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

by Reece Butler

  Gillis, still snickering, followed them across the street.

  “What were you thinking about when your heart started pounding?” asked Cole. He nuzzled her neck.

  Her mouth went dry. Her heart took off again. Surely he didn’t expect her to say it out loud? He turned her to face him, then lifted her chin with a finger. His brown eyes looked darker than she’d ever seen. They almost looked through her, going deep into her soul.

  “Tell me, so I can do it for you.”

  She knew it was a demand, not a request. He was her husband and had the right to demand anything of her. But more, she wanted him to force it out of her. That way she’d have to reason to be ashamed. She tried to drop her head but he held her chin, gently but firmly.

  “Look me in the eyes, Casey. I’m your husband. There’s nothing that you can do or say that will make me angry or that you should be ashamed of.”

  She rolled her lips over her teeth and pressed them together. His face was stern and calm. His whole body radiated power and control. She licked her lips.

  “Remember you said you were going to punish me for going out the hotel window and spying on Sheldrake? Well, I was thinking what you might do to me. What I want you to do to me,” she clarified.

  His eyes widened and his heart pounded harder against her chest.

  “How will I punish you, Casey?”

  His voice, low and distinct, demanded she answer. She shut her eyes, then remembered to open them again. He lifted one eyebrow in a silent demand. She hadn’t thought of this before but knew what she wanted to say.

  “You’ll spank me,” she whispered. She tingled all over. Her head throbbed along with her heart and her pussy.

  “And after I spank you and turn your bottom all rosy, what will I do?”

  Casey panted so hard she felt light-headed. “You’ll put me on my hands and knees and ram your cock into my pussy from behind.” She swallowed. “That way you’ll see what you’d done to my bottom with your hand.”

  His slow smile rose all the way past his eyes. “What did Marshall and Byron do with you while I was in town? Did By take you in the ass last night?”

  She gasped and pressed her legs together at the jolt of need that hit. He waited patiently for her to nod.

  “Did you like it?”

  She had to force herself to keep her eyes on his. Unable to speak, she just nodded.

  “Very good,” he replied as calmly as if they were talking about what to eat for dinner. “We’re going to ride home now. I’ll think about what you said and what I’ll do to you.” He rubbed his hand over her butt cheek. “Whatever I decide to do with you, be sure that your bottom is going to feel my hand first thing.”

  Chapter 32

  Cole helped Casey into the saddle. She could have done it herself, but she was still a bit shaky from their talk, and he did want to touch that arse of hers. Keeping still with no expression on his face while she told him what she wanted had damned near killed him. Riding all the way home with his cock as hard as a railroad spike just might.

  She rode beside him past Baldy’s to the livery stable, where he’d left his horse. He gingerly settled into the saddle and led the way northeast. Damn Byron for keeping him at Baldy’s, matching him drink for drink, until he couldn’t walk. His head still pounded like someone had booted him there.

  No, it wasn’t Byron’s fault, it was his own. He hadn’t wanted to face Casey until he knew what he felt about her actions. He’d settled that out in his mind this morning. He was proud of her for wanting to help, and for her ability, but she was not going to do anything like that again! He would make that very clear in just the way Casey had said. With his hand heating up her ass until she knew who was the man in charge.

  He’d watch, listen, and feel every sniff and gasp, every time she tensed, or moved. And when he could tell she’d had all the spanking she wanted, he’d soothe her.

  And then, dang it, he’d ram his cock in her just like they both wanted!

  His cock reacted, hardening even more. He unbuttoned, needing to release it before it bent in two and broke. He sighed in partial relief. He wasn’t in pain from tight pants, just from his need to hold her, touch her, and be one with her.

  They’d been on Sweetwater Ranch land for a while, rising steadily. He turned to see how Casey was doing. The damn woman had her eyes closed. That sexy smile on her face was because she was grinding her clit into the saddle!

  “That’s it. I’m done,” he muttered.

