Their Rebellious Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 10)

“And that’s you?” she countered with a little sass. Ah yes, the kitten’s claws could come out, especially when afraid.

Was it me? I glanced at James, who nodded. Perhaps he saw she needed something I could give her. I could easily be of similar age to her father, for I knew she was near twenty, just like Abel, my son.

“Yes, Kitten, it is,” I told her, giving her a gentle squeeze. Reaching up, I tucked a curl that had come loose from the ribbon behind her ear. “Especially since I’m going to be your husband.”

Her eyes widened and she glanced up at James, who’d been watching intently. He grinned and nodded at me, clearly pleased I accepted the joint claim on her.

“What… what do you mean? I thought… James said—”

“We will have a Bridgewater marriage,” James replied, cutting off her confusion. “Two men marrying one woman. Jonah and I will marry you. Like Abigail has done with Gabe and Tucker, her two men you met earlier. The ones who took her home and most likely are turning her over one of their laps right about now for her recklessness in helping you.”

“Like Abigail?”

James nodded, for I had yet to meet them.

“And you still want to marry me? Both of you?” Her head swiveled back and forth between the two of us. “You didn’t ask or give me a choice,” she countered. “Either of you.”

I raised my eyebrow his way, silently telling James, See? Women like to be asked.

“And you didn’t think when you put yourself into danger,” I replied.

With deft hands, I easily maneuvered her so she was facedown over my thighs, hooking a leg over her ankles to pin her down after I did so. My hand settled at her upper back. I felt her heat, her softness. How small she was. Fragile. But her fight… hell, it proved she wasn’t breakable and didn’t need a light touch. Literally and figuratively.

Spank. Spank. “Not once, but twice. As our wife, your saf

ety is not an option. If you put yourself at risk, you will be punished. The discomfort you will feel when you sit will be a reminder of the discomfort we felt when we didn’t know where you were.” I paused to let her think about that. “Like you said, I’m not your father, but you certainly need someone to be in charge. At times like these though, when you’re going over my knee, you will call me sir instead.”

She stilled, considered. For a moment, a mere second of time, I’d thought she’d found the error of her ways. Then she continued. “Mr. Wells, we have just met. This is unseemly.”

I laughed at her new direction of diversion—appropriateness. Now she was prim and proper when she wished it to suit her needs.

“Mr. Wells!” she cried, trying to work her way off my lap.

Reaching down, I grabbed the hem of her dress and worked it up, exposing her stocking-clad legs first, a small strip of pale skin between the ribbon holding the stockings up and the white cotton drawers above. While the clouds were creeping in front of the sun, the air was warm and she would not be chilled.

I swore under my breath and my cock pulsed at the sight.

“I believe I said you will call me sir when you are being punished.”

I tugged down her drawers so they settled by her knees, her ass bare and upturned.

She screeched at being so vulnerable, at being seen thusly for the first time by a man. I stilled. James stepped closer at the sight. Pale globes, plump and full. Heart-shaped and the crease down the middle I knew led to her treasures.

I set a hand on one cheek and she jolted. I slid the palm over her delicate skin, skin I knew would turn a fiery shade of pink soon enough. When she calmed again, I lifted my hand, brought it down. Not a hard spank, but enough to sting. A preamble.

Another spank, this time to the other plump cheek. Another, then another until my hand prints covered most of her upturned flesh.

“Sir!” she cried.

Fuck. She’d done it. She’d said Sir. She’d recognized she was not in charge. I was. And so quickly. Pre-cum spurted from my cock at that one word.

I continued to spank her, watching that soft flesh jiggle as I did so, until she was writhing on my lap, her legs parting from her efforts. Neither of us could miss the glimpses of her little asshole as it winked, then released as she tightened, then relaxed her muscles. And below, the folds of her pussy all pink and plump, we could easily see the way they glistened, an indication she liked this.

Since this was the first one she received from us, I kept it short. I didn’t spank her hard enough to do more than obtain her attention and make her ass sore for a short while. Not even intense enough for tears. Cupping her heated—and very red—bottom, I rubbed the spanking in, let her settle as she continued to wriggle. Soothed her. No man had touched her like this, I was sure. Her body knew instinctively it wanted me to shift my hand, to slide it down and over her pussy. I did, brushing my fingertips over her swollen lips, coating them in her sticky arousal.

“Wet,” I said, then groaned. She was like silk, dripping wet and hot to the touch.

“She might have had her claws out earlier, but it seems our little kitten purrs when she’s petted just right.”