Southern Seduction [Bride Train 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  No wonder she hid as a boy. With a body like that she could be sold for a lot of money. Her voice would make her even more valuable to those who liked to have something special to keep to themselves.

  His deep groan echoed through the empty barn. No matter how much he wanted to plow deep between her thighs, she was not good enough to be his wife. He picked up a rake and began working off his frustration by piling up manure.

  Grandpa must be looking down on him, slapping his knee, chortling and wheezing at how God had answered his prayers. Send a wife, make her tantalizing in almost every way, but have her fall far short of his expectations outside the kitchen and bedroom.

  When he and his cousins had headed West, it was with empty stomachs and pockets. They had nothing but what Grandpa and Grandma had taught them, and pride. They’d vowed to build a new home with all the best of the South. They’d be independent and self-reliant. Cole added that their home would offer gracious hospitality, including good food, a certain decorum, and voices that flowed, soft and smooth, like mountain honey.

  Casey might cook well but a woman who dressed like a boy, even going so far as to cut her hair, had no decorum. Worse, her words grated like Grandma’s chalk on a slate.

  To keep all of their reputations from being destroyed, he’d have to marry her. But none of them could touch her. That would allow him to get an annulment in the spring. They’d have a good cook and housekeeper for the winter and would be free of each other when the snow cleared. He’d even give Willy enough gold to get them both all the way to California. Anything to get her far away.

  Then he’d head east to meet the first Bride Train as it crossed the Missouri. He’d find them a wife and get working on a son which he would name Marshall Phelps Taylor, after both his grandparents.

  Cole kept his back to the house as he saddled up a fresh horse. Casey was humming now, some slow tune he didn’t recognize. He carefully settled into the saddle, adjusting his seat until his bollocks weren’t crushed. He’d make a trip to the Double Diamond. Jessie would understand his request to borrow women’s things for Casey.

  He rode toward the road in agony. Every time he blinked he remembered a different part of Casey’s body. The curve of her small, perfect breasts. How her hips flared out, the right width for his hands to grasp and slam his cock into her. The dark, mysterious cleft between her buttocks.

  He wanted to suckle the nipple atop that breast. To kneel behind those hips, bend her forward, and lick her from to ass to belly. To spread her legs and surge between them deep into her pussy. Not the first time. No, he’d take her slow and easy at first, showing her why a woman wanted a man. But when she was used to them, then he’d do more.

  What if he pressed a finger into that brown dimple above her pussy? Or three fingers, easing his way with lard? He could spank her and watch his pink handprint appear on her white bottom. Maybe he’d then penetrate her with his cock, watching it slowly disappear into her ass. He clutched at his heart as it spasmed. He’d very nearly erupted into his pants like a boy of sixteen.

  He hauled his horse to a stop and carefully—very carefully—dismounted. He tied his horse and unbuttoned his pants. He groaned as he released his throbbing cock. His pants already had a damp spot. If he didn’t find his release soon, they’d be soaked.

  He took himself in hand and thought of what he’d do if she was his, welcoming him. He saw her kneeling at his feet, her mouth over the dark head of his thick cock. She’d grasp him with both hands. Unable to get all of him inside her hot, wet mouth, she’d lick him. Up one side of his cock and down the other. She’d ring him with her wet tongue, circling and dabbing into the slit at his tip. She’d pull on his balls, gently but firmly, just the way he liked it. He did it to himself as if showing her how.

  He imagined lifting her. She’d spread her legs and he’d bring her pussy down on his eager cock. She’d hold tight, slowly letting her flesh stretch around his wide cock until she took him deep. She’d move up and down, clutching him with her internal muscles. She’d cry his name as she peaked. And then—

  “Aargh!”

  He roared his release, exploding with a need too long withheld. He fell to his knees, still pumping, still feeling her clench him. Finally, he sat back on his heels, gasping for breath. His horse looked over, switched its tail, and turned away.

  “You’re a gelding,” he panted. “You know nothing of this.”

