Mastered By The Mavericks

by Angel Payne

  Fuck, yes.

  “Eighteen,” he intoned then. “That’s the number you’re getting, cher. One for every ten minutes of the hours you decided to run from us, instead of trusting us.”

  As he spoke, Rhett massaged her ass again—though the strokes were tougher this time, kneading and pinching. As he dug in harder, Brynn let out a high-pitched mewl.

  “Ssshhh, little peach. Take it in. Breathe. I’m warming you up. Bringing the blood to the surface of your skin, so you’re well-prepared…for what’s ahead.”

  She struggled to obey but the wicked lilt he laid over his promise was a steel hook down her throat, snagging her breath. And damn it, the woman wore uncertainty like most others wore silk robes. So fucking alluring.

  Rebel couldn’t wait to strip it from her.

  He showed her so by tangling a hand in her hair, and pulling her head to the side. Slanted his mouth over the exposed column of her neck, which looked and felt like the silk he’d evoked. “The warm-up, minette…it’s like foreplay, only better.”

  She tasted so good. He licked, sucked, and nipped at her, reveling in her wild pulse against his tongue, as he snuck a hand into what little was left of her cleavage, fingers seeking a pert nipple to toy with. She gasped as he made contact. Her areola crumpled against his fingertips. Her nipple was hot and hard, swelling tighter as he rolled then tugged on it. Before he even touched the other, a harsh cry broke from deep in her throat. As he actually pulled at her nipple, she sobbed.

  Rebel captured the sound with a deep sweep of his lips. “Better?” he asked, after dragging up from her.

  “Yes, Sir.” Her gaze radiated over his face, full of wonder and arousal—

  Smack.

  Then pain.

  “Ahhhh!”

  “One.”

  Her lips twisted and her throat convulsed, clearly debating the legitimacy of Rhett’s placid claim. In her mind, they should’ve been at eight or nine already. The guy hadn’t pulled the blow by a single fraction—a move for which Rebel issued approval with a quick glance. Rhett replied with a sexier-than-shit smirk while raising his hand back up…

  Smack.

  “Two.”

  To Rebel’s shock, she responded with nothing but a stubborn grunt—and a newly tense body. Rhett’s face tightened, taking notice of the same thing. Rebel dipped in at once, hoping to help the situation. Though she relaxed a little as he trailed the flat of his tongue from her earlobe to collarbone, she tensed the moment Rhett lifted his hand again.

  Smack.

  “Ohhhh!”

  “Three.”

  “Damn it!”

  Rhett gave her four and five without a reprieve.

  “Mother fucker.”

  Six. Seven. Eight.

  Harder. Harder. Harder.

  “Crraaaap. Really?”

  Rhett grunted hard. Pinched both her cheeks just as brutally. “Any more creativity on that little tongue of yours, peach? Because that just earned you another swat. I’d love to make it a nice, even twenty, just for symmetry’s sake.”

  “Goddamn.” Rebel couldn’t restrain it—not when the vibrations of the spanks still rang on the air, and the bloom over her backside filled his greedy vision. “So would I.” He chuckled, not a little sheepishly, as she shot him a who’s-side-are-you-on glare. “Trés désolé, ma belle fifille…but if any woman’s ass was made to be thrashed like this, it is most certainly yours.”

  Rhett rumbled with baritone agreement. “She’s so hot already.” He flattened his hand, smoothing the perfect humps now. “Fuck. So hot.”

  Rebel fought the urge to raise his hand and test that theory—but his mind already created the scenario that would follow. The heat of Rhett’s hands, fusing into his own. The craving to have more. The need for those long, powerful fingers against his flesh…around his balls…

  Never to be.

  The boxes of Rhett’s life were clear—and made of steel. While Rebel had danced along their edges, even teased the man to peek out a little, he’d never even hoped for the chance to gain more. Then Brynna had come along—magical, sensual Brynna—stirring a sexual freedom in Rhett that surpassed anything Reb dared to imagine, much less desire. When she was finally gone, the man’s box would slam shut again.

