Mastered By The Mavericks (25 page)

“I’d try to be witty and say that’s my line,” she finally told them, “but I don’t
want to be witty right now.”

Her admission moved him as deeply as her stare. With both, she openly adored him,
uncaring that he wasn’t some smooth, flawless thing from a magazine ad. Both his arms
were full of the ink that told his life’s story, some of it good, some of it pretty
damn ugly. As bodies went, he supposed the rest of his wasn’t bad, covered in swarthy
skin a lot of women found hot, if they didn’t mind the nicks and scars that served
as fun little souvenirs of the skirmishes he’d survived—just as many before his army
career as after. But now, she saw it all, and openly accepted it.

No. More than that.

She craved it.

“You want to be mine.”

Cocky? Yes. Accurate? If her soft, thankful smile was any indication:
hell, yes
.

Damn.
Damn.
She was so incredible in her earnestness about all of this…about her blatant need
to please Rhett and him. Soon—very soon—he vowed to sit the woman down, pick apart
where and why she’d learned to pair
submissive
with
weak
—then set her straight about the truth, specifically as it applied to the passionate,
perfect depths of her heart.

But the woman clearly didn’t want her
heart
plunged right now.

Which his cock received as the greatest fucking news in the world.

“Astute observation, my friend.” Rhett said it in such a conversational tone, he actually
became a distraction from Brynn—a pretty nice one. Reb was damn glad his hard-on was
uninhibited now. Clothes would’ve been a problem once being dunked in the fathomless
waters of his friend’s gaze.
Christ
. It was a baptism of pure erogeny for his body—and another bullet in his brain.
That man’s fucking eyes.
They hit things so deep, he couldn’t even identify it all—a recognition almost driving
him to look away. Almost.

“She wants to be yours, Moon.” The man finished it by inching up one side of his mouth—another
gesture so sinister but sexy, Reb’s composure was jarred again. Hell. Between this
bastard and Brynn, he’d been off his game more times today alone than the last three
years combined. It was fucking awesome.

He recovered enough to square his chin, settle hands on his hips, and mock, “What
would you like me to do about that,
Sir
?”

Well, hell.

It was the craziest way he’d ever gotten back in the game. Exactly what game at this
point, he wasn’t sure. If he was with a subbie in a dungeon, it’d clearly be cat and
mouse—but this sure as hell wasn’t a dungeon and Rhett sure as fuck wasn’t a cute
little subbie, demonstrating as much by closing the space between them with a single,
steady step. He stopped about a foot away, letting the gray-blue intensity of his
gaze travel down, down, down…then back up again. Remained still while Reb stared ruthlessly
in return.

Goddammit, the man was beautiful. The bold slashes of his forceful jaw. The stark
desire in his eyes. The taut planes of his abs. Just below that, the stiff shaft forming
a huge tent in his pants below tenting his pants…

He abstained from licking his lips but indulged a heavy gulp. If this was all he’d
ever get from Rhett in the way of acknowledging their connection, he’d be happy—especially
if Brynn got to remain in the picture. If the guy had to keep a toy on the field to
distract the crowd from what was really happening, then fuck
yes
, please let the toy be her.

The same thoughts appeared to be stomping through Rhett’s mind. “Well?” he prompted,
nodding toward the spectacular woman on the bed. “Give her exactly what she wants,
man. Climb up there and put that hot cock inside her. Bury yourself in her—and make
it good, because I’ll be watching.”

Rebel curled a come-hither grin. “Promise?”

It was a jibe too many. The Atlantic-dark stare turned black. “Shut up and fuck her.”

It sure as hell wasn’t a request. For a second, bravado and resistance were tempting—but
why? So he and Rhett could get in a pissy little turf battle over…what? He’d already
won. He was getting to screw the girl—while Rhett watched. In what book didn’t that
triumph compute?

Still, the awareness of
those eyes
as he turned and crawled up onto the futon, raking over his back and ass, watching
his thighs coil as he slunk closer to Brynn…

Those eyes, staring as her breath quickened and her thighs quivered…

Those eyes, watching his hands slide over her knees then inward, toward the sweet,
shiny folds of her cunt…

Those eyes, knowing his exact intent once his shoulders squeezed and his head dipped…

“Ohhhhh!”

