Barefoot Bride for Three (13 page)

She touched the next button, caressing it. She opened her mouth and touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip. He swallowed, waiting for what she’d reveal. But she lifted her hand and went for her wrist. The twitch of her lips proved she knew exactly what she did to him. He squirmed on the wagon, again eager for her. Three buttons on her left wrist. Then she moved to her right.

“You putting on a show for Sy, Beth? Making him wait to see what you’ll show?”

Her nostrils flared, but she said nothing. She tugged her shirt out of her skirt, flashing a bit of soft, white belly. He swallowed and shifted on the hard boards. Again, she almost undid her breast button. She sighed, then walked her fingers to the lowest button and started up. He rubbed his nose with his hand to hide his smile. The minx dared him to complain.

She was obedient, barely. She’d pay for putting him through this. And she’d enjoy every minute of it. Just as he enjoyed the torture she put him through now.

He untied his boots, tossed them aside, and hopped off the wagon. She watched him carefully remove his pants to reveal his cock, once again hard for her. His dark purple head already thrust out of its sheath, eager to slide between her legs, to brush past the tiny bud throbbing for release.

He stood tall, his third leg jutting proud. He caught a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. So Simon was hunting bee trees on this side of the ridge, against his orders. Normally Sy would make sure to guard against giving himself away but watching Beth undress would turn any man’s mind from thoughts of safety.

Buttons finally undone, Beth flapped her blouse as if to create a breeze. She knew she waved a red flag at a bull. Her actions begged him to prove who was the boss. He’d show her who wore the pants in this family.

At the moment he was bare-assed but he’d put his pants back on after they played. She, however, would stay naked under her thin layer of protection. The only reason he let her wear her dress was to protect that fine skin from the sun. If they ever rode home in late afternoon, he’d make her ride beside him in nothing but her hat and boots.

Even better, she’d sit astride his lap, facing backward. Riding his cock, every bump would thrust him deep into her.

Enough!

He took a step toward her. The tip of her tongue stuck out between her teeth, just as her inner lips protruded from her outer.

“Shirt. Off.”

“It’s a blouse.”

He took another step and the fabric fluttered to the grass.

“Skirt.”

Nostrils flaring and chest heaving—damn, he loved her breasts—she undid the button at her waist. Her pretty skirt dropped, covering her boots. Her even prettier lower curls glowed in the sun, begging for his tongue.

His naked wife waited for him, nipples tight and eyes beckoning, on his land.

Bending slightly, he slid his cock straight forward into the open space between her thighs. He thrust slowly back and forth below her pussy. He rubbed his chest on her breasts, rasping the tips in the way he knew drove her wild. She fought it, but he felt her pussy swell around him. His cock slid more easily as her arousal increased.

Her glorious golden hair fell around them like a curtain. He ran his fingers through it, letting it fall over her shoulders. As he pumped, a flush rose, bit by bit, toward her face. He already knew her body. By the time it hit her hairline, she’d be ready for more. Time for another lesson.

“You’re going to ride bareback today.”

“Now?” Her blue eyes widened.

He nodded, still slowly pumping. He hadn’t known he could come this often and still get hard, but he’d never had a wife before. Unlimited sex did things to a man. Great things.

“I thought that meant the horse didn’t have a saddle, not that I’d be unclothed.”

He liked her grit, sassing back at him while naked with his cock between her thighs.

“Don’t need a horse.”

“What are you after, Mr. Elliott?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“This is what you’ll ride.”

He gripped her bottom, tilted and slid home. She gasped and clutched him, wrapping her legs around his waist. He waited for a moment of bliss, then pressed up until he’d skewered her well and good. He let them have a moment before pulling out and setting her down.

“Grab that wagon wheel.”

He encouraged her to bend over and grasp the spokes near the wheel hub. He admired her ass, nice and round, then moved her feet farther apart.

“Arch your back and show Sy that sweet ass. Make him so hot that he comes in his pants just by watching you.”

She glowered at him over her shoulder then did what he said. She wiggled, leaning forward and tilted her butt so her cheeks spread, showing him her brown dot. He’d ease her into that soon enough.

Below her asshole, thick pink lips swelled for him. He moved her slightly so the sun shone full on her, making her fluids glisten. He slid a finger to her clit and she moaned. He held himself in one hand, braced the other on her hip and guided himself in with a shallow thrust to whet his appetite. He bent over her back and held her breasts in his palms, enjoying their weight.

Without asking, Beth moved her thighs together, catching him tight. He pulled out before he exploded. Both of them panted hard.

“Time to ride,” he said. He lifted her and carried her to the blanket he’d laid in a shady patch of grass when they first arrived. She’d thought they’d open Sophie’s basket but his appetite was more carnal.

He knelt and set her down, then rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. He’d wanted that golden hair to tantalize his chest and cock since he first saw her.

“Ride me, woman.”

Instead, Beth sank to her knees and grasped him hard. Smiling seductively, daring him to complain, she stroked him back and forth until he was full length, thick and wanting. She leaned forward and flicked the first drop off with her tongue. He hissed and almost came. He forced himself to do multiplication tables as she continued flicking his underside with her tongue.

God, she felt so good. He spread his legs wide so she had full access. She cupped him, sucking one ball into her mouth for a moment, then the other.

He concentrated on making it last, prolonging the joy for both of them. No way would he discourage her enthusiasm. She’d need it to keep up with three men. She caught him between her breasts. She reached down and gathered her own slickness, rubbing it over him to make him slide.