  That meant focusing fully on everything they could have together now. Basking in the beauty of her soft shoulders and lolled head, feeling the force of what she gave back to them, right here and now. Of how incredibly she processed the power Rhett had infused to her body, then refilled so much of the air with it. The power of her submission made his senses swim…and set his libido ablaze.

  “Fuck.”

  He breathed the word, robbed of its volume by his pure gratitude. Thank fuck for the counterweight of lust, helping him push out the rest of it.

  “Make it hotter.”

  He didn’t miss how his command made Brynn shiver—or the tighter puckers at the tips of her tits. She was scared—but damn, did she like it.

  “Do it, man,” he emphasized to Rhett. “More. Make her ass hotter. Eleven more swats.” He grinned a little at Brynn’s taut little moan. “We can do a lot with that, can’t we?”

  To his pleasure—more than he could admit—one side of the guy’s mouth kicked up in a devil’s smirk. But to his surprise, Rhett didn’t lift his hand again. He kept taunting the two fleshy hills, squeezing more color into them by the second.

  Finally, Rhett murmured, “How much hotter?”

  Rebel grinned. “You have something special in mind?”

  “The bag we brought from Dax’s…the special one on the nightstand. Open it up.”

  The moment Rebel complied, his smile widened—before he pulled out the compact leather spanker atop of the other accessories they’d “borrowed” from what Rhett referred to as “Dax’s drawer of wonders.”

  “Well, well, well,” he crooned, twirling the base of the toy in the palm of his hand. “My friend Dax has some mighty interesting ’splaining to do, the next time we go bourbon tasting in the Quarter.”

  “No shit.” The light played off the red tints in Rhett’s wagging eyebrows. “Found that one in a cabinet near the futon. Quality craftsmanship. Leather’s formed over the wood real well.” He issued the praise while accepting the paddle from Reb. At once he rubbed it over their subbie’s ass in rhythmic little circles.

  As he lengthened the caresses, Brynna shifted restlessly. Rebel had anticipated as much. He gazed carefully at her once more, then checked her pulse through her wrist. He also surveyed the color across the rest of her body. They didn’t have her bound, but her unusual position made him extra diligent, especially because the woman looked well and truly on her way to the happy land of subspace. If that happened—and that was a big if, considering the level they were about to take her to—then diligence would have to be his middle name. Her complete welfare would be in his care. He was used to the responsibility, of course; every Dom had to be ready for it in any scene…

  But never, in his journey into the world of kink, had he been honored by it.

  Before now.

  “Minette?” He brushed fingertips over her cheek. “Are you still able to understand me?”

  Her eyes were open but thickly glazed. She blinked at him with surprising focus, though her lips pressed as if she struggled for words. “Y-yes…Sir.”

  Rebel pushed his fingertips in, silently praising, though kept his voice timbered with authority. She needed his strength more than ever. “Same rules apply now,” he stated. “No speaking unless spoken to, unless it’s to call for a stop or a slowdown.” He contemplated giving her a tiered safe word system, even if it was just the basic green light/yellow light/red light, but even tap-dancing at the subject sparked new trepidation into her eyes. “No means no,” he told her instead, framing fingers to the back of her jaw for emphasis. “Is that completely understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.” This time, she gave it without hesitation.

  “Good girl.” He continued his grip ba
ck against her scalp, then tilted her head all the way back. Her upturned profile almost stole his breath again. He couldn’t resist dropping his mouth and pressing it to hers, though didn’t delve past her parted lips. With their breaths still mingled, he directed Rhett, “Start again, Double-Oh. Make her really red for me.”

  Without a word of comeback, Rhett drew back—and whapped her ass with the full force of the paddle.

  Rebel sucked every note of her scream into his mouth.

  The next one, too.

  And the one after that.

  By the time Rhett delivered smack twelve, the outcries stopped—and her quivers began. Only tiny tremors at first, starting as soon as he pulled the paddle from her flesh, but grew to full shivers by the time he reached the top of his sweep, ready to crack the leather back upon her naked flesh. Once the blow connected, her tension was detonated, broken into splinters of energy through her body, only to be pull back to her core, repeating the intense sensual cycle.

  Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

  Rhett’s spanks intensified.

  Brynna’s ass bloomed brighter red.

