Their Wayward Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 2)

"Her nipples tightened in my palm. Do it again."

The men spoke of my body as if it belonged to them, as if it was theirs to touch and work. For they were most assuredly working my body. I had no idea such feelings could be elicited. And there, between my thighs, I was wet. The sound of Mason's finger slipping through it was loud in the room. When his finger brushed over me there again, my clit he'd called it, my eyes slipped shut and my head fell back against his shoulder. All of a sudden I felt overheated.

"See, so perfect," Brody commented, continuing to play with my nipple.

Mason kissed the length of my neck and shivers ran down my spine. I didn't know I could shiver and be so warm. How could a beard be so...carnal? He must have been glancing down at what Brody's hands were doing. "Gorgeous. So responsive. Pinch it."

Brody did and I groaned. The feeling was a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"She likes a little bit of pain," Brody commented.

I was lost. Completely and totally lost to whatever these two men were doing to me. I knew it was wrong, I'd been told by the teachers at school not to succumb to a man's attentions, knew even more that two men should not be touching me in such a way, let alone at all. But there was nothing I could do except succumb, not because I didn't think they would stop, for I knew deep down that these men would halt their attentions if I truly wished it. I could only give in because it felt...so...good. Mason's finger continued to flick over my clit, to rub the side of it in a way that had me shifting my hips as if trying to reach something. My mouth fell open and my breath escaped in little pants.

"It's too much. Oh. Please!" I stiffened in their arms, unfamiliar with the overwhelming feelings they wrought from my body. I'd never felt like this before. I was out of control; my body climbing and climbing toward...something and it was scary. I clawed at Brody's arms.

"That's it, sweetheart. Shh. We've got you. You're going to come and we'll be here to catch you," Brody murmured.

"You're safe," Mason added as he worked my clit with even more vigor. I couldn't take it any longer. Their words of holding me, watching me, keeping me safe helped. I relaxed enough and the pleasure so intense that I shattered into a million pieces. It was as if my body had been held together and their touches had broken me apart. I couldn't do anything but succumb. The feeling was absolutely amazing and I never wanted it to end.

CHAPTER THREE

MASON

She'd come apart in our arms so beautifully. Her arousal coated my hand, so hot, so slick. I shifted and pulled Laurel with me so she was once again on her back between us. Propped up on my elbow, I raised my dripping fingers to my mouth and licked her essence off the tips. Her taste was so sweet it made my mouth water with eagerness to slide down her body and taste her arousal directly from the source. My cock was so hard it throbbed, desperate to sink into her, to claim her. Not now though. I'd have to wait. We'd have to wait. Like she'd said, she was saving her virginity until marriage. That would happen as soon as the weather cleared and we could get the justice of the peace or the minister out to the ranch and the “I do's” spoken, and not five minutes more.

The blanket had slipped down her body as she'd cried and I'd pulled it to her waist when Brody had distracted her with his nipple play. Her skin was so pale that pale blue veins could be seen, so silky soft I was afraid I'd mar her with my calloused palms. When she'd inadvertently shown us her arse and a hint of her pussy, I'd almost come then and there. Her hair was the fieriest shades of red. Everywhere.

And now, now she lay with her eyes closed, replete, a small smile curving her full lips, completely unaware of anything but her first orgasm, even the fact that she was bare to the waist. There was no doubt that had been her first pleasure. She'd been too scared of it, too overwhelmed by its intensity for it to be a familiar occurrence.

Her hair was a tangle on the pillow, so long, so thick. Her eyelashes so long, her.... I was turning into a romantic, all at the sight of a naked woman. She wasn't the first I'd seen, but most definitely the last. She was ours.

"What was that?" she asked, her voice as soft and slow as honey.

"That was your men pleasing you."

Her eyes opened and panic flared the moment she returned to herself. The moment after that was when she realized she was uncovered to her waist. To say her breasts were lovely was an understatement. They were large, easily a handful, with plump coral nipples. Her figure was lush, ample and when I'd slid my hands over her, her curves were soft and plentiful, something to hold onto when fucking.

She sat up and crossed her arms over her chest to cover herself. Her hair slid long and wild down her back to touch the sheet behind her. "I shouldn't have allowed you such liberties. It isn't right."

Brody lay back on his pillow, tucked an arm behind his head. I pushed up to sit beside her, much less concerned for modesty than she. "Why isn't this right?" I asked.

"I don't know you and we just...you...." She couldn't find the right words to explain the emotions and the reasons for why what we’d done was wrong. She just knew it to be so.

"Last night, when I held you, did it seem wrong?"

She shook her head.

"Were you afraid?"

She licked her lips. "No, I was so cold, so afraid I was going to die and then you were there."

"It felt right, didn't it, sweetheart?" I asked. "There's something special here, between the three of us. You felt it then and you just felt how good it can be, how we can make you feel. It's not wrong."

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she looked up at me with her green eyes, unconvinced. She was a well-bred lady, not a woman from the brothel in town. She'd been told all her life to protect her virtue. Thankfully she'd heeded those warnings, for she'd saved herself for us, but she would have to fight those social standards perhaps more than Brody or I. It would take time and gentle coaxing and persuasion. "Please get me my dress."

Because of her skittishness, there was no time like the present to continue her lesson. If she was to be our wife, she needed to become familiar with her husband's bodies, and teaching her when she was sated from her first orgasm was the perfect time. It was her job to tend to our needs just as much as ours to see to hers. Tossing back the covers, I stood, offering her the expanse of my back first, then turned to place my hands on my hips. My cock was hard. Hard enough to pound nails. The blunt head was an angry red color, and it pulsed, eager to fuck. It curved upward toward my navel and my balls hung heavily below. If she hadn't seen a cock before—and the way her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide and ogling it—she was in for quite a learning experience.

"Your dress is most likely still sodden from the snow. You may wear a shirt of mine."