Their Wayward Bride

by Vanessa Vale

  My muscles relaxed. "Then we are done."

  Brody pulled his head back enough so I could see his face. Pale eyes that showed tenderness, eagerness. Need. "We are far from done."

  As Brody said that, Mason touched me in a place that felt like I was struck by lightning, a searing heat shooting through my body. "Oh my god," I moaned.

  "Her clit is hard."

  "Her nipples tightened in my palm. Do it again."

  The men spoke of my body as if it belonged to them, as if it was theirs to touch and work. For they were most assuredly working my body. I had no idea such feelings could be elicited. And there, between my thighs, I was wet. The sound of Mason's finger slipping through it was loud in the room. When his finger brushed over me there again, my clit he'd called it, my eyes slipped shut and my head fell back against his shoulder. All of a sudden I felt overheated.

  "See, so perfect," Brody commented, continuing to play with my nipple.

  Mason kissed the length of my neck and shivers ran down my spine. I didn't know I could shiver and be so warm. How could a beard be so...carnal? He must have been glancing down at what Brody's hands were doing. "Gorgeous. So responsive. Pinch it."

  Brody did and I groaned. The feeling was a mixture of pain and pleasure.

  "She likes a little bit of pain," Brody commented.

  I was lost. Completely and totally lost to whatever these two men were doing to me. I knew it was wrong, I'd been told by the teachers at school not to succumb to a man's attentions, knew even more that two men should not be touching me in such a way, let alone at all. But there was nothing I could do except succumb, not because I didn't think they would stop, for I knew deep down that these men would halt their attentions if I truly wished it. I could only give in because it felt...so...good. Mason's finger continued to flick over my clit, to rub the side of it in a way that had me shifting my hips as if trying to reach something. My mouth fell open and my breath escaped in little pants.

  "It's too much. Oh. Please!" I stiffened in their arms, unfamiliar with the overwhelming feelings they wrought from my body. I'd never felt like this before. I was out of control; my body climbing and climbing toward...something and it was scary. I clawed at Brody's arms.

  "That's it, sweetheart. Shh. We've got you. You're going to come and we'll be here to catch you," Brody murmured.

  "You're safe," Mason added as he worked my clit with even more vigor. I couldn't take it any longer. Their words of holding me, watching me, keeping me safe helped. I relaxed enough and the pleasure so intense that I shattered into a million pieces. It was as if my body had been held together and their touches had broken me apart. I couldn't do anything but succumb. The feeling was absolutely amazing and I never wanted it to end.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MASON

  She'd come apart in our arms so beautifully. Her arousal coated my hand, so hot, so slick. I shifted and pulled Laurel with me so she was once again on her back between us. Propped up on my elbow, I raised my dripping fingers to my mouth and licked her essence off the tips. Her taste was so sweet it made my mouth water with eagerness to slide down her body and taste her arousal directly from the source. My cock was so hard it throbbed, desperate to sink into her, to claim her. Not now though. I'd have to wait. We'd have to wait. Like she'd said, she was saving her virginity until marriage. That would happen as soon as the weather cleared and we could get the justice of the peace or the minister out to the ranch and the “I do's” spoken, and not five minutes more.

  The blanket had slipped down her body as she'd cried and I'd pulled it to her waist when Brody had distracted her with his nipple play. Her skin was so pale that pale blue veins could be seen, so silky soft I was afraid I'd mar her with my calloused palms. When she'd inadvertently shown us her arse and a hint of her pussy, I'd almost come then and there. Her hair was the fieriest shades of red. Everywhere.

  And now, now she lay with her eyes closed, replete, a small smile curving her full lips, completely unaware of anything but her first orgasm, even the fact that she was bare to the waist. There was no doubt that had been her first pleasure. She'd been too scared of it, too overwhelmed by its intensity for it to be a familiar occurrence.

  Her hair was a tangle on the pillow, so long, so thick. Her eyelashes so long, her.... I was turning into a romantic, all at the sight of a naked woman. She wasn't the first I'd seen, but most definitely the last. She was ours.

  "What was that?" she asked, her voice as soft and slow as honey.

  "That was your men pleasing you."

