by Angel Payne
Air left Brynna in rickety bursts. Still, she flicked her gaze at both of them and rasped, “I don’t want to say no. Not yet.”
Rebel pressed in a fuller kiss. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure Rhett is, too.”
Rhett nodded. Sort of. He was unable to rip his gaze away from watching them tease each other’s mouths. Hard against soft. The dusk of Reb’s stubble against the peach dawn of Brynn’s cheeks. The Dominant adoring the submissive.
His dick swelled to the point of pain.
Focus on something else, moron.
“You haven’t answered our question yet, sweet peach.” How he uttered it without his voice cracking, he’d likely never know. “How do you feel?”
Rebel pulled away a little, clearly sharing Rhett’s expectation that she’d attempt an evasion. Instead, Brynn’s expression reminding him of a philosopher, perhaps a poet, selecting her next words with ultimate care.
“Exposed.”
Even with the beautiful honesty with which she spoke, she blinked rapidly, fighting to control her fear. Witnessing her push at that barrier was one hell of a turn-on. Rebel’s lusty bayou smile conveyed how thoroughly he agreed—and how merciless he was going to be about pushing it.
“Beautiful,” he told her, before turning in, filling her personal space, and capturing her mouth in a full, deep kiss. Brynn moaned and arched toward him, so perfect for how he fisted her T-shirt and dragged it up her body. Once the fabric was bunched at her neck, Reb shoved it higher, stretching the neckline over her face until she was blindfolded by the folds of cotton. He pushed the sleeves to the same level, turning them into pink cotton cuffs around her upstretched arms.
Breathtaking.
“Oh!” Her muscles stood out as she wriggled, making her muscles stand out as she tested the bonds. “Oh…my.”
“Doing okay?” Reb inquired.
“Y-yes.” She sighed. “I’m okay.”
Rebel glanced to Rhett, who nodded approval at his handiwork. “Make use of what’s around, man.” Well, imagine that. One of the battalion’s most common mottos had some interesting secondary applications.
Reb swung his head down a little. “Front-clasp bra.”
Rhett laughed out a growl. “Halle-fucking-lujah.”
“That’s got your name written on it, man.”
He needed no further prompting. Sliding in to take Reb’s place in front of Brynn, he twisted open the clasp between her breasts, setting those two perfect globes free of their cupped constraints. Behind him, Rebel let out a praising rumble. He didn’t blame the guy. Her breasts were like a masterpiece on canvas in the Louvre, full and ripe and perfect, begging to be shown off and worshipped. And a few other treatments he could absolutely get on board with…
“How do you feel now, little peach?” He asked it while scraping hands along her ribcage, letting the heat of his breath fall over her nipples. As deeply as he craved to taste both of them again, he held back. Neither Rebel nor he had definitive knowledge of what her path in kink had been so far, though his instincts screamed that her “research” didn’t equate to experience. Even more proof of that came in the form of a shudder that claimed her whole body, making more tiny bumps stand out on her peach pearl skin. But was it a good shiver or a get-me-out-of-here shiver?
“I feel…” More breaths slashed in and out of her, serrating her confession. “Vul…nerable.”
He softly kissed her forehead. “Vulnerable is okay.”
“Wh-what about a little scared?”
He frowned. “Just a little?”
Her dreamy smile dialed his stress back. “Mmm hmm.”
“In that case…” He slid his lips to her cheek, nuzzling her with more erotic intent. “A little is okay.”
“What else?” Rebel grated it while sliding up behind her, circling hands around her waist, skimming fingers beneath the waistband of her pajamas.
She trembled again. Pulled in air through her teeth. “Oooohhh. Ummmm…”
Rebel pressed in tighter—then caught Rhett’s attention with a sneaky leer over her shoulder. No. Not sneaky. Slutty. Why the hell did that cause an erection surge? “Focus, ma minette. Tell us everything.” His head dipped, lips flat to her skin, indicating he’d gone for a full bite somewhere on her nape. Brynn stiffened and groaned, confirming the assumption. “We can’t do anything better if you don’t tell us.”