  He looked around. There was a dip ahead, a sheltered place with trees and a small brook. He was not going to wait any longer to give her what they both wanted. Cole angled away from the path, toward their trysting spot. Casey’s horse followed. He quickly dismounted and took her reins before she even opened her eyes. When she did, she looked around.

  “Get off that horse and drop your pants,” he ordered.

  She reared back, eyes wide. “Here?”

  “What did I say?” She scrambled down and bent to undo her boots. He smacked her bottom. She squeaked and stood upright. “Did I say to take your boots off?”

  “No, sir.”

  He gave her a speaking glance. She gulped and went for her buttons. Her pants dropped to her ankles. Her shirt covered up her pussy and breasts.

  “Shirt off,” he ordered.

  Her fingers trembled, but a moment later she had nothing between her hat and her ankles but skin. Lovely, smooth skin. Her breasts had filled and her nipples grown. A light breeze raised her skin in gooseflesh. He let her wait while he tended the horses. When he returned, she hadn’t moved. It spoke well to her desire for obedience.

  He’d thought about how to do this on the ride from town. The first time he spanked her she lay across his lap, and he’d only given her a few smacks. This time it would be different. He needed to hold her, to have her touching him, so that he could judge when she’d reached her limit. He wanted to give her both comfort and release. He stripped off his shirt so they’d be skin to skin.

  “Come here, Casey.”

  Her feet didn’t move though he saw the jolt that stiffened her.

  “Now. If I have to say it again, your punishment will be worse.”

  She made him wait just a bit longer before shuffling, using tiny steps, over to him.

  “Bend over and hold me. Grab my belt.”

  She took her time but did bend, putting her head under his left arm. Her skin was chilled, but she was breathing fast enough to be warm inside. He wrapped his arm around her, between her waist and breasts. Because she was being obedient, he massaged her breast for a moment. Her grip on him tightened, and she lifted her chest to encourage him. He ended with a brush past her nipples.

  Before she was over the erotic touch, he brought his hand down on her ass. He used the flat of his hand to make a good sound. The sharp crack was immediately followed by her shriek. While he enjoyed her cries, they would echo far beyond their land.

  “You make another sound like that and I’ll double your punishment,” he warned. “You understand me?”

  She nodded. He smacked her again.

  “Yes, sir!”

  He took his time, making her wait for every blow. She jerked every time his hand came down but made no sound. Her butt slowly turned rosy pink. His hand stung, but it was worth it. When she tensed before his hand came down, he knew she’d had enough.

  He slid his hand under her and between her legs. Her thighs were slippery and her pussy sopping. Sure signs that she wanted this as much as he. He ran his wet hand over her cheeks as he looked around. A large tree had been hit by lighting years past. All that was left was the dry, gray trunk about eight feet tall and wide enough to lean against. He just might use this spot another time, maybe tie her to the tree and play captive and warrior.

  “You learned your lesson not to disobey me?”

  “Yes, sir,” she squeaked.

  He released her and gently guided her to stand. He wanted to kiss her, but this wasn’t the time. Sh
e needed to be taken, hard. He placed a horse blanket on the ground, then their shirts.

  “Bend over and take your boots off,” he ordered. She gave him a lovely view of her rosy ass and plump pussy lips as she followed his order. “Kick off your pants and get on your hands and knees with your legs spread,” he ordered.

  She licked her lips and began moving. The sun lit up her pink cheeks. They swayed enticingly with each step. She knelt and then put her hands out, then spread her legs as ordered. Not far enough, but he’d see to that. He walked up behind her and dropped his pants to his ankles.

  The minx tilted her ass at him, silently demanding to be taken. His cock, already hard and leaking, jumped. He knelt behind her, shoving his knees between her own. It forced her to widen her stance. She pushed on her arms, moving her pussy toward his cock. Those demands were not allowed.

  “Drop your head,” he ordered.

