by Reece Butler
“Sugar, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with anything we do as long as everybody wants to do it, and nobody gets harmed.”
He twisted his finger, just barely inside. She clenched her inside muscles in response.
“You know what I’d like to see you do someday? You riding one of my cousin’s cocks, just like you rode that horse. I want you grinding your clit so hard you scream. And then I’ll slide my cock in, right here.”
He pulsed his finger in her bottom. She shuddered.
“And to make it the best, maybe you’ll take one of us deep in your mouth while you’re riding. My cock in your mouth, Cole’s thick one in your pussy, and Byron’s skinny dick in your ass.” This time he shuddered. He squeezed her in a quick hug. “But that’s something more than you’re ready for.” He barked a laugh. “More than any of us are ready for.”
“Does a cock in a pussy feel as good as what you did before?” she asked.
Marshall lifted his head to look her in the eyes. He winked.
“You’ll have to decide that for yourself when Cole smartens up and takes you to bed.”
Chapter 15
“I don’t think I heard you right.”
Cole cocked his head toward Marshall, sure he’d heard wrong. After all, Marshall was bandaged from hip to knee. They’d followed the trail of blood from the yard to the cabin. Marshall’s face almost as white as the sheet covering. Seeing the amount of bandaging, Casey must have put in a lot of stitches, and Marshall hated needles. He was likely out of his head and had mumbled something about his dreams. They had woken him from a deep sleep when they came home early.
“I said,” repeated Marshall with a glower, “I gave Casey an orgasm. With my mouth. Then she put those full red lips on my cock and—”
“No!”
Cole roared and charged toward the bed, needing to smash that mouth and shut it permanently. A pair of arms came out of nowhere and tackled him. He crashed to the floor, Byron on top of him.
“You can’t kill him until his leg heals,” yelled Byron as Cole fought to get loose. “We need him healthy enough to help gather the cattle!”
Cole shook with tension, but he got himself under control. He didn’t need Byron’s body because the cold weight of what Marshall had said pushed on his chest so hard he could barely breathe. It would keep him from exploding and beating Marshall to death. For now. He pushed Byron off and stood, but the weight of dread didn’t get any lighter.
“But as soon as the longhorns leave for Virginia City you can kill him.” Byron lowered his eyebrows and his voice. He cracked his knuckles. “Then I’ll take a turn.”
“Whoa there, boys,” said Marshall. He held up both hands as if that would stop them. “Casey liked it. In fact, she asked me to do it. And then she asked if a cock in her pussy would feel as good.”
Cole choked.
“And what did you say?” growled Byron.
“That she’d have to decide for herself,” Marshall replied smugly. He smoothed the covers over his wounded leg. “I said I’d not take her virginity, and I won’t. It’s up to Cole to do that.”
Cole shook his head. It couldn’t be true. The quiet woman who trembled beside him while saying her vows would never have done something so wild. He did not, and would not, have a wild wife. If Marshall and Casey had gotten naked, and he believed they had, it couldn’t be Casey’s fault.
“You seduced my wife,” he stated, quiet and deadly. “The shy woman I’ve barely kissed. The one I promised to protect from the likes of you.”
“She’s not shy once she relaxes, and she doesn’t need protection,” said Marshall, far too calmly. “She survived twenty-one years with her bully of a father, during a feud. She came out here dressed and acting like a boy to keep herself safe. She shot Rivers cool as anything, even if she had the shakes for the next couple of days. She can take care of herself, Cole. And she can decide what she wants in her life.” He held up his hands again when they both growled at him. “Yes, I suggested she take off her dress so she didn’t get it covered in blood. But I didn’t know she was naked underneath.” His smirk suggested otherwise.
“Shut up, you fool,” said Byron through gritted teeth.
“She’s still a virgin, and that’s all Cole cares about.” Marshall spat the words. He turned to Cole. “You can get your precious annulment any time. So why not do it now, so I can marry her? She deserves more than a peck on the cheek this winter.” He snickered. “Peck on the cheek, hell. She loved it when I—”
Cole found his fist twisted around the shirt at Marshall’s neck.
