Mastered By The Mavericks (21 page)

He really liked those odds.

“Rebel?”

Brynna’s query reminded him that Moon hadn’t verbally weighed in on things yet.
Psshh.
A formality, really. Rhett almost bellowed the
hell, yes
on behalf of his friend.

Damn good thing he didn’t.

Whoa
. Rebel really had become a different person. The usual Moonstormer would have been
jumping on this invite like it was engraved in gold from the Playboy Mansion. A let’s-get-naked
playdate, with Brynna
and
him, no regrets or rearviews attached? Why the idiot wasn’t dropping trou this second,
instead of taking a step back from them both, was a deepening mystery.

“Reb?” Rhett issued his own cautious prompt. “You down or not?” And did he really
have to voice it?

Rebel looked up—exposing the bright blue flashes in his gaze. “Oh, I’m down.” He moved
back in, slipping one hand over Brynna’s, before spreading her fingers over his crotch.
The swell beneath his track pants visibly jumped, stretching a cock-shaped silhouette
into the black cotton.

Rhett barely stopped himself from swaying.

God
damn,
that was a stunning sight.

A gulp pounded down his throat. How the hell had this happened? He’d always been an
open-minded guy, but as a whole, cock did nothing for him. In prep schools since the
age of ten and cross-country at RIT, he’d been in enough group showers to know it
as a sure thing. Pussy was definitely more his thing. Soft. Supple. Tender. Tasty.

But the cock in those pants wasn’t just any cock. It belonged to the guy who knew
him better than anyone else. The man who’d seen enough ugliness in his life not to
be bothered about the strange journey of his. The guy who understood what it was like
to take life in chunks of
now
instead of pining for the past or stressing about the future, because none of it
mattered if a bomb blew your face away. The man who was more his family than the people
with whom he shared DNA. His brother in arms, his friend in all times of need—and
in so many ways, his soulmate.

Who’d understand, more than anyone, his need to deal with this shit by making light
of it. “Looks like you’re
up
for it too, dude.”

Rebel didn’t laugh. Or react in much of any other way. The fucker was still an enigma,
his face a taut mask as he caught Brynna’s other wrist in his hold. He pulled her
hands between their chests with a low growl. “Let’s be very clear. I want to do this
with you as badly as Rhett does, little
cher
…”

“But?” She supplied the implied word.

“But this time, I won’t be able to control myself as much as I did on the airplane.
I won’t be able to hide so many of my…special preferences.” One side of his mouth
kicked up—
finally
—when his revelation goose-bumped her flesh. “You’re a very bright girl, aren’t you?
You’ve already figured out what they are. Maybe even thought about all the…creative
ways…I could play with you.” His thumbs stroked her inner wrists. “Control you. Then
pleasure you.”

Rhett palmed the shaft now pushing at his own pants. “And I won’t be able to hide
what that does to me.”

Rebel nailed him with a hot glance. “I sure as hell hope not.”

Well, that made things official. Track pants really could be torture devices.

Brynna pushed out a cute huff—
very
cute, considering how tightly Reb still gripped her wrists. “Are you proposing a
negotiation with me, Sir Moonstormer?” The little fox actually smirked. “Though there’s
not likely a dungeon for miles, nor a submissive’s contract on the printer?”

He and Rebel exchanged another glance. His buddy’s black brows arched, an ideal expression
of the surprise they shared. “Those are some very kinky terms for a
minette
who claims she wants no part of the big, bad lifestyle.”

“How do you think I came by that decision?” She tilted her head. “By hitting some
Tumblr pages and reading a few novels?”

Rebel smirked. “Novels aren’t a bad idea.”

Rhett mirrored his look. “I’ve assigned a few well-researched romances as homework
from time to time.”

She huffed. “Is this the book club meeting now? If so, it’s time to let me go, cowboy.”

As she ramped the sass up, Rebel caught Rhett’s eye again. Jerked his head imperceptibly
toward the rolling workbox next to the desk. If Rhett wasn’t so fucking aroused, he
would’ve been a little scared by how thoroughly he deduced the request.

