Their Kidnapped Bride (Bridgewater Menage Series Book 1) (6 page)

Kane's fingers continued to gently stroke and work my body until I'd taken a deep breath and opened my eyes. Kane watched me and the corner of his mouth turned up, dimple appearing. "Like that, did you?"

I almost purred like a cat and couldn't help but grin. "Oh, yes."

Pulling his hands free, he showed me the evidence of my desire, what I tasted even now on my tongue from our kiss. "You dripped all over my hands. You will always be wet for me."

CHAPTER FOUR

KANE

The simple shift so seductively wrapping Emma’s body was more alluring than any lacy garb worn by Mrs. Pratt's girls. If I hadn't just found the proof of her innocence, I would think her a temptress. Her coral nipples poked at the thin fabric, the soft swells of her breasts were plump above the plain edge. Her skin was pale and creamy, most assuredly silky to the touch.

"I want to see all of ye, lass. Let's take off your shift," Ian told her.

Her skin was damp and flushed with desire, her eyes cloudy with her first pleasure. There was no doubt that had been her first orgasm, for she'd been so quick to arouse, so fearful of the pleasure. And yet, when she came, she succumbed to it beautifully. Emma looked at me now with those bewitching blue eyes for a moment, a small frown marring her smooth skin.

"Show us what's ours, Emma."

But I hadn't touched. I hadn't touched her anywhere but her cunny and kissed her delectable mouth. Her skittishness endeared her to me and I felt a swift and ruthless wave of possessiveness at the very first glimpse. When I tasted her essence from her fingers, my cock pulsed against my pants because her scent, the taste of her cunny had me wanting to sink into her sweet depths. I knew Ian felt the same way, although neither of us had said as much.

Mrs. Pratt's auction was known to only a small group of men who traveled in similar circles as Ian and I. Landowners, ranchers, mine owners, railroad magnates whose actions were often outside the parameters of the law – men able to keep silent about their lives, about how they, or their fellow businessmen, acquired their wives. Ian and I had secrets – that's why we settled as far from England as possible and in such a remote a location.

All bidders were wealthy men who sought more than a quick fuck. Malcolm Pierce was looking for a bride to be his little girl, to dress her up and treat her as a child, yet fuck like a woman. Alfred Potter's mansion in Billings was filled with female servants who tended to more than just the house. Since he needed an heir, a bride was required, but she would be only one of several women who serviced him in his household. John Rivers liked doling out pain more than pleasure and his bride would need a strong constitution and a wild spirit.

We’d heard about the auction while playing cards downstairs as several of Mrs. Pratt's girls shared their attentions with Ian and me. It was Mrs. Pratt's invitation to claim a virgin bride that had piqued our interest, especially when we learned of the other bidders. An auction of this type was common in the Mohamir where we'd been stationed for several years – an auction for a woman trained from birth to please several husbands, to submit to them for their protection as well as their pleasure. Those women knew the men who would win them would treat them with honor. This auction could offer no such guarantee.

Our years abroad in the army reinforced the idea this antiquated approach was, for Ian and me, as well as a handful of other members of our regiment, the best option. Life as a soldier was short; having more than one husband offered protection and stability to the woman and their children. These unusual ways swayed us from following the strict Victorian dictates and morals of our country. But it was the actions of our superiors that had us leaving the ranks, abandoning our positions in the British army and escaping to the United States.

When I first laid eyes on Emma, I knew she was for us. The other men could find their own woman another time.

When she was too slow to comply to my command to remove her shift, Ian stepped forward, his fingers dipping to the hem of the barrier that prevented us from seeing her body. As his fingers slid the material up her thighs, she jerked in surprise, but held still.

Slowly, Ian lifted the material up to show off her shapely legs, the dark hair at the apex of her thighs that glistened with her desire, her narrow waist, flat belly, full breasts with large, tight nipples. The soft cotton caught on her hair and a long curl fell free as Ian tossed the shift onto the floor.

