Mastered By The Mavericks (28 page)

Rebel didn’t breathe.

Rhett yanked harder on his head. “Look at me.” His nostrils flared, his chest lurched.
“Give it to her but look at me. Show it
all
to me.”

The cataclysm hit.

Every scalding drop of come exploded from Rebel’s cock, draining him, shaking him,
consuming him. He pumped and pumped, his mind spinning, his chest thundering—but as
soon as he slowed, Rhett burst with a vicious snarl, pulling on him even harder.

“Uh-uh. More, Moonstormer. You have more.”

“Rhett.” He attempted a similar growl it but his throat was parched. Humping a ruck
forty miles would have drained him less.

“Please.
More
.”

Brynna’s desperate moan was a bittersweet endorsement for the point. Reb sure as hell
never intended to leave her unfulfilled, but the new clenches of her body were unmistakable
in their siren song, coaxing something strange and hot and shocking from deep inside
his body. Just as he’d commanded Brynn to do, he let the feeling in. Groaned as it
pumped up his dick again, forcing heat back to his throbbing head. Though he had only
a few more drops left, the intensity in his cock was surreal. He lunged harder than
ever into Brynna, giving her every last drive of his hardness, every last roll of
his hips.

“Holy…fuck.” He grated the words between labored huffs.

“That’s it.” The words thrummed from Rhett, hot and heavy and seductive, as he curled
fingers tighter, driving the pace with his hold on Reb’s hair. “Fuck into her. Deeper.
Deeper.
Give her every drop.”

Rebel lifted his head. Impaled his stare right back into those breathtaking blues.
“You, too.
Do it
, goddammit.” He leaned in, sliding fingers down both sides of Brynn’s cheeks, until
his hand framed the bottom of her jaw. “Open up,
mon chou
. Rhett’s going to come in your mouth…as you come all over my cock.”

His declaration unlocked the last reserves for them both.

Brynn screamed around Rhett’s flesh. He, in turn, moaned hard, his hand slipping away
from Rebel’s head. His balls drew in. His cock swelled. His seed spilled down into
her, answered by her erotic cry. Her throat convulsed as she swallowed his come deep.

The sight was so incredible, it damn near hurt to look, but Rebel forced his gaze
to stay fixed and his thoughts to remain lucid. He needed to remember this. Every
amazing moment of it.

Rhett slipped free from Brynna and dropped back against the cushion, still breathing
like
he’d
humped the ruck for forty. Rebel took the opening to slant back in and kiss her,
nobility only half his motivation. He needed to taste Rhett’s essence in her mouth—not
that Brynn hadn’t figured it out already, clearly proven by her sweet smile as she
opened her lips and offered her tongue to him.

He kissed her gently.

Then not so gently.

His mouth filled with a mixture as complex as a fine wine. Sexy and musky, a little
spicy…and a lot intimate. He hoped his gratitude flowed through his stare, because
he wasn’t sure he had words to touch it. Could she see all of it? Did she comprehend
the scope of what she’d just given to Rhett and him…the walls she’d helped them crumble?
Barricades that might have taken years to breach, if ever. She’d done that by letting
them see
her
courage; by looking at her submissiveness despite how it terrified her, and coming
through on the other side with new parts of her soul uncovered.

She inspired him.

Moved him.

Humbled him.

And tore him apart from the inside out, as she rolled away and burst into tears.

‡

“C
her
.” He murmured
it into her hair while pressing to her from the back, as Rhett slid in to cover from
the front. To his massive relief, she didn’t resist their crowding—and for the moment,
that was all he needed to know. “It’s all right,” he reassured. “Let it out. As much
as you need. As long as you need to.”

