by Vanessa Vale
“With my mouth?” Tyler asked.
“Yes.”
“Then tell me you want to come on my mouth.”
Tyler’s hands gripped my thighs, his thumbs brushing along the crease, nudging the hairs of my pussy. My hips shifted of their own volition, wanting his fingers closer. On me. In me.
“I want to come on your mouth.”
“With pleasure, baby. With pleasure.” Tyler rewarded me with a grin just before he put his mouth back exactly where I wanted it.
“Oh, yes,” I moaned.
“Do you want him to slip two fingers deep inside you?” Xander whispered in my ear. “Your pussy’s so delectably tight, when you come you’re going to squeeze them.”
I did right then, just by the words alone.
My hips began to shift. I couldn’t help it. I was close and I was chasing my pleasure, moving on Tyler’s face so that I was closer… closer. Oh, so close.
“Yes, fingers. In me. Please.”
I felt a hand on my bare bottom. “And what about here, sweetheart? Do you need a finger here, too?” As Xander spoke, a finger slipped between the seam of my bottom and over my…
“Xander!” I gasped. “You can’t… oh, yes!”
He’d circled my back entrance, then slipped a slick fingertip into me. I’d never been touched there before, let alone have a finger work its way inside. The stretch was uncomfortable, but, it was dark and carnal and it felt so good.
“You have Tyler on his knees licking your clit, drinking down all your delectable juices. His fingers are filling your pussy while you have my finger in your ass. You like two men touching you. You like it when you have no choice but to take what we give you.”
Xander kept talking, his dark words filling the remainder of my senses. I felt their hands everywhere. I could smell their unique scents and the heady aroma of my arousal. My lingering taste was on my tongue. I could see Tyler’s head between my splayed thighs. I was overwhelmed, consumed.
“Please,” I begged, my head thrashing against the door.
“Come, sweetheart.”
I did. I obeyed Xander’s command and came so blissfully hard I surely put marks on Tyler’s shoulders with my fingernails. My scream filled the entryway and I could do nothing but clench and squeeze down on their invading fingers, riding the waves of pleasure that they gave me.
An arm banded about my waist and held me up, for my knees gave out and I would have collapsed to the floor.
Tyler stood to his full height and both men loomed over me. They, too, were breathing hard.
“We’d better get her to Olivia’s before we fuck her,” Tyler murmured. Putting his hand at the front of his pants, he adjusted himself. Oh, my. Through his pants, I could see the outline of his very large…
“I’d let you see my cock, baby, but then I’d have to fuck you.”
I frowned, noting that both men’s pants showed clear delineation of their desire.
“Don’t you want to fuck me?” I asked, confused. “I thought… that was what I expected.”
Xander took a step back. “Not until we’re married, sweetheart. Then we’ll fuck you and mark you and fill you with our seed.”
CHAPTER TWO
TYLER
The day before…
“Just because you’ve found the men of your dreams does not mean you can play matchmaker,” I told Olivia.
She gave me a look that was pure exasperation, especially when it was combined with a hand on her hip. My tiny cousin had three men wrapped around her little finger—husbands Cross, Rhys and Simon—and that was plenty. I did not need to be added to that list.
“Her husband died, Tyler,” she countered. I glanced at Rhys and Cross who flanked her, but I received no help from either of them.
“Why can’t your men go with you?”
“Because you and Xander have nothing better to do. While you are just visitors here, we—” Rhys waved a hand between Cross and himself, “—live here and have been assigned the job of putting out tables.”
“The picnic won’t happen if we don’t put out tables,” Cross added.
I doubted that the church picnic would be cancelled if Olivia’s husbands didn’t personally put out the tables for the food. Surely there were other men—even other men from Bridgewater—who could complete the task. I did not wish to go to a ranch and drag a reluctant woman, a reluctant widow, to a church picnic.
“Do you really think she will come? She’s just lost her husband, what, two days ago?”
A small boy ran between our little group and grabbed hold of Cross’ legs. If he were a smaller man, he’d have been toppled by the force.
