Renegade (Phoenix Rising)

by Blake, Brynley

  “No.”

  She growls her dissatisfaction. Enjoying myself now, I find her G-spot and press against it, moving my fingers in the same come-hither motion I used last night that made her squirt. Just like last night, she goes crazy, pulling against the restraints as she bucks and grinds her pelvis against my hand. How has no one discovered her G-spot before? It’s like a massively responsive pleasure button. I’m relentless, determined to push her to the razor-sharp edge of neediness.

  “I can’t take it anymore,” she gasps.

  I don’t stop. “Yes, you can. Take it for me.”

  I intended to follow Cooper’s instructions and deny her tonight, but something about the way she’s writhing—or maybe it’s the way she’s whimpering my name—sets off something inside me. Her vulnerability gets me off. Fuck it. I want to own her, if only for tonight. I want her to know it’s me who commands her body, who can make her come like no one else can, whom she can be her most vulnerable with. I want her to know unequivocally that I’m the one who can make her let go. Only I can send her over the edge and catch her when she falls.

  Still rubbing her G-spot, I pinch her nipple. “You want to come, baby?” I croon.

  She arches up into me. “God, yes.”

  I add a little twist. “Tell me.”

  She gasps. “Please. I want to come. Please make me come.”

  “Who owns your orgasms?” My breath is hot against her ear as I continue to tug on her nipple.

  She’s pulling at the belt that holds her wrists, writhing against the restraints, but she’s not going anywhere. “You do.”

  “Who does? Say my name,” I demand.

  “You do, Walker.” Her voice is raw with need.

  “I do what?” I want to hear her say it, just once.

  “You own my orgasms.”

  Okay, I lied. Once isn’t enough. “Say it again. Louder.”

  “You own my orgasms!”

  I press my fingertip lightly against her clit, and she jolts. “Again. Louder. And say it with my name this time.”

  “You own my orgasms, Walker fucking Kinkaid!” She’s shouting now. “Please, for the love of God, let me come, or I swear I won’t be responsible for what I do to you when you finally let me go.”

  God, I love this woman.

  I yank the blindfold from her eyes. Tonight I want nothing left to her imagination. No images of Declan. No faceless man from her fantasies. I want her to see me.

  Green eyes stormy with lust stare into mine. “Make me come, Walker. The way that only you can,” she says throatily.

  Fuck. I almost shoot my load right then and there.

  I continue to rub her G-spot as her breathing becomes fast and shallow and the walls of her pussy contract around me. With a scream, she comes long and hard, fluid arcing out of her like it did last night. And I feel like a fucking god.

  Before she can catch her breath, I move back between her legs, grasping her hips as I drag her down to my mouth, holding her thighs open as I close my mouth over her. She comes again—great, gasping waves racking her body as I hold my tongue firmly to that one magical spot. “That’s it, baby. Fuck my mouth.” I barely move, but her body bucks wildly and I ride out the storm with her, my mouth on her wet heat as she comes and comes and comes. The sweet taste of her desire flows onto my tongue, making my cock throb. But I’m still not satisfied. I want to destroy her with pleasure.

  Her pleas are unintelligible now, and I get a perverse sense of pleasure from making her come again and again. In part, it’s knowing I’m the only one who can do it, but I also get a charge out of knowing it makes her vulnerable in a way she isn’t comfortable with, of pushing her limits.

  Eventually I stop. I’ve lost track of how many times she’s come, and her body is like a rag doll’s. She’s spent. Her eyes are closed, her breathing ragged. I can see my teeth marks on her creamy thigh, and her sex above it glistens from my tongue and her arousal.

  I unbuckle the belt and rub her arms briskly, making sure her circulation is flowing well, before pulling her into my arms. She instinctively curls into me. After a few minutes, her hand skims lazily across my chest.

  I drag air into my lungs, willing my cock to settle down. Minutes tick by. Her hand wanders up to my jaw, and she rubs the scruff of my beard against her palm, smiling faintly. I smile back, brushing the hair away from her face.

  “What are you thinking?” She’s looking up at me with those luminous green eyes that I could fucking drown in.

  I want to make love to you. The thought is unbidden.

  “Thank God. Me too.”

  Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud? And did she just say she wanted it too? We can’t do this. Can we? “You said no sex,” I remind her. “You didn’t want it to be awkward between us.”