She lolled her head to the side, baring more of her neck. “Well, that felt pretty damn good.”
Rebel laughed softly. Licked the spot he’d just abused. “What else?”
She twisted once more, only this struggle was different. Her body rolled with the bondage instead of fighting against it…as if she needed to know it was still there. That she was truly helpless to protest anything they asked of her…
“Electric,” she finally responded. “Everything…tingles. I’m so…alive.”
“Yes.” Rebel didn’t transform it into a tease or a seduction. Rhett watched in awe—and arousal—as the man focused completely on her, stowing his inner Lothario for the privilege of nipping more at her heated skin. “I know the feeling.”
Rhett gave in to a growl. “Goddamn.” And then the hunger for her sweet tits beneath his mouth. “Roger that,” he finished, dropping his lips to the nipples that now appeared like shiny bits of hard candy. Fuck…such treats. Rebel’s snack time on her neck had made them taut, red, delectable. He swirled and licked, nibbled and bit, alternating his mouth between both mounds until they resembled scoops of creamy ice cream with dark red gum drops on top.
“Merde.” Rebel stared over her shoulder at what Rhett was up to. “Les doudones…c’est trés belle, mon chou. Je bande plus grand pour toi.”
“Exactly what he said.” Rhett gazed up at them both and grinned. “You have the most stunning set of breasts it’s been my pleasure to taste, sweetheart.”
Rebel worked his head forward a little more, sucking on the curve of her ear. It didn’t escape Rhett’s attention that he also tucked a hand deeper beneath her pajamas, working his way to the cleft between her legs. As Brynn emitted a high-pitched moan, the spice of her arousal knitted through the air.
“Suck on her again, Double-Oh.” Reb’s voice was sandpaper. He began rolling over her pussy, fingers sensual and sure. As soon as Rhett complied, he demanded, “Now bite them. Hard.”
“Bite them?” Brynn gasped and bucked—but the effort was more for show, a half-assed effort to prove she still wasn’t going to just hand them her submission on a platter. “But—”
Rebel shoved down her pajamas—and landed a hard smack on her ass. “Hush, ma petite. You’re going to scream for us. And you’re going to love it.”
“The hell I—aaahhhh!”
She definitely screamed—as Rhett closed his teeth around her nipple. Once more, as he performed the same on the other breast. The way her tips stood straight up for him, bursting from their areolas, tempted his mouth down again. He soothed the peaks with long, warm licks this time, unable to hold back a satisfied moan from the feel of her proud erections against the flat of his tongue.
“Fuck. Your tips are hard as diamonds, sweetheart.”
“And your cunt is wet as a rain-drenched flower.” Reb continued working the folds of her sex in languorous rolls, sliding in his middle finger every third or fourth stroke, snarling in pleasure as she mewled in need. “Spread your legs. Open the bloom for me, Brynna.”
With a strangled sigh, she obeyed.
The scent of her pussy permeated the air even more. Rhett breathed it in, swearing again. His lips fell away from her flesh, just to keep his lungs supplied with what they needed as he gazed at Rebel’s fingers, incessantly pumping into her flesh.
“Christ, Brynna,” he blurted. “You always smell so fucking good.”
She frantically licked her lips, a perfect match to the T-shirt still keeping her in sensual darkness. She moaned softly as Rebel pulled out his hand, fingers glistening with the cream from her channel, then spread
the arousal up and down her bare pussy lips, now swollen with arousal. “I’ll bet she tastes even better,” he stated.
“Oh, she does.” Rhett couldn’t help his been-there-done-that smirk.
Rebel chuckled softly. “Yeah?”
It was probably the easiest damn question he’d get to answer all year—but when he opened his mouth, only silence seemed appropriate. Rebel’s inner glow had intensified, turning into a sexual force he’d never seen the guy exude—and certainly never felt for himself; not like this, like a thrumming from inside his blood, growing stronger by the minute. If the man kept up this tall, dark, and irresistible shit, Rhett would have to call Seattle before they flew home—more specifically, to Max Brickham, owner of Bastille, the BDSM club they were both members of. No submissive in the place would be safe once Reb walked back through the doors.
