Their Captivated Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 3)

"Now we can both touch you," Cross said, and I felt two hands between my legs, one running over the place, the amazing, incredible place that had me crying my pleasure aloud and the other dipping into my opening again and again, not far enough for my wants, but enough to make my body light up as if it were set aflame.

"Her clit's so hard, I bet she can come like this. Can't you, love, come for your men?"

I shook my head as I licked my lips, lost in the feel of their hands and I was thankful for their firm hold on the back of my thighs and at my waist. I didn't know what my clit was, but whatever they were doing I liked quite well. "I...I don't know what you mean," I practically sobbed.

"Do ye feel achy?" Simon breathed across the valley between my breasts.

"Hot all over?"

"Desperate?"

"Frantic?"

The men said word after word, all describing how I felt and I could only nod my head, my mouth open. I needed....

"We'll give it to you, love," Cross promised.

Their hands became even more attentive, Rhys' finger on that place that had me climbing higher and hotter and brighter, Simon's almost sharp nip at the tip of my nipple—

"Right...."

—and Rhys' finger that moved inside of me—

"...about...."

—only to slide back and touch me in the most dark and carnal of places.

"...now," Rhys vowed.

That slightest brush of his finger against my back entrance was what pushed me from the mountain I'd been climbing and I did a free fall, falling, falling with the most blissful pleasure coursing through my veins. White light shone behind my eyelids, my muscles tensed and a sob caught in my throat.

The men's hands continued to stroke and caress me until the pleasure ebbed and my body went limp. Simon sat back in his chair to keep his hands on me as Rhys and Cross moved to sit on the bed. I couldn't help the lazy smile that formed on my lips and I looked at each one of them with a blurry gaze.

"What was that?" I asked, my voice husky.

Simon's long fingers tightened about my waist. "That was yer men making ye come."

"Come?" I repeated.

In one motion, Simon stood and lifted me, carrying me to the copper bath and lowered me into the water, still warm.

"Pleasure. We gave you your pleasure," Cross clarified.

Simon grabbed the soap, rose scented, and began washing me with gentle efficiency, his soapy hands cleaning the stench of the fire from my body. I was lulled by the surprised bout of pleasure they wrung from my body so that I could not longer be embarrassed, even when he lifted me from the tub and dried me as if I was a child. The look in his eyes made it clear he did not think of me as such, then lifted me again to place me down in the center of the bed. It seemed the man enjoyed carrying me about. I felt the cool blanket against my overheated, sensitive skin.

"We gave you your pleasure, love," Cross repeated. "And we're going to do it again."

"And again," Rhys added.

"And again," Simon finished.

"But I'm not standing up," I said, coming up on my elbow.

While they smiled, they didn't laugh or make fun at my lack of knowledge in the ways of men and women.

"You don't have to be standing. Laying down works quite well, too," Rhys told me.

"I loved licking your taste off my finger. Your flavor is still strong on my tongue. I want more," Cross admitted. He stood and moved to the foot of the bed, placed one knee on the mattress and began to crawl toward me. At the same time, Rhys and Simon each took one of my legs in hand, spread it wide and held on.