Their Conquered Bride

by Grace Goodwin

  I tensed, trying to break Ford’s hold on my legs, but Logan shook his head and bit my clit gently in reprimand as Ford tightened his grip. “Don’t move, Lizzie. Your body is ours now. We will make you come, love. We’ll make you scream with pleasure. Just let go.”

  There was nothing I could do but give in to their touch. Ford held me in place, impaled on his hard cock, knees spread wide as Logan worked me with his tongue. It was all so intense that my back arched and my body jerked in an effort to escape the force of the release I felt building.

  “Come for us, Lizzie. Come now.”

  I couldn’t give over on my own, but Ford’s rumbled command somehow pushed me over the edge and I lost control, screaming as my body bucked and shattered on his cock.

  As I settled back to earth, Logan’s kisses on my clit gentled into a warm exploration and I lay languid and spent in Ford’s arms, his cock still buried deep.

  But it wasn’t to last. Logan lifted his head and sat back on his heels in front of me. Before I knew what was happening, Ford lifted us both and repositioned me on my hands and knees, his hard length never leaving my body as he moved behind me. Just as I’d watched the night before.

  Hard hands gripped my hips as Ford pulled out so that just the broad head of his cock nestled inside, then pushed deep once more. His guttural groan of pleasure came with another command. “Logan made you come, love. Now it’s his turn. Take his cock in your mouth.”

  I lifted my head to see Logan’s thick cock within reach. It jutted from his body, dark and angry colored. Fluid seeped from the tip and slid down the thick length. Take his cock in my mouth?

  As I opened my mouth to protest, to question why a woman would do that, Logan’s thick length touched my lips. Ford slammed deep once more, moving my entire body forward, and the thick tip of Logan’s cock filled my mouth. I gasped at the surprise of it all, which made Logan groan.

  “Good girl,” Logan said. “Lick it. Yes, like that.”

  The soft head fascinated me and I ran my tongue along its round rim as Ford pulled out and drove deep yet again.

  Logan’s hands were buried in my hair and I felt his growl of approval as I licked and explored his length. While the woman the night before hadn’t had a cock in her mouth, she’d had two men pleasuring her, just as she’d been pleasuring them. I was the dark-haired beauty between two men, taking one in my mouth as the other fucked me from behind.

  Fantasy merged with reality and I took Logan’s cock deeper, sucking hard and fast before releasing him over and over, mimicking the rhythm of the hard thrust and release of Ford’s cock in and out of my pussy.

  Ford’s hand slid down my back and his thumb brushed over my back entrance. I stilled and moaned around Logan’s cock.

  “Fuck, Ford, do that again,” Logan said, his voice rough like tumbled rocks.

  “Play with her arse?” Ford replied. “You like it when I touch you there, don’t you? She’s squeezing my cock. I don’t know how long I’m going to make it if she keeps doing that.”

  His thumb, slick with my arousal, pressed into me. I wasn’t as stunned by his actions as I should have been, as I would have been if I hadn’t seen the woman the night before. I knew what came next, but Logan’s cock was in my mouth.

  All of a sudden, my body gave way and Ford’s thumb slipped inside. There was a slight burning to being stretched in such a way, but there were too many sensations at once for it to bother me. Ford began to move then, fucking me with his cock and slowly fucking me in my back entrance with his thumb.

  Logan’s fingers tugged on my hair, distracting me from Ford’s ass play. I wanted to make Logan lose control. I wanted both men to be mindless with lust, just like the two men I’d seen that night. I wanted to be the goddess between them now. I was the one who made Logan tug harder. I was the one who made Ford thrust deeper, faster. Me.

  Logan’s cock jumped and bucked against the roof of my mouth and I swallowed down the salty taste of his release. Ford lost all sense of rhythm and fucked me hard, hitting the top of my womb with every thrust of his hips.

  Desperate for breath, I released Logan’s cock from my mouth and tried to force air into my hot lungs. My body spiraled once more, a release just out of reach.

  Logan knelt on the blanket and reached down to lift my chin. I looked up into his dark eyes and saw something there I’d never seen before. I didn’t know if it was love, or lust, or reverence, but the look made me whimper with longing.