He reached the box, retrieved the bag of zip ties in the top drawer, and offered one
to his friend. Inside three seconds, Reb had the strip secured around Brynna’s wrists.
While he did that, Rhett moved to the corner near the sliding doors, removing a hanging
plant from its overhead hook. Looping more of the zip ties together, he formed a chain
that dangled from the hook, stopping when he reached a height that seemed right for
Brynn standing there, wrists raised over her head.

Rebel commended him with an approving growl. Didn’t waste any time guiding Brynna
over. After letting Rhett take over by securing her in position with another tie,
he stood back, arms folded across his chest, a sensual smirk on his lips. “How does
that feel,
mon chou
? Nothing too tight or painful?”

“I—” She pursed her lips as Rhett scooted back, joining his buddy to admire how their
creativity paid off with the perfect showcase for every luscious curve of her body.
“It’s not
un
comfortable, if that’s what you mean.”

Rebel nodded. It wasn’t just a surface move. Rhett knew the many different ways the
guy already assessed her statement, weighing the nuances in her voice and the signals
her body surrendered, even fully clothed. Rebel might be notorious for his now-you-see-him-now-you-don’t’s
with submissives, but watching the man actually interact with a subbie was like beholding
a champion tight rope act. Instincts ruled but mistakes had to be miniscule, and the
end result was always incredible.

Now, he was an actual part of it, too.

And it was just as awesome as he’d imagined.

The air crackled, alive with sexual promise. If only Brynna had gotten that memo.
Her feelings were written on her face, betraying her uncertainty about what predicament
her blind trust had gotten her into. But if Rhett had discovered anything about the
woman during their first time between the sheets, it was her psyche’s odd relationship
with fear. She kicked and screamed and protested about staring the bastard down, but
moaned and sighed and climaxed once she’d let it do its worst. As if she didn’t believe
she could come out on the other side alive…or the same.

Was that how she looked at Dominants, too?

And if so, why?

More importantly, was this the start of helping her heal from that…what…Domphobia?
Of helping her see that the pussy hustler—probably hustler
s
—of her past didn’t have to define the pleasure she could have now. That her submission
was a treasure not just to her Dominants but
herself
…a revival of her heart, body, and mind?

Could they really bring that truth to her now?

He couldn’t wait to try.

He took his turn to press close to her, framing her face with his hand, one thumb
beneath her chin. “Comfortable is a good start, peach, but we want to know more.
A lot
more.”

She inhaled sharply. Closed her eyes.

He and Rebel hissed softly. Fuck, this was going to be good. She had to be just a
couple of years younger than them, but she really was what she declared. A woman.
Not some starry-eyed sub gazing up from the club floor, so desperate to please that
half their brain power was sucked up attempting to get the
right
answer, instead of just giving the
real
answer.

Down side? The moment he demanded “a lot more”, she knew exactly what it meant. They
weren’t after the surface weather report now. They didn’t want “not uncomfortable”.
They wanted everything beneath that. Truth. Honesty. Revelation.

The hard shit.

Her eyes, huge and unblinking, along with her breaths, short and thready, betrayed
her acknowledgment of it—and the anxiety that resulted. That energy poured over Rhett,
causing his nerves to green-light a race he’d never been to before. What a revelation
she was. A submissive who fought surrender, even when every inch of her body screamed
for it. The woman took “mind over matter” to a new level.

Rebel stepped forward again. Rhett didn’t blame him. Clearly, the guy’s fascination
with her was also piqued. They were like a couple of kids with a cool new toy. After
years of dungeons and latex and high protocol, this shaky girl, in her T-shirt and
pajama bottoms, was like Hot Wheels with booster rockets.

Rebel braced the other side of her face, also pressing a thumb beneath her chin. “Talk
to us,
cher
.” His demanding husk gave her no quarter. “We need to know everything. There’s no
right or wrong here, no fantasy that’s forbidden or off-limits.” He dipped his face
closer, nipping at the corner of her lips, giving Rhett a perfect view of the desire
tightening his jaw, heating his gaze. “The more you give us, the more we can give
you. And perhaps,”—he lifted his stare toward Rhett—“we’ll even push you a little.
But all you have to do is communicate, to say no. Here, with us, that’s exactly what
the word means.”

Air left Brynna in rickety bursts. Still, she flicked her gaze at both of them and
rasped, “I don’t want to say no. Not yet.”

Rebel pressed in a fuller kiss. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure Rhett is, too.”