  She slowly went to her elbows, cushioning her head between her hands. He rested his hands on her cheeks. They were hot and would be tender. Normally he would play with her clit, pussy, and asshole, giving her an orgasm before he took his own.

  Not today.

  Cole set his cock at her opening, rubbing it to both get it wet and let her know what was coming. He grasped her hips, pulled them toward himself and pushed his thick cock forward.

  Her tight, hot sheath slowly opened for him. He entered her halfway. He waited there, slowly pumping in and out while he admired his work. She panted below him, silently waiting. He rewarded her with some nipple play. Her pussy relaxed. Holding her breasts, he pushed his hips forward until his balls tickled her.

  One hand dropped to her clit, teasing her by not quite giving her what she wanted. She didn’t complain, so he continued. She twitched, clutching at him with her pussy muscles while her fists grabbed the shirt she lay on.

  Casey Wright Taylor was his. His to enjoy and to pleasure.

  He began moving in and out with slow, full thrusts. He gritted his teeth, grimacing to hold back the orgasm that rose like a huge wave. He sped up until he was pounding against her, both of them gasping. Then he lifted her and leaned back, driving himself even deeper.

  She clenched him as she came, gasping and groaning. The wave burst over him. He roared, slamming them together as she keened her release. His orgasm lasted forever as she milked his cock.

  Finally, he collapsed on his side, still connected to her.

  * * * *

  Casey pressed her lips closed as she stirred the stew Cole had bought from Sophie. It wasn’t to keep in complaints about being spanked because, if she was honest with herself, she’d have to say she liked the way the sore tingling made her pussy purr. There was something so arousing about having her pants around her ankles, holding onto Cole as he spanked her. Not in punishment. Not really. Almost before she’d realized it was starting to hurt rather than give a pleasurable sting, he stopped. The spanking was more of a warm-up for the way he’d taken her from behind, hard, just like she wanted.

  He knew what she wanted sometimes before she did. He’d pretty much ignored her when she was dressed as a boy, except to encourage her to relax and trust them. This quiet watching was new. It was like he was trying to do whatever he could to please her, but without her realizing he was doing it.

  “That’s the last of them,” said Cole from the far corner. He carried the hammer and nails to the kitchen area. The nails went in a tin can for straightening and re-use. He set the hammer on the table. “I’ll stir while you take a look in that treasure box of yours.”

  He took the spoon out of her hand, nudged her away with his hip, and took over. She washed her hands and dried them well, not knowing what she would find next. She lifted out a tube of something light. She unrolled it, discovering a wealth of color. She ran her fingers lightly over it. Elizabeth Fenton was stitched in the top right corner with the date, 12 March 1844, at the left.

  “What’s that?”

  “A cross-stitched flower alphabet,” she replied. “Mama must have done this when she was about sixteen.”

  “She sure had a fine hand with a needle,” said Marshall, glancing over. He gave a devilish snicker. “Too bad she didn’t pass it on to you. My leg would’ve looked a lot neater.”

  Byron swatted him in the head, so Casey didn’t bother replying. She set aside the precious hanging and dug into the crate again. She pushed aside straw packing. A set of eight boxes, each the length, width, and height of her hand, appeared. Byron and Marshall helped her carry them to the table.

  “They look breakable,” said Cole from his position by the stove.

  Ten minutes later she had eight fragile teacups and saucers lined up in front of her. Some had delicate flowers painted on them while others were a solid color with a gold or silver detail. None were the same shape or color but each was beautiful.

  “Looks like we’ve got a trip to the sawmill coming up,” said Cole. He looked at his partners. “Casey needs a china cabinet built for her parlor.”

  “My parlor?” She looked up from examining the tiny violets that decorated a cup with a wide bowl.

  “That front room is yours to do with as you like,” said Cole. “A lady needs a place where she can put her special things without worrying about a big lout like Marshall flinging his arm out and breaking something precious.”

  “Why do you always blame me?” demanded Marshall.

  “Of the three of us, you’re the youngest, loudest, and most trouble.”

