Mastered By The Mavericks (22 page)

“Electric,” she finally responded. “Everything…tingles. I’m so…alive.”

“Yes.” Rebel didn’t transform it into a tease or a seduction. Rhett watched in awe—and
arousal—as the man focused completely on her, stowing his inner Lothario for the privilege
of nipping more at her heated skin. “I know the feeling.”

Rhett gave in to a growl. “God
damn.
” And then the hunger for her sweet tits beneath his mouth. “Roger that,” he finished,
dropping his lips to the nipples that now appeared like shiny bits of hard candy.
Fuck
…such treats. Rebel’s snack time on her neck had made them taut, red, delectable.
He swirled and licked, nibbled and bit, alternating his mouth between both mounds
until they resembled scoops of creamy ice cream with dark red gum drops on top.

“
Merde
.” Rebel stared over her shoulder at what Rhett was up to. “
Les doudones…c’est trés belle, mon chou
.
Je bande plus grand pour toi.
”

“Exactly what he said.” Rhett gazed up at them both and grinned. “You have the most
stunning set of breasts it’s been my pleasure to taste, sweetheart.”

Rebel worked his head forward a little more, sucking on the curve of her ear. It didn’t
escape Rhett’s attention that he also tucked a hand deeper beneath her pajamas, working
his way to the cleft between her legs. As Brynn emitted a high-pitched moan, the spice
of her arousal knitted through the air.

“Suck on her again, Double-Oh.” Reb’s voice was sandpaper. He began rolling over her
pussy, fingers sensual and sure. As soon as Rhett complied, he demanded, “Now bite
them. Hard.”

“
Bite
them?” Brynn gasped and bucked—but the effort was more for show, a half-assed effort
to prove she
still
wasn’t going to just hand them her submission on a platter. “But—”

Rebel shoved down her pajamas—and landed a hard smack on her ass. “Hush,
ma petite
. You’re going to scream for us. And you’re going to love it.”

“The hell I—aaahhhh!”

She definitely screamed—as Rhett closed his teeth around her nipple. Once more, as
he performed the same on the other breast. The way her tips stood straight up for
him, bursting from their areolas, tempted his mouth down again. He soothed the peaks
with long, warm licks this time, unable to hold back a satisfied moan from the feel
of her proud erections against the flat of his tongue.

“Fuck. Your tips are hard as diamonds, sweetheart.”

“And your cunt is wet as a rain-drenched flower.” Reb continued working the folds
of her sex in languorous rolls, sliding in his middle finger every third or fourth
stroke, snarling in pleasure as she mewled in need. “Spread your legs. Open the bloom
for me, Brynna.”

With a strangled sigh, she obeyed.

The scent of her pussy permeated the air even more. Rhett breathed it in, swearing
again. His lips fell away from her flesh, just to keep his lungs supplied with what
they needed as he gazed at Rebel’s fingers, incessantly pumping into her flesh.

“Christ, Brynna,” he blurted. “You always smell so fucking good.”

She frantically licked her lips, a perfect match to the T-shirt still keeping her
in sensual darkness. She moaned softly as Rebel pulled out his hand, fingers glistening
with the cream from her channel, then spread the arousal up and down her bare pussy
lips, now swollen with arousal. “I’ll bet she tastes even better,” he stated.

“Oh, she does.” Rhett couldn’t help his been-there-done-that smirk.

Rebel chuckled softly. “Yeah?”

It was probably the easiest damn question he’d get to answer all year—but when he
opened his mouth, only silence seemed appropriate. Rebel’s inner glow had intensified,
turning into a sexual force he’d never seen the guy exude—and certainly never felt
for himself; not like this, like a thrumming from inside his blood, growing stronger
by the minute. If the man kept up this tall, dark, and irresistible shit, Rhett would
have to call Seattle before they flew home—more specifically, to Max Brickham, owner
of Bastille, the BDSM club they were both members of. No submissive in the place would
be safe once Reb walked back through the doors.