Damn. Damn.
“Yeah.”
He finally got it out, though couldn’t manage another grin to go along—likely because of what needed to happen next. Needed to happen.
“But you shouldn’t take my word for it.”
Rebel’s dark brows cocked up—though aside from that, he didn’t break stride in the new bites he trailed along Brynna’s right shoulder. When her breasts rose and fell from the fresh acceleration of her lungs, Rhett knew she’d caught on, as well.
“Is that so?” It was a drawl though far from lazy. Only adding to the impression that he’d swallowed a stick of dynamite, Rebel sizzled the air with every movement, circling to stand in front of Brynna again. Without speaking, he delved a hand into her hair, angling her head back for another thorough kiss.
Watching the man explore her mouth, suck on her tongue, and plunge into her throat had Rhett gritting against a fresh rise of his cock. The idea of freeing himself now was so fucking tempting, but it felt lame when Rebel was still keeping shit under wraps. But standing here like a voyeur perv felt equally lame—irony of ironies, since Rebel Stafford had to be the biggest pervert in the army, if not all the armed forces.
That was because pervy had nothing to do with this. The truth? He was being clingy as a fourteen year-old girl. Simply put, he had to be closer—to both of them. Yeah, yeah; so his over-attachment thing was as concerning as Reb’s slut-from-Mars thing, but this wasn’t a time for the therapy couch. This was a time for feeling good.
It was ideal inspiration.
He stepped over, sliding into Reb’s old spot behind Brynn. Like a key in a lock, his body fit flawlessly against hers. His thighs cradled her hips. His dick nudged her ass.
It was…good.
Yeah.
So good.
Who the hell was he kidding? It wasn’t good. It was fucking agony.
Just getting to gaze at her from this angle, hands bound overhead, every naked inch of her body exposed…
Staring at Rebel’s bite marks on her neck, then imagining how his own would look next to them…
Taking in the perfection of her skin, and envisioning its tingles as he brushed a flogger across it…
Christ.
At this rate, no fucking way was he going to make it to the good parts of this thing. The ordeal only continued as he stared at the perfection of her spine. The column, bowed just a little and stretched so all her muscles were emphasized too, was just as erotic as her breasts—how was that even possible?—a torture worsened because it ended at the sweet rosette of her anus. If he made it past all the fantasies that attacked because of that, no way would he withstand thinking of what came next: the tender folds between her thighs, soon to be quivering beneath Rebel’s expert mouth.
Fuck. Fuck.
As if reading Rhett’s thoughts exactly, Rebel cast a single glance over Brynn’s shoulder. Rhett groaned at once from the impact. The man’s eyes, shimmering like Excalibur itself, sliced in and ripped him open—but instead of spilled guts, he released pure energy. An erotic freedom that was stupefying, dizzying. The force of it was so potent, even Brynn was affected. Her head jerked, twisting at her T-shirt bondage. Her lungs pumped, bouncing her breasts in hypnotic rhythm. Her hips jerked as if Reb’s beautiful blade really had run her through.
Lust fired Rhett’s blood. He yanked Brynn tighter against him, forcing the roll of her hips to match his. She succumbed at once, trembling mewls emanating from her stretched throat. He greedily sucked that creamy column, at once recognizing the earthy scent of the man who’d been there first…as he vowed to add his own claim there too.
They rocked harder together. Harder. Their tempo was urgent, pounding, primal—but not for long. They slowed as Rebel curled his hands over her from the front, dragging over her with possessive force: down her breasts, along her ribs, to the V at the center of her body. Once there, he dropped to his knees, muttering something filthy in French as he buried his nose in her pussy. He switched to English for his next hard growl. “More.” Backed it up by reaching up and wrapping his hands around her ass—
Which pressed his fingertips against the sides of Rhett’s cock.
“Fuck.”
All three of them shouted it at once.
Rhett finished his bellow with a groan. Brynn added a shuddering sigh.
Rebel—goddamn bastard—unfurled a wicked laugh.