“Casey is my wife,” he growled into Marshall’s red, gasping face. “Mine! You won’t be marrying her because I’m keeping her!” He threw Marshall back onto the bed, where he gasped for breath.
“Does ‘I’m keeping her’ mean you’re not going to annul the marriage?” Byron’s words were quiet but intense.
“Yes. No. What?” Cole looked up from enjoying Marshall’s attempts to suck air.
“You said you’re keeping Casey.” Byron spoke as if he was explaining something complicated to a child. “That means no annulment. Which means Casey doesn’t have to stay a virgin. Which means we’ve got ourselves a wife to share and this winter won’t be torture.”
“I didn’t say that.” Cole blinked at Byron’s blank face. “Did I?” He turned to Marshall, who nodded while rubbing his throat and glaring with more venom than he’d shown since he’d arrived at Grandpa’s farm. “Then I didn’t mean it.”
“You want her, cousin.” Marshall spat the title as if it was a taunt. “Just as much as we do. And if you won’t give her what she wants, then let her go. I’ll be more than happy to take her off your hands. She deserves more than your pious, condescending attitude.”
Pious? Condescending? Where did those words come from? He stared at Marshall, brain pounding too hard to think of what to say back.
“The words mean self-righteous, hypocritical, and patronizing,” added Marshall. “To make it even simpler, you think you’re so much better than she is, just because of how you talk.”
Cole’s fury rose at the insult that he wouldn’t know what the words meant.
“I may not have gone to a high-falutin’ school like you two, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know things.”
Marshall made a face. “Really? Casey didn’t get any schooling either. Maybe she knows more than she’s letting on. You ever think of that?”
He hadn’t, but he shoved the thought away. It still burned his britches that his cousins had the chance of school and neither of them appreciated it. He knew some of the reasons why. But he’d never had a chance to learn more than what Grandma taught, or what Grandpa might read out loud before bed. It didn’t change the facts, though. He didn’t need fancy schooling to run a ranch well.
“I’m the boss of this outfit,” he reminded them.
“For now.” It was Byron who spoke. “We agreed to let you lead when we left home. But we’ve been working this ranch together, and any of us could do the job. Don’t draw a line in the sand over this, Cole. You’ll either lose the ranch or the woman. Maybe both.”
“Or maybe all of that and us as well,” added Marshall.
Cole understood why Marshall’s face was white—he’d seen the blood on the floor even though Casey had tried to scrub it out of the wood. Byron’s face was white as well, only it was in anger. Was he angry at Marshall for defiling Casey, even if she begged him? Or was By angry because he agreed with Marshall against Cole?
“I want the Sweetwater Ranch and Casey,” said Marshall. He held his hand over his throat as he spoke. “She’s a hard worker, can do more to put food on the table than any of the other wives, and she’s Southern, so she understands us.” He gave one of his typical smirking looks. “And not only has she got one heck of a body, she has enough passion for all of us.”
Cole’s hands flexed in frustration. He knew all that! Though she was shy, the way she’d returned that kiss on the wagon
he had a good idea she’d be wild in bed. That’s why he had to back away. He could happily enjoy her wildness when naked, but not everywhere else. No, she’d been running wild for too many years. She’d never be trained to a wife’s harness. Somewhere out there was his perfect woman. It wasn’t Casey. Not by a long shot.
“You might be right about all those things, but she talks like mountain trash,” he said. “I can’t listen to that for the rest of my life. She swears, and that I will not tolerate.” He gave a pointed look at Marshall for doing the same thing.
“You wouldn’t have to.” Marshall settled more comfortably in bed, smug that he had all the answers. “Grandma said Grandpa was the same when she met him. He learned, and so can Casey. I think her accent gets worse when she’s nervous. And you, cousin, make her nervous.”
“Don’t know why,” replied Cole, grimacing. He ignored Marshall’s snort of laughter. “It’s one thing for a man to speak rough. We work hard outside and don’t always have time for fancy manners. But other ladies expect a wife to know all those things Grandma said it took years to learn.” Cole tried to make them understand. “Women are real critical of each other. They can tell the class of another female by the way they dress, hold themselves, and talk as fast as we can read brands.”
