Dominating Devney (Montana Maiden Series Book 3) (4 page)

I shifted my hips and sucked in a breath. Something there flickered warmly. I did it again and I gasped. It was a sensation unlike anything I'd ever felt before. I placed my hand over that spot, my fingertips touching the cool leather. Nothing. I pushed harder and a burst of pleasure washed over me and felt my nipples tighten within the confines of my corset. I needed to do it again. But I shouldn't. It was shameful, touching myself like that, so I quickly donned a fresh dress. As I did, my fingers trembled and I longed to touch myself again. Should I do it? I paused, biting my lip as I listened. Nothing. I was alone. I could touch myself quietly and no one would know. It would be a secret.

I sat down on the side of the bed, opened my legs wide and reached beneath my dress to touch that newly discovered spot, moving my fingers back and forth.

My inner muscles clenched, trying to grasp at something. Mr. Bridger had said I'd want to stick my fingers inside myself. Did I? I squeezed internally again. The idea wasn't preposterous, but I couldn't attempt it. The leather was too tight; I couldn't even slip a finger beneath. Frustration welled along with need.

I returned to rubbing the strap of leather, trying to make the pleasure build, but it didn't work. Mr. Bridger said I'd become aroused...Mr. Bridger. His face came to mind. Penetrating green eyes, strong jaw, full lips. He was rugged, domineering, powerful. It was as if his presence overpowered my own thoughts, made me want to please him. I'd never felt thusly before, so why now? Why him? Oh yes, he'd said...he'd said I'd think this way because I belonged to him. That I was his. Was I? Was he being truthful or trying to ensnare me like Mr. Wainright? The fact that my body was behaving as he'd predicted led me to believe he knew of what he spoke. That fact was a little daunting because that meant I'd soon become obsessed with this...ache.

I continued to move the leather strap over my woman's place as I thought of him, his handsome face, knowing he would know what to do to help me. He would--

Someone knocked on the door.

I squeezed my legs together, smoothed out my skirt frantically. "Yes?" I squeaked.

"Mrs. Jenkins, may I enter?"

It was Doctor Graham. I stood and moved away from the bed. "Yes, of course."

He did and his gaze raked over me, assessing with cool, clinical eyes, not with a heated gaze like Mr. Bridger. Could he tell what I'd been doing? "I need to check the harness and make sure it is not causing you harm. Will you follow me to my office?"

The room he directed me to was clinical. Two chairs were against one wall, a neatly made bed against another, a wooden table in the middle and beside that a cabinet holding medical supplies. The floor was wood, the walls plain white. A door led outside, used by people from the town to see the doctor on a professional matter, not personal.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about the space, except for the man casually leaning against the table, arms crossed. Mr. Bridger. I paused in my steps at the sight of him. I felt my nipples tighten even further, felt my skin flush hotly as I remembered what I'd just been doing as I thought of him. He smiled. That little tilt of his lips did something to me. Why was such a look from him so appealing?

"Hello, Devney."

"As Mr. Bridger is to be your husband, it is important that he is here."

"He's not...I mean, we haven't..." I couldn't collect my thoughts.

Mr. Bridger stood, his large presence overwhelming in the small room. "I am, and we have. I've just been patient."

Before I could argue, Doctor Graham cut in. "Turn around and lift your dress. I'll remove the harness."

I did as he bid and held up the long dress just to my knees, glanced over my shoulder at Mr. Bridger, who observed closely. Doctor Graham knelt before me and reached beneath, undoing the lock at the back. The harness slid down my legs and I took a breath, relieved to be free of its confines, but the slickness from the ointment remained. I longed to reach beneath and touch the places I hadn't been able to before, but squashed the idea instantly. What would Mr. Bridger think of such immoral actions? Doctor Graham stood back up and placed the harness on the table.

"I see you've been given ointment to use."

"Didn't want her pretty pussy to get chafed, Doc." Mr. Bridger replied for me in a most possessive manner.

The doctor nodded. "Good thinking, but I need to make sure that's not happening. Up on the table, Devney."

I froze in place. He wanted to...that wasn't a good idea. I'd just tell him and that would be the end of it. "I'm not chafed," I replied, backing slowly away from them and toward the door. They couldn't look at me there. Could they tell I'd touched myself, even with the leather as a barrier?

