A Wild Woman (Mail Order Bride of Slate Springs 2)

“I think my nerves are too great to feel any.”

Lane and Spur both faced me. They stood side by side, so big and brawny, dark shadows falling making them impossibly menacing looking, but they did not give off that feeling.

“You should not be nervous with us,” Spur said. “We will never hurt you.”

I bit my lip, somehow knowing he spoke the truth. Hoping, at least.

“I’m not nervous because of you,” I said, looking down at the floorboards. “I’m nervous about what we’re going to… to do.”

“Perhaps it’s like going to the doctor, all worry beforehand.”

Spur rolled his eyes again at Lane’s words, then punched him in the shoulder.

Lane winced and rubbed the spot as Spur spoke. “Unlike going to the doctor, fucking is all about feeling good.”

Fucking. My brothers spoke of it readily enough. While they’d tried to tame their words with an innocent younger sister about, I’d heard enough. I knew they fucked whores at the saloons in Wichita. Other women, too, and knew some carnal details. Although, some of them I had to question if they were possible. Such as putting a cock in your mouth. That seemed… odd. Why would any woman want to do that?

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Lane added, breaking me from my thoughts. “We’re going to make you feel very, very good.”

I gulped, knowing the men’s confidence would certainly spread to their lovemaking. And me.

“Grab the soap, we’ll wash at the pump,” Spur told Lane. He angled his chin toward the tub. “Climb in before it gets cold.”

He didn’t wait for me to do so, only turned and went down the steps to stand in front of the pump, tugging one suspender off his shoulder, then the other, letting them dangle down by his thighs.

Lane came from the kitchen, soap in hand, and joined Spur. I stood, frozen in place, and watched as they stripped off their shirts, paying me no mind at all. They even turned away from me, just as they’d said. I gulped when their tapered backs and broad shoulders came into view, the flickering light from the lanterns made their skin glow, the flexing muscles in harsh contrast.

Realizing I’d been ogling and knowing they’d only be gentlemen for so long with their backs turned, I quickly stripped, eyes firmly on them to ensure they didn’t peek, then climbed into the tub. The water was warm and it felt good. I took the pins from my hair, put the small pile on the railing and traded them for the bar of soap Spur had left. With my hair so long, it floated on the surface, then swirled around me.

“How’s the water, precious?” Lane asked, calling over his shoulder.

I startled and stilled my hands at his words. “Quite nice, thank you.”

Both men turned then and faced me. I gulped. While the hair on Lane’s chest was pale, Spur’s was quite dark and tapered down toward his navel, then into a line that dipped beneath his pants. They were fine specimens of men and I had plenty of brothers for comparison. While I was still nervous, especially since I was sitting naked with only a copper tub hiding me, I felt that strong tug of attraction. Only a dead woman would be immune. Oh, God. Patricia. She was dead and I was sitting in her tub with her men. They thought I was Patricia, that I was legally theirs, when I wasn’t. I wasn’t their wife and what we were about to do was far from right. I was going to give my virginity to not one man, but two, neither of whom were my husband. I needed to tell them the truth.

The men’s gazes darkened. Lane’s hands clenched into fists as he stared at me. Spur ran a hand over his jaw. From the porch I could hear the rasp of his beard. They wanted me. Me! The woman who’d shot a man in a saloon and swore up a storm. My brothers weren’t here to send them away. No one was here to stop them. For once in my life, I could do exactly what I wanted. I wanted them to fuck me. That made my heart pound and my fingers grip the side of the tub with worry. What if I did it wrong? What if I didn’t please them? I’d only been kissed by these two and just once at that.

The way they stared at me put some of that to rest. They’d seen me at my most unladylike in the saloon and they still desired me. A few fumbles I might make in bed were nothing in comparison. Should I give up possibly the one opportunity to find out what it was like to be well bedded because I told them I wasn’t the real Patricia? Hell, no. I’d tell them the truth, but not now. I wasn’t going to risk losing those heated looks for anything. I’d have tonight. Tomorrow… well, I’d worry about tomorrow then.

“Like what you see?” Lane asked.

I blinked, focusing again on them. I took a deep breath and nodded. I wasn’t going to deny myself this opportunity. Besides, I was never one to lie. Fine, I was keeping the biggest lie ever from them, but I was doing it for a reason. For a night of wild fucking and I doubted it was going to hurt them much. Hell, they said it was going to be nothing but pleasure. Surely, Patricia herself couldn’t blame me.

Lane looked to Spur. “It’s time.”

Spur leaned down and pumped the handle, water pouring out of the spigot. Quickly, they lathered their chests and faces, rinsing the soap away with splashes of water. Then they undid their pants, pushed them down over their hips to settle around their thick thighs. Their bottoms were muscular and taut.

I gasped, for they wore no drawers and their cocks sprang free. I’d seen my brothers’ cocks a time or two, although in passing and it had been quite unappealing. But this… hell. Both cocks were thick and long, Lane’s thrusting from a nest of pale curls, Spur’s black. Lane’s cock curved to the left and the head was flared and very broad. Spur’s angled straight up to his belly and when he gripped the base of it with his soapy hand, a pearly drop of fluid seeped from the tip.

“Holy fuck,” I murmured, resting my chin on the edge of the tub.

Both men glanced up at my words. Neither looked bothered by my inappropriate language. Quite the opposite, in fact. Grinning, they extended their soaping, lathering and rinsing to their… lower areas until dripping wet and very, very clean. With no way to dry themselves, they hoisted their pants back up to their hips, but didn’t button them. Prowling toward me, they came up the steps, slick and wet, their cocks only partially shielded.

I slid down the length of the tub away from them, the water sloshing over the side. I couldn’t climb out, for the only thing protecting my modesty was a thin wall of copper.

“All clean, precious?” Lane asked, squatting down directly in front of me, wiping a drop of water from his chin, before grasping the tub for balance.

“Oh, um… yes.”