  The horse raised its tail and deposited his opinion of Cole onto the dried grass. Cole snorted, then burst into a laugh at what he’d done. Spilling his seed while imagining he was pleasuring a woman he’d never touch!

  His laugh turned into a groan as he stood and buttoned himself up.

  How the hell was he going to get through the winter with her?

  Chapter 7

  Casey patted herself dry. Running the soap over her body, warm and clean for once, had brought a deep ache to the place between her legs. Her nipples rose with the chill of the room, though she was warm. No, she was hot. Touching herself in the bath made her think of the first day she heard Beth, Sophie, Florence, and Jessie talk about their husbands. It was early in the spring. She and Willy had just arrived in town. She was so cold she’d crept into the empty hotel kitchen and curled in the corner to get warm.

  She’d fallen asleep and woken to the sound of women’s voices, coming quickly. She’d snuck into the bottom of the big pie safe. The tin cutouts let all the sound come in, and she could see a little bit as well. When she heard them speak of wonderful pleasure, her ears had strained to take in every word.

  These wives weren’t shy. They demanded to be pleasured but gave the same to their husbands. She held her breath while they said how much they enjoyed the many ways three men could pleasure a woman. They kept cans of lard near the bed, in the kitchen, and even in the barn, just in case. The slippery lard, and slowly adding more pulsing fingers to stretch the woman, helped ease a man’s cock into a woman’s bottom. It took her a moment to realize they really did say what she’d heard. She’d almost choked when they laughed about being so excited that they took all three men into their body at once. They agreed that was a rare treat, but well worth it.

  Casey had thought a lot about that day. Holding Charlie had increased her desire for both passion and the children that would arrive because of it. Thoughts of Cole, Byron, and Marshall doing to her what the wives spoke of made her body throb.

  She’d only had a flash that first morning of Marshall’s naked body. She’d seen Cole without a shirt that time in town, but she wondered what Byron looked like under his clothes. She liked him, though he was quiet and stern. Cole’s shape was rather nice as well, though she was a bit uncertain about him. A feeling of power flowed out of him as if he needed to be in charge. Marshall, though, liked to laugh.

  If she was married to Marshall, would he touch her the way the other valley husbands touched their wives? What would it feel like?

  She bit her lip and looked around the cabin. This was the first time she’d been safe and alone. No one would come near the cabin until supper. She thought of all the nights she’d dreamed of the three men touching her. But wearing her clothes day and night, and with Willy asleep beside her, she could do nothing about it.

  Today, now, was different.

  She sat on the bed, still naked, and rubbed her cold nipples with the insides of her wrists. The cold dots drew chilly lines on the insides of her arms when she moved them. She shivered. It made her nipples harden even more.

  She closed her eyes and imagined Byron’s hands as she gathered her breasts in her hands, her nipples in the center of her palms. She lifted them and slowly closed her fingers around her breasts. She squeezed, just enough. She opened her palms and pushed her hands toward each other, scraping her nipples across her palms.

  With the knuckles of her first fingers and her thumbs, she squeezed her areolas. A spark erupted between her legs. She moved to her nipples, gently tugging them forward, stretching them out. The spark kind
led another. The ends of her fingers grasped just the tips, even more gently sliding from the areola to the tip. She squeezed lightly at the very outer edge of the tip.

  Needing more, she slid her open fingers down her ribs and belly. She quivered as her fingers drifted over her lower belly, soft as a spider’s touch. She delved deeper, pressing her fingers down to just where her tuft of hair began. Would it feel the same if it was Byron’s rough fingers touching her?

  Casey spread her knees, widening the space between her thighs to rub in slow circles. She clenched her pussy as she hit a special spot above her wet lips.

  She pressed the long finger of her left hand between her inner lips. She was slippery. Never had she felt that before. She slid her fingers between the lips, then pushed it just past the ring of muscle that guarded her virginity. Something soft and spongy touched the end of her finger. She clenched at the intense jolt. She pressed harder, rubbing. Needing more space, she tilted her pelvis forward, opening herself.

  Soft sounds of her fingers squishing and releasing reached her ears.