She finally released him and stood like a valkyrie tall above him. She tossed her golden hair back, shaking her head. It was so long it touched the crack of her ass. She stepped over him and sank down to her knees, one on each side of his hips. She leaned forward and sat back, guiding him in. She grasped him with greedy pussy lips, sucking him in, inch by inch, rising and falling in a molasses-slow canter. Her tight sheath enveloped him, the slow friction as frustrating as it was pleasurable.

“That’s it, Beth. Show Sy what he’s missing. Make it work, sweetheart.”

He reached up to her breasts, quivering above him, and lightly pinched. She gasped, grinding down. He kept one hand on her breast and pressed the other where their flesh met, rubbing her mound. She moaned, mouth open and head back, slamming down on him. Finally, he felt her grasp him inside as she reached her peak.

He fought hard to stop himself from joining her as she met her own needs. A moment or two, then she twitched in place and leaned her fists against his chest, panting. Grinning.

“Your turn,” she said.

He didn’t wait. He grasped her waist and lifted. She followed his lead, slamming down as he pressed heels and shoulders into the ground and surged up. His need to prove to the world, on his own land, that she was his, added a bite. She caught his wave of pleasure and slipped into her own. His bellow and her cry of completion shattered the quiet.

* * * *

“What the—?”

Sitting tall on his gelding, Simon stared down at the trail from town. Was that dust raised by his fool of an older brother? When Trace still wasn’t home for morning chores they figured the sheriff had tossed him in jail. Without big brother around to give orders, he headed up the wooded east face of the mountain to scout out a bee tree. It was too early in the season to remove honey so he marked the hive and started off home. Then he saw the plume of dust heading for Elliott land.

He pulled out his spyglass and followed the trail. He couldn’t miss Trace’s paint. The horse’s large brown and white patches were unmistakable. It was tied behind a loaded wagon.

“Shit!” His horse skittered. He climbed off and tied it to a branch above long grass. “Dammit, it’s
my
turn to go to town and get supplies!”

His horse looked up, ears perked. “I swear,” he said to it, “if I had a shotgun loaded with rock salt I’d give him both barrels.” He lifted the eyeglass again. “Let’s see what big brother thought so all-fired important he had to haul it home today.”

Simon found Trace’s head, turned to one side. He watched Trace open his mouth and move his lips as if talking. Simon moved the glass to the side and saw a flash of pink.

“What the hell?”

He dropped to the ground and rested the spyglass on a rock for stability. His big brother sat next to someone in a pink bonnet. He watched as they pulled to a stop by the shaded stream to water the horses and stretch as usual. When it was warm the Elliotts always took a swim before the last leg home.

But Trace had something better in mind.

“Holy shit!”

Simon put down the glass, wiped his eye and looked back. When he found the pair again he focused on the golden beauty as she slowly stripped. He moaned as her full breasts emerged when she dropped her shirt. Soon her skirt followed it. Naked but for her boots, she watched Trace approach.

Simon clutched the spyglass. The three of them had a pact that, if any of them married and the woman was willing, she’d be shared.

“Please, God, let her be willing!”

Blondie grasped two spokes of the wagon wheel. “That’s a fine ass,” he murmured. “Smooth, pink and wide enough to grab onto.”

She spread her legs and leaned over. Trace leaned close and slid into her from behind. He held her breasts as she arched to take him. But he pulled out after only a few thrusts. He carried Blondie to a blanket under the trees and lay down.

Simon’s mouth went dry when she picked up Trace’s cock and brought her mouth close. “Jesus! I didn’t know decent women did that!”

He unbuttoned his pants and grasped his hard rod, imagining it was feminine flesh holding him tight. When he looked again, she rode Trace’s cock, a smile like the angels on her face. And that hair!

Simon focused on the space between their bodies where they joined. She rose and fell, faster and faster. He followed her every move with his hand as if she rode him instead of Trace. She threw her head back, mouth open. Just after she screamed his brother’s name Simon joined her for the best single-handed ride of his life.

Spent, he lay back on the grass, panting up at the sun and grinning like a fool.

“Way to go, big brother. You bring that wild angel home and we’ll treat her right.” He buttoned himself up and climbed on his horse. “Wait till Jackass finds what big brother’s bringing home. I wonder if she can cook.” The horse flicked an ear and ignored him. “Hell, lookin’ like that, who cares if she can cook?”

Chapter Eight

Though Beth trembled inside, she kept her back straight as she sat beside Trace. As soon as Trace touched her naked body her mind went blank. Only as they ate the picnic Sophie had provided did she remember about Simon. Had he seen her naked, doing wicked things with Trace?

The parts so recently stimulated tingled once more at the thought. She was going to Hell, all right. No good woman got hot at the thought of her husband’s brother seeing her naked. What would Simon do while he watched? Would he pretend he was the one she rode? Would he want her to do the same to him? Yes, Trace made that clear.

Would she want to?
Yes.

She shivered in the hot sun. Though she could still feel her husband’s hands on her, his body filling her, she wanted more. What had happened? Twenty-one years of denial gone in less than twenty-four hours. Was this need trapped within her all her life? Had it erupted from deep inside, unlocked by ecstasy?

Growing up, she’d never touched herself except to wash what had to be washed. Cold water and a rough cloth didn’t invite one to linger. With many sisters, she’d never slept alone until she was sent to the farm. By the time she fell into her narrow cot, she was far too exhausted to do more than grab her few hours of sleep and start over again.

She’d escaped, taking the Bride Train all the way to Montana Territory. Trace had saved her from a terrible fate. Yet she sat beside him and actually considered sexual congress with his brother. Had this wickedness always been inside her, eager for any man?

No. She’d met many men since she left home, and none had made her feel like Trace. Would his brothers do the same?
Once you’ve bitten of the Apple, expulsion from Eden isn’t far behind.