Their Stolen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 7)

“Mmm.”

Using two fingers, I tilted her chin up so she met my gaze. “Just for you?” she asked.

“For me and Sully. While we’re gone, you’re going to have to continue to use the plugs on your own.”

Her brow furrowed.

“When we come back, we’re going to claim you.”

“Together,” Sully added.

“That’s right. So onto your back, legs nice and wide.” I helped her settle into position and damned if I didn’t want to crawl between those thighs and fuck her. But that could wait.

“Pull that plug out and we’ll get you the next size up. You’ll get it all slicked up and put it in yourself. You’ll wear it until lunchtime, then again when you go to bed.”

Sully must have seen a look in her eye, for he said, “We’ll know, sweetheart. When we get back, we’ll be able to slide a finger inside of you, nice and easy to check, then our cocks.”

Sully held up the new plug, longer and thicker than the one inside her now, and the jar of slick lubricant. “If you put that new plug in quickly, we’ll have more time to fuck you before you go.”

“You… you want me to do it myself?”

“Yes, we need to know you can do it while we’re gone,” Sully replied. “Then we’ll fuck you. It’ll be so nice and tight.”

“And I want to hear you scream at least twice so I can think of your pleasure while I’m gone,” I added, knowing the nights on the trail were going to be long. Thinking of her would help.

I sat down on one side of Mary, Sully on the other, and we held her knees apart, watching as she tended to her ass training. When her nipples tightened and her skin flushed, I knew it was far from a chore.

CHAPTER TEN

MARY

I lay awake that night, thinking of my men. They were going to somehow come upon Mr. Benson’s hired men, lead them away from Bridgewater, then ambush them. How that was going to make Mr. Benson decide that I should no longer be his wife was beyond me. The man wasn’t going to stop until Sully was dead and I was a widow, eligible for marriage once again. If Sully and the others killed the men who were coming for him, Benson would only send more. The numbers would not stop.

There would be no end. None of the peace and quiet that Sully was looking for. I just wanted Sully and Parker to have what they wanted. Unlike Mr. Benson’s desire, it wasn’t a tangible thing, not something you could buy. It was a way of life and I craved it, too. I didn’t need money, I just needed my men.

There was only one way to stop Mr. Benson. The idea came to me as I stared at the shadows dancing across the wall in Laurel’s extra bedroom. The soft curtains in the window shifted with the summer breeze and picked up the glint of the moon. I was alone in a strange bed and a strange house. I’d become familiar with sharing a bed with two big men, adjusting to being held all night, pressed between two warm bodies. Now, I felt alone. Even on the warm night, I was chilled. I longed for my men.

I hadn’t thought about what Chloe had said about Mr. Benson’s mine that morning in the washroom at the brothel. Sully had come in and interrupted us and then introduced me to a razor and an ass plug. To say that my thoughts had been occupied by them since was gross understatement. But with them having been gone all day, I’d had time to think.

Mr. Benson’s mine was dry. There was no copper. That meant no more money, no more lavish lifestyle. No wonder he wanted me. He wanted my money, and ultimately my father’s mine. There were no shortages of copper coming from it. The vein was a good one. A deep one.

Being married to Sully meant my father’s mine was unattainable for Mr. Benson. He was desperate. This meant that he wouldn’t stop trying to get to me. He wouldn’t let Sully remain alive. The longer the time that passed, the more desperate he would become. Sure, he could find another heiress, but I was the only one in Butte who was—or had been—unmarried and of marriageable age.

Lillian Seymour was forty-six and had seven children. If her husband died, Mr. Benson could wed her, but his intentions would be obvious. The woman was toothsome, and seven children?

There was Olive Morris, but she was twelve. I doubted Mr. Benson had six years, let alone six months to wait.

I was his only chance.

I knew how to end this once and for all. It wasn’t through Sully. It wasn’t even with hired thugs. There was one person who needed to learn the truth and stop the business deal. My father.

I had to get to Butte. I had to go see my father, tell him about Mr. Benson’s mine. Then I could live my life with my men without fear or danger looming over us. And one of my men was in danger. While they’d said it was their job to protect me, it was my job to save them. I knew how to save Sully and I couldn’t just sit with Laurel and the other women with that information and do nothing.

Butte was only a few hours away. An easy ride for a horse with a light rider. No one was after me. I wasn’t the one in danger. I just had to figure out how to get away. Mason, Quinn, Porter and the other men were very protective. Overly protective. I rolled onto my side, tugging the blanket about me, thinking. When the sun began to rise, the sky changing to gray, then a perfect pink, I had my plan.

SULLY

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone?”