  As he lowered his lips to mine, he issued a command to Ford. “Touch her, Ford. She’s riding the edge.” His lips grazed mine, quick and light and too fast. “Aren’t you, my Lizzie?”

  I licked my lips and he took them in earnest, bowing my neck up and back as he took the kiss he wanted from me, a hot, wet duel of thrusting tongues and desperate need.

  He kissed me, pulling on my nipples where they hung down over the blanket as Ford obeyed Logan’s order to reach around my hip and stroke my clit once more.

  Back arched, completely exposed to Ford’s fucking and Logan’s kiss, I shattered into a million stars, my vision hazy. There was no air to breathe, no Elizabeth. I no longer belonged to myself.

  I was theirs now. Forever. In the darkest, neediest place in my soul, I knew the truth and it terrified me. I was tainted. Corrupt. I did not deserve such pleasure and would surely burn in hell for accepting it. My weakness for these men would damn me and my sisters both.

  As my body came down from the spiral of need, I began to cry.

  Ford

  My brain was foggy from the most incredible orgasm of my life and yet instead of having my bride settle comfortably in my arms, she started crying. As soon as I slipped my spent cock from her tight sheath, she stood, albeit on shaky legs, and ran from us.

  I glanced at Logan, who looked as stunned as I felt. She’d come three times. Satisfaction was not her problem. As I tried to understand her reaction, she wandered toward the horses, her back to us. Her hair had come unbound and it hung long down her back, like a black silk curtain.

  I shouldn’t notice her body when she was clearly in distress, but I couldn’t help but glimpse the upturned swell of her breasts. They’d been a handful, heavy and lush. Her nipples were no longer tight peaks, but plump pink buds. Her body was all curves, dips and swells. She was… gorgeous. She was also terribly upset.

  I stood and slowly walked toward her. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Did we hurt you?”

  She shook her head, but with her hands over her face, I couldn’t read her emotions. Her tears didn’t stop. In fact, my concern only made it worse.

  Logan took another blanket from his saddlebag and wrapped it carefully around her shoulders. Instead of saying anything to her, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to the spot where we’d just fucked her.

  “Put me down!” she cried, pushing against Logan’s chest. Her face was splotchy red and tears streaked her cheeks. All her fighting was futile, for Logan settled on the blanket with her on his lap, her head tucked beneath his chin.

  “Shh, it’s all right to cry. Just go ahead and have yourself a good cry and then we’ll talk about it.”

  I’d never heard such a gentle tone from Logan before, but when it came to a crying woman—our crying woman—he’d be whatever she needed.

  Slipping on my pants, I let Logan tend to her as I took care of the horses, removing their saddles. As I did so, I watched as he whispered to her, stroked her back, her soft hair as she cried. She kept at it long after I let the horses graze and joined them.

  When her tears turned to sniffles, Logan used the corner of the blanket to wipe her cheeks. “Now, tell your men what’s wrong. Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head and whispered, “No, I’m not hurt.”

  “Did we scare you?” I asked. We’d been fairly intense, but we’d done nothing but give her pleasure.

  “No.”

  “Then tell us what it is.” When she turned that dark gaze toward me, I saw only sadne
ss.

  “I… I have my mother’s wicked blood in me.”

  Logan looked at me over Lizzie’s head and frowned.

  “Why is her blood wicked?” I wondered. “Lizzie?”

  She sighed. “My mother loved a man who wasn’t her husband. I was born from that union.”

  “You mean she was married and had an affair?”

  Lizzie shook her head. “She fell in love with an Indian, and my grandparents refused the match. I’m proof of their union, of her going against their wishes. She was banished from the family, but before they could marry, he was killed. With nowhere to turn, she went back to her parents. They refused her. She went to live with my uncle, her brother. He… he was not happy, but he was a pious man and charitable to take a fallen sibling into his home.”

  Logan loosened his hold about her, allowing her to sit up. The blanket slid and one pale shoulder was exposed.

