Their Conquered Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 9) (Grace Goodwin)

Elizabeth

Logan and Ford both watched me with too keen an interest through the rest of dinner. I’d handled myself poorly, I knew. But the first sight of Xander walking out of the barn, and all I could think about was the sight of his massive chest and strong legs, his flexing hips as he knelt behind Emily, his hand in her hair and his cock deep in her ass while her other husband, Tyler, fucked her pussy.

The sound of Xander’s deep voice when he had spoken outside the stables had hit me unexpectedly and I was instantly flung back into my fantasies on that balcony. I remembered the deep sound of his voice commanding me—no, commanding his wife—to come.

And poor Emily. She was a truly beautiful woman. She’d been kind and welcoming at dinner, a genuine person with whom I knew I could become friends. Shame flooded me as I remembered what I’d believed that night. I’d mistaken her for a prostitute in that hotel suite, not their wife!

And sweet, gentle Olivia? I’d thought two husbands scandalous, but seeing the way Olivia’s three men stroked her hair and kept her close, always touching her, watching her, and making sure she felt surrounded, loved and happy? After growing up with a cold stepfather, a disapproving uncle and a town full of people who referred to me simply as the bastard? I saw Olivia’s happy glow, the attention she received, the acceptance. I choked on the admission, but I knew enough to know that the churning in my stomach was caused by an acute case of envy. I wasn’t only envious of the way her men treated her, but of the contentment and happiness that made Olivia’s skin practically glow. She was in love. She was loved. And she knew it. She did not doubt her men, or their feelings for her. She had not one husband who worshipped her, who found her beautiful, interesting and worthy, but three! She did not question their devotion or attention, simply accepted it as her due.

I was still shocked that Logan and Ford would want me at all. Inside, where the darkest pieces of my heart had long ago been ruined, I was still in pieces. I was broken and I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to love and be loved the way Olivia did.

I walked silently between my husbands as Kane showed us to one of the new houses built on the property. It was small, only a main room—with a large fireplace, kitchen area and a dining table—a bedroom and a washroom. This, it seemed, would be our house until we were ready to build one of our own. Logan had been adamant that I help choose the location for our new home before the men could start building.

My own home. Children. A house full of family and friends and no one to bat an eye at the strangeness of one woman with two husbands. Sitting at that table, watching the women settled comfortably between their men, I’d felt something shift inside me as well. Hope. Though the new emotion was fragile, like a new butterfly’s wings, it was growing stronger every moment I spent with my men.

For the first time in my life, I felt welcomed and respected. Seated between Logan and Ford, I’d not been without one of their hands on me during dinner, the connection so simple, but a powerful reminder that I would never be alone again. They made sure my plate was full, listened when I spoke, and surrounded me with such warmth and affection that I found myself laughing and teasing as I had not since before my mother died.

They made me feel safe. Protected. Free to be myself.

They made me feel important and beautiful.

In two days, they’d shown me more caring and respect than I had received these past years from my own flesh and blood. They did not disgrace or shame me for enjoying their touch. No. They demanded it of me.

Why did loving more than one man have to be wrong? Who declared it so? Surely my uncle did not have that power.

“All right, sweetheart, tell us about Xander.”

I went to stand on the far side of the dining table, my hands placed on the back of the chair. “I don’t know what you mean,” I replied, not meeting their gazes as my cheeks heated, giving me away. Damn it! If only I had not been so aroused that night. If only I had not been so brazen and touched myself as I watched them. I could not admit that now. Not here.

Never.

Xander had done nothing wrong; he’d been with his wife, fucking her without any knowledge of being watched. I was the one at fault. It was just ridiculously hard to sit across from him—from all three of them—remembering how they’d fucked her, how they’d taken her back entrance with as much eagerness as her pussy, how she’d squirmed and begged, sobbed and gasped, demanding more.

“Lizzie,” Ford warned. “It’s our job to protect you. We can’t do that if you don’t talk to us. You need to tell us what’s bothering you. Xander has done something to upset you and we need to know what it is so we can take care of it.”

They were starting to get annoyed. “Truly. He’s done nothing.”

Logan watched me silently, his gaze missing nothing. When I refused to answer, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You can tell us now, or we can spank your arse a bright pink and you can tell us after.”

I took a step back. “What? You’d spank me?”

I thought of Emily and how she’d enjoyed the way Xander had spanked her.

“You have to the count of three to tell us the truth.” Logan came around the table, ducked his head and the next thing I knew, I was tossed over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “Starting right now.”

“Logan, put me down!”

He carried me into the bedroom and dropped me onto the bed. I bounced once and tried to scramble as the men each took one of my ankles—now exposed by my dress, which had tangled and risen to mid-calf—and easily flipped me over onto my belly. As soon as my feet touched the floor, a hand went to the center of my back and held me down.

The hand was gentle, but Ford’s voice was stern. “No secrets, sweetheart.”

I tried to push up onto my elbows so I could look over my shoulder at them, but I could not move as Ford knelt beside me on the bed, one hand pressed between my shoulder blades, the other pressed to the small of my back where he held my dress up.

“What are you doing?” My head was turned to the side, my cheek pressed to the mattress. I knew what was coming. Logan said he was going to spank me like a three-year-old, but I hadn’t truly believed him.

“You’ve been keeping secrets, Lizzie. Lying to us.” Logan’s rough hands massaged my ass cheeks through my drawers and I felt my pussy grow wet. Seconds later, he ripped the thin material from my body and threw it to the floor. Fresh air hit my bare bottom seconds before Logan’s first, soft strike.

If that was a spanking, I didn’t mind it. In fact, I wanted more. Ford’s dominant hold combined with the sensation of offering myself to Logan, just as Emily had when Xander was behind her, made me nearly swoon.