Mail Order Brides of Slate Springs Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3 E-Book

Vale Vanessa

• Herausgeber: Vanessa Vale
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

This complete collection has double the cowboys, double the heat and triple the stories!

All 3 books in the Mail Order Bride of Slate Springs series are included.

~ A Wanton Woman ~ Book 1

Celia Lawrence can't show her face in her conservative, small town. First, she discovered her husband in bed with another man's wife, and then she witnessed both their murders. While she didn't pull the trigger, small town gossip is not forgiving and everywhere she goes she is chastised for not being woman enough to keep her straying husband at home. Eager to flee her old life, Celia heads to Colorado as a mail-order bride.

As mayor of Slate Springs, Colorado, Luke Benson is expected to set the example. Their small town is hidden away in a remote mountainous region where few women have the courage or desire to tread. As mayor, it falls to him to test out their newly passed law and share a wife with his brother. The truth is, Luke has no interest in a woman of his own, and agrees to a mail-order bride out of duty, not anticipation.

His brother, Walker, is jaded and hard after the death of his first wife. For Walker, loving again is out of the question. But a man has needs, and he'll eagerly take his pleasure from their new bride while expecting Luke to provide the tenderness and caring a woman expects.

A marriage based on everything but love should be doomed. But Celia, Luke and Walker discover one thing they have in common: desire. Will that be strong enough to survive the danger that follows Celia from Texas? Will desire be strong enough to teach three broken souls that sometimes you have to risk everything for love?

~ A Wild Woman ~ Book 2

With five overbearing brothers, Piper Dare must head West to forge her own life. Her trip takes an unexpected turn when she fills in as a mail order bride for a woman she meets on the stage. Lane Haskins and Spur Drews are stunned by their new bride. A gun toting, foul language spewing redhead is not what they expected. But they don't mind the little wildcat. In fact, they love her instantly. But their match takes a decided turn and their love—and devotion—is put to a very powerful test.


~ A Wicked Woman ~ Book 3

Because of her stepsisters, Eve Jamison is driven from her hometown in scandal with a train ticket in one hand and a proxy marriage license in the other. But when she arrives in the small Colorado mountain town, she discovers her groom recently died. Even though she never met her husband, the new widow learns she is quite wealthy. At the mercy of her dead husband's money-grubbing family, Knox and Jed Dare each vow to protect her. They both want the beautiful bluestocking and refuse to cede way to the other.

Eve has other ideas where the two men are concerned. Because she is now a woman of Slate Springs, she doesn't have to choose. She wants both Jed and Knox... and gets them.

Warning: Panty melting! This MFM series has three wildly dirty romances with obsessed alpha cowboys and feisty heroines. Each book is standalone. These books all have HEAs and are all about her - no m/m.

Leseprobe

Mail Order Brides of Slate Springs Boxed Set

Books 1 - 3

Vanessa Vale

A Wanton Woman: Copyright © 2016 by Vanessa Vale

A Wild Woman: Copyright © 2016 by Vanessa Vale

A Wicked Woman: Copyright © 2016 by Vanessa Vale

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover design: Bridger Media

Cover graphic: Hot Damn Stock

Contents

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A Wanton Woman - Book 1

Town Notice:

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

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

A Wild Woman - Book 2

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

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

A Wicked Woman - Book 3

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

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A Wanton Woman - Book 1

Town Notice:

Passed by unanimous vote of the town council, September 16, 1885, law 642. The Marriage Law. Because of deficient numbers of women in the area, it is now legal within the city of Slate Springs, Colorado and the surrounding areas, for two or more men to legally wed one woman. All ceremonies will be performed by the Justice of the Peace and will be considered valid and legally binding until death upon the bride or both/all husbands.

Signed,

Luke Tate

Town Mayor

1

Celia

Tyler, Texas

September 1885

It was too hot to be outside. Although, it was too hot to be indoors as well. The summer heat had yet to diminish and the ground was hard packed and bone dry. I glanced up and squinted. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. No way to shield myself—besides my straw hat—from the sun. My dress, with the high neck and long sleeves, was stifling. Sweat soaked the back of my corset and I longed to strip off the excess layers of clothing for just my shift.

It had been a long day. John’s office hours were in the mornings on Tuesdays and he’d had several patients waiting when we arrived at eight. My husband wasn’t the only doctor in town, but people came long distances if ailing enough and there was enough business for all three of them. Today’s ailments had included an impacted tooth, a colicky infant, a case of pneumonia and a broken finger. When he left for lunch, I was left behind to clean up and send those who arrived after the noon hour—when John went to the hotel’s restaurant to eat his meal—in the direction of the other two doctors. He was very precise, very strict in his routine and did not vary from it.

While he spent his afternoon at his home office—always with the door closed so as not to be disturbed—I often went to the houses of those who had been seen, checking on them, tending to them. Specifically, the women patients. None of the men, for it would not be appropriate. I wasn’t even supposed to visit the ladies, but who else would? Not John, for if they did not appear in his office, injury apparent, or have money to pay for a house call, he was not interested.

And so I spent my afternoon tending to the sick, rocking babies, even washing a few dishes. John laughed at my pedestrian afternoon activity, always telling me I was lowering myself to such tedium. But was I supposed to sit home and read and needlepoint? I could not support such a stagnant life.

And so that was why I stood in Mrs. Borden’s kitchen, scrubbing a pot. I blew a wayward curl off my face, but it clung to the sweat on my brow. Just delivering her third child, she was in bed recovering with two young ones climbing over her and the newborn while her husband went to work in the cotton fields.

As I moved on to clean the previous night’s dinner dishes, she called from the bedroom. “It will be your turn soon and I will come and help you.”