Could those eyes see now, too? Did they watch her pussy transform to a rich coral
hue, as her blood rushed to meet Rebel’s eager licks? Did they see his tongue against
her flesh, serving her in the most intimate way a man could, moistening her tunnel
for his penetration?

Well, Goddammit, he’d make sure they did.

He pulled back a little. Ordered from between his teeth, “Wider.”

Brynna’s breath clutched. “I—what?”

“I said spread your legs wider.”
He has to see. He has to know exactly what I’m doing to you. How I’m already claiming
you, inch by delicious inch.

When she did, Rhett’s harsh grunt stabbed the air.

Oh, yeah. You do see, don’t you? Just remember, you demanded to watch. So watch, goddammit—and
imagine how good this tongue could feel on
you
, Rhett. Imagine how good it could be, if you’d just let go…

“Rebel!”

Brynna’s cry didn’t just pull his sights back around. It honed him in on the heat
he’d started to crank for her, too. The sweet ridge of
her
erection, juicy and hard beneath his lips, was just as much a turn-on as Rhett’s
lust. Her tight whimpers and piqued sighs were an ego feed like no other, especially
when she responded to every lick, suck, and nip as if it were the very first time
he’d laid his mouth on her.

“I’m here.” He kissed the word into her mound, just above her pouting slit, before
sliding lower, savoring the taste of every fresh dew drop on her folds. “Right here,
ma chatte
. Holy Christ, how sensitive you are…how ready for me…”

“Mmmmm. Aaaahhh!” Her hips lifted. “It—it feels so—oh, my
God…
”

She undulated, harder and faster, until he gripped her upper thighs like a trainer
taming a tiger, squeezing with an unmistakable message.

“Be still,
mon chou
.”

“But—”

“Brynna.” The unbridgeable baritone, booming from the man behind him, ignited even
Rebel’s nerve endings. “He’s right. And right now, he is also your master.”

The word hovered, suspended above them like a knife thrown into the netting over the
tigers’ cage. Holding his breath, Rebel lifted a little. How the hell would she respond?
Would she let the blade tear through and down, maybe just for this moment, taking
a chance on the beautiful wound of her submissiveness? Or would she reach for the
hilt of that knife and drive it back at Rhett, ensuring their show was officially
finished now?

Above him, a conflicted mewl trickled out.

He had to help. Make this a safe place for her soul, even if her mind and body still
duked it out for jurisdiction.

He raised up more. Kissed his way up from her navel until his face rested between
her breasts. Freely, he tangled his gaze with hers. Fearlessly, he smiled. Ferociously,
he ordered the shadows beneath her lashes to stand the hell down.

“There’s no wrong choice,
minette
.” He could afford the generosity, thanks to the man who’d commanded him up here with
her. When Rhett became the dictator, he made it possible for Reb to take over as Prince
of Understanding, fading the possibility that she’d feel two-upped. “It’s still
your
free will,
your
safe word to call if you’re over the edge. But know this,”—he reached for one of
her nipples, smiling a little as Rhett’s hiss sliced behind him—“you
will
go to the edge. And it will be my deep pleasure to take you there…because that’s
exactly what that beautiful man back there wants me to do.”

A longer silence.

Rhett didn’t make a sound—at least not any Reb could hear over Brynn’s urgent breaths.
Her breasts jabbed even higher, corresponding with her rhythmic kneads of the cushions
next to her head. Her stare searched into his again. Darted up at Rhett.

Before she jammed her eyes shut and whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

Rebel let out an approving growl. Gently suckled one of her breasts then the other.
“Thank you,
ma cher
.”

A cute little growl sprinted through her chest, too. “Gee kids, just giving it my
best.”

He really wanted to chuckle. Kept it subdued to a lazy smile as he bit her nipple,
sharply enough to turn it into discipline. “Then that means no more sarcasm. You’ll
communicate, but it’ll be with honesty and openness. Understood?”

She pulled in a deep breath—letting it out in a hiss as he sucked the nipple again,
this time drawing in as much of it as he could. He devoured her flesh with deep, hard
passion. “Ahhh!” she yelped. “Y-y-yes, Sir!”