  Rebel’s cock pushed harder at his fly.

  Still, he didn’t let her go. Couldn’t. Not when every blow shot that heat harder through her, flowing out until it seemed to burst through her pores, making him hurt and writhe and shiver with her—

  Then melt. And float. And fly.

  “Damn.”

  It was barely a whisper but resonated with his shock. Holy shit, what was this?

  As the sixteenth blow reverberated through her, he couldn’t even manage a voice. She panted against his mouth, silent but desperate. Her eyes were closed, seeping once more with magnificent tears.

  He needed more.

  He rose up, pressing her face against his chest, twining her hair around his fist. As his heart thundered harder, he looked down over the luscious curve of her body, her naked ass and thighs still fitted so beautifully against Rhett’s lap.

  This couldn’t be real.

  It was so good. Too good.

  It was no exaggeration. He wondered if he was simply living a dream, a “conscious unconsciousness” of some kind. He was only a few feet off the floor but his senses soared as if he were a mile high again, viewing the world from a strange advantage. From that view, he didn’t see three separate bodies in a motel room. They were one being, bound by desire and elevated by passion, then ensconced in a whole new level of existence. There wasn’t any past that haunted or future that loomed. No baggage to drag or labels to apply. No limits to watch or lines to color in…

  There was only need and its fulfillment. Energy and its response. Power and its return.

  Dominance…and deliverance.

  Only why was he the one who felt transformed? Why did the dip of her head against his chest make his mind blast to the moon? Why did her hand, now lifting to his waist, make his dick lurch anew, the tip moistened with pre-come? Why did his blood sing and his nerves throb, thudding in anticipation of the last three spanks still left…but completely dreading them, too?

  He wasn’t the one who was supposed to feel this…any of it. He wasn’t the one here to learn a lesson. He knew all the lessons, damn it. Once upon a time, he’d possessed hope that BDSM could mean more for him than a hot fuck and a raging orgasm—but “once upon a time” was for things like fairy tales, not a real-life guy who’d worked his way out of the swamp, only to travel across the world and slog through more swamps. These days, D/s was a formatted way for him to keep all the demons happy…the “fun” little memories that crawled into his head, fed with something as wild and ravenous as they were. But it would never kill them completely. Nothing ever would.

  Or so he’d believed—

  Until now.

  Brynna’s quivers started again. She panted harder into his chest. Her hand tightened on him. But her eyes flared with pure erotic light, betraying her own love/hate conflict about the paddle Rhett hoisted up.

  He smiled down at her.

  She smiled back up.

  And might as well have lobbed a brick along with it.

  There wasn’t just light in her eyes anymore. There was understanding. Connection. Commiseration. She gets it. Somehow…she just does.

  “Fucking perfect.” Rhett’s murmur couldn’t have been better timed—or worded. With the paddle still aloft in one hand, he swirled over her ass with the other, tracing the dark pink and red patterns forming one hell of a sensual masterpiece. “Moon is right. I’ve rarely seen an ass more ideal for this. Look at these colors…all this beauty.” He rubbed a little harder, making Brynn moan into Reb’s chest. “And just listen to that.”

  Rebel dipped his lips to her hairline. “You please us so much. Je t’adore. Tu est mon petit éclair crémeuse.”

  He almost expected her to giggle at the endearment—and wouldn’t have minded if she did—but she embodied it instead, sliding closer, silken and soft as cream, her hair flowing across his nipples. Rebel bit back a hiss. Holy shit, that felt good. But right now, he was sure the woman could rise up, bite off his nose, and he’d thank her for the pleasure.

  “Fuck.”

  No other exclamation seemed to fit, not alongside the epiphany that slammed behind that vision.

  This…craving…to make her happy, fulfilled…

  Was this what submission felt like?

  Or was it real Domination?

  He twisted her hair tighter, pressing her in closer. All of it felt like a Band-Aid on a chest wound. His.

  “What the hell?” he grated. “What the hell are you doing to me, Brynna?”

  But while he pleaded it into her hair…he angled his gaze directly at the man still poised with the paddle. Who suddenly let the thing fall backward, onto the bed. Who then curled forward, also wrapping himself around her, before rasping, “And me. Fuck. And me, too.”