  Her eyes opened and panic flared the moment she returned to herself. The moment after that was when she realized she was uncovered to her waist. To say her breasts were lovely was an understatement. They were large, easily a handful, with plump coral nipples. Her figure was lush, ample and when I'd slid my hands over her, her curves were soft and plentiful, something to hold onto when fucking.

  She sat up and crossed her arms over her chest to cover herself. Her hair slid long and wild down her back to touch the sheet behind her. "I shouldn't have allowed you such liberties. It isn't right."

  Brody lay back on his pillow, tucked an arm behind his head. I pushed up to sit beside her, much less concerned for modesty than she. "Why isn't this right?" I asked.

  "I don't know you and we just...you...." She couldn't find the right words to explain the emotions and the reasons for why what we’d done was wrong. She just knew it to be so.

  "Last night, when I held you, did it seem wrong?"

  She shook her head.

  "Were you afraid?"

  She licked her lips. "No, I was so cold, so afraid I was going to die and then you were there."

  "It felt right, didn't it, sweetheart?" I asked. "There's something special here, between the three of us. You felt it then and you just felt how good it can be, how we can make you feel. It's not wrong."

  Tucking her hair behind her ear, she looked up at me with her green eyes, unconvinced. She was a well-bred lady, not a woman from the brothel in town. She'd been told all her life to protect her virtue. Thankfully she'd heeded those warnings, for she'd saved herself for us, but she would have to fight those social standards perhaps more than Brody or I. It would take time and gentle coaxing and persuasion. "Please get me my dress."

  Because of her skittishness, there was no time like the present to continue her lesson. If she was to be our wife, she needed to become familiar with her husband's bodies, and teaching her when she was sated from her first orgasm was the perfect time. It was her job to tend to our needs just as much as ours to see to hers. Tossing back the covers, I stood, offering her the expanse of my back first, then turned to place my hands on my hips. My cock was hard. Hard enough to pound nails. The blunt head was an angry red color, and it pulsed, eager to fuck. It curved upward toward my navel and my balls hung heavily below. If she hadn't seen a cock before—and the way her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide and ogling it—she was in for quite a learning experience.

  "Your dress is most likely still sodden from the snow. You may wear a shirt of mine."

  She wasn't listening, wasn't doing anything but staring.

  "What's the matter, sweetheart?" Brody asked. He pushed the blankets down to uncover his own cock, equally aroused and ready as mine.

  Laurel shook her head and glanced over her shoulder at Brody, only to see his cock. She scooted back on her arse toward the end of the bed and faced us both, pointing at our cocks. "They're really big. Um...they couldn't...I mean....never mind."

  We'd stunned her speechless. Brody grinned wickedly, keeping one hand tucked behind his head, as the other gripped his cock at the base and started stroking it up and down as a drop of clear fluid seeped from the tip.

  "Have you ever seen a cock before?" I asked as I took mine in hand.

  She shook her head, then licked her lips. Brody groaned.

  "Then we'll give you a lesson in cocks, shall we? Our cocks are ready for fucking. They're big. They're hard. See
the veins running up the length? Seeing your gorgeous hair down makes me hard."

  "Seeing your nipples does it for me," Brody added. "Your breathy little pants almost had me coming."

  "Feeling your pussy lips and strumming your clit almost finished me off. Everything about you, Laurel, makes us hard."

  Brody pushed up onto his knees, working his cock. "Seeing you like this, in my bed, looking at us with those gorgeous emerald eyes, I'm going to come. Do you want to help me, sweetheart?"

  Her mouth fell open. "Help? How? Will it hurt?"

  Brody indicated with his chin. "Give me your hand." He released his hold on the base of his cock and held his hand out to her. After biting her lip and considering, she placed her hand in his.

  I groaned at her innocence. "Move closer to Brody, Laurel. You're safe."

  She looked up at Brody's face then closed the distance between them. He placed her hand on his cock and her eyes widened.

  "It's so hard and hot and smooth."

  Brody grinned, but his jaw clenched tight. My cock ached just seeing her tiny hand on him. "Like this," he said, placing his hand on top of hers and moving them in smooth strokes.

  "Such a good girl. Your hand feels so good. I'm going to come all over you."