"Perhaps not, but the harness is to help you, not to cause you harm. I don't want that and neither does Mr. Bridger. I think he has plans for that pussy and wouldn't want to be curtailed."

I glanced at Mr. Bridger and he smiled, his teeth white and straight. It only made him even more handsome. I had no idea what he had in mind, but if it was to touch me...there, perhaps I wouldn't mind. I was going insane! Why did I think such lurid thoughts? I was considering his touch to be appealing, not repulsive.

"Up on the table, please," Doctor Graham repeated.

Still, I couldn't move. I was too modest for something such as this. Mr. Bridger took the two steps between us, placed his large hands gently about my waist and lifted me upon the hard surface. "Lie back, baby." His voice was deep, yet quiet, his breath fanning against the nape of my neck. "Let me take care of you."

I still paused.

"Or I can spank you for not doing as I say, then you can lie back. Your choice." He was serious. His gaze was half tenderness, half sternness. How could he have any tender feelings if he wanted to spank me? The very idea had me obeying.

Slowly, I lay back against the cool wood, keeping my eyes on him as I did so.

"Bend your knees up," Doctor Graham told me.

Mr. Bridger must have seen something there, some hint to my feelings, because he slowly positioned my feet against the surface for me.

"Pull your dress up, please."

I looked down my body at both men. Doctor Graham stood at the end of the table, Mr. Bridger to my side, although I knew as soon as I lifted the bottom of my dress, they'd both be able to see me. There.

"Do you want to do it or do you need help?" Mr. Bridger asked, his gaze still pinned to mine.

With shaky fingers, I tugged the hem of my dress to my waist in one quick yank, the cool air raising goose bumps on my legs.

"Good girl," Mr. Bridger murmured before standing up to his full height.

Both men stared at me intently, but I watched Mr. Bridger for reaction. His jaw clenched tight and his eyes narrowed in intensity as he looked at my exposed body. "That's one gorgeous pussy, baby," he whispered.

"I don't see any chafing, but her pussy lips are very red and swollen." Doctor Graham's voice was calm. Clinical. "Did the harness hurt you?"

I shook my head, my hair sliding over the tabletop.

"Then you shouldn't be so swollen."

"Did you touch yourself, baby?" Mr. Bridger asked, his eyes meeting mine. His gaze was so intense; I felt like a bug pinned to a tray. He didn't appear angry or upset. In fact, he seemed very attentive. Concerned. Protective.

"No. I couldn't." My tone sounded very disappointed.

"Ah," Doctor Graham said softly.

"But you wanted to, didn't you? Did you rub the harness against your pussy? Is that why you're all swollen? Did you ache there?" Mr. Bridger put a hand on the table by my hip and leaned down so his face was close to mine once again. "Do you ache there now?"

I felt my inner muscles clench involuntarily at his words. My cheeks were heated, flushed. I could feel it.

"You do, don't you, Devney? You're just afraid to admit it." He stroked a hand across my forehead, gently pushing my hair back.

I closed my eyes against Mr. Bridger's verbal assault on my willpower.

"I'll touch you there, Devney. Do you want my fingers on you? In you? Did you find your clit? I can see it from here, all pink and hard, just begging to be touched."

I exhaled and it came out a breathy moan. I did. I did want him to do what he said! I thrashed my head side to side, kept my eyes squeezed shut.

"I can see you're clenching down. What do you want in your pussy, baby? My fingers? My cock?"

"Oh, God," I gasped.

"Do you want Mr. Bridger to touch your pussy, Devney?" Doctor Graham asked, his voice deep. My eyes flew open. I'd forgotten he was even there. Now, knowing he was looking upon me too made me...hotter.

"Do you want me to touch you with Doctor Graham watching? Is that it?" His dark eyes were focused intently on me. My knees splayed open involuntarily. He grinned. "You do. Oh baby, you're such a good girl."

I shook my head again, this time in denial. "No, no I'm not. I'm not a good girl. I can't want this. I can't want you. I can't want--"

"Two men to see you come?"

I didn't know what he meant by come, but I was ashamed to feel even more pleasure at the idea of both men gazing upon me.

Mr. Bridger stood back up, moved down to stand next to Doctor Graham at the foot of the table. I looked at them over the rise and fall of my breasts, past my spread, uncovered legs, my exposed woman's place. I did want Mr. Bridger to touch me. There was something about him that set him apart from every other man. I wanted him do something so personal, so intimate. I wanted him to do everything he'd said.

