Their Conquered Bride E-Book

Grace Goodwin

• Herausgeber: Grace Goodwin
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Bridgewater Ménage Series
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

This mail-order bride was meant for another... but nothing will stop these two sexy cowboys from claiming her, even if it means impersonating the groom.The Wild West of 1885 Montana is about to get a little wilder...Elizabeth Lewis was born out of wedlock and although her mother later married, Elizabeth lived her entire life branded by her mother's single night of reckless passion. Her life takes a turn for the worse when her stepfather dies, leaving her fate, along with that of her two half-sisters, in the hands of a cruel and judgmental uncle. Rather than accept an arranged marriage to a man three times her age, Elizabeth decides to take her chances in the Montana Territory as a mail order bride. It couldn't be any worse, or could it?Ford Ellison and Logan Smythe are heading west after long years of service on foreign soil. A twist of fate lands them at the poker table across from a vile man by the name of Samuel Jenkins. He and his grown sons are bragging to all who will listen about how they plan to share the unsuspecting woman who's responded to their advertisement for a bride. When their virginal, perfect bride arrives by stage, she'll be in for quite a horrible surprise.Ford and Logan take one look at the lovely Elizabeth and know they can't allow that kind of evil to touch her, even if it means telling a little white lie. The only way to save her is to marry her themselves, and the only way to convince beautiful, honorable Elizabeth to go along is to assume the identity of one twisted, evil man by the name of Samuel Jenkins. Ford and Logan are convinced all they need is time, time to conquer Elizabeth's body and to win her heart.USA Today Bestseller Grace Goodwin joins USA Today Bestseller Vanessa Vale in Bridgewater, Montana: Where ménage meets marriage.Publishers Note: Their Conquered Bride is a stand-alone book set in the same world as Vanessa Vale's Bridgewater Ménage Series.Other books in the Bridgewater Menage Series:Their Runaway Bride- Book .5Their Kidnapped Bride- Book 1Their Wayward Bride- Book 2Their Captivated Bride- Book 3Their Treasured Bride- Book 4Their Christmas Bride- Book 5Their Reluctant Bride- Book 6Their Stolen Bride- Book 7Their Brazen Bride- Book 8Plus... Their Conquered Bride by Grace Goodwin

Leseprobe

Their Conquered Bride

Bridgewater Ménage Series - Book 10

Grace Goodwin

Their Conquered Bride: Copyright © 2016

by Grace Goodwin 

Published by KSA Publishers

Goodwin, Grace

Their Conquered Bride

Cover Copyright © 2016 by Grace Goodwin

Images/Photo Credit: Hot Damn Stock; BigStock: krisrobin

Publisher’s Note:

This book was written for an adult audience. The book may contain explicit sexual content. Sexual activities included in this book are strictly fantasies intended for adults and any activities or risks taken by fictional characters within the story are neither endorsed nor encouraged by the author or publisher.

Contents

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

A special THANK YOU to my readers...

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1

Elizabeth

I leaned my elbows on the dried wood railing on the small balcony of our second floor hotel room and sighed. The dark night did nothing to hide a woman’s cries coming from the room next door. I should have been sound asleep hours ago, blissfully unaware at this time of night, except I was restless and worried. Soon I would no longer be Miss Elizabeth Lewis. No, in two short days I would meet my new husband, Mr. Samuel Jenkins, and pray that he looked upon me with favor. A bit of desire would be nice as well.

When a woman’s soft calls reached my ears, I tossed back the tangled covers and followed the noises outside to peek into the next room, worried that the cries she made were caused by pain. As my bare feet pressed to the wooden planks under me, the unmistakable sounds of carnal pleasure reached my ears.

She wasn’t in pain, at least not the kind she might want to escape.

I would not look.

I would not look.

Damn it. I looked, and clenched my legs together at the scene playing out. This woman was most definitely not being harmed. With their balcony door wide open to take in the warm night air and the candles lit on the small nightstand, I could easily see into their room.

On the bed, a woman was on her hands and knees being fucked from behind, her long dark hair swinging in a wild braid over her shoulder, half of it loose and falling. While I was a virgin, I knew exactly what the word fucking meant; I’d just never seen people doing it.

