Their Stolen Bride (Bridgewater Menage Series Book 7) (9 page)

She slipped from the door and I was alone with Sully.

“Shave?” I repeated.

His hands were full with a straight razor, a short strap of leather to sharpen it and a shaving cup, an ivory-handled brush sticking out the top. Plus the plug. Oh my.

“Yes, we’re going to shave your pussy bare.”

I frowned. “But why?”

He went to the door, opened it, peeked out into the hall then glanced back at me. He had a dark glint to his eye and the corner of his mouth tipped up. “Because I want to eat that sweet pussy and I want it nice and smooth.”

“Eat?”

“Come. Parker is waiting. After your shave, we can acquaint your tight little ass with this very nice plug.”

“I don’t want to be shaved,” I admitted. “And that… that plug won’t fit inside of me.”

He took my elbow and tugged me down the hall and into our room. He used his hip to close the door behind him.

Parker sat on the side of the bed and was pulling on a boot. He took in the sight of me in just a bath sheet.

He stood, came over to me and kissed me. As soon as his mouth met mine, every thought was forgotten. His soft lips brushed over mine, once, twice. Then he took it deeper, his tongue tangling with mine. His hands gripped my upper arms and I felt warm all over, this time not from the bathwater. My pussy clenched in memory of what a kiss led to.

When Parker finally lifted his head, I discovered the bath sheet was in a puddle at my feet and I was completely bare to them.

“She doesn’t want to be shaved,” Sully said.

Parker arched a brow. “Oh? Why not?”

The answer was simple to me.

“Why would I?” I replied.

He grinned then, just before he picked me up and laid me on the bed. He stood at the side and with hands on my thighs, tugged me to the very edge. He placed one of my feet on the soft blanket, then the other before kneeling down. Pushing up on my elbows, I looked down my bare body at him. His head was directly in line with my pussy.

He lowered his head then, putting his mouth on me. There!

“Oh my,” I gasped.

The tip of his tongue moved along my seam, then, with his hands on my inner thighs, used his thumbs to spread my lower lips apart. With more intent than gentleness, he licked me. Over my clit, over each fold, then at my entrance.

I raised my hips so he could do that some more, but he lifted his head and grinned. Using the back of his hand, he wiped his mouth, which was slick with… oh. He was slick with my arousal.

“This is why we want you shaved.” Parker held up his hand and Sully handed him the shaving brush. “Just wait. You’ll see. Trust us that you will like it. Love it, in fact.”

“But all of it?” I wondered. Did it all have to go away?

Parker had a thoughtful look as he lightly tugged at my short curls. “I’ll leave a little bit right here. A little pale triangle that points right to my—”

“Our,” Sully corrected.

“Our perfect pussy.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be thankful or not.

“Chloe gave us this, too.” Sully held the plug out for Parker to take and I blushed furiously.

“Sully,” I whimpered.

After placing the shaving cup on the bed beside my thigh, Parker took it, then studied it. From this close, I could see that it was a dark wood, honed smooth. It
was
big, but it wasn’t too much larger than Sully’s finger.

With the lightest of touches, Parker brushed over my clit, then slid lower, then lower and even lower still to my back entrance. His finger swirled and pressed lightly against me. “Once you’re shaved we’ll put this plug in here. Start your training. You want to take us both, don’t you, sweetheart? One in that hot little pussy and one in your virgin ass.”

“Sit still for Parker, Mary, and when he’s done, when that pussy’s bare and that ass is filled, we’ll let you come,” Sully promised. “You get to decide if it’s with Parker’s mouth or my cock.”

Oh my.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SULLY

Leaving the brothel, when there was a perfectly good bed and a very sated bride, was a hard task. Miss Rose had horses, ready and waiting for us to take to Bridgewater. We’d ridden out with some simple provisions, but it was only a few hours to Bridgewater and we made it—without any issue—by lunchtime. Of course, thinking of Mary’s pussy with a little patch of blond hair, my seed trickling from it, and the dark base of the ass plug parting her cheeks had me hard the entire way. It was an uncomfortable way to travel. I wanted to take Mary right to our home and keep her naked and in bed for at least a week to assuage the need I had for her, but we had to assume Benson would not relent where Mary was concerned.