I paused in my scrubbing and looked down at my flat stomach. No, there would be no turn for me. No children; John was a very independent sort, and expected me to be as well. I knew when I married him that he wanted a helpmeet, not a coddler. I’d been well and fine with that, for I’d been raised by stern parents who did not dote. I knew no other way. I would have been unaccustomed to a man who hugged and lavished me with affection.

But in the past five years, I’d grown to change my mind. Watching other couples who were blatantly in love—like the Bordens—proved that I had missed something, and would never see it in my own union. Without children to tend, my life was empty. I was empty. To John, I was officially barren. Officially not a true wife, for I could not fulfill the one duty that he could not accomplish on his own.

And so, forlorn and overheated, I returned home, forgoing any other afternoon visits. Closing the front door behind me, I noticed that John’s office door was open. Odd, for he never appeared before five. As I removed my hat and placed it on the table beside the door, I heard voices from upstairs. Murmuring, then a sigh. A woman’s cry.

I glanced up as if I could see through the ceiling. I knew what it was. Who it was. At least I knew it was John and a woman. A rhythmic thumping followed. They were fucking. In my bed. John barely touched me, so I knew he took his needs to someone else. A brothel or a widow, someone who he felt worthy of his desires. But he’d never slaked these needs in our own home. While I doubted he loved me, he respected me enough to keep his women separate from me. Until now.

“Yes! Right there. Harder.”

My eyes widened at the carnality of the woman’s words, the desperate tone. While angry he would flaunt his behavior in such a way, I was also curious. Curious as to what John did to make her so satisfied. I’d never cried out like that before. Ever.

I tiptoed up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky fourth step. The bedroom door was closed, so I slipped into the other bedroom that had an adjoining door. Meant for a nursery, it sat unused. But I knew the door was open about a foot to allow for air to circulate and could easily watch. And that was where I stood, behind the connecting door, and observed my husband in bed with a woman. I did not recognize her, for her pale hair was unbound and covered her face. She was also naked, on her hands and knees with her wrists restrained and tied to the metal scrollwork of the headboard with my dressing gown tie. The garment itself lay forgotten on the floor beside the heap of their discarded clothing.

John was behind her, naked too, and fucking her. His hands gripped her hips as he took her forcefully, the sound of his hips slapping against her upturned bottom filled the air.

“Is that hard enough?” he growled, the muscles in his neck corded and tense.

She tossed her head and her grip turned white on the bed rails. Her breasts, which were very large, swung with each thrust. It was carnal and dark and decadent and I’d never seen John like this. He was lost to desire, lost to the power he had over the woman. Never so… overcome by his baser needs. Whenever he took me, he was quiet and passive, his hips shifting enough for his cock to move in and out for him to release his seed.

He smacked her bottom, the crack of it making her cry out. She groaned, but it was not in pain. “You’re such a slut, letting me take you like this. You need it, don’t you? Your husband thinks it’s hysteria that makes you a frustrated wife, but you’re just a whore that needs a big cock.”

“Yes!” she cried again. This was what I was supposed to look like while being fucked? Wild and wanton and in the throes of pleasure so intense I loved having my bottom smacked?

I’d never heard him speak in such a way before, his words so blunt and cruel. His voice was rough-edged, not the flat, even tone to which I was accustomed. He’d never spoken to me in such a fashion, never gripped me with such intent, never fucked me that way either. I hadn’t even known you could.

But I was not like this woman. Her figure was unlike mine. She was tall and lean, with a very ample bosom and a small behind. I was petite and curvy, round hips and bottom and yet my breasts were much smaller. Had he chosen her to fuck because she was the antithesis of me? Did her appearance bring about this change in him? Was I that lacking? I had to assume the answer was yes.

John only took me at night when it was dark, the soft light of the lantern beside the bed casting a soft glow to the room. There was no talking. He just pressed me onto my back, worked my nightgown up as he spread my legs and pushed inside me without any preamble. He did breathe hard, but only when he spent his seed, the exertion from it mild in comparison to the vigor he applied now. He never perspired, never groaned. When done, he’d tug my nightgown back down, pull the covers over me and roll over onto his side to sleep. I would be sore and unfulfilled, seed sticky on my thighs and the bed beneath me.

This woman, she was not unfulfilled. The way she shifted and circled her hips, the way her skin glowed with a sheen of perspiration, the way she was panting and chanting yes, yes, yes over and over again, it was quite obvious that she was enjoying herself. I’d never enjoyed myself with John, never felt the same abandon, the obvious desire this woman did at my husband’s hands, or cock. The way she moaned her release, her body tensing even as John continued to pound into her, I knew now I’d never come before.

I was more upset at being cheated of this kind of deep and dark—and pleasurable—connection between two people than the fact that my husband was sharing it with someone else. I’d known of his philandering for some time, but not who he did it with, or where. I’d certainly not expected this.

I wanted this. I wanted someone to tangle their fingers in my hair and yank my head back. I wanted someone to take me hard from behind. I wanted a man’s handprint to be a bright pink on my bottom. I wanted passion.

The front door slammed, which made me jump.

“Marie!” A man’s voice bellowed from below.

John’s motions stilled, his cock deep inside the woman as she whipped her head toward the door. Her eyes widened in surprise and panic.

“It’s my husband!” she hissed, but couldn’t move, tied as she was to the bed and John behind her.

The man came up the steps, his heavy tread sounding as if he took them two at a time. The bedroom door swung so hard it slammed into the wall. I jumped and gasped, then bit my lip. A big man stood in the doorway. Dressed in a suit and tie, his hair was slicked back with sweat, beads of it dripping down his temples. He was breathing hard, as if he’d run all the way across town. He wasn’t a farmer or a laborer, but a well-to-do man. The cut of his clothes was telling, and John wouldn’t have taken a low-class mistress. But a married one? This man was scorned. The gun in his hands proved that and I bit my lip again to stifle the panic that wanted to slip out. Proved that he was a little insane, too. Mad with jealousy? I felt ridiculed and ashamed at being tossed aside. I could only imagine this man’s rage at being discovered a cuckold.