  “I don’t.” She’s raking her nails lightly over my chest now, and my cock pulses. Her fingers move lower. “But it hasn’t been awkward yet. We’ve done…a lot. If things were going to get awkward, they probably already would have.”

  She unbuttons my jeans and slips her hand into my boxer briefs. Her fingers close around my ramrod-stiff cock.

  “That’s true.” It’s taking some effort to keep my voice steady. Her hand feels exquisite.

  “And people do it all the time. I mean, that’s why friends with benefits is an actual thing, right?”

  I want to give her space to talk this out. I want her to be sure. But I’m having a hell of a time keeping my hands off her.

  Fuck. I can’t do it. Suddenly I need her lips more than I need air.

  I flip her onto her back as I hungrily kiss the corner of her mouth, her jaw, her neck. “Baby, we’d never let anything come between our friendship,” I murmur.

  “We wouldn’t,” she agrees. Her fingers dig into my scalp as she pulls me closer. She kisses me hard, full on the mouth, her tongue slipping inside to tangle erotically with mine. She’s as wild for me as I am for her. I pull away to kiss her neck. I can’t get enough of the taste of her.

  “I want you.” Her voice is low and husky and hot as hell. She’s hot as hell.

  “Fuck, baby. I want you too.” I want to make love to her. I want to truly claim her, to sink my cock deep into her sweet pussy as she writhes beneath me. Moving lower, I fasten my mouth over her nipple and suck—hard.

  She arches her back and moans. “It’s just one time.”

  “One time can’t hurt.” Of course, it can hurt plenty. One time with Gemma will be like dining at a sumptuous buffet made for a king and then being restricted to bread and water for the rest of your life. But one time with her is better than nothing. And I’m going to make damn sure this one time counts.

  Her hands are insistent, dragging my jeans off. “It’s not like it would mean anything. We’re just friends.”

  I help her, pulling off my jeans and boxers, before taking her face between my hands. It may not be anything but sex to her, but it’s going to mean the world to me. But I can’t tell her that. It will ruin our friendship forever. I can explore all kinds of erotic play with her, I can make her come, and I can make love to her, but I can’t let her know I’m falling in love with her. So I lie. “Right. Just friends. With some fucking awesome benefits.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Gemma

  Walker’s hands on my skin are incendiary. I feel like I’m burning up from the inside out, but I don’t care. My need for Walker, for what he can give me and for who I become with him, burns so intensely that I don’t care what the firestorm he creates consumes in the process. I just want to be taken by him, owned by him, loved by him—wholly and completely—even if it’s just for tonight.

  Last night, he made me come without blindfolds or ropes or protocol or any of the things that seemed so enticing when Declan proposed them to me what seems like a lifetime ago. At the time, those things set fire to my senses and sparked my imagination. The thought of that enforced vulnerability, of doing those things with him, had given me butterflies, and I thought I�
��d finally found what I’d been searching for. Finally, maybe I had discovered what I needed to have an orgasm with a man. But Walker accomplished the impossible just by being Walker. He gave me passion and ecstasy greater than anything I’d ever imagined with nothing but his hands and mouth, and the essence of who he is.

  No more faceless stranger. Last night with Walker would have been enough to fuel my dreams and fantasies for a lifetime. But tonight…tonight catapulted everything to a whole new level. When he added that enticing element of the forbidden to this crazy, unprecedented dynamic between us, it became an irresistible and potent concoction. Now I see last night was simply a warm-up for the way he’s commanded my body today. He makes me feel the way I’ve only imagined in my darkest and wildest dreams. Authoritative and commanding, he doesn’t let me hide behind my control; he strips everything from me to reveal my most basic, passionate, uncensored self.

  But oh, karma is such a bitch. Walker is everything I have ever wanted in a man, but he’s the one man I can’t have. I should walk away before it’s too late. I definitely shouldn’t make love with him. But while I know we shouldn’t do this, tonight, I don’t care. Tonight I want it all, even if I have to pretend it means nothing.

  So I tell him what he wants to hear. That we’ll just be friends with benefits. That one time won’t hurt. That it means nothing and tomorrow we’ll go back to the way things were. But things will never be the same again.

  I want him. And I’m going to have him. I’d rather live with heartbreak than regret.

  Now that he’s untied me, I can’t keep my hands off him. I love the feel of his body, the feel of him. The brown skin that stretches over his thickly corded muscles is so smooth and soft, like satin encasing steel. And his cock! His cock is a freaking work of art. Now free of his jeans and boxers, it’s standing at attention. I wrap my fingers around it again, eager to see if I can make his eyes darken and close halfway again.

