Their Kidnapped Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 1)

"I will make this even easier for you. Answer yes or no to my questions, all right?"

I took a deep breath and stood before him, yet still too far away for him to reach. Either man could move quickly and grab me, hit me, hurt me, but they remained still. My heart pounded, my breathing deep from my outburst.

"Close your eyes. Go on, close them," Kane added when I didn't respond immediately.

The darkness was like a protective barrier, something I could hide behind. I didn't have to look at Kane or Ian, see their handsome faces, feel their scrutiny with my eyes closed. It was...easier.

"Good girl. Picture the couple. The secretary and the maid. Did your body warm watching them?" His voice slowed, went smoother.

"Yes."

"Did your nipples tighten?"

"Yes."

"Did you want the man to fuck you?" Ian asked, his voice coming from my side.

I pictured Allen and what I saw. He hadn't appealed to me, what he'd been doing had. I hadn't wanted him to fuck me, but a man of my own. "No."

"But you wanted to be fucked, to know what it felt like when his cock was buried deep. What the woman felt?"

I saw Clara's head tossed back, eyes closed, mouth open, back arched off the table. She'd been lost in her pleasure in that moment. "Yes."

I heard Kane stand, walk behind me. Circle me.

"Keep your eyes closed." His voice came from the right. "Your cunny – your pussy, that place between your thighs, does it ache at the idea of cock?"

It did. Oh, it did. "Yes."

I heard Ian move next, coming from my left to stand behind me. "I can see your nipples, all tight and erect." He was close enough to where I could feel his breath on my shoulder. "Do they need to be touched?"

My head fell back, as I became entranced by his deep voice. "Yes."

"Answer my question again, Emma. Are you wet?" Kane asked.

Now, I knew to what he spoke. That place at the juncture of my legs, my woman's place, was...wet. I could feel the hotness of it, the way my folds were swollen and coated in a slick essence brought about by the men's words, the mental pictures they'd elicited, their voices, their very presence.

I was surrounded. I felt the heat from their bodies, the way they took away all the air from the room. With my eyes closed, I didn't feel threatened – overwhelmed, assuredly – but protected instead.

It was dark with my lids closed, only a soft flickering of orange light seeped through. I could block out the world, everything that had happened to me, everything around me except Kane and Ian. Their words, their deep, almost hypnotic voices with the lovely accents. This was why I felt at liberty to answer, to respond to how they made me feel.

I heard Kane sink back into the chair in front of me. Waiting.

"Yes," I uttered.

"Open your eyes," Kane commanded.

My lashes fluttered open as I looked down at him first, then glanced over my shoulder at Ian whose gaze was dark and lust filled. He was close, only a foot away, but he did not touch me. Neither had yet to touch me except for when Ian caught my stumble.

"Come here," Kane ordered. He gestured with his hand to the space before him, his knees wide, the fabric of his pants stretched taut and defined over his muscular thighs.

I approached him slowly and stood where he bid. He met my eyes, then his head lowered, taking in my breasts and tight nipples, the transparent shift, my bare thighs.

"Spread your legs."

I moved my left leg so my stance was wider, my thigh bumping against his knee, and waited. What did he intend? He still hadn't touched me in any way. My modesty was losing to curiosity. Neither had done anything for me to fear, so on bated breath, I waited.

Slowly, he lifted his right hand and slipped it between my legs, up beneath the short hem of my shift to touch me. There.