  “He married her off to a man from church who would have her—and me. They had Judith and Rebekah. I was very little, but I don’t remember much. I do remember her scent. Lemons and cinnamon. I remember her hair; it was as fair as the girls. She died when I was seven, run down by a stage beside her husband. I think it was from a broken heart.”

  I could see the sadness on her face, hear it in her voice. I could not share the depth of her mourning for a child to lose a parent, but I certainly knew of a loveless—and forced—marriage. I knew the result of it, the hurt, the devastation.

  “My sisters and I were taken in by my uncle.” She shuddered, turning her head to look at me, the bleakness gone from her eyes, replaced by anger. “Judith and Rebekah are perfect. Sweet, kind, meek. Just as young women should be. I am—not.”

  Logan stiffened, but continued to stroke her back through the blanket.

  “You seem pretty perfect to me,” I commented.

  “I have the appearance of my father. A permanent reminder of my mother’s sinful ways. I have her weak will, her tainted blood, her lustful body. She was a whore and now, so am I.”

  She tipped her chin down.

  “A whore? You were a virgin until a few minutes ago and you gave yourself to us, your husbands.”

  “Yes, but there are two of you. And I liked it. I liked having both of you touch me. I liked what you did. It’s not right. It’s just not.”

  While I heard the frustration in her voice and tears filled her eyes again, I could only feel relief. “Liking what your husbands do to you is not shameful.”

  “I’m not supposed to have two husbands!” she shouted. Her voice carried on the slight breeze. The sun was just beginning to set, but the air was still warm as she continued to rant at us.

  “I didn’t reply to your advertisement or agree to be your wife so I could be in a sinful relationship with two men. I am an honorable woman. I gave you my word. I trusted you to do right by me. God, I even brought my sisters with me. I’ve ruined their lives. This is not right. I’m not right.” Her hands twisted in the blanket across her stomach in obvious distress. “My uncle was correct. I must have evil inside me. I’ve ruined everything.”

  Bloody hell. I flicked my gaze to Logan, who closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. We had to tell her the truth. I didn’t want to do it now when she was hurt and sad, but she deserved to know.

  “No, you didn’t. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You answered an advertisement and agreed to marry a sixty-year-old, filthy miner by the name of Samuel Jenkins. He sat at the poker table with his two grown sons, reeking of sweat and piss, bragging about how they were all going to share you between them. Fill you with three Jenkins cocks.”

  I raised my hand to her cheek and tried to soften the blow I’d just dealt. “I took one look at you, love, and knew I could not allow such an evil man to touch you. If your distress is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I lied to the preacher, and I lied to you. I am not Samuel Jenkins.”

  She blinked. Once, then twice. “What?” She scrambled off Logan’s lap as if she’d been scalded, tucking the blanket tightly about her. From the neck down, only one slim ankle was exposed.

  We didn’t move, but Logan grabbed his pants and put them on as I spoke.

  “My name is Ford. That is the truth. My full name is Crawford Michael Ellison, the seventh marquess of Barton.”

  Her mouth fell open. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at Logan. “Then who are you?”

  “I’m Logan Smythe. Son of a merchant. A soldier. And your husband.”

  With one hand clenching the blanket she pointed between the two of us. “You planned this. You tricked me. Why? Why me? My sisters are beautiful, and, and pure. Not like me.” She laughed then. “God, it’s amazing. You stole the wrong woman, for you have married a half-breed bastard with tainted blood.”

  She knelt down and grabbed her dress, turned her back and dropped the blanket to don it. I could see my seed dripping down her thighs mingled with her virgin’s blood.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  Once she had her arms through the sleeves, she spun around and spoke as her fingers moved up the buttons, hiding her curves as she went. She was too angry to realize she had not put on any undergarments.

  “Going? Back to Hayes to find the real Mr. Jenkins. I don’t believe you. He courted me. Wrote me letters. You’ve lied about everything else, why should I believe you about him?”

  “That’s it? You’re going to go back to search for a vile, disgusting liar, just because he was supposed to be your husband?”

