Renegade (Phoenix Rising)

by Blake, Brynley

  He lets go of my wrists so he can cup my ass with one hand while he squeezes my breast with the other, his thumb and forefinger alternately rolling and pinching and tugging my now engorged nipple in a way that has me gasping, and I can feel the wetness growing between my legs. As he toys with my nipples, his hand strokes and squeezes my ass, sending shivers up my spine. I want his hands, his mouth, his touch, everywhere.

  As if reading my mind, his fingertips trail lower, over the plane of my stomach and down to my wet and needy sex. I inhale sharply as his finger traces the line of my slit. Oh, God. His mouth finds mine at the exact moment that he pierces me with his finger, his tongue simultaneously plunging into my open and willing mouth. I kiss him feverishly as he works his finger in and out of my now-drenched opening, driving me into a frenzy. He adds another finger, and I involuntarily tilt my hips toward him, eager for more. He pushes deeper, touching something deep inside me, and I moan as my sex clenches around him. He’s thrusting harder now, stimulating something I’ve never felt before. The feeling is almost overwhelming, and I feel my control slipping as a crazy, mindless, animalistic need blurs my senses. There’s a keening whimper, and I realize hazily that it’s coming from me. I’m careening out of control. I’ve never felt so desperate for something before. And it scares the shit out of me. I need to put the brakes on. Fast!

  “I want to feel your cock,” I finally manage to say, my breath ragged.

  Walker doesn’t stop. He just keeps going, taking me straight toward mindless insanity. I can’t take it anymore. I need a minute before I completely lose it. I still his hand with mine. “Stop. I want to taste you.”

  It’s not a lie. I’m dying to see his cock, to wrap my hand around its thickness and take it into my mouth. But more importantly, I need a minute to regroup and collect myself from whatever the hell he was doing to me. And I know there’s no better way to distract a man than with your lips around his cock.

  “Yeah?” His face is inches from mine, and there’s a hint of challenge in his gravelly voice. I have the uncanny feeling that he knows what I’m up to; I’m not fooling him at all. But there’s no way I’m admitting I’m scared or overwhelmed to Walker Kinkaid.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then get on your knees, baby.”

  His raw command sends shivers of desire thrumming through me. I willingly drop to my knees and unbutton his jeans, slowly easing both his jeans and his boxer briefs over his hips as the hard length of him springs free. Hot damn. The quick glimpse I got the other night did not do him justice. Walker’s cock is just as beautiful and powerful looking as the rest of him. I wrap my hand around him, planting little kisses up his inner thighs and across his rock-hard stomach while I take a good look at his amazing package.

  Looking straight into his eyes, I lick the entire length of him from base to tip.

  “Damn, you’re sexy as hell,” he breathes.

  Feeling like Wonder Woman, I slide my fingers down to the base of his shaft as I eagerly take him into my mouth. His head falls back as he moans. I smile to myself. He hasn’t seen anything yet. I pride myself on my blow jobs, and I’m about to give him the best one he’s ever had.

  I take my time, circling the broad head slowly, then flicking the sensitive spot where the head meets the shaft with the tip of my tongue a few times. He groans. I grip the base of his shaft tightly and, wetting my lips and his cock, I take him into my mouth. I rhythmically move my mouth and hand together, up and down, up and down, my head bobbing as he grows even harder in my mouth. I take him deeper, and he hisses as his cock touches the back of my throat. I slide him back out of my mouth, sucking lightly on the tip. I suck his head eight times, then take him deep. Seven shallows sucks, then back to my throat. I keep going as his fingers fist more and more tightly in my hair. Lick, suck, swallow, lick, suck, swallow. I’m about to take him deep again when he pulls me to my feet with a growl, his lips crushing against mine.

  “My turn,” he rasps.

  “I wasn’t done,” I protest. To be honest, going down on a guy totally turns me on. Going down on Walker takes it to a whole other level.

  “You’re done when I say you’re done, and you’re done. Your mouth feels way too good.” He lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing and carries me to the bed and lays me down on it, his body hovering over me with his powerful forearms braced on either side of my head.

