Widow Devney Jenkins needs to remarry, and quickly as she’s quite a prize for any money-grubbing bachelor. Cowboy Sam Bridger takes one look at Devney Jenkins and decides his bachelor days are over. Devney doesn’t give in easily to Sam as her new husband and must learn through sound spankings and pleasurable and very carnal rewards that being under Sam’s control is everything she’s ever wanted.
Excerpt
“Up on the table, please,” Doctor Graham repeated.
Still, I couldn’t move. I was too modest for something such as this. Mr. Bridger took the two steps between us, placed his large hands gently about my waist and lifted me upon the hard surface. “Lie back, baby.” His voice was deep, yet quiet, his breath fanning against the nape of my neck. “Let me take care of you.” I still paused. “Or I can spank you for not doing as I say, then you can lie back. Your choice.” He was serious. His gaze was half tenderness, half sternness. How could he have any tender feelings if he wanted to spank me? The very idea had me obeying.
Slowly, I laid back against the cool wood, keeping my eyes on him as I did so.
“Bend your knees up,” Doctor Graham told me.
Mr. Bridger must have seen something there, some hint to my feelings, because he slowly positioned my feet against the surface for me.
“Pull your dress up, please.”
I looked down my body at both men. Doctor Graham stood at the end of the table, Mr. Bridger to my side, although I knew as soon as I lifted the bottom of my dress, they’d both be able to see me. There.
“Do you want to do it or do you need help?” Mr. Bridger asked, his gaze still pinned to mine.
With shaky fingers, I tugged the hem of my dress to my waist in one quick yank, the cool air raising goose bumps on my legs. “Good girl,” Mr. Bridger murmured before standing up to his full height.
Both men stared at me intently, but I watched Mr. Bridger for reaction. His jaw clenched tight and his eyes narrowed in intensity as he looked at my exposed body. “That’s one gorgeous pussy, baby,” he whispered.
“I don’t see any chafing, but her pussy lips are very red and swollen.” Doctor Graham’s voice was calm. Clinical. “Did the harness hurt you?”
I shook my head, my hair sliding over the table top.
“Then you shouldn’t be so swollen.”
“Did you touch yourself, baby?” Mr. Bridger asked, his eyes meeting mine. His gaze was so intense, I felt like a bug pinned to a tray. He didn’t appear angry, didn’t appear upset. In fact, he seemed very attentive. Concerned. Protective.
“No. I couldn’t.” My voice sounded very disappointed.
“Ah,” Doctor Graham said softly.
“But you wanted to, didn’t you? Did you rub the harness against your pussy? Is that why you’re all swollen? Did you ache there?” Mr. Bridger put a hand on the table by my hip, leaned down so his face was close to mine once again. “Do you ache there now?”
I felt my inner muscles clench involuntarily at his words. My cheeks were heated, flushed. I could feel it.
“You do, don’t you, Devney? You’re just afraid to admit it.” He stroked a hand across my forehead, gently pushing my hair back.
I closed my eyes against Mr. Bridger’s verbal assault on my willpower.
“I’ll touch you there, Devney. Do you want my fingers on you? In you? Did you find your clit? I can see it from here, all pink and hard, just begging to be touched.”
I exhaled and it came out a breathy moan. I did. I did want him to do what he said! I thrashed my head side to side, kept my eyes squeezed shut.
“I can see you’re clenching down. What do you want in your pussy, baby? My fingers? My cock?”
“Oh God,” I gasped.
“Do you want Mr. Bridger to touch your pussy, Devney?” Doctor Graham asked, his voice deep. My eyes flew open. I’d forgotten he was even there. Now, knowing he was looking upon me too made me…hotter.
“Do you want me to touch you with Doctor Graham watching? Is that it?” His dark eyes were focused intently on me. My knees splayed open involuntarily. He grinned. “You do. Oh baby, you’re such a good girl.”
I shook my head again, this time in denial. “No, no I’m not. I’m not a good girl. I can’t want this. I can’t want you. I can’t want–”
“Two men to see you come?”
I didn’t know what he meant by come, but I was ashamed to feel even more pleasure at the idea of both men gazing upon me.
Mr. Bridger stood back up, moved down to stand next to Doctor Graham at the foot of the table. I looked at them over the rise and fall of my breasts, past my spread, uncovered legs, my exposed woman’s place. I did want Mr. Bridger to touch me. There was something about him that set him apart from every other man. I wanted him do something so personal, so intimate. I wanted him to do everything he’d said.
“I’ll touch you, baby.”
“Yes, please,” I begged. I bit my lip, stunned at what had escaped.
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Image courtesy of Vanessa Vale
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