Renegade (Phoenix Rising)

by Blake, Brynley

  But she’s taken everything I dished out, both at her apartment the night she asked me to start training her and last night at the hotel. And in the process, she’s sparked a fire in me to possess her in ways I have no business wanting. To make matters worse, my drunk ass thought it would be a good idea to show her how it feels for a man to make her come unraveled, and somehow, everything changed.

  But it’s time for me to take fucking control of the situation. And Gemma. Which means putting aside my feelings for her and focusing on the two tasks at hand—getting her ready to go to the Dominion Friday night so we can find out why it’s on Liam’s list, and in the process, making her realize this lifestyle, and Declan, is not for her. If I do it right, she’ll be over the whole idea that she wants to be submissive when she goes back to Charleston on Saturday. Which might be a bit of a challenge, since I’m not a fucking dominant.

  Last night I put the SOS out to my SEAL team, although of course I didn’t mention Gemma by name, or our unique situation. SEALs are by nature thrill seekers, notorious for living on the edge, so I was pretty sure one of them would come through for me with the SparkNotes version of how to dominate a girl. Sure enough, Cooper, a brash and cocky ladies’ man with a wild streak, sent me a detailed message—a blueprint of sorts of what to do.

  “Manhandle her a little,” he’d said, echoing her words about what she was looking for in a man. “Pull her hair. Talk dirty to her, tell her exactly what you intend to do to her. Hold her down when you fuck her. When you see that spark in her eyes, ramp it up. Handcuff her to the bed, spank her ass (hell, spank more than her ass), dribble some hot wax over her naked body. And don’t forget to leave your mark—with your hand, with your teeth, with a fucking Sharpie. Whatever it takes so she knows she’s yours. Teach her obedience.” That one made me laugh. “Tell her what to do, and remove her choice—about what to wear, what to call you, and most importantly, when to come. Deny her. Nothing says you’re in control like taking her right to the edge and then stopping. Make her beg for it. Then make her wait some more. Make sure she knows when and how she gets her pleasure is up to you. Nothing makes a girl feel more owned.” He also gave me a laundry list of must-haves for my toy bag, whatever the hell that is. Ball gag, paddle, handcuffs, cross strap, flogger, nipple clamps, collar…

  I run my fingers through my hair distractedly. Tonight I’ve got none of that. Just a romantic hotel room with a view of the ocean and an entire evening with Gemma—to do what? Tie her up? Spank her? Make her come again, or if I listen to Cooper, don’t?

  Get your shit together, man. I’m a Navy SEAL, for fuck’s sake. I can handle some kinky games with my best friend. She wants to be manhandled? We’ll see about that.

  “You’ll need to get used to some of the toys and implements we’ll see at the club, but there’s nothing we can do about that tonight. I’ll pick up some things at Good Vibrations tomorrow after we meet with Dr. Morris’s family.”

  I found the store online earlier today, and not only does it look clean and not likely to send either Gemma or me screaming from the building, there’s a location close to our hotel in San Francisco. The website had some pretty helpful articles too.

  I’d kind of hoped mentioning the tools of the trade would scare her a little, but she snorts with laughter. “Is that seriously the name of it?”

  Gemma’s laughter is contagious. You can’t help but smile back. “Yep. Maybe I’ll get you an early birthday present,” I tease. “You have a vibrator?”

  “Every woman over the age of twenty-one has a vibrator,” she scoffs.

  I try to quell the images that come to mind—of her alone in her bed, eyes closed, lips parted, and legs spread as her vibrator brings her to climax. Shit. Focus, Walker.

  Cooper’s voice echoes in my head. Tell her what to do. Remove her choice.

  I clear my throat. “How comfortable are you in your own skin?”

  “Well, it’s more comfortable than anyone else’s,” she retorts with an impish grin.

  “Brat.” I grab a fistful of her hair and pull her head back so she’s looking up into my eyes. “Take your clothes off.” My voice is quiet but firm.

  Her smile fades. “What?”

  That’s more like it.

