Mastered By The Mavericks (24 page)

God, she wanted him. Yes, right now. Yes, stroking at her clit and her pussy, before
filling every inch of her clenching channel. And yes…doing the same thing with his
cock this time.

“Sweetheart.” Rhett’s admonishment was stricter—not that she had a problem with that.
She’d just had his breath in her ear and his cock at her ass, priming her libido for
him in about a dozen ways. So yeah, she wanted him, too. With all the same nasty,
naked abandon she craved from Rebel.

“You can’t blow this off by feeling Moon up,” he continued. “As nice as that possibility
feels, your silence about this isn’t acceptable.”

“To either of us,” Rebel adjoined.

Rhett pulled at her fingertips, holding one of her arms up. “Look at these deep indents
from the ties. If you were cinched too tight—”

“
Pssshhh
.” She yanked her hand back. “I’m the girl who did the research, remember? The one
who looked at
a lot
of pictures while deciding if BDSM was the thing for her?” She rolled her eyes while
joining their survey of her wrists. “Calm down, mama hens. I loved every second of
that. And the skin’s not even broken.”

The hen line had Rebel jerking back like one, folding his arms and cocking his brows.
“You see me laying an egg,
cher
?” he charged. “No. But I can tell you what
I
saw.
You
, shaking like a goddamn feather in the wind.” He stepped back again, practically
posing with his puffed chest. “We’re open-minded men. Enlighten us,
minette
. If that wasn’t a fucking circulation issue, then what—”

“It
wasn’t
a circulation issue.” She almost regretted the outburst but stood by her words when
both of them refused to shuck their inner ogres, unwavering in their growly vigilance.
She just wished they’d lean more toward the warty, smelly end of the ogre spectrum,
not the hulking, stares-like-pure-sin side. “Unless head-to-toe horny is considered
a circulatory thing these days?”

Rebel lowered his arms. Well, there was a shocker. He didn’t vibe overbearing giant
all over her any longer. As a matter of fact, he looked…stunned. Rhett’s mien matched.

She’d
astonished
them
?

And at the moment, did it matter? Not when the pause on the air thickened with breaths,
hers and theirs, racing each other in new lust. Her stare accepted the heat of theirs,
burning it in, fusing it to her senses.

Lust flared between all of them like a Stratocaster plugged to a wall of amps.

Thank God.
Maybe
now
they’d gotten the message. But could they really give her pleasure like that, and
not expect she’d want more? Not know she’d crave to give them the same thing in return?

The huge, hard ridges between their thighs gave her hope. Lots and lots of hope.

Now guys, just start thinking with your
little
heads, okay
?

So, there really was a first time for everything in life. She just happened to be
experiencing a few in a row today. If fate was really on her side, that list would
soon be growing by one more.

‡

W
hat the hell
was going on in that beautiful brain of hers
?

It was the wrong question and Rebel knew it. More accurately, it was just the question
that didn’t need to be asked, because it had already answered itself. He knew damn
well what intent ruled her right now—exchanging a glance with Double-Oh confirmed
he wasn’t the only one—he just didn’t know how to process the recognition as reality.
Doing that meant confronting the
actual
mystery on his mind.

Was this woman going to be his dream or his destruction?

And at the moment, did the answer matter?

His cock issued a resounding
no
—and he wasn’t complaining.
Damn.
She was five and a half feet of everything he could have conjured from a fantasy.
The sensual focus of her huge brown eyes. The stiff tips jutting from her dusky areolas.
The fresh dew gleaming between her creamy thighs.

Jesus. So perfect.

Maybe she simply
was
a hallucination…

But when he reached to stroke her shoulder with a knuckle, she didn’t disappear. Her
reaction was the exact opposite. So responsive, her flesh pimpling beneath his touch.
So open, her full lips parting. Then so real, her voice rasping the air between them,
reaching for him like a touch all its own…but zapping his senses as something more.
A caress he felt to the core of his being. Electricity. Lust. But more. Needing so
much more.

