Their Kidnapped Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 1)

His commanding voice pushed me over some precipice and I was falling, falling into nothingness. The intensity of it all was so grand that I screamed and clawed at Kane's shoulders. With letting go, giving over to what he was doing to me, I'd found the most amazing pleasure I never knew was possible.

No wonder Clara had spread her legs. No wonder she let herself be taken on the kitchen table. With this one demonstration of Kane's power, I was addicted. I wanted more. I wanted it again. I needed what he'd just done to me. Again and again.

Kane's fingers continued to gently stroke and work my body until I'd taken a deep breath and opened my eyes. Kane watched me and the corner of his mouth turned up, dimple appearing. "Like that, did you?"

I almost purred like a cat and couldn't help but grin. "Oh, yes."

Pulling his hands free, he showed me the evidence of my desire, what I tasted even now on my tongue from our kiss. "You dripped all over my hands. You will always be wet for me."

CHAPTER FOUR

KANE

The simple shift so seductively wrapping Emma’s body was more alluring than any lacy garb worn by Mrs. Pratt's girls. If I hadn't just found the proof of her innocence, I would think her a temptress. Her coral nipples poked at the thin fabric, the soft swells of her breasts were plump above the plain edge. Her skin was pale and creamy, most assuredly silky to the touch.

"I want to see all of ye, lass. Let's take off your shift," Ian told her.

Her skin was damp and flushed with desire, her eyes cloudy with her first pleasure. There was no doubt that had been her first orgasm, for she'd been so quick to arouse, so fearful of the pleasure. And yet, when she came, she succumbed to it beautifully. Emma looked at me now with those bewitching blue eyes for a moment, a small frown marring her smooth skin.

"Show us what's ours, Emma."

But I hadn't touched. I hadn't touched her anywhere but her cunny and kissed her delectable mouth. Her skittishness endeared her to me and I felt a swift and ruthless wave of possessiveness at the very first glimpse. When I tasted her essence from her fingers, my cock pulsed against my pants because her scent, the taste of her cunny had me wanting to sink into her sweet depths. I knew Ian felt the same way, although neither of us had said as much.

Mrs. Pratt's auction was known to only a small group of men who traveled in similar circles as Ian and I. Landowners, ranchers, mine owners, railroad magnates whose actions were often outside the parameters of the law – men able to keep silent about their lives, about how they, or their fellow businessmen, acquired their wives. Ian and I had secrets – that's why we settled as far from England as possible and in such a remote a location.

All bidders were wealthy men who sought more than a quick fuck. Malcolm Pierce was looking for a bride to be his little girl, to dress her up and treat her as a child, yet fuck like a woman. Alfred Potter's mansion in Billings was filled with female servants who tended to more than just the house. Since he needed an heir, a bride was required, but she would be only one of several women who serviced him in his household. John Rivers liked doling out pain more than pleasure and his bride would need a strong constitution and a wild spirit.

We’d heard about the auction while playing cards downstairs as several of Mrs. Pratt's girls shared their attentions with Ian and me. It was Mrs. Pratt's invitation to claim a virgin bride that had piqued our interest, especially when we learned of the other bidders. An auction of this type was common in the Mohamir where we'd been stationed for several years – an auction for a woman trained from birth to please several husbands, to submit to them for their protection as well as their pleasure. Those women knew the men who would win them would treat them with honor. This auction could offer no such guarantee.

Our years abroad in the army reinforced the idea this antiquated approach was, for Ian and me, as well as a handful of other members of our regiment, the best option. Life as a soldier was short; having more than one husband offered protection and stability to the woman and their children. These unusual ways swayed us from following the strict Victorian dictates and morals of our country. But it was the actions of our superiors that had us leaving the ranks, abandoning our positions in the British army and escaping to the United States.

When I first laid eyes on Emma, I knew she was for us. The other men could find their own woman another time.

When she was too slow to comply to my command to remove her shift, Ian stepped forward, his fingers dipping to the hem of the barrier that prevented us from seeing her body. As his fingers slid the material up her thighs, she jerked in surprise, but held still.

Slowly, Ian lifted the material up to show off her shapely legs, the dark hair at the apex of her thighs that glistened with her desire, her narrow waist, flat belly, full breasts with large, tight nipples. The soft cotton caught on her hair and a long curl fell free as Ian tossed the shift onto the floor.

Seeing her naked, I knew we'd made the right choice. This was our first auction, and most definitely our last. Where Mrs. Pratt found her women to be sold off was not asked, but it was clear to both Ian and me that Emma was as innocent as could be. Seeing her dark hair, her creamy skin, the slightly hidden delights of her body, she was perfection. Seeing the fear and shame on her face had every protective and possessive instinct screaming to save her. The reason was clear, at least to me. She wasn't meant for the other men at the auction. This woman was ours. And so I bid, and bid well.

When the doctor had prepared to inspect Emma, to put his fingers in her cunny, I saw red. Ian would not have allowed another man to touch her either, especially now when every soft inch of her was visible. I knew Carmichael well. He was a skilled doctor who tended to patients all over the area, but he also enjoyed new flesh. That bent was fine for other women, but Emma's cunny was for Ian and me alone. I wanted our hands upon her to be the first. Her last. What we planned for her wasn't always gentle, wasn't tame or legal by society's standards, but we'd kill any man who touched our bride. A Mohamiran woman was never abused, never mistreated, only treasured. We would give Emma the same honor. She was scared of us now, but once she learned of our intentions, was trained to our ways, she'd see our devotion.

She stood naked within the circle of my legs. Her skin was unmarred and porcelain white and I itched to feel its silkiness. Her breasts were a handful, teardrop shaped with nipples I longed to suck and nip. But none of that was the prize. It was at the juncture of her thighs, hidden well in the dark curls. I could just make out the pink cunny lips, all swollen and slick from my touch. Her clit protruded, a hard pink nub that was the epicenter of her desire.

Emma would be responsive; I had no doubt. She might have been skittish as we'd visually inspected her, then bid on her, but her passion couldn't be hidden. And once I'd won the bidding and she'd looked at me, I was certain. The way her eyes sparked with indignation, frustration and then ultimately desire – I hadn't been mistaken. Ian saw it, too. I recognized the need for her in his eyes, the tense jaw, the fisted hands, for all of his actions mirrored mine. I was the one who had legally wed her, but Ian would claim her in the most elemental of ways and Emma would never doubt his possession of her.

She would make the perfect wife, responsive and eager to please without even realizing. She just needed some guidance from her men. Since I showed her first pleasure, let her see how I controlled her body, it was time for her to tend to me. My cock was hard enough to pound nails in a fence post and my wife's first lesson would be how to slake my need. Ian w

ould have his turn next.

"Have you ever touched a cock before?" Ian asked, his voice husky.

I undid my belt, the placket of my pants. Emma tilted her head and watched as I pulled my cock free. I couldn't help the sigh that escaped as it bobbed free from the tight confines of my pants.

"No," she whispered, eyes wide. "You...you're...you're so big." She darted a glance over her shoulder at Ian. He was still clothed, but the thick outline of his cock was evident beneath his pants and I knew by Emma's deep inhale that she hadn't missed it.

I smiled wickedly and met her gaze when she turned her head back. "The vows have been said, Emma. There's no need for flattery."

"That's supposed to...to go in me?" She looked at me with equal measures of surprise and concern.