He did not know more than my last name, so it would take time, even with ample money to put at the task, to find me. Therefore, we had some time, a few days at least, but we would not risk our friends. They needed to know what was most likely coming so the women and children were safe and a plan was in place to end Benson once and for all.

Because of this, we veered from our own house and went right to Ian and Kane’s, where those who were not working met for meals. While there were some surprised faces as we introduced Mary as our bride, everyone was pleased. She’d been whisked into the kitchens with the ladies, and Mason, who was helping with the cooking. At the mention of Mary being a Millard, we’d settled into Kane’s office with the door closed. None of us were afraid of Benson, but he was a real threat.

“He wants Mary,” I said to the group. Besides Parker and Kane, Andrew, Robert and Brody joined us. While not faring from the same country, we were all experienced military men. One rich asshole was an annoyance that had to be dealt with.

“That means he wants you gone,” Kane said. “And I don’t mean run out of the Territory.”

His English accent clipped his words. He, along with Ian, was the first to marry. Emma was their wife and they had a baby girl, Ellie.

Kane and Ian, along with a few others in the British military, started Bridgewater. A commanding officer of theirs had murdered a woman and framed Ian with the terrible deed. Instead of facing the social and political injustices of an English trial—it was a Scot’s word against a titled Brit—they fled to America for a simple life.

That was exactly what I wanted. A simple life, but then I married Mary.

“If you’re dead, he can marry her and join his mine with her father’s,” Kane continued. “Or whatever the hell their plan is.”

“Money. It’s the basis for it, definitely.” Parker crossed his arms. “He doesn’t know about me, or at least he doesn’t know she’s mine, too.”

I leaned against the wall and stared at the other men. “That means that if I die, Parker will legally make her his,” I said.

“Reggie Benson’s a mean son of a bitch,” Robert said. He was leaning on the edge of the desk and his fingers stroked over his beard. “I haven’t met him, but his name precedes him.”

Andrew shook his head. “That mine accident last year, it was preventable, but he didn’t give a shit.”

There’d been a collapse, for Benson didn’t provide enough lumber to shore up the walls. There’d been a cave-in and four miners had died. Within a day, he had five replacements. Those were just like the men who’d been on the train with us, eager for a new start. To Benson, they were expendable.

“You have what he wants,” Andrew added. “He’s going to come after you on principle alone.”

Kane shook his head, steepled his fingers as he leaned back in his desk chair. “He won’t come himself. He’ll send men. A man like him wouldn’t get his hands dirty.”

I pushed off the wall. “He’s coming after Mary’s husband, not me specifically. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”

Parker laughed. “That’s right. He has no idea he’s up against Shooter Sullivan.”

I shook my head at the moniker. “I just want a quiet life.”

It was my mantra and I just kept saying it.

Brody laughed. “You picked Mary Millard for a bride. An heiress like that comes with… complications.”

“And she’s anything but quiet,” Parker added, adjusting his cock. He was probably thinking about how she was a screamer. The knowing smile from Miss Rose this morning as we’d said our farewells was indication enough our actions hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“And Laurel was any less complicated?” Andrew asked Brody. While neither Parker nor I had lived at Bridgewater when Laurel, Brody’s wife with Mason, was discovered in a blizzard, we knew her story.  She had a rich father like Mary—not
as
rich as Mary’s though—and he’d planned to marry her off to a miserable man. It had been a dangerous time for her, but that was behind the three of them.

Brody grinned and shook his head. “Even with that mess resolved, she’s still a handful.”

“It wasn’t simple for Emily or Elizabeth either,” Kane added, referring to two of the other brides on the ranch.

Parker came over and slapped me on the shoulder. “We all picked… tempestuous brides.”

The men nodded and shared a conspiratorial look. While Bridgewater men cherished their brides, we were also very dominant lovers and gave our wives what they needed, not always what they wanted. Just like the ass plug this morning. Mary had resisted it at first, then, remarkably, came as I slowly worked it in and out of her, training that tight ring of muscle to relax and open.

