Read Online Southern Seduction [Bride Train 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Reece Butler - Free Book Online

frustration by piling up manure.
    Grandpa must be looking down on him, slapping his knee, chortling and wheezing at how God had answered his prayers. Send a wife, make her tantalizing in almost every way, but have her fall far short of his expectations outside the kitchen and bedroom.
    When he and his cousins had headed West, it was with empty stomachs and pockets. They had nothing but what Grandpa and Grandma had taught them, and pride. They’d vowed to build a new home with all the best of the South. They’d be independent and self-reliant. Cole added that their home would offer gracious hospitality, including good food, a certain decorum, and voices that flowed, soft and smooth, like mountain honey.
    Casey might cook well but a woman who dressed like a boy, even going so far as to cut her hair, had no decorum. Worse, her words grated like Grandma’s chalk on a slate.
    To keep all of their reputations from being destroyed, he’d have to marry her. But none of them could touch her. That would allow him to get an annulment in the spring. They’d have a good cook and housekeeper for the winter and would be free of each other when the snow cleared. He’d even give Willy enough gold to get them both all the way to California. Anything to get her far away.
    Then he’d head east to meet the first Bride Train as it crossed the Missouri. He’d find them a wife and get working on a son which he would name Marshall Phelps Taylor, after both his grandparents.
    Cole kept his back to the house as he saddled up a fresh horse. Casey was humming now, some slow tune he didn’t recognize. He carefully settled into the saddle, adjusting his seat until his bollocks weren’t crushed. He’d make a trip to the Double Diamond. Jessie would understand his request to borrow women’s things for Casey.
    He rode toward the road in agony. Every time he blinked he remembered a different part of Casey’s body. The curve of her small, perfect breasts. How her hips flared out, the right width for his hands to grasp and slam his cock into her. The dark, mysterious cleft between her buttocks.
    He wanted to suckle the nipple atop that breast. To kneel behind those hips, bend her forward, and lick her from to ass to belly. To spread her legs and surge between them deep into her pussy. Not the first time. No, he’d take her slow and easy at first, showing her why a woman wanted a man. But when she was used to them, then he’d do more.
    What if he pressed a finger into that brown dimple above her pussy? Or three fingers, easing his way with lard? He could spank her and watch his pink handprint appear on her white bottom. Maybe he’d then penetrate her with his cock, watching it slowly disappear into her ass. He clutched at his heart as it spasmed. He’d very nearly erupted into his pants like a boy of sixteen.
    He hauled his horse to a stop and carefully—very carefully—dismounted. He tied his horse and unbuttoned his pants. He groaned as he released his throbbing cock. His pants already had a damp spot. If he didn’t find his release soon, they’d be soaked.
    He took himself in hand and thought of what he’d do if she was his, welcoming him. He saw her kneeling at his feet, her mouth over the dark head of his thick cock. She’d grasp him with both hands. Unable to get all of him inside her hot, wet mouth, she’d lick him. Up one side of his cock and down the other. She’d ring him with her wet tongue, circling and dabbing into the slit at his tip. She’d pull on his balls, gently but firmly, just the way he liked it. He did it to himself as if showing her how.
    He imagined lifting her. She’d spread her legs and he’d bring her pussy down on his eager cock. She’d hold tight, slowly letting her flesh stretch around his wide cock until she took him deep. She’d move up and down, clutching him with her internal muscles. She’d cry his name as she peaked. And then—
    “Aargh!”
    He roared his release, exploding with a need too long