John pulled out of the woman—Marie—and turned on his knees toward the other man. His cock was red and swollen and shiny with the woman’s arousal. Marie was trapped by her wrists being tied, but she tipped onto her side and pulled her knees up to try to hide. She was like a child who covered their eyes and thought they could not be seen. Her motions did nothing to hide her nakedness or the view of her used pussy. Her crime, and John’s, was indisputable.

“Neil,” she cried, her eyes widening. John put his hands up as if to ward the man off, but he said nothing. What was there to say?

Neil narrowed his eyes as his chest heaved. There was no hesitation, no deliberation. He shot John square in the chest.

The sound reverberated in the room and I covered my mouth with my hand to cover my cry of surprise. Blood bloomed on his chest and John put his hands over the hole. He only looked down at the wound before he fell to his side, dead. I was not the doctor, but I knew a shot to the heart would make death instantaneous. Marie screamed and pleaded with her husband as she shuffled up onto her knees and tugged at the bonds that held her trapped. Instead of a playful game of bondage, it kept her right where Neil wanted her when he shot her, too. Once, then twice.

I barely breathed, my ears ringing from the report of the gun. I didn’t dare move a muscle, afraid he’d see me and come after me next. Neil stood and looked at the bodies for a few seconds. Maybe a minute. I had no idea of time. I just remained as still as possible behind the door, hoping he couldn’t hear the frantic beat of my heart. Surely, he’d shoot me too if I was discovered. While he had reason for his actions, it was still cold-blooded murder. He took a deep breath, then another, then spun on his heels, stomped down the steps and out the door. The quiet left in his wake was just as deafening as the gunshots.

My legs quivered, then folded. I slid down the wall to the floor, a crumpled, wilted heap. My hands shook and I tried to keep myself calm, to keep the excess energy from overwhelming me. That was where the sheriff and my neighbors found me a few minutes later, the dirty secrets of my marriage no longer hidden. Instead, they were naked and dead in my own bed.

2

Luke

Denver, Colorado

December 1885

“You didn’t have to do this,” Walker murmured, standing with me on the train platform as the westbound train pulled in. It was loud, hissing and clunking as it came to a stop. Finally. Two hours behind schedule and in that time I should have turned around and left. But a woman waited, a woman who was my bride and I could not be cruel to her. It was not her fault I’d been proxy married to a stranger. The blame fell solely on me.

“I do,” I replied, my breath coming out in a big white cloud. The sun had slid behind the mountains and night was falling fast, the temperature dropping well below freezing. Any snow that had melted earlier in the day was now turning to ice on the brick walkways.

Tucking the collar of my coat up about my neck, I looked down the length of the train, knowing she would soon appear. My bride. My mail order bride. A stranger with a piece of paper that tied us in legal matrimony. What would she look like? Tall or short? Homely or beautiful? It mattered not. What did matter was that I was the first to marry under the new law of Slate Springs. I glanced at Walker, stalwart and quiet beside me. “Are you having second thoughts? Is that the problem?”

“Fuck, Luke, I said I’d do it and I keep my word.” His dark eyes flared in anger, but it was quickly banked.

I sighed. “Shit, sorry. I’m just… this is just not how I expected it.”

“What? Freezing our balls off for a woman we’re committed to for the rest of our lives just because Slate Springs doesn’t have enough women?”

Yeah, that described it pretty well.

“Fine, I did this out of duty, but really, I want someone to share my life with, just like most men in town. Children. Companionship. Hell, someone to warm my bed on a night like tonight.”

I tugged the collar of my coat up against the wind that whipped down the platform.

“All you had to do was come down the mountain. Denver has enough women who would gladly marry the mayor of Slate Springs, and a mine owner to boot.” He lifted his hands and cupped them around his mouth, exhaled warm air onto them.

The Trusty mine was putting out silver at a pace that was making me as rich as those up in Butte digging up copper. I knew it wouldn’t last, that the vein would dry up eventually, but I had more money than I needed in my lifetime. Now, it was time to share it with others, like a wife and children.

“I’m more than a mine owner. I don’t want a woman who’s only interested in my money. I want a woman who wants me.”

Standing still, the cold seeped through the bottom of my boots. Passengers began to alight the train. Porters passed us to help the weary travelers with their baggage.

I turned to my brother, trying to justify this marriage. “I took the job just to keep Thomkins from getting the position. If I remember, we flipped for the job.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Yeah, and you lost. Being mayor might keep Thomkins from fucking up the town, but it gets you a bride, too.”

Yes, being mayor and voting on the law that allows two men to marry one woman had me setting the example, a precedence for other men in town to follow. Thus, Walker and I were in Denver meeting a woman who would be ours. Maybe I should have let Thomkins be mayor after all. He didn’t need to find a bride. He’d been married to the meek Agnes Thomkins for ten years or so. He’d been an asshole pretty much since birth when his daddy founded the town and he’d been one ever since. He wouldn’t do right by the town if he were mayor, probably ban mining or some such nonsense when there were mouths to feed. My anger toward Thomkins was enough to keep me in the leadership role and keep me standing in the cold waiting for our mail order bride.

“And you,” I added. “You get a bride because of how much we fucking hate Thomkins, too.” We were in this together. This woman would be ours together.

I heard him sigh, but he said nothing more.

Passengers began to pass and I watched them all closely, looking for Celia Lawrence, widow from Tyler, Texas. And my bride. Celia Tate, now. I had no knowledge of her appearance, only that she was a widow and twenty-five years old. I gripped the Bible in my hand and placed it so it could better seen. While I was not an overly pious man—I was committing to marry a woman in a very unbiblical way, with Walker and without our union blessed in a church—but the Bible was the way for Mrs. Lawrence to discern me from the crowd.