  “I’m going to savor every delicious inch of you now.” It’s a statement, and coupled with the way he intertwines his fingers with mine and pins my hands to the bed as he kisses me again, it seems I don’t have a say in the matter. Not that I care. If anything, it makes me more turned on. I love the way he takes charge. I squirm a little, just to see if I can get away, but he just tightens his grip, moves our hands so they’re outstretched to the side, smiles, and nips my jaw.

  “No fair,” I protest.

  “A bet’s a bet. There weren’t any rules.”

  He kisses me again, his mouth ravaging mine, leaving me breathless.

  “Look at me.” My eyes lock with his at the command. “No faking it. Not with me.” The way he says it sends little shudders of awareness skittering over me.

  “Not a chance,” I say breathlessly. “I want to win.” But I don’t. I’ve never wanted to lose so badly in my life.

  “That’s my girl.” With a low chuckle, his lips burn a hot path down the column of my neck. He kisses my breasts and my nipples, his tongue flicking the tips before he moves down my torso, over my stomach, moving lower and lower. I shiver slightly, although I’m not cold. If anything, I think I might combust. My skin feels hot and flushed.

  He lets go of my hands so he can grip my hips as he reaches my mound, but I’m still powerless to move. I suddenly want more than anything to feel his mouth on my sex. He doesn’t disappoint me. Spreading me gently with his fingertips, he slowly strokes his tongue over my sex. I wiggle fiercely, wanting more. He chuckles and presses my clit with his thumb, making agonizingly slow, erotic circles as he rasps, “I’m going to make you come so hard you scream.”

  His mouth is hot and eager, and he uses his whole tongue to explore and taste every inch of me, moving his tongue fast and quick and then slow and easy, flicking my needy clit a few times before circling it with the tip of his tongue until I think I’m going to go insane.

  He adds a finger, pushing it deep inside me, and then a second, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to die from sensory overload. His fingers slide in and out of me rhythmically as his tongue works its magic, driving me closer and closer to the edge. My hips churn furiously. My fingers grab the sheets, bunching them into a tight ball with my desperate need to come.

  I’m close…so close. I have never wanted to come so badly in my life.

  But I can’t.

  “Now might be a good time to ask my permission.”

  Walker’s deep voice, husky with desire, catches me off guard.

  “I…what?” He’s now planting little kisses along my inner thighs, and I’m having trouble focusing on anything but the feel of his lips, and how I really want them back between my legs. “Permission for what?”

  “To come. I told you yesterday, you have to ask.” He flicks my clit lightly. “So ask.”

  “Uh…ooh…can I…mmm…come?” Each word is punctuated by a moan as he teases my clit.

  His quiet laugh sends warmth spreading through me. “Oh, yeah, sweetheart. I want you to come on my tongue. I want to feel your thighs clench and your whole body tighten as you go over the edge.”

  He’s gotten me closer than anyone has before, but it’s still just beyond my grasp, so close I can almost grab it, but then it flits away again. Normally at this point I would fake it, or stop the guy, or tell him I wanted his cock inside me so we’ll both forget that he couldn’t make me come, but there is nothing normal about this. This is Walker. And I want more than anything for him to send me over the edge.

  “And if I can’t?” It’s a whisper.

  “Then you ge
t my T-shirt.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “And I get to taste you for as long as I want. Because I’m not going to stop until I’m good and ready.”

  Somehow, his words turn me on even more.

  He opens me again intimately, his thumb slipping into my almost embarrassingly slick opening to spread my juices over my clit. I squirm from the sheer pleasure of it. Then he laces his fingers with mine, and with our hands clasped, he fastens his mouth over me again. But this time, he doesn’t do anything. He’s completely still, his tongue just touching my so-hard-I-think-it’s-going-to-explode clit.

  Blind need is churning in my veins and I instantly move against him, desperate for the sensation that only he can give. My hips rise and fall of their own volition, and each movement of my pelvis moves his tongue over my throbbing clit. It’s exquisite in its subtlety. I control the motion, the intensity, and the speed, yet somehow I have never felt more possessed. Pleasure, hunger, and a desperate wanting build as everything inside me coils into an impossibly tight ball of need. The intensity of it terrifies me, but I don’t want to stop. I can’t. I’ve never physically ached for release like this.