  Marshall thought for a moment. “And the best looking.”

  She ignored the men’s complaints, thinking instead of what she’d seen on the other ranches. Some cabins had a small space for the wife, even with a bed and a door they could close. There was no bed, or any other furniture, in the Sweetwater’s front room. Yet it was the size of Pappy’s whole cabin. And they would give her the use of it, to do as she wanted?

  “You want it built into a corner, Casey, or have it standing?”

  “We’ll make it free standing,” said Byron before she could answer. “A corner cabinet is too small. You want a bigger one that stands alone so it can be moved.”

  “I don’t need anything,” she said. All three frowned at her. She attempted a smile. “I can pack everything back up again. You’ve got enough to do with—”

  “It’ll be a wedding gift, so don’t you be putting the kibosh on it.” Cole grumbled like John Tanner complaining about his old dog.

  “From all three of us,” added Marshall. “Even Zeus will help.”

  She looked at the growing ball of black and tan fur. By the way his belly curved he’d eaten well. He lay on his side by the stove, fast asleep by Cole’s feet. Cole was stirring the supper she should have made. Byron was already sketching out designs for a cabinet. She looked at Marshall, who gave her a big wink and smile of promise.

  Mama was dead, but she still had Willy, money in the bank, and a grandmother who cared for her. She had three men who cared for her and proved it every day. And she loved every one of them.

  “We love you, Casey,” said Byron. “We want to make you happy.”

  Chapter 33

  A few evenings later Cole watched Casey darn socks by the fire. What she did was so womanly and peaceful, and it meant so much to him. She cared enough to make sure that their feet wouldn’t get any more raw blisters. Their shirts no longer had missing buttons, and she found and repaired every rip. She fed them, sewed them up, and loved them.

  But she was also a battle-scarred warrior. She’d cared for and protected her mother and younger brother as best she could. If there was a God, her father and the man he planned to sell her to would be burning in hell, arms chained above their heads, roasting over a fire while devils jabbed them with poison-filled pitchforks. Yet she was an enthusiastic lover who wanted tender loving one moment and wild abandon the next. She wanted deep kisses, as well as spankings.

  Above all, Casey wanted respect, loyalty, and love. Cole had no problems giving her the first two. It was t
he last one that filled his heart with terror. She was his wife, and would remain so.

  Marshall’s mother had loved him, and his cousin found it easy to love Casey. Byron had known the love of his baby sister. He took his time to make a decision, but once made it was forever, like his love for Casey.

  But Grandma Marshall said Cole’s mother had loved him the best she could. She beat and insulted him on a whim. When she was angry he had “accidents” which could have killed him. He knew Grandma cared, but she rarely showed her affection. Grandpa’s rough hugs were the closest he’d come to feeling wanted and accepted. He thought he’d wanted a wife like Grandma, one who would keep him satisfied. There’d be no wild passion but also no despair.

  And then Casey burst into his life. She’d brought both passion and despair. Passion was easy to accept, but it came at a price.

  When Casey disappeared and he thought he’d lost her forever, it was like the worst of his parents rejecting him along with his grandparents’ deaths. He was furious at her putting him through such pain, but he had caused it by loving her.

  Then he found her, alive and well, and a dam had burst in him. Fear of losing her and relief that she was safe had combined to make him act like an ass.

  He loved Casey’s body, her quick mind, and every other part. He finally realized he’d found an abundance of love, far deeper than he could have imagined. He was no longer jealous of the looks, kisses, and caresses the other ranchers shared with their wives.

  Or the times they played lovers’ games. The men didn’t speak as plainly as Casey said their wives did, but he’d heard rumors that the other wives enjoyed a spanking or two.

  Casey was frowning as she darned, muttering about men wearing out socks. Should he mention that he’d heard her swear? There was a punishment for swearing. They got a mark for each word, and when it reached ten, he and his cousins had to do extra work. It was always nasty chores, such as shoveling out the henhouse.