Damn.
Damn.

“Yeah.”

He finally got it out, though couldn’t manage another grin to go along—likely because
of what needed to happen next.
Needed
to happen.

“But you shouldn’t take my word for it.”

Rebel’s dark brows cocked up—though aside from that, he didn’t break stride in the
new bites he trailed along Brynna’s right shoulder. When her breasts rose and fell
from the fresh acceleration of her lungs, Rhett knew she’d caught on, as well.

“Is that so?” It was a drawl though far from lazy. Only adding to the impression that
he’d swallowed a stick of dynamite, Rebel sizzled the air with every movement, circling
to stand in front of Brynna again. Without speaking, he delved a hand into her hair,
angling her head back for another thorough kiss.

Watching the man explore her mouth, suck on her tongue, and plunge into her throat
had Rhett gritting against a fresh rise of his cock. The idea of freeing himself now
was so fucking tempting, but it felt lame when Rebel was still keeping shit under
wraps. But standing here like a voyeur perv felt equally lame—irony of ironies, since
Rebel Stafford had to be the biggest pervert in the army, if not all the armed forces.

That was because pervy had nothing to do with this. The truth? He was being clingy
as a fourteen year-old girl. Simply put, he had to be closer—to both of them. Yeah,
yeah; so his over-attachment thing was as concerning as Reb’s slut-from-Mars thing,
but this wasn’t a time for the therapy couch. This was a time for feeling good.

It was ideal inspiration.

He stepped over, sliding into Reb’s old spot behind Brynn. Like a key in a lock, his
body fit flawlessly against hers. His thighs cradled her hips. His dick nudged her
ass.

It was…good.

Yeah.

So good
.

Who the hell was he kidding? It
wasn’t
good. It was fucking agony.

Just getting to gaze at her from this angle, hands bound overhead, every naked inch
of her body exposed…

Staring at Rebel’s bite marks on her neck, then imagining how his own would look next
to them…

Taking in the perfection of her skin, and envisioning its tingles as he brushed a
flogger across it…

Christ
.

At this rate, no fucking way was he going to make it to the good parts of this thing.
The ordeal only continued as he stared at the perfection of her spine. The column,
bowed just a little and stretched so all her muscles were emphasized too, was just
as erotic as her breasts—
how was that even possible
?—a torture worsened because it ended at the sweet rosette of her anus. If he made
it past all the fantasies that attacked because of
that
, no way would he withstand thinking of what came next: the tender folds between her
thighs, soon to be quivering beneath Rebel’s expert mouth.

Fuck.
Fuck.

As if reading Rhett’s thoughts exactly, Rebel cast a single glance over Brynn’s shoulder.
Rhett groaned at once from the impact. The man’s eyes, shimmering like Excalibur itself,
sliced in and ripped him open—but instead of spilled guts, he released pure energy.
An erotic freedom that was stupefying, dizzying. The force of it was so potent, even
Brynn was affected. Her head jerked, twisting at her T-shirt bondage. Her lungs pumped,
bouncing her breasts in hypnotic rhythm. Her hips jerked as if Reb’s beautiful blade
really had run her through.

Lust fired Rhett’s blood. He yanked Brynn tighter against him, forcing the roll of
her hips to match his. She succumbed at once, trembling mewls emanating from her stretched
throat. He greedily sucked that creamy column, at once recognizing the earthy scent
of the man who’d been there first…as he vowed to add his own claim there too.

They rocked harder together. Harder. Their tempo was urgent, pounding, primal—but
not for long. They slowed as Rebel curled his hands over her from the front, dragging
over her with possessive force: down her breasts, along her ribs, to the V at the
center of her body. Once there, he dropped to his knees, muttering something filthy
in French as he buried his nose in her pussy. He switched to English for his next
hard growl. “More.” Backed it up by reaching up and wrapping his hands around her
ass—

Which pressed his fingertips against the sides of Rhett’s cock.