"I'll touch you, baby."

"Yes, please," I begged. I bit my lip, stunned at what had escaped.

"I can't though. Not yet."

Confused, I took a deep breath. "Why are you taunting me?" I asked. "Why?"

"Taunting, is it?" He grinned, then became serious. "We need to be married first, baby. I won't touch you unless you're mine."

Doctor Graham turned and grabbed a jar that I recognized as the ointment. He unscrewed the lid and handed it to me. "Here, put some more on your pussy. It will help with the swelling. Since you haven't accepted Mr. Bridger, we'll put the harness back on once you're done."

I took the jar, dipped my fingers in so they were coated in the thick, slippery substance. I reached down between my legs and rubbed it in. It was cool against my inflamed flesh and I gasped. I flicked a glance up at the men, who were both intently watching my fingers.

I cried out and arched my back.

"See, baby, you've already starting to respond to me. You like when I watch you touch your pussy. But I can't make you come until you're mine."

"Is this true, Devney? Is your body responding to Mr. Bridger because you need to belong to him?"

The two men were overwhelming me. I wanted Mr. Bridger to touch me, even admitted to such, and yet he’d refused. Must I marry him for him to do so? He was being respectful of me, treating my maidenhead, my body as something he cherished, unlike a woman who worked at Rose's brothel. Why did that bother me so? I just wanted him to touch me, to make this ache go away in that place on my body that pulsed and throbbed. I could still feel my inner walls clenching. I wanted Mr. Bridger to touch me. No, I needed him to do so.

"Yes," I breathed. I moved my fingers up and down, touching every place that felt good. But it wasn't enough.

"Marry me now, baby and I'll make it all better. Always."

"Yes!" I cried out as I found a particularly sensitive spot. I wanted to close my eyes, to lose myself in the sensations my fingers were eliciting, but Mr. Bridger's gaze held me captive.

"I'll get Reverend Abernathy." Doctor Graham turned and left.

CHAPTER THREE

Sam

I couldn't leave Devney lying on the table with her knees flared open and her pussy on display when the minister arrived, no matter how much I was enjoying the sight. I yanked at the fabric of her dress and pushed it down over her bent legs.

"Easy, baby," I soothed. "I'll take care of you. I promise, but the reverend is coming so let's get you up."

I helped her stand, grabbed a clean cloth by the washbasin and gently wiped her fingers. They were long and tapered, elegant. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were blurry with desire. The ointment seemed to be working; however, I imagined she was aroused mostly because her pussy was the center of attention. It was something she thought about now. With the harness, it had been impossible not to. I'd spoken about her pussy and how much I wanted to fill it, lick it, fuck it. It was a beautiful sight and I'd told her so.

Married to Jake Jenkins, she’d no doubt had no idea how her pussy could bring her pleasure. She was finally seeing what she'd been missing for all those years. Now that she was aware, she was practically making up for all the time it was neglected. She was needy, frantic even, for this awakening.

Most husbands tamed their wives through their needs. Jake liked to fuck Catherine's ass, so he trained her to love it. Cole wanted Tessa to suck his cock better than any whore at Rose's, and he was well on the way to taming her to do so. I had no doubt I could dominate Devney. It would take a little bit of time, and quite a bit of fucking. And she'd enjoy every minute of it.

Doc was swift, returning with not only Reverend Abernathy, but McKenzie as well. The sheriff slapped me on the back as he removed his hat. "Glad I could be a witness for you." He turned to Devney. "Haven't found Sarah yet, but we’ll search again later. Thought you might want to know."

Devney gave McKenzie a small smile. "Thank you, but I don't think she's going to be easy to find."

She was undoubtedly right. McKenzie was the best tracker around, but Sarah, as Devney had said, had years to create a plan and perhaps even hide some money. Even during the brief time I'd I known her, she seemed competent enough to accomplish it. I stood next to Devney and took her small hand in mine. She glanced at me, then the minister.

"Shall we begin?" Reverend Abernathy asked, his Bible open in his palms. The man was accustomed to unusual weddings. I was the third Bridger brother to marry this month. Jake had taken Catherine straight from the stagecoach to the altar.  Cole had known Tessa for years, but had surprised her by standing at the altar last Sunday, forcing the contrary woman into wedlock. Now, it was my turn. In Doc's office.