  I continued to stroke my cock as I watched Laurel's face when the first pulse of Brody's seed coated her breasts and belly. Brody groaned as her hand continued to pump up and down his length, his cum landing on her in thick ribbons. Laurel looked down her body at the white viscous seed.

  "I love seeing my seed on you, sweetheart. Marks you as mine." Brody breathed heavily, yet his muscles had relaxed, his body sated. He took her hand off his spent cock. "Let Mason feel your hand rubbing the cum from his cock. It's his turn."

  She glanced at me over her shoulder, then crawled over to me. Like Brody, I took her hand and placed it on my cock, hissing out a breath as her fist squeezed by dick. Unlike Brody, I didn't have to show her how to move her hand; she was a fast learner.

  I took in the thick ropes of cum on her breasts, the furled pink nipples, her fiery thatch of hair. I'd been ready since I felt her woman's form for the first time in the snowstorm. Now, seeing her naked and feeling her hand work over my cock, my balls drew up tight as my orgasm came from my spine and into my cock, forcing my seed out in thick jets, crisscrossing and covering Laurel's breasts with my cum. Pulse after pulse I coated her, my seed copious. I couldn't escape the groan as I thrust my hips forward, the pleasure overwhelming. I put a steadying hand on the headboard as my senses returned.

  LAUREL

  I was hungry, ravenously so, my last meal a hasty slice of bread with cheese as I left Father's house yesterday. It was this need and this need alone that had me seated at the kitchen table in a man's shirt. And only a shirt.

  After Mason had come, the men had me spread their white, thick seed over my breasts and belly, as if coating myself with something as everyday as lotion. I'd wanted to clean myself of the residue, but the men had refused, offering me not a wet cloth but instead a soft flannel shirt. Brody had rolled up the sleeves to my wrists as Mason buttoned it, covering me down to my knees so that my modesty was intact. Barely.

  The food Brody served had my stomach grumbling and I relished every bit of the eggs, ham, bread, sliced potatoes and coffee, but it was hard to stomach my predicament. I'd done things with these men I never knew possible. I'd behaved wantonly, and they must consider me the lowest of the low. I was a fallen woman. My virginity was maintained, but that was really all. If I continued to allow them liberties, would they let me go once the snow abated?

  I glanced out the window to see white. Only white. The wind had tapered to nothing, but the snow still fell. It was much improved from the night before, but I was not interested in going out in it any time soon. I shivered at the very possibility. There was no escape, at least for the moment, even if I wished it. I didn't even know where my clothes were. The kitchen's stove made the room warm and I was not chilled in just Mason's shirt. I'd most certainly learned my lesson about being unprepared outdoors.

  I was trapped. Trapped with men who thought I was a slattern and were using me thusly. Once I was able to depart, Mr. Palmer most assuredly wouldn't want me any longer. That was an unforeseen perk. However, my chances for any other man were gone as well. I was used goods.

  "How was it that you were out last night?" Mason asked, cutting a thick slice of ham.

  I looked up at him, patted my lips with my napkin. I couldn't tell him the truth, at least the whole of it. Even though they'd rescued me from certain death, I didn't know the reach of my father's control. If they worked for my father, or with my father, they'd have me thrown over a horse and hauled to church to marry Mr. Palmer in a man's shirt. No. I couldn't risk it. It was safer to lie, at least in part, to protect myself. I could maintain most of the tale, but couldn't risk a connection with my father. I was not known in Simms, or anywhere in the area, by sight. Nolan Turner had a daughter, but the last time anyone in the Montana Territory had seen her was almost fifteen years ago. Unfortunately, I'd told them my real name in bed, but only my first name. The men looked at me, waiting, so I kept as close to the truth as possible, while staying safe.

  "I...I was to marry a man I did not wish."

  "You are affianced?" Brody questioned.

  "Not officially. I learned my father arranged the marriage as part of a business contract. He gained a long term alliance and the other man gained a wife."

  "What was so lacking in this man?"

  "Youth, agility and kindness," I replied succinctly. "You find it odd I have qualifications for a husband?"

  Brody shook his head. "Some women don't."

  I pursed my lips. "He's well over twice my age, is rotund and has jowls from overindulgence and shared some less than pleasant plans for me."

  "What kinds of plans did he share with you?" Brody asked, his jaw clenched tight. He ran his hand over the shadow of pale whiskers.

