Their Christmas Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 5)

With a hand on my hip, Quinn guided me to lean back just a fraction and I was able to slide down the remainder of the way, seating him fully. A groan rumbled from his chest just before he kissed me. This was the first time he'd put his mouth to mine and it was not chaste. His tongue prodded my lips and I opened for him. He plundered, ravaged...claimed. Without lifting his head, he used his hands to lift and lower me, using my body to stroke his cock just as he'd done himself. Now, though, it was my inner walls that clenched and worked him. It wasn't long before I took over and his hands dropped to my thighs, one hand sliding between and his thumb stroked over my clit.

Gasping into his mouth, I moved faster and faster. I wanted to come again, was desperate, frantic even. I needed to come. I broke the kiss and my head tilted back. "It's too much," I moaned.

"Never," Quinn replied.

I felt Porter behind me, his hand sliding down the line of my spine to dip between the parted cheeks of my bottom. His fingers brushed over the most forbidden of places and I gasped, definitely in surprise. "Oh my God," I groaned.

The touch was like a wildfire, intensely bright and dangerous. A complete and total surprise, for having a man touch me there was nothing I'd ever imagined. Liking it was even more surprising.

"Soon, angel, we'll both take you," Porter murmured in my ear, for I'd stilled on Quinn's cock as I reveled in the illicit press of his finger. "Quinn will claim your ass while you ride my cock. The perfect claiming, but we'll prepare you first. Now move for Quinn before he dies of pleasure."

The man's face was all hard lines as if he were in pain—a painful pleasure—so I began to raise and lower myself once again. Porter's finger brushed over that tight crinkle of very erotic nerves every time I lowered myself. A sheen of perspiration broke out on my skin, but I could do nothing but move my body in a way that brought me closer and closer to the brink.

"You're going to come and I'm going to watch," Quinn said, his voice deeper and huskier than I'd ever heard before. "The way you're working my cock, baby, I'm going to follow you right over."

I didn't need any more coaxing. Perhaps it was Porter's seed coating my pussy as Quinn's cock drove into me. Perhaps it was the pleasure they'd promised and delivered. Perhaps it was that I was wanton and a hussy having a finger press against my back entrance, but I didn't care. They didn't care. They wanted me, desired me just the way I was. That realization tipped me over the edge and I let go. I couldn't scream this time, for the sound was caught in my throat, but I continued to use Quinn's cock to fulfill my pleasure. Quinn didn't seem to mind in the least. In fact, he made a guttural sound and I felt him fill me with his own seed, his thighs clenching beneath me.

Our mingled breaths were ragged and rough, and it took several minutes to calm ourselves. I felt a hand stroke down my bare back, a gentle caress and knew it was Porter. "You're ours, angel."

"Yes," I murmured, for there was no other answer.

Quinn lifted me off his still hard cock and I hissed out my breath, just before he tucked me onto his lap, arms wrapped securely about me. His chin rested on top of my head and the soft hair on his chest tickled my cheek.

"Remember earlier when I said I didn't imagine it would be like this?" I asked.

Porter sat down on the narrow cot beside us. "Yes," he replied.

"I never imagined my wedding night in a jail cell."

I felt the laughter rumble in Quinn's chest. "Your wedding night will be at home, in our marriage bed."

I looked up at Porter. "Then what was that?"

He smiled and stroked a finger lazily over my now plump nipple. "That was fucking. Pure and simple. It's only ten in the morning, angel. Never fear, we'll be back at Bridgewater before your—our—wedding night."

"Come, our Christmas bride. Let's get you home, for what we just did was only the beginning."