  “Take off your clothes. You have to be comfortable being naked if you’re going to the club. And you have to learn to respond to whatever I ask you to do without question.” I smack her ass for emphasis.

  She licks her lips as her gaze darts around the room uneasily. I’ve never seen Gemma nervous, and it’s a surprising turn on, especially knowing I’m the one responsible for it. “It’s really bright in here. Could we turn a few lights off?” she says.

  Surely she’s not embarrassed to show off a body like hers. “I’m trying to prepare you for the Dominion,” I explain.

  “Which will probably be dark and have some ambience,” she counters.

  “My rules tonight, Gemma,” I say quietly but firmly. “You can back out at any time if you can’t handle it.” Nonetheless, I walk over to the door and switch the lights off. All that illuminates the room now is a small lamp and the glow of the fire. “Happy now?”

  “Yes.” She slips off her sandals, keeping her eyes on mine. She slowly pulls off the flimsy pink top she’s wearing and dangles it from her fingertips for a minute before she lets it drop to the floor. Then she unbuttons her denim shorts ever so slowly, and I drag in air through my nostrils as she turns and shimmies out of them, wiggling her ass enticingly as she eases them over the curve of her hips. She faces me again and holds my gaze as she unhooks her bra, revealing her luscious breasts, her nipples erect and just begging for my mouth. She turns around again and slowly wriggles out of her thong. I’ve never seen anything more erotic. My cock is rock hard, and all she’s done is take off her clothes. I’m fucked.

  She looks back at me from over her shoulder, her eyes flashing with defiance. “I can handle whatever you’ve got, Kinkaid.”

  I close the distance between us and take her chin in my hand. “Is that right?”

  Her gaze meets mine. “Damn straight.”

  I can’t help it. I kiss her. Or, more accurately, I devour her, desperate for the taste of that sassy mouth, those full lips, her tongue stroking mine. As we kiss, I slowly press her backward to the edge of the bed. With one last nip of her bottom lip, I lift her and toss her onto the mattress. She squeaks with surprise.

  “Get on your hands and knees.” I snap out the order. I pause, watching as she follows my directions, my cock throbbing at her sensual movements. “Now wait for me like a good girl.”

  I turn around before she can catch me grinning. I can just imagine the smoke coming out of her ears. I pull off my T-shirt and then dig through my bag, finally finding the biker bandanna I bought at the shop where I rented the Harley to keep the wind off my face while I rode. Coming back over to the bed, I slip the bandanna over her head, adjusting it so that it’s completely covering her eyes. Leaving her there, I take my time unbuckling and removing my belt, making sure I stand close enough so that she can hear the whoosh as it clears the loops of my jeans and wonder what I’m about to do. I wait a few minutes, letting her anticipation build. Then I slowly drag the end of the belt over her gorgeous, bare ass. She shudders. I do it again, and then one more time, loving the sharp little intake of breath she takes each time the leather caresses her bottom. She wiggles her hips provocatively, baiting me, and I pop her ass lightly with the tip. She curses, but her voice is husky. Time to take things to the next level.

  “Sit up on your knees and scoot forward. A little more. Good. Now, grab the headboard.”

  She obeys wordlessly. Taking the belt, I wrap it around her wrists and fasten it tightly. Then, using a carabiner clip from my backpack, I secure the belt by its buckle to the ornate carving at the center of the headboard. She tugs experimentally, but it’s obvious she’s not going anywhere.

  I sit down next to her, taking a minute to fully appreciate the sight of the g
orgeous naked woman bound and on her knees next to me, her pale skin glowing in the firelight. She’s beautiful. How the fuck did we get here?

  Reaching up, I outline her lips gently with my forefinger, then trace a straight line down her body, over the column of her throat—where I can feel her swallow hard—between her breasts, and across her flat abdomen, stopping just above her mound. She squirms with anticipation, and I know exactly how a lion feels when he toys with a mouse.

  “Whatever am I going to do with you, all tied up and naked on the bed?”

  Gemma wriggles a little. “You could give me another one of those amazing orgasms you specialize in.”