Seeing her naked, I knew we'd made the right choice. This was our first auction, and most definitely our last. Where Mrs. Pratt found her women to be sold off was not asked, but it was clear to both Ian and me that Emma was as innocent as could be. Seeing her dark hair, her creamy skin, the slightly hidden delights of her body, she was perfection. Seeing the fear and shame on her face had every protective and possessive instinct screaming to save her. The reason was clear, at least to me. She wasn't meant for the other men at the auction. This woman was ours. And so I bid, and bid well.

When the doctor had prepared to inspect Emma, to put his fingers in her cunny, I saw red. Ian would not have allowed another man to touch her either, especially now when every soft inch of her was visible. I knew Carmichael well. He was a skilled doctor who tended to patients all over the area, but he also enjoyed new flesh. That bent was fine for other women, but Emma's cunny was for Ian and me alone. I wanted our hands upon her to be the first. Her last. What we planned for her wasn't always gentle, wasn't tame or legal by society's standards, but we'd kill any man who touched our bride. A Mohamiran woman was never abused, never mistreated, only treasured. We would give Emma the same honor. She was scared of us now, but once she learned of our intentions, was trained to our ways, she'd see our devotion.

She stood naked within the circle of my legs. Her skin was unmarred and porcelain white and I itched to feel its silkiness. Her breasts were a handful, teardrop shaped with nipples I longed to suck and nip. But none of that was the prize. It was at the juncture of her thighs, hidden well in the dark curls. I could just make out the pink cunny lips, all swollen and slick from my touch. Her clit protruded, a hard pink nub that was the epicenter of her desire.

Emma would be responsive; I had no doubt. She might have been skittish as we'd visually inspected her, then bid on her, but her passion couldn't be hidden. And once I'd won the bidding and she'd looked at me, I was certain. The way her eyes sparked with indignation, frustration and then ultimately desire – I hadn't been mistaken. Ian saw it, too. I recognized the need for her in his eyes, the tense jaw, the fisted hands, for all of his actions mirrored mine. I was the one who had legally wed her, but Ian would claim her in the most elemental of ways and Emma would never doubt his possession of her.

She would make the perfect wife, responsive and eager to please without even realizing. She just needed some guidance from her men. Since I showed her first pleasure, let her see how I controlled her body, it was time for her to tend to me. My cock was hard enough to pound nails in a fence post and my wife's first lesson would be how to slake my need. Ian would have his turn next.

"Have you ever touched a cock before?" Ian asked, his voice husky.

I undid my belt, the placket of my pants. Emma tilted her head and watched as I pulled my cock free. I couldn't help the sigh that escaped as it bobbed free from the tight confines of my pants.

"No," she whispered, eyes wide. "You...you're...you're so big." She darted a glance over her shoulder at Ian. He was still clothed, but the thick outline of his cock was evident beneath his pants and I knew by Emma's deep inhale that she hadn't missed it.

I smiled wickedly and met her gaze when she turned her head back. "The vows have been said, Emma. There's no need for flattery."

"That's supposed to...to go in me?" She looked at me with equal measures of surprise and concern.

"Will. It
will
go in you. Right now, in fact." Wrapping one hand around her waist, I pulled her forward as I leaned back, settled into the chair. She gasped as she lost her balance. "Sit astride me."

Placing her hand once again on my shoulder, she placed one knee on the outside of my thigh, then the other, her breasts directly in front of my face. I couldn't deny such a tempting offer and pulled one pink tip into my mouth. The tip was soft at first, but hardened quickly against my tongue. Her skin was warm, her taste sweet, her response a delight.

"Oh!" she cried as my hand on her waist held her in place, sucking and drawing on the hard tip. Her hands moved to my shoulders, her fingers digging into the tense muscles there.

Her skin smelled of flowers and arousal, a heady combination. At one extra strong suck, Emma's fingers slid upward to tangle in my hair, holding my head in place. Her breath escaped in little pants as I trailed kisses from one breast to the other, ensuring that each nipple received the same attentions. Her hips began to shift of their own volition and her knees squeezed against my sides.

