Their Christmas Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 5)

"I didn't think you'd believe me. He said he would tell the ladies at church how he'd taken me. Used me."

"Angel, we'd have wanted you no matter what."

My mouth fell open. "You would have married me even if I'd lain with another?"

Porter shrugged. "Matthews wouldn't have gotten you beneath him voluntarily. If he'd taken you by force, then yes."

I frowned. "Why?"

Quinn lazily circled a finger around my nipple and they watched as my nipple tightened. "So responsive," he murmured. "Because your nipple wouldn't tighten like that for him. Your pussy wouldn't be dripping for him. He might have taken your maidenhead, but he wouldn't have truly taken you."

Their answer made me feel small and selfish. I'd thought little of their honor. Instead, I'd remained alone and isolated myself. "I shouldn't have doubted you," I replied. "I...I should have come to you."

"As Porter said, Matthews won't be bothering you further, and any rumors he spread should have been squelched by now," Quinn said. "One last question and then we'll let you down. You did not seem surprised when you came. That means you've come before. By your own hand?"

I glanced away. Porter took hold of my chin and forced me to look at him. "Yes," I answered.

"As Quinn said, you're such a good girl." I reveled in his praise as he reached up and lifted the handcuffs off the hook. Each man took a shoulder and rubbed the tension from it, tending to me carefully and gently. "I love knowing you touched and played with your pussy."

I frowned as Quinn pulled the key from his pocket and undid the locks. "You're not mad that I did something so tawdry?"

"Of course not," Quinn said, the metal releasing and he caught it in his hand. "It's not tawdry. It's...hot as hell."

"The only way you could make us mad is to run off again," Porter commented, his hand stroking up and down my arm.

"I won't because—"

He put a finger over my lips. "You won't because we'll put the handcuffs back on you again, the next time locking your wrist to one of ours."

"We are pleased with your answers, with your honesty," Quinn said. He picked up his coat and tossed it onto the cot in the corner of the small cell. The size of it covered almost the entire surface. "Lay down and spread your legs. We're going to watch as you make yourself come."

CHAPTER FIVE

Christmas Eve

"I will tell the town biddies that you cornered me in the coat closet at the fall harvest da

nce," Mr. Matthews warned. "You were eager for me, eager enough to lift your skirts so I could claim you. Who could blame me if you are a harlot and gave yourself to me?"

"No one will believe you," I countered, struggling to break free of his tight hold. The owner of the mercantile had gone into the back to retrieve some bullets for Mr. Matthews and we were left alone.

The man leered at me, completely unconcerned by my words. "They will if I change the story that has you coming to my house, spending the night in my bedroom, then stealing money from my dresser before you leave. You'll paint yourself a prostitute then, taking money for sex. Everyone knows you need it."

In that moment, I wasn't sure if he were referring to the money or my secret need to touch myself.

***

I froze, stunned. "What? I can't do that!"

The men steered me into the cell, hands upon my bare shoulders. "You just said you had in the past," Porter countered.

"Yes, but that was in my room in the dark, and I was alone." I glanced over my shoulder at them, and then turned to face them when I saw how stalwart they were.

Quinn crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not alone anymore, and when you touch yourself, it won't be by yourself. Your pussy's ours, which means your pleasure belongs to us."

"Perhaps she'd feel better if we took off our clothes, too," Porter told Quinn as he toed off his boots.

He nodded. "Good idea."