  I blanched at the memory. Mr. Palmer had leaned in close enough for me to smell his foul breath and whispered tawdry things in my ear. "He...he intended to tie me to the bed and take me until his seed took root." I kept my gaze pinned to my hands folded in my lap.

  "That idea repulses you?" Mason asked.

  I whipped my head up and narrowed my eyes, shocked. "Yes! Everything about that man is repulsive."

  "It isn't the idea of being tied up and fucked that bothers you. You've thought about his words, being fucked hard and long, over and over, filling you with seed until your belly is ripe. You're squirming in your chair so it's obvious to me—"

  "Me, as well," Brody cut in.

  "—that it is something that interests you. But not with this man."

  I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. Was this the case? Were the man's words so awful just because he would do those things to me? I glanced at Brody and Mason who were awaiting my answer. If these men had me tied to a bed, the idea held...appeal. I did squirm, my...pussy awakening once again at the very idea. I refused to admit the truth, although they seemed to recognize it before I.

  "When was this marriage to occur?" Mason asked.

  "Today."

  "You went out into a blizzard, risking death, because of your impending wedding?" He looked at me with a combination of surprise and anger.

  Folding my hands in my lap, I straightened my posture. "I did not know it was to be a blizzard. It was barely flurrying when I rode out, so do not think me insane. Would you wish to be married to a man who was cruel, unappealing and old? I assure you, his actions would be akin to rape."

  "He will not touch you," Mason growled. He stood, the feet of his chair scraping across the wood floor. The adamance of his words sounded possessive. "You almost died out there. The man almost drove you to suicide." He waved his hand toward the window where the snow still fell. It had lessened over the course of our meal, but it was still a winter wonderland.

  "Your father will search for you. Without you, there
is no deal." He gripped the back of his chair, his knuckles white.

  "Both men will search for her," Brody added.

  "Yes, I do not know who has more at stake." Mr. Palmer's interest was greater than avarice. He saw something in me that set me apart, a condition in a contract unlike any other. When he discovered I was tainted goods, my father would become irate. There was no chance I could make either man happy.

  "Who is your father? Surely if you're from Simms he is familiar to us." Brody set his forearms on the table. "You should be familiar to us."

  Here is where I had to lie. I couldn't tell them my father's name. I'd been back only a week and in that short time I knew the man's power. He'd held me prisoner at a school in Denver for almost my entire life. I knew more than anyone his control.

  "Hiram Johns." It was the first name that came to mind, the name of the riding instructor at school in Denver.

  The men looked at each other, but said nothing.

  "The snow is to our advantage. They will not search for you until the weather improves. Any trail you may have made is buried under a foot of snow." Brody tipped his chair back onto two legs.

  "They will search in town and toward Virginia City, not this way. At least not to start," Mason added.

  "We have today at least, I expect, before they show," Brody replied. The men glanced at each other briefly and seemed to speak to each other without words.

  "There is much to do."

  I had a suspicion they weren't speaking about ranch chores.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BRODY

  I was standing at the pump sink washing the breakfast dishes while Mason showed Laurel our collection of books. Our library wasn't extensive, but something should interest her on a snowy day. The idea of spending it with her was a perk neither I nor Mason, had anticipated. She was a perk we had not anticipated.

  The story Laurel told was a mixture of truth and lies. It was obvious to me, and Mason as well, that she was hiding something. Her name was Laurel. She'd told us when we first brought her in from the cold without a chance to think. I believed she was intended to marry a man not of her choosing. I believed her father had made a business arrangement of it. But that was all. There was no man named Hiram Johns in Simms or even in the outlying areas. No one moved into the area without the news of it spreading like wildfire at the mercantile. Everyone at Bridgewater had a vested interest in keeping abreast of the latest news, especially relating to new faces. Evers, our former regimental leader, was always at the back of our minds and whether the bloody bastard would track us down halfway around the world and find us. He'd pinned his heinous crimes from our military stint in Mohamir, a small middle eastern country, on Ian and it was only a matter of time before the past returned. We'd fled to the United States, traveled all the way to the Montana Territory to find a swath of land we called Bridgewater. We ran it together, our common home. We were always vigilant for danger of any kind.