“This isn’t about you, remember,” Kane surmised. “It’s about Benson besting you. As you said, he doesn’t know you’re Shooter Sullivan, only the man who stole his bride.”

“That’s Mary,” I said. “Our stolen bride. We have our plan against his expected retribution?” I asked.

The men nodded, having spent over thirty minutes working through some options and coming to a group decision on how to end Benson.

“The plan is a good one,” Andrew said. “The question is, will your bride understand?”

MARY

“Sully and Parker,” Laurel said, looking at me with a mixture of awe and admiration. “They are quite the pair. Handsome, too.”

“Laurel,” Mason warned.

When we arrived at Bridgewater, I hadn’t known what to expect. Sully and Parker had told me on the ride that it was a ranch run as a community—slowly turning into a small town of its own—where everyone helped its success and growth. With additional friends joining frequently, additional land was purchased, new houses built. Families made. The last included Sully and Parker since they returned with me. If they kept fucking me as they had, we’d be making our own family in about nine months.

They’d been surprised at our marriage, but from what they said, I wasn’t the first to just arrive wed to two of the Bridgewater men. Emma had been—amazingly—bought at an auction by Ian and Kane and married directly after. Elizabeth had been a mail-order bride to a mean man and surreptitiously wed to Ford and Logan instead. Ann had married Robert and Andrew on a ship. All marriages they’d told me about were quick and with quite a tale to go with them.

As for me,
I
was still getting over the surprise of being married myself. Of the unswerving attention of two men. I was surprised they’d let me be dragged to the kitchen where the lunch was being prepared.

I’d been told all the meals were communal, cooked and served in Emma’s house. When we arrived, introductions were made, but because of the large group, I feared I would not remember everyone’s names for some time. I was the new one though, and they questioned me continuously about myself and then about my men.
My men.
 

“
Are you interested in the attentions of other men now, wife?” Mason asked Laurel. “Other men who are claimed by Mary?” While he eyed his wife, he carved a chicken on a large platter. There were three of them to be done and he was making fast work of it.

Laurel smiled at him sweetly. He laughed, knife in hand. “That look gets you spanked, love.”

Spanked? Laurel was spanked too?

She waggled her eyebrows at him. “I know.”

Based on her response, she seemed to like it… and want it. Just like me. I’d been surprised at first when Parker had spanked me, but I’d liked it. No, I’d loved the feel of his hand on me. I’d loved the attention I was receiving. I’d loved the way all thoughts fled my mind and I just focused on Parker and his touch. On Sully and his carnal words.

A baby fussed in a cradle beneath an open window. Laurel’s focus shifted and she went over and picked up the infant.

“Tell us about yourself, Mary. Not your men,” Emma added. She was at the table, a baby in a special chair beside her. The little girl smacked her tiny palms on the table and watched as a green bean fell to the floor. A brown dog, sitting smartly below, snapped it right up. The baby, of course, giggled at the dog.

“If you hadn’t heard, I’m a Millard.”

All the adults in the room—Emma, Mason, Laurel, Ann, and Rachel, or was it Rebecca?—nodded.

“This is like a small town, news spreading so quickly.”

“There aren’t any secrets here,” Ann said. She was helping her toddler son wipe his hands. It seems the children ate before the adults, at least today. It was hard to keep from grabbing a chicken leg and nibbling, for it smelled so good and I was quite famished.

Laurel laughed. “Mmm, how can there be secrets, Mason, if you and Brody fuck me on the front porch?”

Mason lifted his head from his work and grinned. “You were a cranky lass and needed it. If you keep up this tone, you’ll be spanked out there—” he pointed out the back door to the porch, “—while everyone’s eating.”

The smile slipped off Laurel’s face and she looked contrite. Mason winked at her, then went back to slicing the chicken.

I couldn’t tell if the duo was joking or not. Mason would spank her on the back porch of Emma’s house where everyone could see—and hear?

“Yes, I’m quickly seeing that everyone knows everything,” I commented, thinking I needed to ask my men where they’d spank me if they felt the need. “My father owns one of the copper mines in Butte. My mother died when I was little and he was not the most… loving of parents. I was raised a society miss and ultimately expected to make an advantageous match.”