“Are you sure?” I asked, wanting to confirm one last time. “You vowed never to marry again after Ruth’s death. You can still change your mind. I can find someone else.”

He could back out, but I couldn’t. The proxy marriage was legally binding. Luke Tate, husband. Celia Lawrence, wife. But I had no interest in sharing a bride with just any man. I’d only do it with my brother. We were close, close enough to have shared women in the past, to have the same interests—and darker desires—when it came to taking a woman. Some might find our predilections to be sinful or even wrong, but dominating a woman only led to her pleasure, her ultimate satisfaction. We put her first. Sure, we might tie her up and spank her ass, even fuck it, too, but she’d like it. No, she’d love it.

“I want children, too,” he admitted. “But love?” Shrugging his shoulders, I knew he was jaded. “That’s for you. She deserves it and you’ll give it to her. This works perfectly for me.”

I angled my head toward the emptying train.

Walker shrugged. “We have to hope.”

The bulk of the passengers had left the platform and had moved quickly into the warm station. Only a few years old, it was an impressive structure, a sign that Denver was booming. I didn’t care for the city. Too many people, too much noise. The only reason I was here was for—

Her.

She was walking toward us, eyeing the Bible. I should have approached her, asked her name and grabbed the small bag she held. But I couldn’t. I just stared. And stared as if my feet had frozen to the ground.

“Fuck.” I heard Walker mumble under his breath as he took her in as well. It seemed my brother had the same intense—and instant—attraction for her. “Look at her,” he whispered.

Yes, we were truly fucked, for Mrs. Celia Lawrence was everything I could have imagined in a bride. Petite, her curves couldn’t be hidden beneath her light jacket. Her pale hair was up and tucked beneath a prim hat. The lanterns that lit the platform from the dusk set her skin to a warm gold. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and I could see that her pale eyes were wary and hopeful at the same time. She stilled when she shifted her gaze away from the Bible and onto me, but she tilted up her chin and took another step closer.

She was… fuck, incredible. Lovely. Dainty. Shy. Daring. I wanted her. Instantly and desperately. My cock hardened and I was thankful my coat hid the reaction. She was my bride.

She was mine. Mine!

Walker had his wits about him, unlike me, for he moved around me to approach her. “Mrs. Lawrence?” he asked.

She looked up at him, a frown forming in her brow. “Yes. Mr. Tate?”

Her soft voice had me moving. Finally. I was fucking it all up and I hadn’t even said a word. She was just too… perfect and I felt as if I’d been hit on the head with a support beam from the mine. I cleared my throat and joined the two, removing my hat. “I’m Luke Tate, ma’am.”

She glanced at the Bible once more, then up at my face. Way up. I was so much taller; she only came up to my shoulder. She offered me a small smile, but I could tell it took effort. I was a big man, and a stranger at that. She was very brave to travel so far on her own, to be wed to a complete stranger. No, two strangers. I’d just met her and I was very proud of her. I wanted to take away the wariness and replace it with… hell, what would she look like when I made her come the first time? I’d find out soon enough if my cock had any say.

“It is… nice to meet you. Please, call me Celia.” Her voice was deep and sultry, a complete surprise and made my cock hard.

A shiver shook her small frame.

“Where is your coat?” I asked. Pushing the Bible into Walker’s chest, I stripped off mine and wrapped it about her shoulders.

Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip and I was transfixed. “I don’t have one. It is not this cold in Texas.”

Her voice had a slight accent to it, a slight twang that spoke of how far she’d traveled.

The cold air hit my torso and I could only imagine how chilled she’d been.

Smiling, she held the oversized garment together at the front. It was so large that it hung down to past her knees. It would keep her warm in the short term.

“Didn’t Mrs. Carstairs from the agency tell you your destination was Colorado?” The woman at the mail order bride service should have advised her of something as simple as winter wardrobe.

She lifted her shoulders and almost snuggled into the garment. “Yes, of course. But no shops in Tyler have coats like this. It is too warm year-round for such items in Texas.” She glanced about and took in the snow that had been shoveled into piles to clear the platform. “I have never even seen snow before.”

I looked at the old snow, crusty hard from the top being melted by the sun and then frozen at night, gray from the soot and ash from the trains. This patch was far from remarkable. When we were home, she would know snow. Perhaps even become quite sick of it before the season ended.

“Come, let’s get out of the cold then,” Walker said.

Realizing I had yet to introduce her to her other husband, I felt even more of a bumbling fool. “May I present my brother, Walker?”

She didn’t know he was also her husband and the train platform was not where I wanted to enlighten her. The last thing I wanted to do was scare her right back on the train. No fucking way. She was here, she was mine and I was not letting her go.

With his hands full, he did not remove his hat, only tipped it with his fingers as he held the Bible. “Ma’am.”

We turned toward the station, working our way down the long platform. At an icy spot, I took her elbow and guided her around. “Careful,” I warned.

If she had never seen snow, I had to doubt she’d encountered ice before. I did not need my bride breaking something within five minutes of her arrival. I could barely feel her through the thickness of my coat, but I had my hand on her and that was a start.

Once inside the warm station, I stopped. Walker stood to her side so that we blocked out the noise and crowds behind us. “Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Tired?” Walker added.

She laughed then, deep and throaty, as she looked between the two of us. “I am not used to such attentions. From one man, let alone two.”

She would get used to it soon enough, but not here. Union Station was not where I wanted to show her my attentions, or that she’d be getting them from Walker, too. When she learned she was married to both of us, I didn’t know how she would react, although I had to assume with great surprise. While being married to two men was legal in Slate Springs, it was not elsewhere. Especially in a large town like Denver.