"She's ready," Ian said gruffly. He looked at me from over Emma's shoulder just before he lowered his mouth to kiss and nibble at her neck.

I pulled away and saw that her nipples were wet and bright pink from my mouth. "Emma, look at me. Look at me when I make you mine."

My hand slid from her waist and down to the soft globe of her arse as I lined my cock up. My blunt head slipped through her drenched folds and settled at her virgin opening and I gritted my teeth at the scalding hot feel of her. Ian didn't stop running his hands over her body, his mouth on her heated skin.

Emma's eyes opened at the placement and looked at me, uncertainty flaring. "Kane, I don't think–"

"Don't think, love. Feel. Feel Ian's mouth on your skin, feel his hands run over your body, cup your breasts."

Her eyes slipped closed as she did just that. "You're too big. You won't fit. And Ian's watching!"

I pushed her down onto my cock as I thrust my hips up, filling her only with the head, her maidenhead blocking further penetration. Her eyes widened at the feel of being stretched wide.

"I'll fit, and Ian will claim you next."

Ian's hands came around to cup her breasts, to pinch her nipples.

She shook her head and frantically pushed up with her knees, fighting me. "No! It's too much."

Her squirming wasn't going to have me pull out. In fact, quite the opposite. Her writhing had her inner walls clenching and squeezing down on the tip of my cock, driving me insane.

"Stop," Ian commanded. Realizing she was panicking, he spanked her arse, her skin quivering beneath his palm.

She froze in place and cried out. Stunned. "He spanked me!"

"He bloody well did, and he will do it again if you continue to resist. Oh, you liked it. Ian, she's dripping onto my lap."

"No, I don't like it!" she cried out, but her juices dripping onto my cock said otherwise.

Ian gave her another mild spank. "Do not lie, lass."

Her inner walls clenched down on the head of my cock. I gritted my teeth. "You are not in control here. We are. I assure you my cock will fit and your body is most assuredly wet and ready. It is your maidenhead that is blocking the way. I will solve that problem right now."

"But–"

Before she could protest anymore, I pressed her down with both hands on her arse, thrusting up, deliberately hard, claiming her. She was more fearful of the idea than the act itself, therefore I resolved the problem at hand. I breached her maidenhead with that one thrust and my cock pushed through from just the entrance all the way in to the hilt. She cried out and stiffened, her face contorting in pain,her eyes as wide as saucers at being stuffed so completely. She held still, but her fingers dug little furrows into my shoulders.

The feel of being embedded within her hot cunny was so incredible that I groaned. Her walls milked my cock, the wetness almost scalding. I could feel the entrance to her womb nudging against my wide head. I was so deep and she was so tight.

"I fit," I hissed.

Swallowing visibly, she replied, "Yes. Yes, you do. Is that it? Are you done?" She was panting, as if afraid to breathe too deeply.

"Done?" Ian asked, his hands soothing her as if she were a skittish mare. "You're just getting started, lass."

I grinned at her naïveté. "Now you ride me."

"Ride you? But it hurt." She pouted, clearly afraid to move.

With my palms, I guided her, showing her how. With each slick slide of my cock against her cunny walls, I was close to coming. There was nothing to prevent my balls from tightening, my cock thickening and swelling within her. This would be a fast fuck; she'd tempted me too much.

"Oh," she gasped, the sound escaping was of pleasure, no longer pain.

"Only pleasure now, Emma," Ian promised.

"She's so tight," I murmured, my teeth clenching.

She was a quick learner, shifting her hips and lifting up and down on her knees to ride my cock. I was her stallion and she was the timid mare. As she found her rhythm, I moved my hands to her breasts, cupping them, feeling their weight as I plucked and tugged on the hard tipped nipples. Ian knelt down behind her and reached around between her spread thighs to touch her clit.