“Issues? Yes, I guess I have a few, Sergeant.” Lifting her chin, she edged closer.
Closer. Letting him see her quiver anew as he skimmed his hand down, brushing the
pucker of her breast. “And now I
am
speaking up for help.” She slid her hips in too, rocking her pussy against his hand.
Her sparse whisper mingled with the sound. “Help.”

Fuck.

His dream?

His destruction?

Now, the answer felt even more important.
She
felt important. But why?
Why
? And what was that…
thing
…her voice kept triggering in his brain, like a damn bullet she’d shot there, tearing
so many things apart as it ripped inside? Painful things. But…significant things,
too.

Why did this
all
feel so damn significant?

And why the fuck was he dwelling on it, when this amazing,
naked
woman all but climbed him like the tree of life? And Rhett, the glorious asshole,
had become her accomplice, cheering her on with hums intending to arouse…

And Goddammit, they were working.

His cock, damn near bursting before, threatened complete combustion. His desire grew
into a long snarl as he snapped an arm around her, locking her close, forcing her
to ride his thigh. Brynna’s legs convulsed. Her eyes turned heavy. Her lips popped
open on a gasp.

“Ohhhh!”

Rhett released a lusty rumble. “Fuck
me
, that’s a beautiful sight.” A rough rasp of fabric followed. Reb glanced in time
to watch the guy free a beautiful erection, then palm the broad red shaft and begin
to pump.

The veins in his own cock pumped double time.

He turned back to Brynn. Loomed his face just inches over hers, letting his stare
fall to the berry-sweet welcome of her lips. Beneath his study, her mouth opened more.
He didn’t give her the kiss for which she pleaded. Instead, with eyes still fixed
on her face, he reached with his free hand—

To Rhett.

Their palms hit hard. Rhett’s fingers curled tight.

Reb moaned, devastated by wonder, gratitude—

Completion.

It hit him harder than he’d imagined. He likely had the Brynna bullet to thank—or
blame—for part of that…but not all. The rest was Rhett. The huge step he’d taken.
The precious gift, even if that was all this would ever be, that he’d given. While
Brynna sent him soaring, his tether to earth was centered in that hand, twined with
his. The one person who brought him sanity in all the
in
sanity that was his life.

“Is your futon still set up?” Though he charged it to the man at his side, he didn’t
stop studying the woman in his arms. He
really
needed to make sure she was still all-in for this plan.

“Of course,” Rhett responded.

“And you have…supplies?”

His friend chuckled. “I have the basics, but I also know where Dax keeps his accessories.”

“Of course you do.”

“Would you like some?”

“Roger the fuck out of that.”

“Handled. Be right back.”

Brynna frowned as Double-Oh left. Her bafflement wasn’t surprising, considering the
lusty glaze in her eyes. If shit like auras were real, hers would be throbbing with
the kinkiest colors in the spectrum. He only hoped she was still capable of a few
words.

“Wh-where’s Viking stud going?”

Well, that was a few words. Unexpected ones, but he’d roll—even did so with a laugh.
“Viking stud, huh?”

She rolled her head toward the door. “Viking stud.” Then back at him. “Pirate hunk.”

He chuckled softly. “You’re really sticking to that, eh?”

She bit her lip, suddenly sheepish. “Unless you don’t like it?”

“Oh, I fucking love it.” He unfurled half a smile, ensuring it met the endearment’s
licentious promise. “Just making sure
you’re
positive,
ma petite
. Do you know what us pirates like to do with our…treasures?”

Her eyes flared. A heated breath escaped. “Things involving rope, pistols, and daggers?”

He framed her jaw in his free hand. Jerked her face upward. “Now you’re bringing rope
into this, Miss I-don’t-do-submissiveness? Because that boundary doesn’t get crossed
until a hell of a lot more talking takes place—and right now, I sure as fuck don’t
feel like talking.”

