about why I was heading to Butte. But Mr. Grimsby would kill them. James, too. And so I would have to cover up a lie with another.

Gabe spanked me again, the crack of it resounding in the small room. Then he tugged on my drawers and pulled them down so they were bunched about my thighs. I was bare to him. To both of them.

“What are you doing?” I cried. They could see my bottom!

“Fuck.” I heard Tucker’s whisper. “Such a pretty ass, precious. Even with Gabe’s handprints all hot and pink.”

“Gabe!” I yelled again, trying to wiggle free. I’d never been exposed like this to anyone before. Not just physically, but they were trying to uncover all of my secrets, too. Knowing they could see my bare bottom, turning quite red as Tucker said, made me blush.

But the mortification of them seeing me this way was outweighed by what they’d do when I admitted it in more detail. I wanted to tell them, I did—I ached to do so—but I knew they’d leave me once they knew the truth. While I certainly didn’t want to be spanked, I did like being the center of their attention. They were focused on me. Why, I didn’t know, but I liked it.

As I remained silent, Gabe resumed his spanking. He didn’t leave a spot of skin untouched, even the tops of my thighs. My flesh was hot and prickly and the pain of it was growing, morphing into a ball of feeling that was more than just his hand making contact with my bottom. It was knowing he was doing this to me and I couldn’t relent and had tears sliding down my cheeks.

“Yes. Let it go, precious,” Tucker murmured, squatting down beside the bed so he could stroke his big hand over my hair. “Give it to us to handle.”

He spoke as if my burden were a tangible thing I could just hand over to them. But I could do nothing but take what Gabe was doing, give over to the spanking. I had to give up, to submit to the spanking, for I had no control. I could do nothing but give in to the feel of his palm connecting with my searing bottom. It was as if he were taking the misery of my lie and making it real, the pain of it something tangible.

It wasn’t trapped inside me anymore but coming out with each spank, with each falling tear. I began to sob in earnest then, letting go, just as Tucker had said. I couldn’t think, couldn’t worry, only felt the tingling heat spread through me.

Tucker crooned to me as Gabe continued, although the spanking was softer, almost as if he wanted to purge all of my tears from me. Finally, finally he stopped, his palm stroking over my heated flesh, gently caressing me. Tenderly.

I continued to cry, and, for some reason, it felt good, almost cathartic to let the tears out. I wasn’t one to break down in histrionics, but perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps I needed to cry, to purge the misery inside me and these men knew I'd needed it. They weren’t running away; they stayed right with me. I let go, as if falling from a high place, and I didn’t break. In fact, they caught me. And yet… the truth hadn’t been spoken. Only the words, I lied. When they knew more, surely they’d get up and leave. But it was time. No matter what happened, it was time.

Tucker tipped up my chin, wiped his warm thumb through the tears. “Tell us?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

I nodded, sniffed, and looked up into his pale eyes. “As I said, there’s… there’s no man.”

I tugged my chin to look away, but Tucker didn’t relent on his hold.