  I lazily move back up her torso, trailing my finger around her breasts. Mesmerized, I watch her nipples pucker as I get closer and closer to them with each figure eight I draw. “I don’t think so. Last night I make you come. Tonight, I think I’ll make you wait. Train you in self-control and obedience.”

  She makes a face at the word, and I can’t help but smile. I knew it. There’s no way she’d ever be happy with a man like Declan. He wouldn’t appreciate her fire.

  “Last night was probably a fluke. I bet you can’t do it again anyway.”

  “Nice tactic, sweetheart, but it’s not going to work. And in case you haven’t noticed, you’re the one tied up, not me, so what you want doesn’t really matter.”

  She huffs indignantly, but her chest is rising and falling a little faster. It’s false bravado at its finest. She’s as turned on as I am. Abandoning her breasts, I stroke both of my hands leisurely down her torso and over her ass, giving each cheek a squeeze. She looks beautiful with her arms bound above her, her body naked and available for whatever I want to do. The blindfold only adds to her vulnerability, and her lips are parted slightly in anticipation. Fuck. I could get used to this domination shit.

  I lean over and pull a rose out of the small bouquet on the nightstand. I hold it up to her nose, and she inhales deeply, breathing in the sweet scent. I skim the soft petals over her skin, following the path my fingers took just minutes ago—over her throat, between her breasts, then lower…tickling her ribs before moving down to tease her hip bones. She moans softly, her back arching as she pushes her breasts forward in an unconscious plea for attention.

  Starting where her wrists are bound by the belt, I move the rose down the tender, faintly blue-veined skin of her inner arm, over the sweet little hollow of her underarm, and across the gentle swell of her firm breasts. I swirl the flower over one breast and then the other, the soft petals brushing over her nipples, making them tighten even more. Then I move to her other arm and do it all again. When I reach her breasts this time, she’s squirming deliciously.

  “Spread your legs.”

  Her breath hitches at the raw command, but she widens her stance. The position makes her ass stick out provocatively, and I can see her sweet pussy is already glistening. My groin tightens.

  Lifting her luscious auburn hair, I tickle the back of her neck with the flower, then let my tongue follow the path of the petals before I close my mouth over the side of her neck in a half kiss, half bite. This time, a throaty sigh accompanies her shudder.

  I wield the rose like it’s a paintbrush and her soft, pale skin is my canvas, brushing it over her shoulders, her back, down to her ass, and over the creamy backs of her thighs, the petals leaving a pink flush of arousal in their wake. Moving lower, I trail the rose from the inside of one knee up across her inner thigh, stopping to tease the lips of her pussy lightly with the soft petals. She’s trembling with need now.

  “Touch me, Walker. Please.”

  I smack her ass, harder this time, and she gasps. But when I trail the rose over her slit this time, it carries a trail of wetness.

  “I didn’t say you could speak. I’ll touch you when I’m good and ready.”

  Her lips draw together in an adorable pout, and my cock throbs. I want nothing more than to bite that luscious bottom lip. Instead, I tease her pouty mouth with a brush of the rose.

  “Can you taste yourself, sweetheart?”

  “Bastard.”

  It’s a good thing she’s blindfolded and can’t see my grin. It’s probably very undominant to let her see how much I love her sassy mouth, and how much more fun it is to play with her as a result of it. I make a tsking noise as I trail the rose back down over her arm. I stop at that sweet spot on her side where her breast begins to swell and press the stem lightly into her flesh so that she can feel the prick of the thick thorn. She’s panting slightly, but she doesn’t say anything else. I drag the rose down the length of her body with the stem now, letting her feel the gentle scrape of the thorns this time as they travel the same path the petals just traversed.

  Her nipples are impossibly hard as I trail the thorny stem around them, and she pulls at her wrists, struggling to get free.

  “Don’t. Move.”

  I can tell it takes a concerted effort, but she stops fighting the restraints, even when I test her by pressing the sharp point of the thorn against the tender skin just under her nipple. It’s not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make every muscle in her body clench with anticipation. But she doesn’t break. Driven by some devil in me that’s taken over, some inexplicable desire to see how far I can push her, I move to her sex, the tiny dagger of the thorn pressing slightly into the tender bare skin right at the top of her pussy. Her thighs slam together.