She eagerly took him up on that. As she sobbed harder into Rhett’s chest, the guy
cast a grateful glance over her shoulder. Clearly, he was in equally strange territory
as Brynn—tempting Reb to the brink of a laugh. Sometimes being a man-slut had its
advantages. Being best friends with one’s cock made it easier to figure out how others
connected with theirs—not that Mr. Manners here was too difficult a case. Rhett liked
his D/s dynamic so formal, it edged on the same pompous protocols as the royal court
of his mother’s land. But while the guy declared it all added “meaning”, it was really
just a way of keeping distance.
Meaning
meant
messy
—and since everything they’d just done had decimated
Rebel
’s psyche, he could only guess at the storm damage in Double-Oh’s brain.

And Brynn’s reaction? Probably the healthiest he’d ever seen. He continued telling
her as much, repeating his praise in different forms. He stroked her body in long,
reassuring caresses, saving the strength of his gaze for the man who still looked
like he stood in Times Square with his pants down. And wouldn’t
that
be a wonderful sight to see—except for the part about sharing the magnificence of
the man’s cock with twenty thousand tourists. Though he had no right, Reb was feeling
bizarrely possessive about that cock right now—and took no measures to hide that particular
sentiment, either.

Rhett averted his eyes. Fast.

With a weeping woman on his chest, he didn’t have to look too far. Instantly, his
face suffused with tenderness. “Our sweet little peach.” He brushed a hand to Brynn’s
cheek. “You all right?”

She sniffled. “I…don’t know. I’m really upside-down.”

“Upside-down is okay.” Reb purposely picked the nuts and bolts tone. It wasn’t as
pretty as Rhett’s hearts and flowers, but just as necessary. Maybe more so. The truth
would sink in better if delivered straight. “And totally normal too,” he added.

Rhett quirked a brow but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Brynn launched into
the dirty work, returning to her back, lobbing up a laugh of pure indictment. “Normal,
hmm? Because you’ve run some Rebel Stafford ‘test studies’ on this shit?”

He was ready for the stab. Still didn’t mean he had to like it—or the fact that he’d
earned it. “I know what it’s like to come down from an intense session, yes.”

“An ‘intense session’?” Her features wobbled, struggling for a thread of humor in
the words, but just unlatching her composure for more tears. “Oh, sheez. That’s exactly
what it was, wasn’t it? A ‘session’.”

“
Minette
—”

“Don’t. Please don’t with the
minette
right now.” She backhanded her forehead, balling her hand into a fist. “I still have
to wrap my head around ‘session’ without wondering how many other sub—” Her lips parted,
revealing clenched teeth. “How many others you’ve used that one on.”

“None.” He snubbed Rhett’s scoff—also fully justified—while pushing upright. “Fine.
Have I lied to you—either of you—about what I’ve done and what beds I’ve done it in
before this week? Even now, as shitty as it is to admit, I won’t hide the truth from
you. I may be a slut, but I’m not a liar. Ponder that when you hear
this
: I’ve never experienced
anything
like the last hour of my life. I won’t fry and sugar this like a goddamn beignet.
You two just devoured me, body and soul, like a couple of
rougarous
from the Mancharac.”

Rhett raised a wry brow. “Fun. I always did want to be a half-wolf zombie.”

He ignored that as well. Simply hoping he could conjure the right mix of strong and
sympathetic, he looked back down at Brynn. “It’s my clumsy way of saying that I get
it. If you need a good long cry, you go right ahead.”

She’d already beat him to the punch, more shiny streams cascading down her cheeks.
Now they were interrupted by a real laugh. He joined Rhett in observing her with open
bewilderment—and enchantment. “Clumsy,” she finally clarified, “and then you, in the
same sentence. Doesn’t add up, Sergeant Stafford.”

Rhett snorted. “You’ve never seen him in a blast suit when he has to take a leak.”

Her eyes clouded as the image took hold. Then burst back to full intensity, brilliant
copper and gold, as she succumbed to a new laugh.

Rhett shot a stare dunked in deeper confusion. Rebel tried to urge continued calm
in return, but how did he explain a subbie’s emotional overload and endorphin drop
in the space of a glance, especially when it was only being half-heeded? Already Rhett
attempted to fold Brynn against him again, but she was a goner, consumed by her brain’s
new chemical dump. And yeah, he was pretty damn certain about that—since it was stamped
across her face as she rolled over, seeking
his
embrace.