Glancing between us, she replied, “I am both.”

Both? Oh yes, hungry and tired.

Nodding, I looked her over from her stylish hat to her spun gold hair, her lovely oval face, full lips, flushed cheeks. My coat hid her fashionable dress, but it had been crisp and fresh, even after her journey, her hair neat. She was concerned for her appearance, but did not seem vain. “We will return to the hotel then where you may rest and eat.”

“Your town is too far to travel to now?”

Walker looked up at the large clock on the wall above the ticket counter. Five-fifteen. “Slate Springs is in the mountains, over a day’s ride from here. The weather is good so the pass remains open, but we expect it to be snowed in before the new year. We do not need to push ourselves to return tonight, for while it is clear, it is very dark. As you said, you do not have the proper clothing. Tomorrow is soon enough.”

Yes, I wasn’t spending the first night with her—it couldn’t be called a wedding night as we were already proxy married—on the back of a horse. I wanted her on her back and me over her. “We have a room at a hotel down the street,” I added, shifting because I had to hide my hard cock.

“Pass?” she asked as she looked behind her one last time before we led her out of the station to the busy street. Horses and wagons filled the thoroughfare.

I tucked my hat back onto my head. While the air was frigid, it did nothing to cool my ardor. Nothing would, not until I was buried deep inside her and filling her with my seed. Even then, I’d want her again. I was absolutely sure of that.

3

Luke

“The road to Slate Springs follows a canyon up into the mountains to the west of here. It goes so high that it is snowed in for the winter. Denver is on this side of the pass, our town on the other.”

She slowed her pace but did not stop walking as we continued down the sidewalk toward our hotel. “You mean we will be isolated?”

I glanced at Walker, but could not tell his expression with it being dark and his face in shadow beneath the brim of his hat. Many people had difficulties being in a town that was cut off from the rest of the world. The snow and cold was sometimes too much for people to handle. By the time spring thaw came, many men had turned slightly insane. Thus, the new law. If the men had their beds warmed and a family to care for, they might find the long winters much easier to pass.

“That’s right,” Walker said. While Celia couldn’t tell his words were guarded, as his brother, I could hear it plain as day. “Once the snow comes in earnest, the town is cut off until spring.”

“What if it had been snowed in earlier than usual? Would I have been stuck here in Denver while you, Mr. Tate, remained on the other side of the pass?”

Her question was unexpected. I feared she would be concerned about being trapped in a small town with us, not trapped without us. I stopped on the sidewalk, tilted her chin up with my fingers. Her skin was soft, like silk, yet chilled from the cold. Her eyes met mine. “Luke. Call me Luke. We would never leave you alone like that,” I replied, my voice gentle. “We have been in Denver three days waiting for you, considering just such an occurrence.”

Her eyes widened. “You… you have?”

It was the surprise in her voice that kept me from responding, for I knew there was much to learn about her from that alone.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Celia,” I told her. All my life. I just didn’t know it.

“Let’s get out of the cold.”

I glanced at Walker as we turned toward the hotel once more. Neither of us would leave our bride alone in a big city as we waited for spring thaw, stuck in Slate Springs. If anything, we’d remain on the east side of the pass with her. With her.

What kind of marriage did she have before? Why was she so amazed we had been concerned? I wanted to know the answer, but not on the street. While I was big enough to keep warm in just my shirt, and the temperatures in the city were much warmer than at home, I did not think our bride could tolerate the chill for long until she became accustomed. Even then, she was a tiny thing and we needed to be cautious. If my toes were turning cold, then certainly hers were as well in her thinner shoes. Some new clothes more suited for the winter weather were our first purchases. But as I glanced down at her as we continued on, watching the gentle sway of her hips, seeing the long line of her elegant neck, I was just as eager to see her out of clothes entirely.

Celia

“This is impressive.”

There weren’t any other words for the suite Luke had at the hotel. I’d only come through the door, but the space was opulent. Thick rugs covered hard wood, dark red velvet curtains hung at the tall windows and also covered the chairs and couches that faced a crackling fire. I could see into two additional rooms, their doors across from each other. Large beds were centered in each, one even had a canopy. This wasn’t a simple hotel room to waylay until our departure in the morning. This showed wealth. It appeared my husband had money. Lots of it.

I should be reassured that I would not be married to a pauper, but I knew that money did not offer happiness. Certainly a full belly and warm clothes, but I’d known both of those with John and I’d been so very unhappy. I would hold judgement on Luke, for now.

I watched as he removed his hat and placed it on a table by the door. He wore the usual men’s uniform of dark suit, white shirt and black tie, but it seemed to fit him better than most and only accented his broad shoulders and thick chest. He turned and took his coat from my shoulders and caught me studying him. The heavy outer garment had kept me well protected from the cold and allowed his enticing scent to envelop me. Something dark and manly. Not a heavy tonic like John would have used, but a natural scent, clean and sharp. I breathed in the last remnants of it as I followed him to the couch before the fire.

I took the moment that was offered for one more surreptitious look. He was tall, so very big. I only came up to his shoulder and it should have felt imposing to have to tilt my chin back to meet his gaze, but that was not the case. Every time he spoke with me at the station and out on the street, he’d been close, perhaps a little closer than was appropriate for a man, but he was my husband. It hadn’t felt awkward. Instead, I felt… protected.

Butterflies fluttered in my belly as I looked at him. His fair hair was short and neatly trimmed. His eyes, so fair and yet intense, were beneath a strong brow. His nose seemed to have a slight crook to it, as if it had been broken at one time. While it appeared he had shaved earlier in the day, whiskers dusted his square jaw and I wondered if it would feel raspy against my palm.

