Their Rebellious Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 10)

“Fuck,” I groaned, petting her head as I finished, the last of my cum landing on her tongue. She licked me as I had her, cleaning my still hard cock of any remaining seed. She sat there, looking up at me, all sweet and… incredible. The wild and feisty nature of earlier was replaced by sweet satisfaction. I stroked her hair, brushed my knuckles down her flushed cheek.

“What of Jonah?” I asked. “As our wife, you will please both of us.”

She turned her head toward him. His cock was out and he was stroking it. His stance was relaxed as he leaned against the wall, but I knew he was anything but. His balls had to be killing him with the need to be emptied.

In Tennessee.

She crawled across the floor to him, her eyes on his hand sliding up and down his length. “Sir?” she asked, a sly, little smile spreading on her face.

“Fuck,” he murmured, watching her and reacting to that one word. I was getting hard again at her action, at how she submitted to him. I willed my need back, tucked my cock away. It was Jonah’s turn now.

She stopped directly before him, sat up on her knees and put her hand on top of his, learning how he liked to be stroked. Her tongue flicked out, licked the tip. The sight of her, pleasing Jonah, was a sight I’d never forget.

The door to the church opened, startling all of us.

I came out of my slouch against the pew, Tennessee pulled back from what she’d been doing. Only Jonah didn’t offer much of a reaction at the minister’s sudden appearance. The older man, whom I’d met on various occasions over the past few years, entered and took in the scene. Rain poured down behind him, the storm far from over outside.

While neither Jonah or I had any issues with what we were doing, the man of God no doubt would. Jonah’s cock was out, hard and glistening from the initial few licks of her tongue, directly in front of a kneeling Tennessee.

“Reverend, what are you doing here?” I asked him, walking over and taking Tennessee’s hand to help as she hastily stood. Jonah put his cock away, fixed his pants.

It was a silly question, for it was his church. We were the trespassers, but I was sure we were welcome to take refuge from the storm.

Clearly, I still wasn’t thinking clearly after emptying my balls into Tennessee’s eager mouth. Jonah had yet to say a word.

The minister was a devout man, but he was also practical. He was familiar with the ways of the world, of the roughness of the Montana Territory. While he probably wasn’t going to condemn me to hell, he was definitely going to see the right thing done by Tennessee.

Which had been my plan all along, but not with Jonah. Fuck, Jonah had been the one caught with his pants down. Not me. I doubted the minister knew of the Bridgewater way, and I doubted he’d believe me if he did.

I glanced at Jonah, who offered a small shrug, but was far from panicked. What else could he do? Tennessee kept her gaze downward as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“James, good to see you, even under such… unusual circumstances. Jonah, as well. I was going to say I was here to work on my sermon for Sunday,” the minister said. “But after what I just witnessed, I think the answer is obvious. Jonah is going to be married.”

6

TENNESSEE

My ears rang from the gunshot, even after I instinctively covered them with my hands. I stood, wide-eyed, unbelieving. He’d killed him. I’d never seen a dead person before, but I knew my father was gone. From one second to the next. The wound to the center of his chest had bled at first, then when his ragged breathing stopped, so had the red stain that spread across his shirt. His eyes, the same fair blue as mine, stared vacantly at the ceiling.

“Do you want to be next?” he asked, turning his gaze toward me.

I’d thought Mr. Grimsby attractive. At first. But now, his physical appearance could not hide the evil within.

I shook my head.

“Then you better hope your scarred friend returns promptly, and with a great deal of money.” He beckoned one of his men to his side.

We were in his study, full of opulence befitting the owner of a copper mine. It was all an illusion, just as my father had painted me. He was a lie, and I had been, too. I wasn’t a railroad heiress. I wasn’t even an heiress.

“Go to Fargo,” he told him. “Find Georgia and Virginia Bennett. Kill them if you don’t receive a wire from me.”

His words spurred me into action. “What? No!” I cried, stepping closer, then realizing I didn’t want to b

e near him. “My sisters have nothing to do with this.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “They do now. Go.” He said the last to his henchman, who nodded, then left the room.

I sat up with a start, the nightmare fresh, Mr. Grimsby’s words echoing in my head. I’d fallen asleep, but I had no idea where I was, the room only lit by the barest sliver of the moon. My skin was damp with sweat, my heartbeat thrumming at my neck.