  “Keep your legs open.” I issue the command softly, but I use my firmest tone—the one that usually has the men I lead quickly obeying.

  She whimpers softly, but she parts her legs again. As she said, her trust in me is absolute, and my dick has never been so hard. Fuck this. I have to taste her.

  Tossing the rose aside, I grab her by the hair and tug her head back so I can kiss her. I lick lightly at her lips, and she opens her mouth to me hungrily. I dip my tongue in, tasting the sweet, dark, wet heat of her mouth. I break the kiss but linger with my lips mere inches from hers. I want to inhale every sigh, every moan, every gasp that I intend to extract from her.

  “Don’t you dare come,” I remind her with a growl into her ear. Then I plunge my finger unceremoniously into her wetness. Her pussy clenches around me.

  “Oh, fuck,” she breathes as her head rolls back.

  I work my finger slowly in and out of her, building her arousal. When her hips are churning, I touch her clit lightly with my thumb, pressing lightly as I continue fucking her with my finger.

  “Oh, God. Oh, God. I’m going to come.”

  I stop abruptly and give her sex a soft spank. She lets loose a string of curse words that would make a sailor proud.

  “You aren’t allowed to come until I say you can,” I say, nibbling at her lips with my teeth. I work my way to the right, nipping at her jaw and then grabbing the lobe of her ear with my teeth.

  “You bastard!”

  “You asked for this. This is what it’s like to be owned. To give your power to someone else.”

  I kiss my way down her body and slide between her legs so her sex is just above my mouth. She’s dripping for me. With my hands on her thighs, I spread her wider, holding her open as I tease her relentlessly, licking, biting, and kissing her everywhere but that sweet nub that I know is begging for my tongue. When she’s whimpering, I fasten my lips over her hard little clit and suck. She moans loudly, and it’s all I can do not to tongue her into oblivion. I want more than anything to make her come like I did last night, to make her wild with pleasure, but I have to remember the goal. Tonight is about control. Mine.

  So I torture both of us, stoking the fire inside her until it’s at a flashpoint, then backing off, only to fan the flames again, each time taking her a little bit closer to the fire. Her body is easy to read, and I can tell when she’s close to hurtling over the edge. Her chest heaves, her back arches, and the tendons and muscles in her thighs clench as if they are made of fine, honed steel. I find I can bring her within a hairbreadth of orgasm, and each time I back off—s
ometimes spanking her ass a few times, which, judging by her wiggles and moans, she enjoys as much as I do, but more often than not letting my lips and hands wander over her body. Then, when her breathing starts to slow, I start all over again.

  I lose track of time, lost in the taste of her, her skin salty sweet from the exertion of being strung out on pleasure. I explore every inch of her, amazed at how every part of her tastes a little different. I kiss and bite—her earlobes, her upper arms, her inner thighs, and her breasts—not hard enough to leave any lasting marks, but enough to make her squirm. Remembering Cooper’s words, I nip her inner thigh sharply, and she squeals. The sound, coupled with the way she struggles to evade my teeth, unleashes something inside me, something primitive and wild. I suddenly want to make her squirm. Make her beg. Make her mine. Tonight, I want to leave my mark on her…one way or another. I nip her again. This time the squeal turns into a moan.

  I gaze at her beautiful face that is as familiar to me as my own as I plunge into her slick folds, finger fucking her to the edge again.

  “Make me come, Walker.” Her voice is thready with need.

  “Beg me for it, baby.” My voice has an unfamiliar raspy edge to it, and I realize I’m as desperate as she is. But there’s a heady sense of power in controlling her body this way, in denying her the pleasure she’s clearly aching for.

  “Please. Please. Please.” She utters it like a mantra. Her body is glistening with a sheen of sweat, her nipples are rosy and erect, and there’s a noticeable wet spot on the sheets beneath her. I’ve never seen anything more fucking beautiful than Gemma is right this minute.