Their Reckless Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 11)

“Grace!” she shouted, her hips rolling in the most carnal of ways from that light caress.

Grace.

She went lax in Hank’s hold. All the stiffness, the prickliness disappeared at her first stirrings of arousal. Instead of sass, all that escaped her lips were sounds of need.

She was remarkably responsive, so sensitive I was sure I could bring her to climax within seconds.

But no matter how much my cock ached to strip those pants off her, toss her on the soft ground and break open that virgin pussy, I wouldn’t do it.

Not like this. Oh, she wanted it, but only because it was new. She didn’t want us. Hell, she was right. We were strangers and while we knew we wanted to keep her forever, she didn’t know that. Until she came to us begging and pleading to fill her up, we’d abstain from claiming her in every way. That didn’t mean we weren’t keeping her, but I’d stop. For now.

Inwardly, I groaned when I pulled my finger from her, from her pants. Lifting it to my nose, I breathed in her musky scent, then sucked the digit clean, all the while she watched.

Sweet. Sticky. Like wild fruit eager to be picked.

And if we had to go without, then she would, too.

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” Hank said, his voice rough with his own need. “The sooner we get to Bridgewater, the sooner we can take care of that pussy.”

She went rigid then, remembered herself, remembered she disliked us.

“No fucking way.” Her hand went to her pants as if she knew me getting in them could get her to change her mind. “I’m staying here.”

Ah, the defiant miss had returned. It only proved that stroking her pussy turned her from a wildcat to a kitten. We just shouldn’t stop.

Hank looked to the barely erect cabin. “Here? This shack? Not a chance, sweetheart. You’re coming with us.”

No fucking way would I let her stay here. Not only could the shack fall down at any time, I wouldn’t see her living like this, even for one night. She deserved a soft bed, softer clothes and a hot meal, not whatever hard tack she had in her saddle bag that would only ease the ache of an empty belly. Where would she get more food? Hell, where would she go when it rained, when it turned cold? No fucking way were we leaving her here.

Her dark brow quirked up as she looked up at him. “You’re arresting me? I wasn’t the one trying to kill you. I saved you.”

“We’re not arresting you,” he countered on a sigh. I knew what he was thinking. We had to pick the most contrary woman in the territory to be ours. She was what I wanted, and I wasn’t letting her go. No fucking way. “We’re taking you back to Bridgewater.”

She frowned, then huffed. “What does that even mean?”

“Don’t you know?” Hank asked.

When she was about to continue to bicker about lord only knows what, I’d had enough. I went over to her, leaned down and tossed her over my shoulder.

“Put me the fuck down!” she shouted at my back. I grinned as I walked toward the horses, spanked her ass.

“You’re ours, Grace,” I told her, giving her another spank. Fuck, that felt good. Not only the feel of her taut ass, but giving it a spanking, too. “Foul mouth, wet pussy and all. We’ve claimed you.”

GRACE

I’D NEVER MET two men who confused me more. They riled me to the point of epic frustration. They also riled me to newfound arousal. I didn’t understand them. I had no idea how to behave or act. I had no idea what to do with them, what to say, especially when Charlie took it upon himself to toss me over his shoulder and carry me off. And talk about—and touch—my pussy as if it truly belonged to him.

Father, Travis, even Barton Finch. Those men I understood. They were driven by selfishness and greed. Hatred. They knew about justice, but to them it wasn’t shiny like the sheriff’s badge. It was tarnished and for the weak. I’d grown up with this perspective, and I had to wonder how I hadn’t turned out like them. Somehow, I’d known trouble when I saw it, knew right from wrong. Bad from good.

But that didn’t mean it made sense to me. It didn’t mean they made sense.

Charlie had set me back on my feet before my horse, even offered to help me mount it, which of course I refused with a withering glare. It had done nothing but make him grin and wink at me. I almost felt more naked now without my gun belt and gun, both now in Hank’s possession.

Soon after, we’d ridden away from the shanty to Bridgewater, wherever the fuck that was. The sun dried me quickly, but that didn’t make me any less uncomfortable. What did I say to two men who I’d saved from certain death, yet who’d spanked and—as Charlie had called it—finger fucked me? Especially since I’d liked it. A man, putting his fingers there… that had been incredible. How had I not known? God, what was wrong with me?

Since I didn’t have an answer, I stayed quiet as we rode into Simms long enough to give the satchel of stolen money to a deputy to return to the bank, then to send another along with the town doctor to ride out to collect Father and Travis. I was glad we weren’t the ones with that task. Charlie and Hank didn’t know I was a Grove—they’d have tossed me into jail then and there if they had—and I intended to keep it that way. No way Father and Travis would keep their yaps shut about who I was, especially since I’d shot them.

Once I was on my horse, I’d taken the time to think. Arguing with them didn’t work. They didn’t back down. Hell, it seemed to amuse them. I was the one who’d ended up in the creek on my ass, and I didn’t want to do that again. More importantly, their strange interest to claim me offered me the one thing I had yet to solve on my own: a safe location to hide.