“Unca Cross!”
The big man beamed down at the two-year-old and swung him up into the air, tossing him high enough to make Olivia gasp. Christopher laughed and so Cross did it again.
“When we have children, you are not doing that.” Olivia pursed her lips, but couldn’t help but smile as Christopher called out, “Again!”
“Hurry back from getting Mrs. Woodhouse so we can get right on that,” Rhys commented, giving my cousin a very heated gaze.
I turned my back on them and looked across the open field in front of the town’s church for Xander. If I was going to retrieve a grieving widow, he was going with me. With the church service just ending, the townspeople were milling about, children playing tag or dipping their feet in the creek nearby. Women were organizing the food and sure enough, the Bridgewater men were moving tables in a long line for the food.
“There he is,” Andrew said with a grin and a sigh. I stepped back to let the little boy’s father join our group. “Your mother has your lunch, young man.”
“Lunch!” he cried and reached out for his father, clearly eager to eat.
Watching the group from Bridgewater was inspiring. They embraced the same custom as my parents—two husbands for one wife. Olivia was my father’s niece and she had three husbands. I, too, would take a wife with another. Xander. I saw him walking my way with Simon, who was looking solely at Olivia. I had no doubt Rhys’ intentions upon our return from the widow’s ranch. I knew with what they would occupy their time later: baby making. How she hadn’t become pregnant with three husbands before now was beyond me.
I frowned at the idea of my cousin being fucked by these men—any men—but they loved her and devoted their lives to her. It was a good thing Xander and I were staying elsewhere. Ian and Kane—who I’d sold cattle to the year before—and their wife, Emma, had gone to Billings and so we stayed in their house during our visit.
Bridgewater men needed privacy with their bride.
Olivia had said it had been like lightning when she’d first met her men. I knew of the concept, for my mother said the same thing. In fact, she’d been the one to give my cousin the notion. Love at first sight was fine for some, but I doubted it for me. Finding a woman wasn’t easy, but finding a woman who would want two husbands was even harder. Especially Xander and me. Xander, the ex-convict and me, the… what was I? I loved women in general—there was nothing better than sinking into a hot pussy. Well, perhaps a tight little ass. But married to one? I wasn’t sure if I was the kind of man that would dote on my bride the way Olivia’s men doted on her.
She was the center of their world. I couldn’t imagine ever finding a woman that would make me even consider it, let alone let the parson’s noose slip around my neck. I could, though, be courteous and go with Olivia to escort her friend to the picnic. My cousin was kind to think of the older woman.
“I understand I’ve been summoned,” Xander said to the group at large.
A bell was rung indicating the start of the meal. People made their way from the blankets they’d spread out on the grass to the table laden with food.
“We are going with Olivia to retrieve a widow,” I told Xander.
“Mrs. Woodhouse,” Olivia added for Xander’s benefit.
My friend looked between us, his dark eyes giving away none of his emotions. This was p
erfectly normal for him. I’d known him for five years and even I’d rarely seen him smile. The time in prison had changed him, hardened his emotions. “Are we allowed at least a chicken leg to take for the ride?” he asked, rubbing his stomach.
Olivia went up on her tiptoes and kissed Cross, while giving Rhys and Simon knowing looks. While she was married by Bridgewater standards to all three men, the townspeople only knew of her legal wedding to Cross. Public displays of affection were limited, but I had no doubt Olivia would make it up to the other two once home.
“Hurry back, wife. We have plans for you.” I couldn’t miss Simon’s murmur as we walked away and it confirmed my suspicions.
***
“Emily!” Olivia knocked on the door to the ranch house thirty minutes later. She shifted impatiently for her friend to answer the door.
Was she elderly and slow? Hard of hearing?