  I hover over the edge of that dark oblivion that I’m both terrified of and desperate to hurtle over. I grip his hands tighter as I move against his rigid tongue, and he squeezes back, letting me know he’s got me. I teeter, my body strung on the edge. With one last violent thrust of my hips and a primitive cry, I let go and plummet into the abyss. The release is so intense, I would lose my bearings if it wasn’t for the strength of Walker’s hands holding me to earth. The release pulses through me, seemingly never ending, until finally I stop moving. I lie there panting until I feel Walker stretch out against me. I open my eyes to see his familiar ones gazing at me intently.

  After a minute, I say, “You’ve ruined me. That totally blew every orgasm I’ve ever given myself out of the water.”

  I love the way his eyes crinkle at the corner when he smiles. “We’re not finished yet. Not now that you know what you’re capable of.”

  “Oh, no.” The determined look in his eyes has me rolling away from him.

  “Do you think you have a say in it?” He grabs me by the hips with a laugh, pulling me up onto all fours.

  “I can’t,” I gasp. “My clit is too sensitive.”

  “Who said anything about your clit?” He thrusts two fingers into my dripping sex, once again touching that new little bundle of nerves deep within me that I never knew about until tonight, and I go from zero to a thousand instantly. I shake my head wildly, some animalistic instinct in me propelling me to flee, although another part of me wants to feel more, to experience the wild abandon he seems to be able to access instantaneously. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pushing me down so my head and shoulders are pinned to the bed as he finger fucks me into oblivion.

  I am out of mind with pleasure.

  “Please!” I don’t even know what I’m begging for. Him to stop? To send me over the edge again? To keep me safe and never let me go? Whatever it is, I need him in this moment like I’ve never needed anyone before. It’s terrifying.

  “I can’t. I can’t take it.”

  “Shh, baby. I’ve got you. Let go.”

  It’s a wild, primal passion. The ocean roars in my ears. He’s driving me fucking insane with his insistent fingers, stroking as the intensity builds and builds and builds…until with a scream I come again, the waves of pleasure crashing over me, consuming me with an intensity I never dreamed imaginable.

  The trajectory of water arcing from beneath me would be shocking if I wasn’t so destroyed by the orgasm. As it is, I only dimly register Walker saying in disbelief, “You squirted!”

  “I what?”

  He drags me back to him and flips me over, his grin transforming his face as he kisses me hard. “And you thought you couldn’t come.”

  He pulls me into his arms, and I’ve never felt more treasured. Or more confused.

  Chapter Eight

  Walker

  I wake up with Gemma’s warm, naked body curled up next to me and a raging hard-on. Last night was fucking amazing. I will never in a million years forget the way Gemma came on my tongue—how every muscle in her body clenched in that moment before she finally let go, the way her fingers gripped mine like her life depended on it, the way she screamed my name when she finally went over the edge, and the sweet, earthy taste of her. Hell, every fucking thing about it was exquisite, and I just want to do it again.

  But we’re in uncharted territory, and for the first time in my life, I’m at a loss for what to do. Gemma’s my best friend, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. But we blurred the lines when she asked me to help her with Declan, and then we smudged them even more last night. We were both drunk, sure, and maybe it wouldn’t have happened otherwise, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t spent the last twenty-four hours thinking about kissing her, touching her, making her come, fucking her… In fact, it’s pretty much all I’ve thought about since I kissed her night before last. Okay, maybe since she climbed into bed with me, naked.

  She’s lying on her side, curled into me, her hair a riotous tumble on the pillow, and the morning sun streaming in through the wall of windows teases out the red glints in her chestnut hair. Unable to resist touching her, I smooth my hand across her outer thigh and over the curve of her hip, letting it rest on her waist. I love the contrast of our skin—my dark to her pale. My cock stirs at the feel of her soft skin beneath my fingertips.

  There is nothing I would love more than to sink into her sweet heat, to feel her under me, to hold her face in my hands and look into her green eyes that reflect her every thought as we move together, but I know that’s not going to happen. When she asked for my help, Gemma was adamant that we wouldn’t have actual sex because it would make it awkward. I know she’s right, even though my dick is trying to convince me otherwise.