  Curious, she lifted her finger to her nose. The scent was clean and sweet, so she tasted it. She pulsed her finger between her wet lips, rolling her tongue. It tasted warm, fluid, yet thick. Delicious.

  Heat lit her face as she remembered hearing about tasting a man’s cock just this way. She dragged her finger out of her mouth, letting her teeth graze the top and bottom while her tongue twirled in a circle around it. A loud “pop” erupted when she pulled her finger out of her mouth. She swallowed, still tasting herself on her tongue.

  Would she ever do this with a man? She’d seen cocks before. She didn’t mind her brothers running around naked when they were young, though she hated it when drunks didn’t bother to turn away to empty the beer they’d guzzled. The thought of touching a man’s cock had always disgusted her, but she realized it had more to do with the man than the cock it was attached to.

  Touching Cole or his cousins this way would be…interesting. How would she know how to please them, other than what she’d overheard?

  She put her finger in her pussy again, pretending it was a cock, then brought it to her mouth.

  This time she stuck out her tongue, touching the underside of her finger with the tip of it. She let her tongue rest there for a moment, just tasting and feeling. Then she rolled her tongue in tiny circles on the pad of her finger, as if it was the head of a cock.

  She flickered her tongue in and out. When she pulled her tongue back into her mouth a slapping sound emerged. It was from her tongue hitting the bottom of her mouth, between her teeth.

  What would it be like to have a man lick her with his tongue, just like her finger had touched herself? A burst of fluid erupted. She reached down again, rolling her finger between and around her pussy lips. In her mind it was Marshall kneeling between her legs.

  He moans as he inhales her scent. He looks at her with that wide smile and puts all his attention onto her. He tastes her, swirling his tongue and pressing it in. Drinking deep.

  Her finger found a special spot. She gasped and arched her back.

  Marshall grins at the power he holds, that of pleasing his woman in a way she’s never known before. He hauls her even closer and begins feasting. She grabs his thick hair in her fingers, needing something to hold, to ground her.

  She spread her legs wide, her fingers busy. Her scent seeped into the room.

  Marshall uses his fingers on her now. They find spots she never knew existed. He growls that he wants more. He lifts her and tosses her on her back with her limbs spread wide. He grabs her thighs and hauls her bottom to the edge of the bed. He takes his cock and guides it into her.

  He looks down as his cock disappears into her pussy. Her arms are wide, grabbing the sheets. Her breasts are firm, the nipples eager. He’s finally in, his balls tapping against her. His feet are wide apart, his thighs rubbing against hers.

  He waits a moment, hauling air into his lungs, while she stretches to fully accept him. His eyes light up and he leans forward. He sucks and plays with her breasts and nipples. Her hips start moving without her realizing. His cock fills all of her. He pinches her nipples. She arches, gasping.

  The sight of her wanting him is too much. He roars, grabs her hips, and begins slamming his cock deep into her. He stares down at her like a wild man. She reacts to him, arching her back and lifting her bottom to meet him. Every movement, in and out, brings new sensations.

  He pounds into her, neither of them knowing anything but their need. She clamps her muscles around his cock.

  Casey arched her back, stiffening her legs as her busy fingers created an explosion. She gasped like a fish, her fingers wet and her head buzzing.

  “Oh, my,” she said to the empty room, “is that what Beth meant by ‘peaking’?”

  She gave a slow, satisfied smile, and laughed. If it was, she couldn’t wait to find a husband to do the same to her. Not Cole, of course. But Marshall could marry her. Marshall and Byron. They could build a small room off the cabin for Cole to sleep in.

  She groaned at her silly fantasy and sat up. Her thighs were wet. She rolled off the bed, holding onto it until the dizziness passed. There was a wet spot on the quilt. Heat rose to her cheeks and ears. It would dry before anyone came home.

  After giving herself a quick wash, Casey dressed in her pants and shirt. Though restless from the explosion and desire for more, she spent the whole afternoon mending shirts and pants and darning all the holey socks she could find. In between she made a batch of gingerbread with the last of the powdered ginger and molasses. It turned out a bit dry so she decided to spoon canned peaches over the top. She’d made enough beef stew that morning to last through supper. They’d finished up the bread at dinner, so she’d make dumplings and drop them in the stew.

