Their Kidnapped Bride (Bridgewater Menage Series Book 1)

by Vanessa Vale

  "Yes."

  "Did your nipples tighten?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you want the man to fuck you?" Ian asked, his voice coming from my side.

  I pictured Allen and what I saw. He hadn't appealed to me, what he'd been doing had. I hadn't wanted him to fuck me, but a man of my own. "No."

  "But you wanted to be fucked, to know what it felt like when his cock was buried deep. What the woman felt?"

  I saw Clara's head tossed back, eyes closed, mouth open, back arched off the table. She'd been lost in her pleasure in that moment. "Yes."

  I heard Kane stand, walk behind me. Circle me.

  "Keep your eyes closed." His voice came from the right. "Your cunny – your pussy, that place between your thighs, does it ache at the idea of cock?"

  It did. Oh, it did. "Yes."

  I heard Ian move next, coming from my left to stand behind me. "I can see your nipples, all tight and erect." He was close enough to where I could feel his breath on my shoulder. "Do they need to be touched?"

  My head fell back, as I became entranced by his deep voice. "Yes."

  "Answer my question again, Emma. Are you wet?" Kane asked.

  Now, I knew to what he spoke. That place at the juncture of my legs, my woman's place, was...wet. I could feel the hotness of it, the way my folds were swollen and coated in a slick essence brought about by the men's words, the mental pictures they'd elicited, their voices, their very presence.

  I was surrounded. I felt the heat from their bodies, the way they took away all the air from the room. With my eyes closed, I didn't feel threatened – overwhelmed, assuredly – but protected instead.

  It was dark with my lids closed, only a soft flickering of orange light seeped through. I could block out the world, everything that had happened to me, everything around me except Kane and Ian. Their words, their deep, almost hypnotic voices with the lovely accents. This was why I felt at liberty to answer, to respond to how they made me feel.

  I heard Kane sink back into the chair in front of me. Waiting.

  "Yes," I uttered.

  "Open your eyes," Kane commanded.

  My lashes fluttered open as I looked down at him first, then glanced over my shoulder at Ian whose gaze was dark and lust filled. He was close, only a foot away, but he did not touch me. Neither had yet to touch me except for when Ian caught my stumble.

  "Come here," Kane ordered. He gestured with his hand to the space before him, his knees wide, the fabric of his pants stretched taut and defined over his muscular thighs.

  I approached him slowly and stood where he bid. He met my eyes, then his head lowered, taking in my breasts and tight nipples, the transparent shift, my bare thighs.

  "Spread your legs."

  I moved my left leg so my stance was wider, my thigh bumping against his knee, and waited. What did he intend? He still hadn't touched me in any way. My modesty was losing to curiosity. Neither had done anything for me to fear, so on bated breath, I waited.

  Slowly, he lifted his right hand and slipped it between my legs, up beneath the short hem of my shift to touch me. There.

  I startled at the contact. The one finger brushed over me in the lightest of touches, yet it felt like I was being branded, the heat that it wrought searing. I gasped and met his piercing, dark gaze, but didn't move, afraid that if I did he might stop. With a feather light touch, he slid over my folds, slowly, watching me. The corner of his mouth tipped up in something akin to triumph all the while learning my flesh.

  "I haven't held your hand. I haven't kissed you. I like knowing that the first place I touch your body is your delectable cunny."

  When his finger flicked over the place that throbbed, that had pulsed and come to life when I'd witnessed Clara and Allen, a moan slipped from my lips. Panic flared in my eyes at the illicit feelings, the way I found pleasure in a stranger's intimate touch. That barest of caresses felt so incredibly...amazing, that I feared it. Feared what he was doing to me. How could a man I didn't know bring about such carnal feelings with the barest of touches? It wasn't proper. It was wrong.

  I started to step back, but just one word from his lips kept me still.

  "No." Somehow, after only a few minutes, he was able to sense my emotions. "I will give you your pleasure. Do not fear it, or me." His jaw was tight, his gaze hooded as his fingers became bolder, parting my folds and running over the slippery, swollen flesh. Finding my virgin opening, he circled it, nudging in just a fraction and my body clenched down on it.