  I sigh. Spending the next few days in close proximity to Gemma and having to pretend my feelings for her are still of the best-friend variety is going to make BUD/S training and fighting terrorists look like a walk in the park. Now that I’ve had a taste of her, both literally and figuratively, I want more. Good thing we’re going riding today. It’s not the same, but at least it will get my mind off what we did last night.

  I glance at the clock. Somehow, it’s already almost ten. We’d better get moving. It’s a good five-and-a-half-hour ride to Big Sur without stops, and I want to show Gemma some of the sights along the way, since she’s never been to Northern California.

  I shake her gently. “Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

  She mutters something unintelligible and burrows into my chest. That’s definitely not helping my morning wood! I carefully disentangle myself from her and nudge her a little more insistently before I climb out of bed. “Up and at ’em.”

  She shoots me the finger and covers her head with a pillow. I grin. Gemma’s never been much of a morning person.

  “Come on. The open road awaits us. We’ve got a date with the Pacific Coast Highway, remember?”

  “Go without me,” she mutters.

  “I can’t. Liam’s bucket list says, ‘Ride the Pacific Coast Highway with a pretty girl at your back.’”

  She moves the pillow and opens one green eye a slit to regard me warily. “It does not.”

  “It does.” I have no doubt that’s exactly what Liam meant, even if he didn’t spell it out. I turn to get my phone, checking for messages, and when I turn back around she’s rolled over onto her back and pulled the covers up over her breasts. Damn.

  “Give me a minute,” she says. “I can’t move. My whole body feels like jelly after last night.” Her cheeks turn red at the memory, and she looks down briefly. For a minute, my heart stops, and I’m terrified we’ve ruined everything. Then she smiles and says cheekily, “The rumors are true. You are amazing.” She takes a deep breath and looks me straight in the eyes. “That was the most incredible night of my life.
Thank you.”

  I let out a whoosh of air I didn’t even know I’d been holding. There’s the spunky girl I know who lays it all out in the open and never backs down from anything.

  “I honestly didn’t think it could happen at all, much less like that,” she continues. “You’ve redeemed my hope in the male species.”

  “Good,” I say, but it comes out more brusquely than I intend it to. I don’t want to redeem her hope in the male species, and I certainly don’t want anyone else giving her orgasms. I want every single one of them to belong to me, and I want to make her come a thousand different ways. I’ve never felt like this about a woman before—like I want to spend my life just making her smile.

  But I can’t tell her that. Instead I resort to humor. “What can I say? I’ve got the magic touch. Although I’ve never made a girl squirt before.” My chest puffs out with stupid male ego at the memory. That was both unexpected and incredible. I wonder if I could do it again.

  Her gaze drops, and I’m suddenly aware of my dick standing straight up like a lightning rod.

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I was so wrapped up in my own pleasure that I didn’t reciprocate,” she says.

  I turn to grab my boxer briefs off the floor and pull them on before I answer her. “Believe me, Gemma, your pleasure was mine. Although you may have the hottest mouth on the planet, I can’t imagine anything giving me more pleasure than seeing you come, and knowing I was responsible for it. You know what I think your problem is?”

  She gives me that Gemma look, which is part eye roll and part sultry invitation. “What?”

  “You’ve been in charge of your orgasms for so long, it’s gotten hard to let go and give the power to take you over the edge to someone else. Because orgasm, in and of itself, requires letting go. I know you. You don’t like to be vulnerable, and you’re never more vulnerable than in the moment when you come. It’s why the French expression for it—la petite mort—means ‘the little death.’”

  I know it scared her, being that unguarded, even with me. It’s why she suddenly put the brakes on and insisted on giving me a blow job. I’d let her, both to give her a chance to gather her courage and because, hell, I’m only human. But I didn’t let her hide behind it. I pushed her to let go, to let me make her come. I sit down on the edge of the bed and tilt her chin up with my finger. I want to make sure she hears what I’m about to say. “You trusted me with that, and it was better than anything else you could have given me. Okay?”