My first thought was that she was a prostitute, for surely no decent woman would be so eager or willing, so dirty. I had spent many sleepless nights imagining fucking. I’d thought the woman would be on her back, legs spread, but this… oh my! My imagination had not done it justice, for I had expected the act to occur between a woman and a man, not a woman and two men! Two! The shock of this vision was so carnal and wicked that my pussy clenched beneath my nightgown and I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.

The animalistic sounds escaping from the woman’s throat made me bite my lip and hold back a moan of my own. My heart skipped a beat as the woman’s cries of encouragement reached me.

“God, do it, Xander. Do it. Fuck me harder. Fill me up.” The woman was a dark-haired beauty, lush and curvy, just like me, which was a curse because it wasn’t difficult to imagine myself there, between the two handsome men, begging to be taken and used, begging for more. The man behind her, Xander, had dark hair and a rugged beard. He was pure muscle, his firm grip on her hips nearly lifting the woman off the bed, her breasts swaying, with each hard thrust as he plundered her with his hard cock. I watched as the thick length disappeared inside her pussy over and over, coated and glistening with her wet welcome. He wasn’t gentle with her, just as she’d begged.

“Fuck, Tyler, she’s so tight. Do you think she’s ready to take both of us?” Xander asked, his voice dark and rough. I watched, mesmerized by the way the taut muscles in his buttocks and lower back flexed every time he pushed inside her. Xander was stockier, with a massive chest and muscled body I longed to touch. It was his thick cock that had me mesmerized, easily the size of my wrist. My own pussy clenched at the thought of being breached by something so massive.

Where Xander was dark, Tyler was fair and beautiful as he knelt in front of the woman, his long cock jutting from the light-colored nest of curls between his bent legs. She stroked him with her hand, from the thick base to the flared crown. I wanted to be that woman, taken by one dark angel and one light. A striking contrast.

It wasn’t just the sound of Xander’s hips slapping her bare bottom with each stroke, or the wet, slippery sounds of fucking that made me shiver in the night, unable to move, unable to look away. No, it was her face, her moans and gasps as he struck her bare bottom with his hand. Hard. He was spanking her!

“Please. Please. Please.” Her breathy requests were timed to the deep plunge of the giant cock into her pussy and I reached down over my gown to touch myself there, in the forbidden place, in the one place I was taught never, ever to touch.

“Emily, you know better,” Xander warned. “I tell you when to come. I say when, love, or you will be punished.” He spanked her again as he pulled back, then drove home. She groaned in response as the skin on her bottom turned a dark shade of pink. “You’re going to take us both, sweetheart. You love when Tyler’s in your pussy while I fuck that snug ass.”

Tyler waited for Xander’s nod before shifting position to lie flat on his back on the bed, his cock rising from his body like a sword, a weapon. He caught the woman by her long dark hair and I imagined that hard pull on my scalp, used my free hand to pull on my own hair just as he tugged on hers and he issued his first command. “Crawl over the bed and ride me, baby. Now.”

Emily whimpered, but it was because as she moved, Xander slipped from her. I could see her pussy open and wet, red and swollen. Well used and yet they weren’t done. Xander’s fingers slid through her wetness to touch her back entrance and I bit my lip as I noticed the tip of his finger disappearing inside her. I saw the forbidden hole glistening as Xander painted it with her desire.

Tyler smiled and pulled harder on her hair, so I pulled on my own, my hand over my own sensitive nub speeding up to match the rhythm of Xander’s hands stroking her from ass to pussy as she pulled away from him. She stopped halfway to her destination and pulled back, yanking away from the hand in her hair to shove her wet pussy against Xander as he fucked her with his fingers. “Please.”

Xander laughed and struck her bare bottom so hard I could see another handprint from the balcony, the pink sting on her naked flesh. “You’re not in control, sweetheart. Tsk, tsk. You should know better. I decide when to fuck you. I decide how wide to spread that pretty little ass.” He spanked her again and she moaned, leaning down to rub her hard nipples along Tyler’s hard, hairy thighs. “Now, get up there and ride Tyler’scock like a good girl. Let him feel how hot and wet you are.”