She noticeably squirmed as he slid over to the other breast, circling her stiff peak
with his tongue, preparing it for the same brutal kiss. “Ssshhhh,” he admonished.
“Breathe,
ma fille
.”

“Trying!” she gritted back—until he added another new element to their play. She was
so stressed about where his mouth was headed that she never comprehended how he snuck
his free hand between their bodies, probing into her most secret tunnel. “Oh!” She
stiffened at his first determined lunge. Trembled as he added another finger, just
as he bit into her breast. Then as he released the pressure of both, went soft as
a buttered noodle. “Ohhhh…
my
.”

“Damn. So hot.”

Rhett’s rough rasp came as a surprise only because of its proximity. As satisfying
as Brynn’s arousal was his buddy’s new boldness, for the guy had moved close enough
to scoot a knee up on the bed then peel off his shirt. Fuck, his chest was impressive.
While Rebel had to hit the gym hard for definition, Double-Oh had the God-given cuts
of a linebacker—hilarious, since his job required the elegance of a quarterback.

Brynn obviously agreed. She sighed and writhed while reaching an admiring hand toward
Rhett…captivating Rebel all over again. He wondered when he’d last seen a more incredible
look on a woman’s face. With her neck arched, eyes hooded, and a sheen of sweat on
her brow, she was an image of raw arousal and authentic need. No practiced pouts or
coy stares she “thought” they’d like. No being demure out of respect for protocol,
or preventing herself from crying out until she “obtained permission”. When she swung
the look toward Reb, his chest nearly caved in. Her awe and wonder mirrored his own.
Everything had gone from zero to eighty in the last hour, overwhelming even for a
slut monkey like him. But he hadn’t felt so alive in a long time.

A
long
damn time.

He had to have more of her. Now.

Transferring his weight to one knee, he crawled higher up her body, suckling her neck
as he went. He rounded the curve of her chin, fitted their mouths then plunged into
her without hesitating, scooping her tongue against his, devouring her with deep,
primeval need. Beneath him, she moaned with answering need. Her lungs pumped, her
nipples tightened, her body undulated.

“Damn,” Rhett repeated. “
Damn
.”

It was all the inspiration he needed to push his fingers back up inside her, making
her gasp against his mouth as her hips came off the mattress.

“Twist them.” Rhett’s teeth were locked now. Reb had never heard such a brutal tone
from him before, though he’d been to two dozen countries and nearly as many dungeons
with the man. “Both your fingers,” he growled to clarify. “Twist them while you push
into her pussy. Yeah. That’s…fucking nice.”

“Not bad from where I’m at, either.” He leaned over, pressing kisses to Brynn’s cheek
and forehead. “How about you,
minette
? You still with me?”

She’d closed her eyes but nodded frantically. “Yes.
Yes
.”

“Good, baby girl. That’s so good.”

None of them spoke again for the next few minutes. Just enjoyed the sound of him finger-fucking
her, wet and slick and rough, as their lust filled the air, musky and heady and spicy.
For a guy who relied on breath control to disarm bombs at the perfect moment, Rebel
had trouble remembering what his breath even was. Wrapping his mind around this awesome
reality, pleasuring a woman while his best friend directed down to the kinky details,
was outrageous—and incredible.

And damn near unbelievable—as Rhett leaned in bearing another special gift.

In his fingers was the anal plug, its pink crystal surface already drenched with the
lube. Rebel didn’t remember even hearing the bottle top pop, but wasn’t that stunned
considering the alternative for his attention.

He sat up. Twined his gaze again with Rhett’s, whose eyes gleamed with feral anticipation.
Below them, the reason why: the magnificence of this woman’s surrender, symbolized
by her spread, soaked sex.

“Put it in,” Rhett directed. “And screw her with it.”

Brynn let out a soft keen, mixed of dread and arousal. “Oh my God.”

Rebel regarded her steadily. “Sounds like you’re a little familiar with this sight,
cher.
”

She huffed. “Not intimately. And not lately.”

“And that’s not clear enough.” Though he issued the reproach mildly, he took the plug
from Rhett and displayed it to her like a holy artifact. “This is an anal plug, Brynna.
You clearly know what it is—so you also know that Rhett is ordering me to work it
into your ass hole, then fuck you there with it.”

She gulped. “Well, we’re pretty clear
now
.”