The entire journey from Texas I’d wondered and fretted as to the man to whom I’d been matched. Would he be just like John—a well-respected man with absolutely no conscience or values? I hadn’t had to share much of my past with Mrs. Carstairs at the establishment that matched men to mail order brides. My past had preceded me certainly, but women who came to her had varied reasons for wanting to be sent to marry a stranger. I was sure she’d heard it all, even a story like mine. The underlying reason though was most likely the same. Desperation.

I had been desperate to escape Texas the only way a woman with no money or job could. That did not mean I hadn’t been wary and doubting my choice for the thousand miles it took to arrive in Denver. The relief of finding Luke visually appealing was a start; however, John had been an attractive man, educated too, but a philanderer, so that did not allay all of my concerns. Only time would tell if Luke was the same.

I was wary about my attraction to him. It was instant. The moment I saw him on the station platform holding the Bible, I’d been interested. Intrigued. Immediately overwhelmed. Newfound desire had coursed through me, heating me at just the sight of him. I’d shivered when I stood before the two men. It hadn’t been from cold, but the heavy feel of their attentions on me. Yes, both of them. It wasn’t just Luke that had made me feel… curious, but his brother, Walker, too.

He’d been just as attentive as Luke, just as solicitous. His hair and eyes were dark, but it was obvious that they were brothers. Even in physique they were different; Walker was a touch taller and leaner. While Luke had offered a soft smile that softened the look in his eyes, Walker appeared to be more of a brooder. Intense, but no less kind.

But it was Luke who approached me now; Walker had not come to the suite with us. My heart leapt into my throat with the realization that this handsome man was my husband. Mine, and he would soon touch me, hopefully in a way I’d wanted for so long.

Without saying a word, he lifted his hands to my head, removed my hat. I breathed in his clean scent and tried to calm my racing heart. Blunt fingers ran over my hair, then tugged the pins from my prim bun.

“I’ve been wanting to see your hair down, to feel it,” he murmured, his eyes on his ministrations.

I held myself still and let him touch me. Once all the pins were removed, my hair uncoiled and spilled long down my back. It was unruly, with a wayward curl to it. Luke grunted out what I had to hope was satisfaction as he ran his fingers through the strands. My eyes fell closed at the decadent feel of it.

“Like spun gold,” he murmured. When he gently placed his hands on my shoulders, I looked up at him and watched as his eyes lowered to my mouth. “I’m going to kiss you.”

“Yes,” I breathed, my heart beginning to gallop like a runaway horse. I wanted that so very much.

His lips were gentle and soft. Only for a moment. Then the kiss turned carnal and deep, his tongue slipping into my mouth as I gasped. The kiss was startling, for it was like instant heat. Desire pulsed through my veins and settled between my thighs. My hands took hold of his shirt and gripped tightly as his own hands cupped my face. His palms were callused, but warm.

I had no idea how long we stood there before the fire, but Luke eventually lifted his head and I whimpered. His eyes were a dark green, narrowed and clouded with need.

I couldn’t catch my breath.

“This suite has a washroom. A tub with hot water.” His eyes stayed fixed on my swollen lips. “Bathe. Relax, for when you come out, I will have you well occupied.”

“You… you don’t have to wait,” I said. My voice was unfamiliar, breathy and eager as I admitted my needs.

The corner of his mouth tipped up as his knuckles raked over my cheek. “So brave,” he said with a groan. “I am not denying you. Quite the contrary. I only have so much control, sweetheart.” He tilted his chin in the direction of the washroom. “I wish for you to scrub the journey from your skin, to take a minute to yourself before I possess you.”

Possess. Oh God. Not take, or claim or even fuck. Possess was… more. So much more.

Offering a wobbly nod, I turned to the bathing room.

“Celia,” he called.

I looked at him over my shoulder.

“When you are done, don’t dress.” His eyes slid down my body and I felt my nipples tighten. “I want to see you. All of you.”

My cheeks heated then. He wanted to look at me, to see me bare and exposed. I should have been fearful, but it only made me… eager. If it had been anyone else who’d made such a blatant statement, I would have been mortified and appalled and fearful. But with Luke, I felt… God, aroused and eager to please.

The man was virile and dominant and yet he waited for me to accept his expectation. If I didn’t, I knew somehow that he’d be gentle instead. But this was what he wanted, what he needed and would not hide that. It only made me more eager for him.

Licking my lips, I nodded and went into the other room. Leaning against the door, I caught my breath. That had just been a kiss and I was so aroused. Could I survive more?

There was no question that he wanted me, that he would take me. Did he know that when he stopped, when he offered me a chance to bathe, it only made me more eager for him? I’d think of nothing but the kiss, of him seeing me naked for the first time. For other things. The wait was arousing.

Going to the copper tub, I adjusted the knobs until hot water poured in and I watched as the steaming water slowly filled the tub. Somehow, he had restraint, but only so much of it.

I had no idea how much time had passed once I sank into the steaming water, but he knocked once, then called my name.

“Yes?” I answered, my hands gripping the edge of the tub.

“May I come in?”

If I said no, I knew he would stay on his side of the door. I didn’t even know him, yet I was confident in this, confident that he would not push me. But did I want him to stay out? I licked my lips as I knew the answer. I wanted him to come in. I wanted more kisses. I wanted… more.

“Yes,” I said, my voice quiet. I was about to repeat it louder, but he heard me.

The door opened and Luke entered. His looked me in the eyes as he said, “I could not wait any longer.”

I liked that he admitted to his desire, that he plainly shared the truth. It was obvious in every line of his body. His jaw was tense, his hands clenched in fists and I couldn’t miss the very prominent bulge in his pants.

It was my turn now. He was waiting to see what I would do next. While I’d made the decision weeks ago to become a mail order bride, chose to board the train, this was the moment. This was the decision that made me his.

Luke wanted me. I wanted him. The connection had been instant, the attraction real. He didn’t just want to take me as John had. He wanted me.

