by Angel Payne
A submissive so conflicted about her journey, she didn’t even know what to do with herself after laying across her Dom’s knees.
“Oh, minette.” He whispered it while brushing the hair from her eyes, thumbing the wetness from her cheeks. “Our sweet, sassy little Brynna.”
Her face screwed tighter. “Don’t call me sweet,” she sobbed. “I’m not sweet!”
He made sure she watched him smirk. “As a man who’s tasted all the best parts of you, I strongly beg to differ.”
Reb held her fast, despite her struggle to wrench back again. “I don’t want you to ‘beg to differ’, either. Just—”
More tears welled and spilled down her face. Rebel dropped to both knees, pushing closer to her.
“Just…what?”
“Just…be mad, okay?” Her gaze blazed, pure fire against pine, before she closed it once more. “Be what I thought you were going to be. Stop worrying about me.”
He pushed his thumbs against her hairline. Was two seconds away from delving them further then seizing her scalp as hard as he could, demanding the full revelation behind those words. She would’ve been fine with their rage, but not their apprehension? She was totally okay with the consequences of pissing them off, but not the emotions from stirring theirs?
This shit went beyond the dynamics of denying her submissiveness. It was tied directly into her whole sense of self—and the worth of that self.
Or in her case, the total lack of that worth.
No fucking way was he letting her listen to that playlist anymore. He’d grown up as the king of those self-hatred mix tapes. Hell, he still wore the crown. The filthy hoard of them was right there, stacked at the back of his mind, guarded by an historian who made Jabba the Hut seem like Snow White. He knew the steep price of keeping up the self-hatred collection—and he’d be damned to see her pay it, too. Not Brynna.
A sharp jab at his shoulder commanded his head up—
To where Rhett waited, steely gaze and set jaw—with a new tape to jam into his deck. The one that had all his crap filtered out of the song, letting him hear just Brynn’s again. The one that told him she wasn’t listening to anything right now but her confusion and chaos—and that they needed to slice through that crap before she could hear anything else.
The one that dictated they were the perfect men for the job.
The revelations cascaded, one on top of another, as Rhett looked on, smirk rising higher and higher. The beautiful bastard had known every shred of this already. It was why he’d ordered Brynn across his lap in the first place.
Rebel grinned. Then, with one definite glance downward, told his buddy it was time to hang on to her a little tighter.
Rhett grinned back—and complied at once.
As that happened, Reb bent his head again, realigning his gaze with Brynna’s.
“I’m not going to lie to you, minette. We were worried. But mierde, we were also mad.” He cupped her chin in one hand, ordering her gaze to remain locked in his. As he felt a storm brewing in his eyes, a growl formed in his voice. “Damn near out of our minds, Brynna—from both. Do you understand that? Do you truly get it?”
Her eyes were dry now, but her lips trembled. Perhaps she sensed they were getting on to the part she dreaded but needed. Perhaps even craved. “I get what it’s like to be so concerned for someone, especially because of shit they brought on themselves, that your stress becomes fury.” She swallowed hard and grimaced. “It…sucks,” she stammered. “Real bad.”
Rebel released a long breath through his nostrils. Yearned desperately to kiss her, but held back. She didn’t need tenderness right now. Nor did she even want it. Still, his voice was a grate as he affirmed, “Yeah. It does suck.” He dipped his head. Adjusted his weight against his haunches. He was going to be here a while. “And yeah, you do know all about it, don’t you?”
He almost felt like shit for that one. Almost. She wasn’t stupid, meaning it was easy enough for her to fill in his inferences, to know they’d done some research about the shit she’d blurted this morning. God, was that only this morning? They’d come so far since those tangled, crazy moments on the futon. Now…they were about to go farther. Goddamn, at least he hoped.
She didn’t respond to his probe. For long moments, he wasn’t sure if she would. Her shallow breaths told him nothing. Her continued tears told him nothing.
But her new grimace, trapped by claws so vicious they almost made him wince, told him everything.