She scrambled to do as instructed and eagerly sank onto Tyler’s cock until the cheeks of her bottom were spread so wide across his hips that I could see the tight rose of her backside. She leaned over and captured her lover’s lips in a hot duel of tongues as Xander crawled onto the bed and settled behind her. He pulled and tugged on her bottom, spreading her open until I could see the soft, glistening pink of her wet pussy stretched around the base of Tyler’s cock. He spanked her ass again, over and over as she moaned and cried out, most of her cries buried in a deep and thorough kiss.

I rubbed my own tender flesh faster and harder, desperate to be filled with something to ease the ache, but I knew that would be too much to explain away should my sisters wake from where they slept in the bed behind me. A hand outside my gown I could explain away, but my nightgown up around my hips and my own fingers deep inside my wet pussy? Well, that one would mark me as the dirty, naughty girl my uncle had accused me of being.

God help me, he was right. I was unclean. Disgusting. No pure woman should feel wet heat sliding down her thighs simply from watching another woman, most likely a prostitute, enjoying two men.

Hell, no decent woman should watch this at all, but I wasn’t decent. I was broken. Damaged goods. My mother’s passionate nature was in my blood. I’d been corrupted by evil since before my birth and had never been able to recover no matter how hard I tried.

And I did try. I spent countless hours on my knees, begging the good Lord to take away my sinful thoughts, my lustful body, the ache between my thighs that longed to be touched. But he never answered my prayers.

I ached. I wanted. I lusted.

So when Tyler pulled and tugged on the woman’s nipples, I tugged on my own, mimicking his movements exactly. Xander rubbed some kind of oil over her back entrance and, using his thick thumb, worked it deep inside her. I moaned, then held my breath, hoping I hadn’t just given myself away.

No. The woman made noise of her own, more than covering for my lapse of control.

As Xander aligned his thick cock behind her, I shuddered. I had never imagined this. Not in a hundred thousand years would I have ever imagined something so wicked. I should look away. I should go back into my room and curl up on the floor next to my sisters’ bed and sleep.

I should at least try to save my soul, but just as my uncle had accused me, I was corrupted because I could not tear my eyes away from the sight of Xander’s giant cock beginning to stretch her forbidden place wider and wider.

Emily panted and gasped as he entered her slowly, Tyler still balls deep in her pussy, still playing with her hard nipples, still pulling on her hair.

I shuddered as my hand moved faster and faster. I wanted to feel it all, but I only had two hands, and one of them had to be on my clit.

The two men moved opposite one another, one filling her pussy as the other pulled out of her bottom, then reversing course.

She begged them to go faster. Begged them to let her come, but all her words earned her was another hard spanking and a reprimand from the dark-haired Adonis behind her. “You don’t come until I give you permission.”

“Yes, sir. Please. Please. I can’t wait anymore.”

The men glanced at each other—they worked in perfect harmony to give the woman pleasure—and Tyler, buried in her wet pussy, slid his hand first to her hip, which made her beg him to hurry, then between their bodies to the sensitive flesh on a woman’s body. I, too, stroked the same place beneath my gown.

The dominant one, Xander, fucked her harder and faster in her ass as Tyler worked her clit and pulled her hair, hard, arching her back and neck up toward the ceiling, opening her for their possession. They were thorough lovers, but still gentle with her. They watched her closely to ensure her pleasure, to ensure she was loving everything they were doing. “We know how you like it. Hard and deep. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes, sir. Please!”

“Arch your back. Get your ass in the air. We’ll give you what you need.”

She was shaking now, sweat dripping down her temples to roll down her neck to her breasts. Tyler licked it from her skin and I shuddered nearly as much as the woman who enjoyed the harsh rasp of his tongue.

With a grunt, Xander struck her bare bottom hard, over and over as she bucked and whimpered. I couldn’t imagine her liking how rough they were with her, but she did. She was wild as she was completely taken by both of them.

Finally, Xander set her free.

“Come now. Come all over us.”

It was like he was talking to me.

I shattered, right there on the balcony, my release rushing over me as the woman found hers.

It was the most erotic thing I’d ever done. The dirtiest. As my pussy convulsed and my body quaked, out of control, I kept my eyes squarely on the trio, watched the slide of wet cock in and out of her pussy, the hard thrust of the other in her bottom, and I envied her.

I wanted that, even a man’s cock in my bottom. Not some dirty old miner more than twice my age. I wanted a young man desperate to take me, to make me his. I wanted raw animal passion and a man who would make me shatter into a thousand pieces from pleasure.