  “Yes. I’m no longer virgin, but perhaps he’ll forgive me.” Squatting down, she tried to lift one of the saddles, but she only moved it a foot or two before she grunted and exhaled. The horse was grazing a short distance away, but there was no way she could toss it over the animal’s back. She hadn’t even put the blanket on first. “I have to do the right thing. Going back is the honorable thing to do.”

  I think I fell in love with her in that moment. She was riled, her cheeks flushed from her ire, her hair a wild tangle, long down her back. She was breathing hard and I couldn’t help but watch the gentle sway and press of her breasts against the front of her dress. Knowing that she was sticky with my seed only added to the possessive heat flooding my chest. She was fierce and loyal and stubborn and passionate and… needy.

  She needed a man who would see her passionate nature for what it was: a priceless gift given to a vibrant woman. The fact that she loved the way I’d fucked her, had come from both my cock and Logan’s mouth meant our connection was powerful, not that she was tainted. She was perfect. She was mine. She was ours. We simply had to earn her loyalty. She would be the perfect wife, a powerful and fiercely protective mother to our children and a wild vixen in bed. We just had to make her fall in love with us.

  Chapter Eight

  Elizabeth

  I was married to the wrong man! A marquess? Whatever the heck did that mean? It didn’t mean a darn thing to me. He was a liar and a thief. And he wasn’t Mr. Jenkins. I was married to a man who lied to a preacher. I was married to a man who shared me with his friend. And I’d liked it.

  No, worse, I’d loved it. I’d come all over his cock and wanted more.

  My tears fell once again.

  Hadn’t I cried enough? I tugged at the saddle for a third time. It was too heavy. There wasn’t a chance I could lift it onto the horse so I could ride back to town.

  Very well. I’d walk. I stood and wiped my cheeks and headed back the direction we’d come.

  “Where are you going?” Ford asked.

  “Hayes.”

  “The sun is about to set. It’s five miles away and you aren’t wearing shoes.”

  “No water. No food,” Logan added. “And there are snakes.”

  I stilled then, feeling the cool grass beneath my feet. It was lush and green here by the water’s edge, but it would soon become tall and dry. I knew how far we’d come and I certainly couldn’t make the return trip on foot. My fancy high-heeled boots weren’t made for trudging across empty prairi
e, nor were my bare feet.

  My legs collapsed and I dropped to the ground in a swirl of my long dress.

  I heard the men’s footsteps.

  “Go away.” I didn’t look at them. I never wanted to see them again. Ever.

  “You’re my wife. I won’t ever leave you.” Ford’s words should have been a balm, but were an irritant instead, reminding me I was stuck with him. For the rest of my life, unless I could get back to town and find Mr. Jenkins. Get the marriage annulled.

  But they’d taken my maidenhead, consummated the vows. Was an annulment even possible? And if I went back to town, would Ford get into trouble? Had he broken the law? And why did I care? Why did I have this stupid weakness where he and Logan were concerned? I wanted to slap his face so hard I’d leave a welt for the lies he’d told. But I knew I would also long to crawl into his lap and kiss it better. Angry as I was, I still wanted to kiss them, feel the scrape of their beards on my lips and between my spread thighs, the rough edges of them both nudging my breasts and parting my knees.

  God, what a mess. I was a mess. My confusion was like oil poured on a fire, making me even angrier.

  “You achieved exactly what you wanted, sir. Or is it my Lord?” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out over the knee-high grass that bent and swayed in the breeze. Far off, a prairie hawk cried out, circling high above the land, gliding with such peace and grace that, for a moment, I wished I were a bird, not a woman. Life would be so much simpler.

  “It’s Ford. I’m just Ford. And what exactly did I achieve?”

  I knew he stood behind me, but he did not come closer, did not attempt to touch me.

  “Fucking. You fucked me just as you wanted. Like I was a whore to be mounted.” The hawk dove to the ground as I watched and my anger rode with it. I imagined the feel of a mouse’s head crushed by hard talons, the wild joy of ripping the small, helpless animal to shreds with a sharp beak.

  “Yes, I did. We both did. We fucked you hard, Lizzie. We made you beg and scream.” He bent low over my shoulder, his lips inches from my ear, his hot breath a torment on my still sensitive skin. “And we’re going to do it again.”