  "She's so tight, Ian," he murmured.

  I'd forgotten about the other man.

  The finger dipped in even further, then slid back out to slide up my folds to the bundle of nerves. I exhaled harshly and placed my hands on Kane's solid shoulders for balance. My knees weakened and I needed to hold on to stay upright. Just the very tip of his finger on me had me off kilter. Even through the jacket of his suit, I could feel his warmth, the very strength of him.

  When his finger moved back to my opening, another finger joined and two slipped inside. I shifted my hips and lifted up onto my toes at the onslaught. My tissues burned at the stretching and yet, it felt...exquisite. I could hear how wet I was, the sound of his fingers probing me filled the space between us.

  "There." His eyes held mine. I couldn't look away. I felt the pressure and pain of his digits as they tried to push even further into me, but couldn't. I clenched his shoulders and winced. "I can feel her maidenhead."

  "I...." I licked my lips. "I told you I was a virgin."

  "Yes, yes you did. Now I have to decide what to do about it." He pulled his fingers completely from me and I was bereft, lost. Empty.

  His fingers were glistening and slick with my wetness and I watched as Kane put them in his mouth and licked them. "So sweet. Like honey." His gaze heated, his skin flushing in what I recognized as desire. "Taste."

  My eyes widened. "Your fingers?"

  He shook his head. "No. Kiss me."

  I leaned forward ever so slightly and Kane came the rest of the way so his mouth covered mine. It wasn't a tentative, chaste kiss, for his mouth opened over mine and his tongue delved deep. He tasted musky and sweet and deliciously male, perhaps a combination of my woman's essence and his own personal flavor. I sank into the kiss, I could do nothing but, for he was quite skilled at it. My body heated and softened, my skin warming and becoming sensitive to the cool air. Finally, after an interminable length of time, Kane sat back.

  "Run your fingers over your pussy. Good girl. Now feed them to Ian. Let him taste you, too."

  I pulled my hand from between my trembling thighs and looked at my coated fingers. My arousal was warm and slick. Ian took my hand in his and lifted it to his mouth, sucking on my wet digits. His pale eyes darkened as I felt him suck on the tips of my fingers. My mouth fell open as I watched him.

  "Aye, like honey," he said when he lowered my hand back to my side. His voice was darker, more gravelly than before, his accent stronger. "Have you ever come before?"

  I didn't know to what he spoke, but I had no doubt the answer was no, so I shook my head as I licked my lips.

  "Then for being such a good girl, you will have a treat," Kane promised.

  Both of his hands moved beneath my shift and over my cunny, or the other word he'd used, my pussy. Fingers dipped inside of me, just bumping into my maidenhead, while his other hand moved to circle and flick at the bundle of nerves that had my eyes slipping closed, my head falling back and mouth opening to let a moan of pleasure escape.

  This was what Clara had been feeling: sheer, unadulterated bliss. Kane was masterfully working my body as a weapon against my strongest of mental defenses. One flick of a well skilled finger and my mind emptied of every reason why this was wrong.

  This was something I couldn't control. In this moment, my body did not belong to me. It belonged to Kane.

  I shook my head at that revelation. "No, please. I'm scared," I cried out, my hands pushing on his shoulders one moment, then gripping an
d clinging to him the next.

  "There's nothing to fear, lass," Ian murmured from behind me.

  "I've got you," Kane added. "You are safe and in this moment, your body belongs to me."

  It was too much. The pleasure was building, growing. Kane was masterful in working my body. My skin was damp, my knees were weak, my nipples tight peaks. I felt engulfed in flames and with each stroke of Kane's fingers he threw more fuel on the fire, until....

  "Come, Emma," Ian ordered. "Let us see your pleasure."

  His commanding voice pushed me over some precipice and I was falling, falling into nothingness. The intensity of it all was so grand that I screamed and clawed at Kane's shoulders. With letting go, giving over to what he was doing to me, I'd found the most amazing pleasure I never knew was possible.

  No wonder Clara had spread her legs. No wonder she let herself be taken on the kitchen table. With this one demonstration of Kane's power, I was addicted. I wanted more. I wanted it again. I needed what he'd just done to me. Again and again.

  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 w
ould 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.