I was jealous of a prostitute, and that proved once and for all that my uncle was right to send me away. He was right to disown me. I was dirty, my thoughts unclean. I was a bad, bad girl. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop.

Mr. Jenkins was my future, my soon-to-be husband. He would lay with me and make me his. I could hope there was passion in our bed. I did hope. I hoped he filled me with his cock and made me lose control, made me beg for release. And if not, then I had what I’d just seen to keep me warm on cold nights.

Tomorrow the stage would take me to Hayes where I would I start my new life as a respected, pious, perfect wife.

Tomorrow, I would be perfect. Tonight?

Tonight I would dare to imagine myself in that room, between those two men, being fucked until I collapsed into a weak puddle on my lover’s chest.

2

Ford

“She’ll be here any day now.” The bastard sitting across from me at the gambling table clenched his teeth around a stub of a cigar. “My mail-order bride.”

Logan and I, along with Evan, sat around the card table with the filthy old man playing poker. I caught his name when he and his two sons first sat down. Samuel Jenkins. With him were his two grown sons, Tad and Harry. The saloon was rowdy and crowded due to the afternoon’s cattle drive. The cattle arrived and brought with them a bunch of men who longed for cheap whiskey and loose women.

Logan, Evan and I, along with nine other men, were just passing through this town on our way to the Bridgewater Ranch and were eager to see the town behind us. If these three Jenkins men were the kinds of folk who lived here, I didn’t want to meet any more. They’d been talking nonstop, not of their bride, the innocent woman scheduled to arrive from Omaha in two days’ time to marry Mr. Jenkins, Sr., but of the wedding night.

“What if she won’t marry you, Pa?” The elder son looked close to my own age of thirty. He was missing his two front teeth and his lips were stained black with chewing tobacco. If possible, he smelled even worse than his father, who reeked of sweat and piss, his fingernails coated in unwashed black from working the mines.

“She’ll marry me. She ain’t got no choice. Ain’t no going back.” Jenkins slammed back his fifth shot of whiskey and I cringed for the poor, unsuspecting woman traveling to marry him.

“She’ll be wed to Pa, just like we planned,” the younger son said, his eyes wide with perverted glee. He had to be no older than twenty. “Come on, Tad, tell these soldier boys about the sweet pussy we’re going to get.”

I arched my brow at the kid’s words. I wasn’t in uniform, and neither were my friends, but I knew from looking around the bar that we stood out, uniform or not. We were retired from the military, our service done for a country we would most likely never see again. I, for one, was ready to get to Bridgewater and settle down with a nice warm woman. So, I understood what the old man wanted, but knew my brow creased in confusion at the younger man’s words. I’d thought old man Jenkins was the one set to marry.

“Shut up, Harry. Ain’t nobody’s business.” Tad tossed a few coins into the center of the table. “But I hope she’s got big titties.”

Samuel Jenkins slapped the table and the coins jumped. “I get her first,”he clarified, waving his hand between his sons. “And I told you, after I’m done, we’ll be taking turns with her.” He glanced at me, then Logan, as if to gauge our reactions. “You men ever share a woman before?”

I flicked my gaze to my friend Logan, quickly understanding the men’s intentions, but his expression was unreadable. I wasn’t about to tell these men anything. Logan called for another card and the old man dealt him one. Who was the poor woman arriving tomorrow? The need to warn her stirred to life inside me. No woman deserved what these men had planned for her. I needed to know the woman’s name and the best way to discover information was to let the men talk.

Jenkins didn’t know who he was playing cards with, for if he did, he would know that we always shared a woman. It was the way of our group, the dozen of us in town, plus those already settled at Bridgewater. We’d all spent time enjoying the culture and customs in Mohamir—a small Middle Eastern country where our regiment had been stationed—and were now traveling to Bridgewater where we could live our way without bothering anyone.

Our trusted friend, Whitmore Kane, had written telling us of the growing number of men settling on a ranch in the Montana Territory with their brides. He’d invited those from our regiment to join them. Two men—or more—marrying one woman, the custom of Mohamir, certainly didn’t follow the strict dictates of Victorian England. Puritanical America didn’t follow suit either, but based on what we’d seen of the Montana Territory, out here under the big sky, there was plenty of room to do as one wished. Even the Jenkinses believed that, but what they intended did not favor the bride in any way.