  A shaky whimper unfurled from Brynn. Rebel felt the conflict through her body. He slackened his hold, letting her turn toward Rhett, damn near encouraging it. Watching that man’s mouth on her neck and lips, taking in the sure strokes of his hand down her body, did things to Reb’s system that did nothing to calm the whirl of his confusion.

  Right now, he didn’t even want them to.

  He let Rhett pull her all the way up, mesmerized with the play of muscle in the man’s arms while fitting her chest against his, before drawing her in for a wet, hungry kiss. Rebel rose higher on his knees as Brynn locked her arms around Rhett’s neck, sighing into him, using her lips in the only way they’d allowed her to communicate. Rhett answered her with a harsh groan, taking advantage of the chance to tangle hands in her hair, commanding her head to one side so he could deepen his penetration into her mouth.

  A strange knife of frustration stabbed at Rebel. At once, he recognized the problem. He couldn’t see enough. Had to watch absolutely everything they did to each other…for each other. With a couple of impatient jerks, he peeled Brynn’s shirt all the way off her shoulders. Buttons ripped free as he did, pinging against Rhett’s jaw then across the room. Reb scooted behind her, anxiously unclasping her bra. Once it was detached, he had to draw her arms free from Rhett’s neck—

  Pushing her wrists together at the bottom of her back.

  A dark, savoring snarl escaped. “Dear fuck.” He grabbed her tighter, deciding to use the bra’s straps to bind her like that. “This has got to be one of the best sights of my life.” He twisted the straps a few times, arranging the bra so the lacy cups finally dangled down between her fingers. “You’re more gorgeous than the Taj Mahal, cher.”

  Rhett added a new growl to the mix—just before hiking one of her legs up and over, so she fully straddled him now. “How about now?”

  Rebel froze. Choked. Finally uttered, “Christ.”

  Rhett chuckled. “Not a bad view from here, either.”

  Brynn only made everything better with a longing sigh…as her shoulders dropped and her head bowed. Still, not another word tumbled from her lips. Rhett re
warded her for the obedience by cupping her face then kissing her again, gentler now, not stopping until a needy keen vibrated through her throat.

  “Goddamn.” Rhett pushed it out between heavy breaths. “So beautiful. Such a perfect little girl, aren’t you?”

  “She is.” Rebel issued the agreement while rising fully to his feet. “But also one who hasn’t fulfilled her punishment.”

  Rhett lifted a rogue’s grin. “So true. And we know how this good little girl wants to do things right.”

  Rebel nodded, enjoying how his new pose kept the guy’s stare engaged. It certainly wasn’t the first time Rhett had gazed at him with feet braced, legs firm, and torso high, but it felt fucking great to see the man finally enjoy the sight. Beneath Rhett’s hot scrutiny, his skin warmed, his nipples turned to rocks, and his cock hardened to the texture of a dynamite stick. With the same urgency to explode…

  “I’m going to do it.” He hoped to relieve at least a little tension with the command, but no joy on that endeavor. Instead, his dick clamored harder at his jeans, the juice at the tip soaking through his briefs, starting in on the denim. “Give me the paddle, Double-Oh. The last three swats are mine.”

  Rhett’s smile cracked wider beneath his tawny stubble. He leaned back to retrieve the paddle. “Won’t this be fun.”

  “Stay there,” Rebel ordered. Fun. Such an objective word. Oh, they were definitely going to have some…just maybe not in the conventional sense—or anything that they’d want to submit to Webster’s in the end. This was one for his personal records, to be remembered and treasured for the rest of his days. “Now lay back, Rhett. All the way. Take her with you. Keep her safe for me.”

  Rhett’s new growl carried an approving hum. “Well,” he finally murmured, once he and Brynn were settled into the position Reb had dictated. “Yes, Sir.”

  Rebel couldn’t help an answering chuckle…though he made sure the sound carried a hum, as well—a darker sound than Rhett’s emission. “Ah…so eager,” he said with matching intent. He gazed steadily down at his friend—while pushing Brynn’s thighs wider. That done, he leaned over them both. “Can I count on that attitude from you…even now?”