Their Kidnapped Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

KANE

Simon's words over dinner had me distracted and agitated. Downright mad. I was leading my wife up to my bedroom to strip her naked and make her scream and I was thinking about the men that were coming for Ian. There was no question it was Evers, or at least men sent by Evers. Once they found Ian, they'd drag him back to England for trial. Or, they'd drag him just over the ridge and shoot him, their own kind of vigilante justice. None of us would let that happen. Ian had done no wrong and Evers knew it. But pinning his own dastardly crimes onto Ian had kept the man in good standing. A duke could not be sullied by the dirtiness of murder, even in wartime. Even in a land, a culture, so different as Mohamir.

As Ian closed the door behind us with a definitive click, I had to put those thoughts away for now. Emma needed our attention. Deserved it. Required it. When Ian's eyes met mine over her head, I could read his thoughts. Whatever happened to him, I would take care of our wife. I would be here for her. Protect her. Even when Ian was gone.

Like bloody hell.

The sun had dipped lower, the room filled with soft evening light, but not dark enough yet to require the lamp. A soft breeze came in through the open window and I could hear the men still working down

stairs. Once the cleanup was complete, they'd finish up any remaining chores with the horses and return to their own homes spread out across the ranch.

"Have ye seen a man fully naked before, Emma?" Ian asked, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

She shook her head, keeping a careful watch on Ian's fingers, the expanse of chest exposed one button at a time.

"I was naked but I fucked her beneath the covers at the hotel this morn," Ian told Kane, then grinned sheepishly. "We were short on time."

"You won't be fucked under the covers again until the next blizzard. Your arousal has been taunting me the entire meal."

"My...my arousal?"

"The scent of you. Your hard nipples poking against your dress. Your flushed cheeks. Take off your dress, baby," I said, my voice rough. I'd had to will my cock into submission earlier when I had my face between her thighs, when I'd watched Ian work the plug into her virgin ass. Even through dinner. Now, though, I couldn't wait any longer.

"Doesn't it bother you that Mason knows what we were doing earlier? Shouldn't Andrew and Robert keep what they do with Ann a secret?" she asked, unbuttoning her bodice. I didn't mind the question, just thankful she was taking off her dress without duress.

I paused in my undressing and gave her my full attention as it was a serious question. An important one.

"There are no secrets at Bridgewater, baby."

"Privacy, yes, but nay secrets," Ian added.

"None of the other men will covet you as we do if they know your pussy is shaved and perfectly smooth. They will not think less of you if they hear your screams when you come. In fact, they will be right angry with us if they don't know you're being well tended. Your pleasure only validates our being good husbands."

"Ye belong to us and they ken that," Ian added. "Just as Ann belongs to Andrew and Robert even though we saw them fuck her downstairs. The other men will soon find brides of their own soon enough."

She considered our words as she stood there, her bodice open wide enough to glimpse the creamy swells of her breasts. I needed to calm myself; I wanted to relieve all the tension in my body by getting lost in hers. But that was not going to happen tonight. Her cunny was sore and not an option for relief, however there were many possible other ways to please her, and have her please us in return.

She fumbled with the remaining buttons, distracted by Ian and most definitely still aroused from earlier. We'd left her needy and wanting, her orgasm so close yet unattainable. Only when she accepted the pleasure as her due as our wife would we let her come. It was a self-inflicted punishment all in itself.

"Why does this man Evers anger you?" she asked. I must have answered her previous question readily enough for her to change topics. It did not seem to be in her nature to leave any worries unresolved.

Ian paused as he undid the placket of his pants, frowned. "He was our commanding officer during our time in the Mohamir."

"Our?"

"Don't stop, Emma. I want to see you," I told her, redirecting her thoughts. Her fingers began to move once again, but I could tell by the focused look in her gorgeous eyes that she wasn't to be deterred. I wanted to know her thoughts, share her experiences, learn about her. Evers was just someone neither of us wanted to think about, let alone talk about, especially when a hint of pink nipple appeared as the loose dress started to slip off her shoulder.

"Kane and I. Mason, Brody, Simon and Rhys, too." Ian said the last man's name with the English pronunciation, “Reese.” "We were stationed together to guard the British ships in the Dardanelles for a time, then travelled with British dignitaries to Mohamir to meet the religious and secular leaders of the region."

The dress slipped from her body and pooled around her feet. Both Ian and I paused and looked our fill, watching as her nipples tightened. It seemed I had a slight obsession with her nipples.

I yanked at my shirt, stripping myself of my clothes as quickly as possible. Ian was already naked and positioned himself in the middle of the bed. "Come to me, lass."

Emma climbed onto the bed and Ian tugged her across his chest, kissing her, his arms wrapping around her securely. My mouth watered with my need to kiss her as well. It had been too long. An hour, perhaps?

"Evers doesn't matter now," Ian said, lifting his head to look at her, to stroke her hair back from her face. "Christ, you're so wet I can feel it on my thigh." He lifted his leg up so it pushed against her bare cunny.