4

Celia

Pushing off the sides of the tub, I stood then, letting the bath water sluice down my naked body. Let Luke look his fill. My body wasn’t perfect. My breasts were on the small side, my hips wide, but the way his eyes narrowed, the way he ran a finger over his mouth made me feel beautiful.

He didn’t say anything, only took a bathing towel from the chair in the corner and held it out for me. Carefully, I stepped from the tub and into his arms. He wrapped the towel about me, but instead of letting go, he lifted me into his arms and carried me into the other room, lowering me so we knelt before the fire.

“I don’t want you to catch a chill,” he said, now using the towel to dry me.

Slowly, he worked the towel over me, my arms, my back, then my chest as his eyes followed his motions. The soft material brushed over my breasts and I held my breath.

A groan slipped from Luke just before he lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth. He suckled at it and I tangled my fingers in his silky hair, holding him in place. I cried out his name in a mixture of surprise and pleasure. I had no idea my nipples were so sensitive!

At my cry, Luke’s restraint fell away completely. His hands moved to my body, stroked over it, pushed me back so I laid down on the soft carpet as he loomed over me. The warmth of the fire was almost too much, for his body radiated so much heat of its own. I was not cold. I knew then that whatever the weather raged outside, I would be warm in his arms.

I was breathing hard as he looked down at me, raked his gaze over my body. “I can’t hold back, Celia. I wanted to be gentle our first time, but… I can’t.”

I shook my head. “No. Don’t hold back. Please.” I didn’t mind begging, for I was desperate for him. His restraint had only made me more eager for him. It was as if it only built my need for him to an even greater level than if he’d taken me when we’d kissed earlier.

Now, now I ached for him. To prove to him I was not afraid, I bent my right leg and let it fall open in invitation. It was a wanton move, but Luke seemed to want me this way, to offer myself to him. My blatant interest didn’t disgust him. Based on the way his jaw clenched as he looked down my body, then tugged at his pants, it only made him lose a little bit more of his control.

Opening the placket, he tugged his cock free. My eyes widened as he gripped the base and stroked himself.

“Oh God,” I said. He was big. Long and thick and a pearly drop of fluid seeped from the tip. My inner walls clenched down at the idea of being stretched open for him.

He looked up at me and I saw the last vestiges of his restraint.

It would only take one word to rip it to shreds. I knew the word, whimpered it. “Please.”

I wanted to be filled, taken, claimed. Possessed.

Lowering down onto a forearm, he aligned himself with my eager entrance and slowly sank into me. Unaccustomed to such girth, I shifted my hips to accommodate him. I breathed as I adjusted, grabbed hold of the back of his shirt as if I needed to hold on to something. Luke was almost too big, having to grab my hip and shift me so that his cock could slide in even deeper, then deeper still.

I loved that he was still dressed, only the important parts uncovered for him to claim me, while I was completely bare and exposed to him.

Deep inside, he held himself still as I clenched about him, only moving when I shifted my hips up.

His hand stroked my hair as he began to fuck me. Slowly, yet with vigorous intent.

“Yes!” I cried, arching my back.

It wasn’t rutting as John had done. It wasn’t lovemaking, for I didn’t know him enough for that deep of a connection. But it was good. Oh so good and dark and carnal and rough and—

“I bet her pussy’s going to milk the cum from your balls.”

Walker.

My eyes flew open as I looked up at Luke’s brother. I hadn’t heard him come into the room. My body stiffened in surprise and I gripped Luke’s back. He didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop fucking me. He turned his head to look up at him, but only grinned. He wasn’t bothered—or surprised—that his brother had walked in on us.

Luke took my bottom in his palm and angled me so that he slid over a different spot deep inside me. My eyes slipped closed and I cried out at the delicious feel. Nothing was stopping the pleasure, not even Walker watching.

“She’s perfect, brother,” Luke said, breathing hard as Walker lowered himself onto a chair, let his legs sprawl out before him and watched. He was watching me being fucked! “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. Let Walker see how beautiful you are.”

“You are beautiful, Celia,” Walker confirmed, his voice deep and rough. “So perfect beneath my brother. I can hear how wet you are for him. You’re going to come, aren’t you?”

I should have offended by Walker’s appearance, by Luke’s casual attitude, should have pushed at him so I could run away in shame. I should have at least wanted to cover myself. But I didn’t.

“My cock is rock hard looking at you,” Walker crooned, as if he knew his words made me hotter. “Seeing the pleasure on your face, watching your nipples tighten. I bet your pussy’s so sweet and tight.”

“I’m going to… God, it’s too much,” I said.

“Shh,” Luke crooned. “I’ve got you. Let go, sweetheart. Come all over my cock.”

My head thrashed from side to side as I tried to get to a place, somewhere that I couldn’t reach. The pleasure was too much, so intense that I was afraid that it would overwhelm me.

“Walker wants to see you when you come.”

Those words were what pushed me over. I tensed, then every muscle in my body went lax beneath Luke’s weight, my bones seemed to have dissolved. I cried out my pleasure as my hands fell to my sides. “Luke!” I cried again, overcome.

Luke plunged deep, once, then twice, then stilled deep inside. He groaned as I felt his seed fill me.

He lowered his head to my neck and our wild breaths mingled before he pushed off and moved to lie beside me.

I smiled to myself, reveling in the bliss that Luke had wrung from my body. John had never done that to me. I’d never felt that way when he’d touched me. No other man had—

My eyes opened. “Oh God!” I cried, tilting my head to look up at Walker. Grabbing the bathing towel that lay on the floor beneath me, I tugged at it to try to cover myself without much success.

Walker stared down at me, completely at ease, his hat in his hands. He wore a suit and tie similar to his brother’s. Formal while I was naked, sweaty and dripping with his brother’s seed.