“I’m…sorry. I am.” The sobbing echoes vibrated with grief, confirming his original conviction. All of this—her breakdown back at the ranch, her secret escape and solo crusade for Zoe, even the way she’d flipped from ferocious in the parking lot to this teary mess now—was wrapped into shit that twined deeper inside her.
Much deeper.
Shit they were never going to get to, unless her remorse was cleared out of the way. Until she felt like the debt had been paid, the scales righted.
“Ssshhh.” Now, he did kiss her—a quick tap, on the tip of her nose, before assuring, “We know you are, cher. We know.”
She didn’t look reassured at all. “You know, but you don’t forgive.”
He palmed her cheek. “Our forgiveness was yours from the moment you uttered your first apology.” He filtered his fingertips into her hair. “But that makes no difference in the end. Forgiving yourself is what matters, and where the changes take place.” He let a long moment—and those words—settle over her. “You haven’t forgiven yourself for anything in a long time, have you, Brynna?”
The start of a sharp pssshhh burst from her—until he jerked her chin once more. As the sound cut short, so did the protest in her eyes. Even so, she gritted, “That’s a little easier said than done, Sergeant.”
Rebel gripped her a little tighter. Angled his gaze closer. “Sometimes more than a little, minette.” He didn’t blink, letting her see the emphasis behind every word he uttered—that nobody knew the truth of it all better than him. “And sometimes, you just need extra help to get that done.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Do you understand?”
She swallowed. The breath behind it never left her. Rebel held his own breath—and his grip on her. Tighter. A little bit tighter. She finally exhaled—on a whimpering sigh. Fuck. Doing this—to her, with Rhett—felt so damn good. So damn right. He treasured every passing second, knowing it might be the last he felt it. That any moment, she’d choose to pull another acrobatic escape, leaving the two of them with libidos clamoring and nuts hanging. At least this time, the latter wouldn’t be so literal.
“Yes.”
It was his turn for the boulder gulp. He’d been so prepared to let her go, her consent strangled the center of his throat.
And the roots of his balls.
And damn, the girl dared to smile as if she didn’t know that. As if his hold alone had already sent her halfway to subspace, and all she craved was more of the next step he’d all but promised.
He couldn’t believe it. He almost didn’t dare. The ideas must have reflected in the fierce sweep of his gaze because she repeated, adding deeper conviction, “Yes. I understand. I need this…Sir.”
Her utterance, so purposely soft and submissive, harmonized his low groan to Rhett’s taut growl. He looked up again at his friend. One second was all it took for confirmation: they were fixed on the same perfect goal. Brynna’s ass. Bare and red. Beneath Double-Oh’s palm.
He lowered his stare to her once again. Goddamn, she was so lovely. So much of her spirit was already exposed…her desperate need for their passionate discipline.
“Very well, then.” The words sliced from him like cut timber, smooth on the surface but edged by ruthless angles. He loved watching what the tone did to her—and to Rhett. Those eloquent hands constricted against her waist and hips, causing a quiver to consume her body. “If you need this, then we’ll give it to you—but this time, there are going to be some rules.”
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured duti
fully.
He gave her an approving smile. “It’s incredible to hear you say that, ma cher, but from now on, it won’t be necessary unless requested of you. Same goes for any unrequested outbursts, back-talk, or commentary. No focusing on what your next witty one-liner is going to be. No worrying about whether you’re entertaining us or not. All that crazy chatter in your head is turned off now. It belongs to us now. You belong to us now.” He squeezed in a little more on her chin, waiting until she concentrated harder on him. “Do you understand that fully? Do you trust us to know what you need from us, and to give it to you as fully as you surrender yourself to us? Do you trust that we’re going to take care of you, all of you, and honor all of you as the amazing gift that you are?”
She swallowed again. A new sheen appeared in her eyes. But her lips lifted as she rasped, “Yes, Sir. Completely.”
Rebel brushed a thumb across those gorgeous strawberry pillows. “That wasn’t easy for you, was it?”
She sighed against his finger. “N-no, Sir.”
Damn it. He couldn’t help it. He had to kiss her—and he did. The brush of his mouth over hers was threaded with the same silken reverence as his caress. “Thank you.”