“Grandma tell you that?” asked Byron.
Cole rubbed his hands through his hair. He exhaled. Suddenly tired, he slumped on the bed. The ropes creaked under him. He wanted Casey there, beside him. No, he wanted her massaging his sore muscles. Unless he could have her sitting on him or lying underneath. Yep, he wanted her just as much as Marshall, dang it. He also liked who she was out of bed and he loved her singing voice, not that they’d taken any time to sing since the wedding.
The wedding. Something he had to do as a gentleman, telling himself it wouldn’t be difficult to get through the winter and let her go. And then he saw her in that dress and his body turned to flame. He wouldn’t admit it to the others, but the main reason he was so mad at Marshall was because he was jealous. But Casey would never fit into his plans for their future.
“Before either of you arrived at the farm, Grandma used to talk about growing up in her daddy’s big white house in the city,” said Cole. “That must’ve been, heck, around the turn of the century. She had to dress up pretty and sit on a stool while lady friends of her mama’s came to call. If you weren’t one of them, following all those rules that nobody writes down, those white-gloved witches ripped you to shreds.”
“Rules like what?” asked Byron.
“Ridiculous stuff, like you had to flick your fan, curtsey, arrange flowers, and pour tea just right. Heck, even how you spread your skirts when you sat mattered to them.” He rolled the kinks out of his neck. “Casey can’t learn those things. She’ll never be accepted by the wives of men of influence. That means those men won’t accept us. Our opportunities will be limited.”
Marshall struggled, waking Zeus in the process. He hauled the pup into his lap, automatically scratching around its ears. “If someone’s gonna judge our worth by what his wife thinks about Casey sticking flowers into a glass, then we don’t need them.”
Cole rubbed his face with both hands. They had to get this settled between them before Casey came back from picking flowers or whatever. It was too important to wait.
“Byron?” Cole expected this cousin to show some reason, unlike Marshall who flew off the handle at the drop of a hat.
“Sorry, Cole, I’m with Marshall on this one.” Byron curled his lip as if he’d just sucked a sour pickle. “I heard my mother and her friends picking at a woman over tea one day. They criticized her dress, her hat, her boots, her fan, how she sat, walked, and talked. They did it as ‘helpful suggestions,’ right to her face. Finally, she stood up, thanked my mother politely, and walked out. I saw her tears as she walked to the front door. My mother crowed, calling it a triumph of society.”
Marshall made a loud gagging sound. “Heck, By, I thought you were so lucky with all that money growing up.”
“I can barely remember my mother,” said Cole quietly. “What I can, I wish I didn’t.” He shook his head as if that would shake the memories loose. “And this is exactly why we need a wife like Grandma.”
“Casey’s a lot like Grandma,” said Marshall. “But she can hunt and—”
“Hunt?” Byron spun around and strode into the kitchen part of the cabin, Cole close behind. Her neatly folded skirt and shirt sat on the table. “She’s wearing pants. Not good.” He turned to Marshall, raising his voice to reach the far corner. “How far was she planning to go, Marsh?”
“Oh, no.” Cole stood and strode toward the door. “Seeing him laid up in bed pushed it from my mind.”
“That calf Byron brought home is all gone.” Marshall called out, struggling to get upright. “She’s hunting supper.”
“Her rifle and slingshot are gone.” Byron cursed.
“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Marshall moved as if to get out of bed. He gasped, cursed, and fell back.
“Casey could be in danger,” said Cole. “Sheriff Barstow heard a few things from the Pinkerton agent. He’s been following a trail he thinks is Mr. Isaac, that piece of filth who hurt Molly and Sarah, and who knows how many others.”
“Gibson’s the one Casey saved when she shot Rivers,” reminded Byron. “He’s back in town.”