When Mrs. Woodhouse opened the door, I could definitively say no. She was close to Olivia’s age, much too young to be a widow. She was petite and curvy and her modest dress did nothing to hide her very delightful curves. Her hair was the blackest I’d ever seen, yet her skin was as pale as cream. It was a striking contrast and I was mesmerized. While she offered Olivia a small smile, it was her eyes that showed pain and hurt. Her full mouth was pinched and dark smudges beneath her eyes made her look tired and worn down. Clear signs of her grief.
I removed my hat. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to hear about your loss,” I replied.
Xander, who’d removed his hat before she’d even opened the door, offered a slight nod of his head.
“Thank you,” she replied softly. Her voice was deep for a woman, smooth and silky.
Olivia stepped forward, wrapped an arm about her waist, and led her back inside. “We are here to take you to the picnic. Drag you if we have to.”
Mrs. Woodhouse looked over her slim shoulder at us, wondering perhaps if we’d do just that.
I glanced at Xander. He just arched a dark brow, but said nothing.
Olivia laughed. “The fair-haired one is my cousin, Tyler, and the other one, the brooder—” she spun around and grinned impishly, “—is Xander.”
We followed the women into the parlor. The room was clean, the fire unlit. Based on the size of the house and the quality of the furnishings, it would seem Mr. Woodhouse had been successful in his affairs.
“Gentlemen,” she murmured as way of greeting, flicking her gaze up to us. “Olivia, I don’t think I feel like going today. Perhaps another time.”
Olivia shook her head. “We won’t take no for an answer, will we?” She turned to glance our way and gave us a pointed look.
“No, we won’t,” I added. “It would be an honor if you’d let us escort you.” She’d only said a few words, but I was intrigued. So was my cock. She was quiet and calm and beautiful and so damn constrained. I wanted to tug at the tight bun at the nape of her neck. I wanted to undo those prim buttons on her dress’s snug collar. I wanted to bring color to her cheeks the only way I knew how, by making her come.
My cock swelled at the idea of mussing her up. The way Xander’s gaze was fixed on her led me to believe he was thinking the same thing. It was wrong though, to have such thoughts about a woman who’d just lost her husband.
“Then it’s settled. Go get your hat and we’ll be off.” Olivia was as good at pushing others around as she was her men.
Mrs. Woodhouse took a moment to consider, biting her plump lower lip as she did so.
“I do not have an offering for the picnic,” she countered.
Olivia dispelled that worry with a wave of her hand. “There is plenty of food. You will not make anyone go hungry, I assure you.”
Knowing arguing would do nothing when it came to Olivia, Emily finally offered a small nod and went through an open doorway toward the back of the house.
Once she was gone, Olivia spun on her heel and pointed to us as she whispered, “Be nice!”
I held up my hands in front of me in a defensive gesture. “That wasn’t nice?” I whispered back.
“You.” She pointed at Xander. “You have to say something. Talk. Have a conversation with the woman.”
Xander’s mouth fell open slightly, but he said nothing.
I stifled a small smile and went to open the front door when Mrs. Woodhouse returned.
We helped the ladies into the wagon and I wondered why Olivia was so particular about us being nice to the woman. It wasn’t until the ranch disappeared over a hill did I discover why.
“You know about the Bridgewater ways,” Olivia said. She and Mrs. Woodhouse sat beside me on the wagon seat with Xander sitting at the back of the wagon, his lower legs dangling off the edge.
I glanced over at Olivia, surprised by her question. Their unusual customs were not well known and those from the ranch didn’t share the information. Many would find it wrong, illegal even. My parents had been careful as well, especially since they lived in Helena, a large city in comparison to Bridgewater’s open prairie. There was a reason she was speaking of it with Mrs. Woodhouse and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like the answer.
“Yes,” Mrs. Woodhouse replied.
“Well, Tyler and Xander are looking for a wife.”
No, I didn’t like the answer at all. I pulled up on the reins and stopped the horse. “Olivia,” I warned.
“Olivia, I’m not looking for—”
My cousin cut off the remainder of Mrs. Woodhouse’s sentence. “Nonsense. Your husband was a brute. A tyrant and a drunk. You aren’t mourning him and you need a husband.”