When he pulled away, it was to have Rhett filling his vision, nuzzling his full mouth against her gorgeous neck. “Gratitude is always best when shared,” he murmured. “Thank you, our wonderful peach.”
As he rose back up, Rebel couldn’t help but follow with his eyes, still mesmerized. The fluid power of the man’s muscles…it was scenery he’d seen hundreds of times, but now it was even more breathtaking. More meaningful.
And it made him itch—unbearably—to get just as partially naked.
In one motion, he peeled his T-shirt up from the bottom then tossed it to the room’s other bed. Rhett didn’t cloak his full stare of appreciation. Neither did Brynn. He flashed a smart-ass smirk at both of them but kept the look pinned to Brynn while drawling, “The look of the hour is skin, minette—and you’re woefully down in the tally. Maybe you should fix that, Double-Oh.”
One savoring growl later, Rhett returned, “Copy that, buddy. Loud and—”
He snapped into silence the moment he slipped her skirt higher. Rebel picked up the slack, choking loud enough for them both, before scrabbling to rediscover his voice.
“Fuck. Me.”
Okay, the rasp wasn’t really a voice, either. At the moment, he didn’t care. Not much made sense beyond the roaring blood in his ears and the pounding weight in his cock as Rhett tugged the garment, higher, higher…revealing the black lace garter set and thigh-high stockings she wore beneath. And the centerpiece of the whole delectable paradise? Not a skimpy little thong or even a pair of bikini panties. The smooth, muscled mounds of her unforgettable ass were hugged by lace-trimmed boy shorts, the look that officially dared a man to turn not-so-naughty into not-so-nice…
Game. On.
“Goddamn.” Rhett slid two fingers beneath the edge of that adorable underwear. He didn’t stop until reaching the center panel, between her thighs. “The prim pinstripes kit came with a devil-in-disguise option, eh?”
Brynn, clearly recognizing the question as rhetorical, only responded with a whimper—a composure she could only keep to her mouth. Her body handled the situation much differently. Beneath Rhett’s exploring fingers, her ass was a feverish undulation. Rebel’s point of view afforded a perfect view of her breasts, nipples nearly stabbing through her bra to get free. His mouth actually watered as he leaned in to assist them—never let anyone say he wasn’t a giver—by twisting the shirt’s buttons free then shoving aside the lace-lined cups.
“Let’s get this moving.” He ordered it at Rhett in a snarl. “She’s ready, man. This beauty’s tits do not lie.”
Rhett sent back a savoring rumble. “Gigantic roger on that.” He curled his hand over the satin waistband of the shorts—before jerking them down to her knees in a masterful sweep.
Mouth-watering. Now Rebel really knew what it meant.
Her ass, poised high and completely nude, was a landscape of cream perfection, tinted with just enough of the peaches that had earned her Rhett’s special nickname. As if she could feel the weight of their stares, Brynn tensed a little. All the muscles flexed beneath her flawless skin, giving them one hell of an evocative preview for how she’d react to each of Rhett’s smacks.
“Holy fuck.” Rhett gritted it while sweeping his fingers across the perfect globes. On the second pass, he scraped his nails too…just enough to leave discernible marks.
“Well said.” Rebel traced a finger along one of the scratches. “And so beautiful.” He didn’t stop there. Continued his caress along the back of Rhett’s hand. “The canvas…and the brush.”
Without saying more, he bent again to Brynna. Studied her features closely. A sheen to her eyes, but not because of any more tears. A growing flush to her cheeks. Tongue sneaking out, restlessly licking her lips. He almost laughed. The woman looked like a drug addict awaiting her fix. No matter how this all washed in the end between the three of them, one thing would happen before they said goodbye to her again. A long, long conversation about the submissiveness she could no longer ignore.
“A quick review, ma chatte.” He cupped her chin once more, angling her face a little higher. “You know why you’re here like this, right?”
Her anticipating glow sobered. Her mouth tensed. “Because I snuck out of the ranch without telling either of you.”
“And…?”