Rhett nodded. Sort of. He was unable to rip his gaze away from watching them tease
each other’s mouths. Hard against soft. The dusk of Reb’s stubble against the peach
dawn of Brynn’s cheeks. The Dominant adoring the submissive.

His dick swelled to the point of pain.

Focus on something else, moron.

“You haven’t answered our question yet, sweet peach.” How he uttered it without his
voice cracking, he’d likely never know. “How do you feel?”

Rebel pulled away a little, clearly sharing Rhett’s expectation that she’d attempt
an evasion. Instead, Brynn’s expression reminding him of a philosopher, perhaps a
poet, selecting her next words with ultimate care.

“Exposed.”

Even with the beautiful honesty with which she spoke, she blinked rapidly, fighting
to control her fear. Witnessing her push at that barrier was one hell of a turn-on.
Rebel’s lusty bayou smile conveyed how thoroughly he agreed—and how merciless he was
going to be about pushing it.

“Beautiful,” he told her, before turning in, filling her personal space, and capturing
her mouth in a full, deep kiss. Brynn moaned and arched toward him, so perfect for
how he fisted her T-shirt and dragged it up her body. Once the fabric was bunched
at her neck, Reb shoved it higher, stretching the neckline over her face until she
was blindfolded by the folds of cotton. He pushed the sleeves to the same level, turning
them into pink cotton cuffs around her upstretched arms.

Breathtaking.

“Oh!” Her muscles stood out as she wriggled, making her muscles stand out as she tested
the bonds. “Oh…
my
.”

“Doing okay?” Reb inquired.

“Y-yes.” She sighed. “I’m okay.”

Rebel glanced to Rhett, who nodded approval at his handiwork. “Make use of what’s
around, man.” Well, imagine that. One of the battalion’s most common mottos had some
interesting secondary applications.

Reb swung his head down a little. “Front-clasp bra.”

Rhett laughed out a growl. “Halle-fucking-lujah.”

“That’s got your name written on it, man.”

He needed no further prompting. Sliding in to take Reb’s place in front of Brynn,
he twisted open the clasp between her breasts, setting those two perfect globes free
of their cupped constraints. Behind him, Rebel let out a praising rumble. He didn’t
blame the guy. Her breasts were like a masterpiece on canvas in the Louvre, full and
ripe and perfect, begging to be shown off and worshipped. And a few other treatments
he could absolutely get on board with…

“How do you feel now, little peach?” He asked it while scraping hands along her ribcage,
letting the heat of his breath fall over her nipples. As deeply as he craved to taste
both of them again, he held back. Neither Rebel nor he had definitive knowledge of
what her path in kink had been so far, though his instincts screamed that her “research”
didn’t equate to experience. Even more proof of that came in the form of a shudder
that claimed her whole body, making more tiny bumps stand out on her peach pearl skin.
But was it a good shiver or a get-me-out-of-here shiver?

“I feel…” More breaths slashed in and out of her, serrating her confession. “Vul…nerable.”

He softly kissed her forehead. “Vulnerable is okay.”

“Wh-what about a little scared?”

He frowned. “Just a little?”

Her dreamy smile dialed his stress back. “Mmm hmm.”

“In that case…” He slid his lips to her cheek, nuzzling her with more erotic intent.
“A little is okay.”

“What else?” Rebel grated it while sliding up behind her, circling hands around her
waist, skimming fingers beneath the waistband of her pajamas.

She trembled again. Pulled in air through her teeth. “Oooohhh. Ummmm…”

Rebel pressed in tighter—then caught Rhett’s attention with a sneaky leer over her
shoulder. No. Not sneaky. Slutty. Why the
hell
did that cause an erection surge? “Focus,
ma minette.
Tell us everything.” His head dipped, lips flat to her skin, indicating he’d gone
for a full bite somewhere on her nape. Brynn stiffened and groaned, confirming the
assumption. “We can’t do anything better if you don’t tell us.”

She lolled her head to the side, baring more of her neck. “Well,
that
felt pretty damn good.”

Rebel laughed softly. Licked the spot he’d just abused. “What else?”

She twisted once more, only this struggle was different. Her body rolled with the
bondage instead of fighting against it…as if she needed to know it was still there.
That she was truly helpless to protest anything they asked of her…