“
Fuck
.”

All three of them shouted it at once.

Rhett finished his bellow with a groan. Brynn added a shuddering sigh.

Rebel—goddamn bastard—unfurled a wicked laugh.

“I’m going to eat you now,
mon chou
.” His stare was still a sword—that had been honed in a forge of dominant sexuality.
“I’m going to spread this blossom wide, and drink every drop of its juicy nectar.
Then I’m going to drill my tongue into your perfect cunt, until you come hard against
my mouth.”

Brynn moaned. Shivered all over. Rhett knew it as a certainty because every last one
of those quakes zinged through him too.

Rebel dug into her ass, his hold becoming demand. Rhett clenched his teeth and almost
swore.
Don’t do that again, asshole. Please do that again, asshole.

“
Ma chatte
?” There was no sensual tease to it now. “Tell me you understand, and that you’ll
accept the pleasure I’m ready to give. You know the words to use.”

“Oh, God!” Brynn moaned it as he extended his tongue, swiping into her sex with slow
deliberation. “Ohhhh. shit…please!”

“Not the words. Should I tell Rhett to spank you again, perhaps as a reminder?”

“No, Sir.”

No, Sir
?

Rhett didn’t hide his bafflement. Even with the small bombshell reference to the spanking,
those were the last words he’d expected from her. Well, almost. Her breathing was
more shallow and her limbs more tense, conveying her fresh conflict. Did that mean
she’d hated the words…or loved them and hated
that
fact?

“I—I mean yes, Sir,” she suddenly added. “I mean that I understand. And…I’m ready
to accept it. All of your pleasure. Please!”

That sure as hell answered things. In all the right ways.

A smile hooked at Rhett’s lips. He looked down to Rebel—who sent out the same message
with the warmth in his eyes, considering how his mouth was full with the sweetest
pussy on the planet.

“Fuck.” Rhett issued it while burying his face in her thick strawberry hair, though
throwing his gaze directly into Rebel’s. “This is going to be so damn good.”

As if he needed any more affirmation, the ten fingers against his cock squeezed again…another
invitation down a path where secrets were safe and the rules were damned.

‡

W
ho the hell
are you? What the hell are you doing? What the hell have you become
?

The demands slashed from the edges of Brynn’s psyche, puncturing her mists of arousal,
desperate attempts to remind her that a week ago, she’d vowed never to be a bound,
begging thing at the end of a tether, all but asking a man’s permission to draw her
next breath.

Hypocrite.

Where’s your conviction now, Brynna? Where’s the woman who vowed she’d make no man
her religion? Where’s the person who swore her life would be bigger than what Mom
promised…better than what Enya settled for
?

She was still here, damn it.

She just wanted a break.

Needed
a break.

Oh, God…just this once, just for this razor’s edge in time, she needed to dance on
that dangerous blade, to court every nasty, naughty creature of her desires to twirl
there with her…to bleed from the cuts of her own salacious fantasies…

To give up. Give in. Give over.

To trust.

Just

for

one

moment…

Funny things, those moments.

In one, a person could be wrestling with themselves, but still halfway sane. In the
very next, the world was a different place, blinding and brilliant, centered on a
tiny bundle of nerves at the center of their body, being touched so exquisitely that
concepts like gravity, time, and linear thought were total farces.

The morning sun beamed into the office, warming her skin—and emulating the recognition
that blazed into her soul. There was no way to fight it, to deny it, to ignore it.
She belonged to them. Right here, right now, on this edge of existence, she was at
the complete mercy of these two men: these mavericks who’d shattered her, broken her,
exposed her…and adored her for all of it. More than that, were actually determined
to reward her for it. In
such
incredible ways…

“Ahhhh!”

Maybe not so incredible.

She twisted her head, trying to glare down at Rebel. Hilarious concept, considering
her scope of vision had turned bubble gum pink. “Did you—”