“And planned to flirt my way into Adler’s good graces as a pharmaceutical rep with a closet sex maniac side.”
He shared a stunned choke with Rhett.
“Well…all right. You’ve certainly given new dimension to brutal honesty.”
Her brows quirked up. “What? Did you think I’d captivate him with my witty personality alone?”
With an I-got-this nod, Rhett lowered a fast slap to one of her ass cheeks. It was enough to make her yelp, followed by a self-castigating bite to her lower lip. “What did we say about your words, little peach?”
Brynn dropped her gaze, so damn magnificent in her meekness, before replying, “That they belong to both of you.”
Rebel lowered a tender kiss to her forehead. “Good girl.”
She sighed. “Thank you, Sir.”
He only acknowledged her words with a polite nod. She wasn’t acquiescing to this because she wanted hearts, flowers, and sonnets. She’d given them her straight-up honesty because she craved the same: voices that would intervene with the screams in her head, leaders who could calm the confusion that’d driven her actions in the first place. It felt damn good to comprehend that—and to know Rhett did, too. Disciplining her for it was another twine in the rope that bound them closer. He hoped like hell it led to more—but if it didn’t, this was beaucoup de bien for the memory books.
With that in mind, he nudged her chin up again. “Let’s be completely clear. None of this honesty earns you a free excuse from the dishonesty that’s already gone down.” He read the retort that sparked into her eyes, quickly reined into silence. “Oh, don’t worry, minette. I saw where you went with that. And yes, running away from us was just as devious as boldface lying to us. Perhaps worse.” He made sure she could take in every inch of his face again, now defined by the memories of the panic when realizing he’d climbed into bed with nothing but a mound of pillows. “You ran from us, Brynna. After we all shared ourselves like that—bared so much, stripped away so much more than our clothes—you bolted from our bed then fled the ranch itself, not even giving us a chance to help you process the emotional fallout. I think there’s a word for it in your vernacular. Something like ‘unhealthy’?”
This one would earn him her wrath. Annnnd there it was, blasting away the haze in her eyes, pushing through her locked teeth as she seethed, “That’s not—ow!”
Rhett’s hand against her butt, smacking down twice as hard as before, prompted her outcry.
“It’s not…what?” Rebel
countered. “Not correct? Not fair?” He paused, making sure she saw the anger fire up his eyes, too. “Because…why? You thought we wouldn’t listen? Wouldn’t understand? That we wouldn’t get it, about that war in your mind? That we wouldn’t know what it’s like to look for the path between your head and your heart? Between the duty and the danger?”
He’d clearly hammered another nerve. Her fury gave way to grief, tightening her body, making her yank in his hold. Rebel stretched to secure her by the nape, forcing her gaze to remain on him. “You have to hear it, Brynna. What you did was dangerous. Very, very dangerous. You—and Zoe, and her unborn child—could have easily been killed.”
Her face crumpled. “No!”
Rhett didn’t discipline for the outburst. Reb didn’t blame him. Her own agony was punishment enough.
“We know that wasn’t your intention.” He rubbed her neck, pressing his fingers as firmly as his words. “And we know you’re sorry. But now…you’re going to prove it to us, as well.” He let her drag in a long breath then let it out on a rickety sigh. “Do you still understand me?”
She nodded, shaky and teary. “Y-Yes, Sir.”
“Good.”
He slipped his hand back to her jaw…unable not to notice how her lungs heaved harder, pushing out her nipples, now erect as two perfect rubies. The only thing that would make those breasts more stunning would indeed be a pair of clamps, maybe attached with a glittering chain, turning her chest into a sparkling masterpiece…
“Rhett’s going to spank you now.” He descended into an authoritative tone. He liked the voice best for scenes. Not only did it help keep his cock in check—definitely a plus, considering where the damn thing clamored to be right now—but purifying everything into strict business mode also separated emotions from actions, meaning he could fill in the gap with as much naughty dirt as he wanted.
In the case of this extraordinary woman…he wanted.
Without even looking back up at Rhett, he knew the sentiment was shared.