“I’ve asked for food to be delivered. Shouldn’t take too long.”

He spoke as if he hadn’t witnessed something so private, so carnal. I was confused by my reactions, or lack of. The fire at my side was too much. I felt overheated and Luke was doing nothing to shelter me or cover me from his brother’s eyes. He didn’t seem to be cruel about it, more that he was willing to share me with him, that he wanted to show me off.

I scrambled to my feet, ran to the nearest bedroom and shut the door behind me, leaned against the hard surface. The wood was cool against my palms, my bare back, as I tried to catch my breath. I was naked and I felt Luke’s seed slip down my thighs.

I’d fucked my husband while his brother watched!

I put my hands over my face and wondered what I’d turned into. I’d wanted to be more daring, to feel the pleasure that could be had in a marriage, but this was nothing I’d ever imagined. I was so wicked and wanton. It wasn’t because I was surprised that he’d watched, but I was surprised that I’d liked it.

“Oh God,” I whispered, shaking my head.

I stared at the bed and realized this was not a good place to hide. I wasn’t going to just bed Luke tonight. The way Walker had been looking at me, the way Luke had allowed it, he was just as interested. The connection between us was just as strong as with Luke and me.

“Celia.” Luke’s voice was deep, yet calm. “Open the door.”

I took a few deep breaths and realized I had to face them. I’d let John have his way, turned my head at the signs that he had strayed from our marital bed, that when we knew no children would come from our union, he’d never considered me anything more than a free source of labor for his practice. It had been my fault.

And now, I’d gotten myself into this situation with Luke and Walker. I’d chosen to be a mail order bride. Of course, I was going to be wedded and bedded. I’d known that all along. I wasn’t twenty anymore. I wasn’t young or naive, but never in my wildest and most tawdry thoughts did I imagine Luke sharing me with his brother.

I couldn’t stay in this room forever. I knew the limit of Luke’s patience and he would eventually open the door on his own. I could not keep him out. But he was waiting for me to come out voluntarily. I had to face them. I’d been silent for one marriage, and look what that had done to my life. I wouldn’t be silent in this one.

Grabbing the blanket off the foot of the big bed, I wrapped it about my shoulders, about to face two very ardent men. After one more deep breath, I turned and opened the door. Both men loomed and were quite daunting. Both of their gazes raked over my blanket-covered body. For one heartbeat, I feared they would push their way into the bedroom and have their way with me, but they didn’t. I saw nothing but concern on their faces.

Luke’s cock was tucked back in his pants and he showed no outward signs of just having fucked besides his hair being unruly. I remembered the silky feel of those strands.

I breathed through my mouth as I tried to calm my racing heart.

Luke began to undo the buttons of his shirt, tugged the tails from his pants and stripped it off. “Here.” He held it out for me to take. “You will be more comfortable in my shirt than the blanket.”

I took the garment, still warm from his body, then closed the door behind me, slipped it on in privacy and buttoned it up. It was big on me, so big that it hung down almost to my knees.

Opening the door once more, Luke smiled. “Looks better on you than me. Please, Celia. Sit.” Luke’s voice was even more gentle than before. I took in his bare chest and I swallowed. A smattering of light hair was on his broad chest. It tapered to a V toward his navel and then even lower. Muscles rippled and I wanted to feel every defined inch of him. Resisting the urge—he’d just fucked me minutes ago—I clenched my hands into fists.

They stepped back so I could pass and I moved to the couch across from the fire and sat down, careful to tug the shirt down over my thighs. The men sat down on either side of me, their legs pressed into mine. I was surrounded.

“Mrs. Carstairs shared little about you in her telegram,” Luke began. “That you are a widow.”

I frowned at him, confused. “After what just happened, you want to know that?”

Luke looked a little chagrined. “Perhaps we should have done this first.”

I looked down at my lap as I felt my cheeks heat, wondering what else she’d shared. Hopefully the heat from the fire hid that from them. “Yes, perhaps,” I replied, not wishing to offer up too many details. I didn’t wish for him to think any less of me. “And yes, I’m a widow.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Walker said. I tilted my head and offered him a small smile. “No children, then.”

It wasn’t a question, for the answer was obvious since no toddlers alighted the train with me. Still, I shook my head at another one of my wifely inadequacies.

“Were you happy, Celia?” Luke asked. His voice was gentle, but I still felt surrounded, pressured, so I stood, moved to stand and look down at the crackling fire. With the sleeves dangling over my hands, I kept myself busy by rolling them up to my wrists.

“Was it a love match, you mean?” I didn’t turn to look at the men for an answer, and neither responded, obviously allowing me to take my time. “I thought so, at first. But I was quite young and didn’t know what love was. I knew he was independent and expected me to be as well.”

“We are not overbearing either.”

Overbearing? No, Luke hadn’t been overbearing. Bold, yes.

I heard the word “we” in his sentence but did not give it much credence. I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. “I won’t be a simpering wife, I assure you.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” Luke replied. “We are possessive men, though, Celia, and will ensure to your safety and wellbeing. We will allow you independence, but you will find us very protective of what belongs to us.”

I spun about then, the heat from the fire at my back. “What?”

“We are very protective,” Walker repeated.

“We?” I looked between the two. Both had earnest expressions. Open. They were relaxed, their gazes fixed on me. “Um… I don’t understand.”

“Besides being a mine owner, I am also the mayor of Slate Springs,” Luke shared. “As I said, the town is isolated in the winter and the population is predominantly male. A new law has been passed.”

A hint of apprehension appeared in Luke’s gaze, then was gone. I had to wonder if I imagined it.

“The law allows for two men to marry the same woman.”

My mouth fell open as I glanced between the two brothers. “You mean… I am—”

“The reason why I watched you and Luke fuck—why he allowed me to do so—is because you are married to both of us,” Walker finished for me.