She dipped her face until her lips collided into his forefinger—where she pulled on
it with her teeth. “Neither do I.”

He hissed. The pain wasn’t brutal but sharp enough to spike his heartrate, shooting
fresh blood to the places that did
not
need it right now.

“Such a talented little mouth,” he growled. “Perhaps you’ll show me what other things
it can do…and other ways it likes to play.”

She gazed up at him through her lashes. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

He sucked air back in. “Well, Miss Not-Submissive, you’ve grasped the hang of
that
one pretty well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stafford.”

He shifted his hand to the side of her face. Dug his grip in, fingers forming to the
curve of her jaw. “You’re going to say that again, just as pretty, when my dick’s
deep inside you. Then again every time I make you come.”

It was a bit of work to hide his smug smile at her flush of arousal. God, he loved
how his nasty ways stunned her—and fascinated her. She was like a blank book embedded
with secret ink. Every time a page was turned and stroked the right way, a unique
design appeared, delighting him all over again. He couldn’t wait to paint her newest
pages with his most illicit intent.

“Tell me you understand,
mon chou
.”

She wetted her lips and swallowed hard. “I—I understand.”

He issued approval with a curt nod. Slipped his hand away from her face. “Now go wait
for me in the center of Rhett’s futon. Reach back with your arms and grab the cushion
over your head. And spread your legs, knees bent up, exposing your pussy for me. Is
all of
that
understood?”

“Very,
very
much…Sir.”

She turned and sashayed away, letting the impact of that snatch his mind
and
cock in all the best ways. It was the work of his staunchest self-control not to
smack her pert little ass, working in glorious harmony with her dance-toned thighs.

He couldn’t get naked fast enough.

His own movements probably looked like a wasted ape in comparison to hers—not that
he was bucking for the grace-under-pressure trophy any time soon. The day job had
maxed out his points on that scoreboard, anyhow—and the only priority at this point
was freeing his cock from his track pants without breaking the damn thing off. It
was stiff as a poker but felt fragile as ash.

He’d finally kicked the fuckers free just as Rhett walked back in. In one of his hands,
he toted a bottle of lube and a pretty little anal plug. In his other were nipple
clamps on a chain and a finger-held vibrator.

“Dude. She calls me the pirate but
you
hit the bounty.”

Rhett’s gaze flicked down as if tractor-beamed to Reb’s erection. Though his face
suffused with color, he murmured, “Guess I did.” Inside a second, he retracted to
all-business mode. “Pirate?”

“Subject for later.” He pulled on the same gruff mantle. If not, he’d end up making
a move Double-Oh clearly wasn’t ready for yet. Better to take things back to the setting
that worked…the new portals of communication Brynna had unlocked between them simply
with the light of her presence and the openness of her spirit. In his book, there
was absolutely nothing wrong with that choice, either. Just thinking of her on the
futon, arranging herself as he’d instructed… “Come on. I think you’ll enjoy the view
in here just as much, man.”

“Yeah?” Rhett smirked, another step in the right direction. Though Brynna was still
in another room, he was able to relax without her. Maybe he’d begun to see that Reb
didn’t want to change what was
them
…only enhance it.

Another subject for much later.

Especially after they walked into the adjoining room—and halted together at the sight
awaiting them on the futon.

“Fuck,” Reb uttered.

“Me,” Rhett finished.

She dropped his jaw. Seared his blood. And moved his spirit.

Yeah, there was the physical resplendence, undeniable and endless. She was something
out of a sappy classic hair band ballad, all Godiva hair, endless legs, and honeyed
skin, with those high puckered breasts and her pussy pink and glistening. But that
wasn’t her perfection by half. The reason his breath still clutched and his cock still
surged had everything to do with the rest. The sincere glow in her eyes. The tentative
pout of her lips. The eager strain of her arms as she gripped the cushion not only
out of obedience to his wishes, but a necessary restraint of herself, especially as
she took a visual drink of his nudity for the very first time—an experience that actually
made him as nervous.