The Mohamiran marriage custom put the woman’s needs first. The husbands loved her, honored her, cherished her, protected her. Possessed her body and took pride in the pleasure he gave her.

Evan broke the silence. “I’m a one-woman man myself.”

That was the truth, for he—along with Daniel—would claim only one woman. Logan and I would share a bride. The others in our group, all bachelors, had already agreed to the same and now they waited for that one special woman to come along and change everything. Our way of life was nothing like what these men had planned for their future bride and the stench of the idea—and them—reeked.

Jenkins shook his head as if disappointed. “You don’t know what you’re missing. My boys here, they like a woman between them, but the whores upstairs—” he glanced up at the ceiling as if he could see through it to the working girls being fucked while we spoke, “—aren’t that eager anymore. It was over a long, cold winter night we came up with the idea for a mail-order bride.”

I wanted confirmation of their intentions. “Am I to understand you hired an agency to find brides for all three of you?”

“You talk funny,” the youngest one commented.

“I’m not from the Montana Territory,” I replied, as if people spoke with British accents elsewhere in the country. We didn’t need to draw attention to ourselves and our accents were easily noticeable. We came halfway around the world for a quiet life. We’d all had enough trouble to last a lifetime. My closest friend, the man with whom I would share a bride with, was an orphan. Logan’s father passed from a bad flu when he was only nine years old. He’d run the streets of Manchester begging for food and money, trying to help his mother survive. But she had faded away right before his eyes. After she died, he’d joined the military to start over.

When our regiment arrived in Mohamir, he’d been the first one of us to see the wisdom of their ways. Two husbands meant safety and comfort for a widow and her children. That was something Logan admired and respected about their society and I agreed.

The drunken sot sitting across from me, Harry, seemed to accept my excuse and my strange accent. He turned away from me and nodded his head at his father, seemingly content with my response. Bloody idiot.

Tad called for another card, stuck it into his hand, then said, “We didn’t use no agency. A newspaper advertisement was all it took.”

“And it’s not three brides,” Jenkins clarified, then pointed to himself and his sons. “Only one. Why the hell do we want three noisy women in the house when we only need one?”

I saw Logan’s eyebrows go up. He leaned forward, placed his forearms on the table. “You’re telling me you placed an advertisement for a bride to share? And you received a reply?”

I shifted in my seat, eager to hear the answer. If a simple advertisement would bring a willing woman to us, a woman content to marry two men instead of one, our bride problem could be easily solved. Apparently, Logan also saw the possibilities. Was this how it was done in America? I was used to arranged marriages among the upper class in England, but those matches were meant to preserve genetic lineage and station. This country broke from king and country a century before to avoid such legacies.

“She must be a hundred-year-old hag,” Evan said, rolling his eyes.

Logan chuckled, but Jenkins held his hand in a fist, shaking it in Evan’s face as if my friend were an idiot. “Now hold on. Of course not! She’s a nice young virgin. Twenty and five. And I got her likeness right here.” Jenkins dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick photograph with ripped edges for Logan to see. Both Evan and I leaned forward for a glimpse of the woman, but Tad had other ideas. He ripped the photograph from his father’s hand before any of us could take a look.

“Damn it, Pa. They’ll try to steal her away.”

Jenkins looked to Logan, who shook his head in disgust and lied through his teeth, his thick American accent as fake as the smile on his face. “I already got a wife. Why would I want yours?”

Jenkins raised an eyebrow and Tad spit a wad of black slime onto the floor near my feet as his father preened like a peacock. “She thinks she’s marrying a forty-year-old widower with wee sons to take care of. And that part’s true.” He grinned and his eyes narrowed. “She’ll be takin’ care of my boys, just not in the way she thinks.”

Tad chuckled and looked to his younger brother. “She’ll be taking very special care of us with that pussy of hers.”

It was a good thing I only had one shot of that rotgut whiskey, for my stomach heaved at the plan these men had devised. The father was going to marry a woman and, without her knowing, planned to share her with his two grown sons. The poor woman thought she would be getting a younger man with small children. The elder Jenkins had to be fifty if he were a day.