by Angel Payne
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 insanity 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.
“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, flawl
ess 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.