To my surprise, Mrs. Woodhouse jumped down from the wagon and started to walk back toward her ranch. I gave Olivia a dark look, ready to chase after the woman, but Xander hopped off the back of the wagon instead.
He followed her, then ultimately caught up with her, but they continued to walk away from us.
I sighed. “Are you truly trying to play matchmaker?” I asked.
Olivia didn’t look the least bit contrite and set her chin in an obstinate angle. “Yes. You need a wife and Emily is perfect.”
“She’s just lost her husband. How could she be perfect if she’s clearly not interested?” I angled my head toward the direction she’d gone.
“Her husband gambled and drank to excess. While she never once confessed it, I believe he hit her. He was cruel to her at the very least. She is not the least bit sorry he’s dead. In fact, if she weren’t such a nice person, she’d be dancing on his grave.”
The idea of anyone hurting Mrs. Woodhouse made my hands clench. She was too small, too… dainty—even with her lush curves—to protect herself from the likes of a man Olivia described.
“Then she can find a man she truly likes this time around. She’s young, beautiful. She’s a catch for any man in town.”
Olivia grinned. “So you think she’s beautiful?”
“Any conscious man would think so,” I countered.
“Then you should offer for her.”
I sighed, exasperated. “Why?”
“Because you and Xander need a wife.”
I shook my head. “We do not need a wife.”
“I see the way you look at the couples at Bridgewater. Everyone’s happily married. It’s hard, I’m sure, for you to witness since no one else marries like we do. Like your parents. You want a marriage with Xander like all of us at Bridgewater. Admit it.”
“Of course I admit it. I won’t marry any other way.” I put my hand up. “That does not mean that our bride should be Mrs. Woodhouse.”
Olivia pursed her lips. “She has to marry.”
My brows went up. “Again, why?”
“The bank is taking the ranch. Debts, most of them I’m sure are because of her husband’s gambling. She has no place to go. No money. She’ll have to get a job and there are none, unless she wants to work on her back.”
“Olivia,” I warned.
“What? It’s true.” Olivia took a deep breath. “She’s going to have to marry. A
woman doesn’t have any other options. It might as well be you.”
I frowned. “Is that a compliment?”
“Of course, it is. She deserves someone—or two someones—who will be good to her. I know you and Xander would be. Plus, I know her well and she knows about how we marry. I like her. Trust me, you’ll be well suited.”
I turned so I could look at the woman’s retreating figure. Well suited? I had no doubt we’d be very compatible in bed. She would be no hardship to look at. That did not make a marriage, but it certainly helped.
XANDER
It didn’t matter to me that Olivia was matchmaking. I’d known her intention from the moment she asked us to escort her to claim her friend instead of her husbands. They would have done anything for the woman and the excuse of moving tables was a poor one. Laughable. There were enough strong backs at the picnic to complete the task instead of them. I was just pleased they were trusting enough of us to take her to the Woodhouse ranch. It wasn’t as if we’d done anything to make them question our ability to protect their bride, especially with Tyler being family. To the contrary, in fact. They must consider us quite highly, but the Bridgewater men were a possessive and protective bunch.
Perhaps they were trying to take Mrs. Woodhouse under their wing. I’d heard that she’d been to the ranch before, knew of their ways and customs. The fact that she held that secret meant the men placed her in high regard. All this meant that it wasn’t just Olivia that was trying to put Mrs. Woodhouse together with Tyler and me. The men were in on it as well and thought the woman was the one for us. Because of this, I’d been nothing less than curious about the widow.
When she’d opened the door, it had been difficult not to stare. Hell, she was a vision. It was her mouth I’d noticed first. Plump and full, it was a bright cherry pink, as if she’d been kissed all afternoon. It was when I met her gaze that I’d been intrigued. There, I saw a woman who’d seen hard times. She was exceptionally good at hiding it, but the stiffness of her shoulders and the tightness about those dark eyes were obvious indicators. I knew them well, for I saw hints of myself in her.