  Working in this home, which she pretended was hers, gave her more satisfaction than she’d ever known. She loved to make everything neat and tidy. She wanted to have tasty meals ready when the men came home. She had pride in her work, but it meant so much more when she was appreciated. The more they praised her, the safer she felt.

  She had to prove she was worth keeping because one of these days, maybe not until Thanksgiving, they’d find out she was a woman. That would mean Cole no longer had to keep his promise. He’d agreed to keep a boy working all winter, not a woman. She had to make them believe they needed her, even if she was female. Everything she’d seen in the last few days proved they were gentlemen. Surely they wouldn’t send her away knowing she’d die over the winter.

  Zeus yipped, demanding to be let out of his box. She walked over and bent down. The sharp creases of her new shirt and pants rubbed against her cleft. She hadn’t realized how rough new clothes would be, especially on such tender skin. She’d have to be careful as she had nothing to wear underneath her pants. She hadn’t needed anything before, as her old pants were soft and loose. Nor could she ask for something to protect her skin without giving herself away.

  She cuddled Zeus to her chest. The warm bundle of fur soothed her, making up for any amount of pain. She closed her eyes as she drew his soft fur against her cheek.

  “They might think you’re the runt, but I know you’ll be the best dog ever.” She kissed the top of his head. He gave a yip, making her smile. “I’d better take you outside. You’ve been sleeping most of the afternoon and I don’t want any messes on my clean floor.”

  Since the barn was south of the house and she wanted to avoid it, she went out the back way, toward the hill. The men would be coming home soon and she didn’t want to be caught outside. She set Zeus near a clump of weeds. He sniffed around for a bit before he found the perfect spot.

  “That’s a good boy,” she crooned. She knelt and he lumbered toward her, mouth wide in what she was sure was a puppy laugh. A drop landed on her head, followed by one on her arm. The clouds that had gathered were releasing the promised rain. “We’d best get inside. Can’t get my new clothes all wet.”

  She se
t Zeus on the wood floor, letting him follow her to the kitchen. She washed her hands and gathered eggs, salt, flour, and cold water for the dumplings. She was stirring the stew so it wouldn’t stick to the bottom when the door opened. She looked over her shoulder with a welcoming smile. Cole stepped in, saddlebags over one shoulder. His eyes flashed on her before he turned his back. He set his hat on the antlers. Every muscle in his body was tight.

  Her chest contracted. She shrank into herself, automatically hunching to seem smaller and less visible. Her happiness disappeared like a morning mist in the hot sun. Her life depended on the mood of the man in charge. She could sometimes get away with telling her brothers off, but Pappy controlled when and if she was allowed to eat, sleep, or remain untouched. She was barely walking before she knew firsthand that an angry man was a dangerous man.

  She forced herself to breathe slowly. In and out. Cole wasn’t anything like Pappy. He was a good man. Even though he wanted a good-size guard dog, he’d let her keep the runt. She chose Zeus because he reminded her of herself. For too many years she was the smallest, and therefore ignored. It made her desperate for acceptance.

  And just because Cole was angry about something, it didn’t mean it had anything to do with her. She kept her back to him, straining to hear every movement. Her pounding heart made it difficult. A thump made her jump. A quick look out the corner of her eye showed it was his boot. A second thump followed.

  He sniffed. “Smells like gingerbread.” He inhaled again. His eyes found her. He frowned. “You washed?”

  He didn’t sound angry. She nodded, letting out a cautious breath. Though the worst of her fear faded, her nerves still hummed. She closed her eyes, willing him to stay away. But he strolled over and lifted the lid of the pot, crowding her. Though he’d been careful not to touch her before, this time his elbow brushed against her chest. She forced herself not to flinch, telling herself he meant nothing by it. He couldn’t know what was underneath the cotton strips binding her chest or that his touch made her breasts ache. His thigh rested against her hips, sending heat into the core of her body.