“I’m going to eat you now, mon chou.” His stare was still a sword—that had been honed in a forge of dominant sexuality. “I’m going to spread this blossom wide, and drink every drop of its juicy nectar. Then I’m going to drill my tongue into your perfect cunt, until you come hard against my mouth.”
Brynn moaned. Shivered all over. Rhett knew it as a certainty because every last one of those quakes zinged through him too.
Rebel dug into her ass, his hold becoming demand. Rhett clenched his teeth and almost swore. Don’t do that again, asshole. Please do that again, asshole.
“Ma chatte?” There was no sensual tease to it now. “Tell me you understand, and that you’ll accept the pleasure I’m ready to give. You know the words to use.”
“Oh, God!” Brynn moaned it as he extended his tongue, swiping into her sex with slow deliberation. “Ohhhh. shit…please!”
“Not the words. Should I tell Rhett to spank you again, perhaps as a reminder?”
“No, Sir.”
No, Sir?
Rhett didn’t hide his bafflement. Even with the small bombshell reference to the spanking, those were the last words he’d expected from her. Well, almost. Her breathing was more shallow and her limbs more tense, conveying her fresh conflict. Did that mean she’d hated the words…or loved them and hated that fact?
“I—I mean yes, Sir,” she suddenly added. “I mean that I understand. And…I’m ready to accept it. All of your pleasure. Please!”
That sure as hell answered things. In all the right ways.
A smile hooked at Rhett’s lips. He looked down to Rebel—who sent out the same message with the warmth in his eyes, considering how his mouth was full with the sweetest pussy on the planet.
“Fuck.” Rhett issued it while burying his face in her thick strawberry hair, though throwing his gaze directly into Rebel’s. “This is going to be so damn good.”
As if he needed any more affirmation, the ten fingers against his cock squeezed again…another invitation down a path where secrets were safe and the rules were damned.
Chapter Ten
‡
WHO THE HELL are you? What the hell are you doing? What the hell have you become?
The demands slashed from the edges of Brynn’s psyche, puncturing her mists of arousal, desperate attempts to remind her that a week ago, she’d vowed never to be a bound, begging thing at the end of a tether, all but asking a man’s permission to draw her next breath.
Hypocrite.
Where’s your conviction now, Brynna? Where’s the woman who vowed she’d make no man her religion? Where’s the person who swore her life would be bigger than what Mom promised…better than what Enya settled for?
She was still here, damn it.
She j
ust wanted a break.
Needed a break.
Oh, God…just this once, just for this razor’s edge in time, she needed to dance on that dangerous blade, to court every nasty, naughty creature of her desires to twirl there with her…to bleed from the cuts of her own salacious fantasies…
To give up. Give in. Give over.
To trust.
Just
for
one
moment…
Funny things, those moments.
In one, a person could be wrestling with themselves, but still halfway sane. In the very next, the world was a different place, blinding and brilliant, centered on a tiny bundle of nerves at the center of their body, being touched so exquisitely that concepts like gravity, time, and linear thought were total farces.
The morning sun beamed into the office, warming her skin—and emulating the recognition that blazed into her soul. There was no way to fight it, to deny it, to ignore it. She belonged to them. Right here, right now, on this edge of existence, she was at the complete mercy of these two men: these mavericks who’d shattered her, broken her, exposed her…and adored her for all of it. More than that, were actually determined to reward her for it. In such incredible ways…
“Ahhhh!”
Maybe not so incredible.
She twisted her head, trying to glare down at Rebel. Hilarious concept, considering her scope of vision had turned bubble gum pink. “Did you—”
“Bite your gorgeous clit?” He responded as if inquiring if she wanted catsup with her fries. “Why yes, ma chatte. I did. And it was delicious. Thank you. I liked it so much, I may just take another taste.”
“No!”
“Excellent idea.” Though Rhett’s voice was a drawl, he cupped the side of her face with opposite intent, forcing it up toward him. “And this time, I’m going to watch every effect it has on our darling girl.”
His promise short-circuited her logic. Rebel’s teeth, closing in on her there, truly wasn’t the most pleasant sensation—but getting to hear more of that rasp in Rhett’s tone, coarse and sexy with arousal…what would she do for that?