“Sheriff Barstow talked at our meeting about a few changes coming after Rivers died. He left a few debts and certain people want a piece of whatever they can get,” said Cole. “Frederick Smythe, Stickley, that judge in Helena who said Jed and Victoria’s first wedding wasn’t legal, and a few railway men are eager to get their gold.”
“Or their pound of flesh,” added Byron. “And since it was Casey who shot Rivers, Barstow thinks they might blame her.”
Cole rubbed his face with his hands. Casey better come home safe. If she didn’t, he was going to put her over his lap and—he groaned. And nothing. He was her husband but had promised not to touch her. That included putting her naked body over his knees and spanking her. Most important was that the ones wanting gold wouldn’t care about her. They’d sell her to the highest bidder.
“There’s a chance she may be kidnapped and used as either a hostage or bait,” said Cole.
“For what?” demanded Marshall. “Casey hasn’t got a pot to piss in. Hell, until a week ago no one knew she was a woman!”
“Rivers wasn’t the only man wanting fresh young women,” replied Byron. “If they want what they’re owed, they may go after Casey. She shot Rivers, she’s beautiful and, thanks to Cole’s insistence, everyone knows she’s untouched. That means she’s in danger.”
Chapter 16
Byron’s quiet words fell like bricks to the floor. He’d admired Casey’s strength when he believed the boy had accompanied his older brother all the way from the East. Knowing she was female made him care even more about her. It also confused the heck out of him.
Casey was a compelling mix of strength and vulnerability. He wanted to both protect her as his woman and have her stand beside him as his partner. Most of all, he wanted her naked beside him, under him, on top of—
“Oh, shit.” Marshall screwed up his face in an exaggerated wince.
“She’s a virgin,” said Cole bitterly. “And I made sure everyone knew our wedding was only on paper. Untouched women, especially beautiful ones, are rare in these parts, unless they’re too young or well protected.”
“That’s easily solved,” said Marshall quietly.
“Nothing’s too young for those sons-a—” Byron pressed his lips together before Grandma’s ghost walloped him for bad language. He turned to Marshall. “Do you know where she went?”
“I heard her head up behind the cabin as I was dozing off,” replied Marshall. He lay back against the pillows, his face pale with more than blood loss. “She was on foot as usual, so she likely took a different route than we use with the horses.” He thumped the bed with his fists. “Dang, I
can’t even help find her with this leg!”
“You can stay here in case she comes back before we do. And keep her here,” added Cole. He screwed up his face as if in pain. “If it means holding her in that bed with you, then do it.”
“We can’t tell her why,” said Byron. “She’s more likely to go after them than let us protect her.”
“But if we don’t tell her, she won’t be prepared.”
Byron dropped his head, silently mouthing the words he wasn’t to say aloud. “You’re right. We have to tell her. Otherwise she could—”
“Tell me what?”
Byron whirled around, his knife poised to throw. He recognized the small shape shadowed in the doorway. “Casey! I almost killed you!”
“Tell me what?” she repeated belligerently.
He lowered the knife as she stepped into the kitchen. How much had she heard?
“What’s so all-fired important that you got such a head of steam up about it?”
All three of them stared at her. She rolled her eyes and slammed what she’d been carrying onto the table. Two good-size rock-chucks, already cleaned and skinned. In her other hand were their furs, rolled tight, and her rifle. Her slingshot was stuck in her back right pocket. Byron took a moment to enjoy the curve of her arse. It drew his eyes as much as his hands. Round and firm, he wanted to tug those cheeks apart and slide his cock right into her.
“Y’all keep talking while I work.” She set her rifle by the door before washing her hands. “Pappy said idle hands are the devil’s tools. You folks shore look idle.”
Byron felt her glare like a lightning bolt. He saw a fair amount of hurt in it as well as anger. He knew what he’d feel like if people decided he wasn’t capable of protecting himself. If a person didn’t know about a threat he—or she—would be even more vulnerable.
Casey was a lot like Jessie, so he’d best start thinking on how the Double Diamond men kept Jessie in line. If Ace, Sin, and Henry tried to keep something like this from their woman, she’d rope, hog-tie, and dang near brand them for treating her like a prissy miss.
