Hitched (Steele Ranch 4)

She arched one delicate dark brow.

“What am I allergic to?” Wilder asked her.

“Blueberries.”

“What’s my father’s favorite sport to watch on TV?”

“The Little League World Series,” she replied immediately.

It was true, his dad loved to watch the kids play baseball. He’d been the coach for Barlow little league and even the high school team before he retired with Wilder’s mom to Florida.

“What’s my favorite food?” I asked her.

She looked to me. “Spaghetti and meatballs.”

I lifted my hand to my forehead. “How did I get this scar?”

“From your truck door.”

There was a story there, but it wasn’t worth repeating. But Sarah knew about it.

“See, you know us,” I told her. “And we know you like Sweet Pea lotion, your favorite author is Jane Austen, you don’t like corn on the cob and you never learned to knit, but your grandmother taught you how to crochet.”

Her mouth fell open at my list of knowledge. “And you like things wild as fuck in the bedroom.”

She paused and I could practically see the gears working in that smart mind of hers.

Slowly, she smiled. There, that look lit up the whole fucking room and made me want to spout about rainbows and fucking unicorns and shit.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Not only about me being wild in the bedroom”—she glanced away at that—“but that we do know each other.”

“That’s right, princess,” Wilder admitted. “We want all of you. But we won’t take it without commitment. Real commitment. When you part those thighs for our dicks, you’ll know you belong to us. You’ll feel the weight of our rings on your finger, know that’s the proof your pussy is ours. But not until then.”

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she replied. Her eyes widened as if her words surprised her.

Wilder kissed her, then I had my turn. Yeah, she was fucking sweet.

When I pulled back, she bit her lip, plump and red from our mouths on hers. “Does this mean we can’t…do stuff until then?”

Wilder glanced at me. I could practically read his mind, but his words confirmed it. “Princess, we just licked your pussy. I’d say we can do stuff until we get you to the courthouse.”

“Like what?” she breathed.

Wilder angled his chin. “Grab the headboard.”

She stared at him for a moment as he stood, having to tilt her head back to keep eye contact, then crawled across the bed to do as he said. Obedient little submissive.

When she had her hands on top of the log-style headboard, she looked over her shoulder at us, then thrust her ass out. Her latex skirt had fallen down, but when she shifted, we could see a hint of our handprints still on her round cheeks, plus all that pink, wet pussy. And when I saw the little rosette of her ass wink at us, I had to palm my dick. Monday when the county courthouse opened was a long way off.

“Get that skirt off. I want to see every gorgeous inch of you,” Wilder told her. She shimmied and shifted to get the garment off, then moved back into place.

“Here’s what’s going to happen now, princess,” I said, standing as well. “We’re going to see how many ways we can make you come without touching that pussy. Nothing goes near that cherry before our dicks on Monday. Your ass—because we’re going to take you there, too—your mouth, your tits tonight are all fair game.”

She glanced at us over her shoulder. Fuck, she was like a magazine centerfold, pink pussy peeking out, her nipples hard with the shiny rings. It was going to be hard not to come in my jeans. I wanted to pull my dick out and rub one out, to spurt my cum all over her pale skin. But no, that would wait until Monday. I’d save up all of it to fill that pussy instead. Nice and deep. So deep I didn’t know where I ended and she began.

“Our wedding night, princess, you’re going to have so much cum in that broken in pussy it’ll be dripping out all week.”

I watched as her eyes dilated at my dirty words. She really was a kinky girl. Yeah, she was absolutely fucking perfect.