He sent his friend an apologetic look—not that it was noticed. As usual, most of Rhett’s
“big head” was now officially tied into the urges of his little one, slamming him
into a world-class fume. Wasn’t anything to be done about that. She’d sought safe
shelter as her catharsis continued, galloping out of her in hiccupping sobs. No way
was Reb going to refuse her, not after all the passion she’d given them with such
heart-stopping openness. If Rhett wanted in on the comfort jamboree, he could get
his ass over here. Rebel would never refuse him on the giving
or
taking.

They passed the next few minutes focused solely on the woman between them. As she
continued crying against Rebel, Rhett pushed past his shit long enough to scoot close
once more. Gently, he ran a hand through her hair, running his fingers through the
tresses that wrapped against her back.

She finally huffed hard. Sniffed harder. Pulled away, shaking her head. “I’m a horrible
person.” Punched the heels of her palms against her swollen eyes. “And a hypocrite.”

Rebel yanked up—and openly glowered. “Excuse the fuck out of me?”

“I—this—” Fresh tears brimmed. “This isn’t me. None of this…is me.”

“Not you?” He let her see his wry smile. “Hmmm. Not you. Which part might you be referring
to? The ‘not you’ who dropped her whole life in order to help two near-strangers search
for her kidnapped friend? Or the ‘not you’ who’s been rotating shifts in that office
with same strangers, who’ve been doing this kind of shit for years? Or the ‘not you’
who managed to tame those same
imbeciles
with an hour they won’t forget for the rest of their lives?”

She pierced him with a gaze that gleamed like morning sun. “And I won’t forget it,
either.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Good.”

Weirdly enough, Rhett appeared the somber one now. “But you refuse to feel good about
any of it.”

Rebel dipped his head, adding his silent support of the query. The insight couldn’t
have been more spot-on.

Brynna drew in air through her nose. Let it out on a long sigh. “Because I’m right.
You guys see that, yeah? Here I am, cup running over with warm and gooey because of
the best sex I’ve ever had in my
life
, while my friend—my
best
friend—is still wondering if anyone will be coming for her—”

“Whoa.” Rhett tugged on her shoulder, urging her back around. “Right there. Just whoa.”
As she scooted back up against the cushion, jabbing the sheet into her armpits, he
persisted, “Do you really think Zoe has given up on us searching for her? Does that
woman think, for even one second, that her husband will let that happen?”

Her lips pursed. “That doesn’t excuse what happened. What I
allowed
to happen.”

Rebel propped an elbow up on a knee, narrowing his gaze again. “Right. And neither
of us had anything to say about it.”

Rhett jogged his head in open sarcasm. “I know
I
had plenty to say about it.”

Rebel smirked. “You sure as hell did.”

The guy chuffed. “You had some good shit to chime in, too.”

Brynn tucked her arms in, staring at the tops of her own knees. Though her gaze warmed
a little, the rest of her face maintained resolute lines. Humor was clearly not the
key past her tension—once more, not a surprise. Even without a missing friend in the
mix, many submissives threw themselves onto pyres of guilt, using it as a coping mechanism
to help deal with the freaky flag they’d just let fly. As a Dom, it was often hard
to combat, since no argument but the obvious made sense: that sexual pleasure wasn’t
created for shame or guilt or remorse.

But this, at least, was an argument he could deal with. All it took was getting pragmatic
to the point of tough, and turning it into a resolute stare at her adorable frown.
“Listen to me. We’re both just as desperate to find Zoe as you, but in doing it with
the best tools, with the right timing. This morning’s snag was just that: a snag.
I’m sorry that this didn’t happen twelve hours from now, but at this moment, we’ve
got no choice. We’ll formulate a new approach into the building then hang back until
nightfall for execution.” He let darker emotions drag his head down. “Nobody—
nobody
—wishes that wasn’t the case, more than I do. As the guy who fucked this all to hell
in the first place—”