  He groans as I stroke him from base to shaft. “I want to fuck you so bad, baby.”

  Oh, God. Desire stabs through me at his carnal words. I want him inside me. Now!

  “Do you have a condom?”

  It doesn’t matter—I’m on the pill, and this is Walker—but I ask out of habit. I don’t expect him to actually have one. Neither one of us planned this. But he vaults off the bed with the easy grace of a born athlete and stalks over to where his backpack lays abandoned on the small sofa table. I take a minute to admire his sheer masculine perfection. He is long and lean and powerful, his muscles rippling slightly beneath his skin as walks. His skin is naturally a gorgeous burnished bronze color, and in the glow of the firelight, he looks like the statue of some sort of demigod.

  He quickly unearths a condom, and I will myself not to think about the fact that Walker is the kind of guy who carries a condom in his backpack because he never knows who or when he’s going to want to fuck. He’s always had his choice of women, and he’s always considered it his right to sample whatever he wants. It never bothered me before, and it shouldn’t now. It’s no more my business today than it was yesterday, just like it’s not my business who McKenzie or Charlotte sleep with. Walker and I are just friends. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll start to believe it.

  He’s back, standing next to me and looking at me with such heat and desire in his sensual, almond-shaped eyes that I forget about all the faceless other women. Tonight, he’s mine. No one else matters.

  “Put it on me.”

  The way he says it, like I don’t have a say in the matter and he’s just going to take what he wants, has my sex clenching in response. My whole adult life, I’ve wanted a man to talk to me like that. But old habits die hard, or maybe I just want to see if he’s really capable of taking the power from me.

  I take the condom from him and push him back onto the bed, straddling him. I’m in the position of power now, and I take full advantage of it. I run my hands over his body, exploring him with my fingertips as if his muscles are braille characters and I don’t want to miss a word. I trail kisses down the flat plane of his washboard stomach to his belly button. There’s a dark line of hair that leads from his navel to his cock—a happy trail, Charlotte calls it—and I trace it with my tongue. I lick the tip of him.

  He groans. “Be careful how you tease me,” he rasps.

  “Oh, yeah? Why? Turnabout is fair play, I think.”

  I flick my tongue against the underside of his cock, right at that sensitive spot where the broad head connects to his thick shaft. It pulses. Taking that as a good sign, I wet my lips, close them around him, and ever so slowly take the full length of him into my mouth. I pause with him deep in my throat, and then I slowly begin to move up and down on his cock. Walker remains motionless, but his fingers fist in my hair deliciously. After a few minutes of me working his cock with my mouth, he drags me off him. Our eyes meet.

  “Suit me up, baby. I’m impatient to have you.”

  Driven by some wicked desire to see how far I can push him, I sit up, but I don’t put the condom on him right away. Holding his gaze, I drag the edge of the condom package over his chest—abrading his tiny hard nipples—and down his V-cut. He watches me with hooded eyes. I tear the package open with my teeth, then tease him with the condom, brushing it over his balls and up the side of his shaft before I roll it slowly—inch by agonizing inch—onto his thick, pulsing cock.

  “Gemma…” It’s a warning this time, which only makes me determined to egg him on a little more and see if I can make him snap. God, I hope so. I want to make him lose control. I want to unleash the demons in him.

  I lower myself onto him so I’m sitting on his cock with the hard length of him nestled against my wet slit and wiggle a little. His eyes narrow. I lean forward, making sure my nipples graze over his chest, and pin his wrists to the bed. It’s almost laughable. My fingers barely fit around them. I nip his jaw, then kiss his lips. He leans up to kiss me back, his tongue barely touching my lips before I move away, laughing.

  I grind my pelvis against him a few times, relishing the feel of his velvet-soft but hard-as-steel cock rubbing against my clit, sending little pulses of desire through me. Judging by the way his hands are clenching into fists and his breathing has become labored, he’s as turned on as I am. But there’s no stopping me now. I crawl down the length of his body until I’m perched at the foot of the bed. I look up at him. “You want it?”

  He pounces, forcefully dragging me back up onto the bed. I find myself flat on my back staring into Walker’s heated brown eyes with his hand wrapped around my throat. I wanted him before. Now, completely at his mercy with his hand around my throat, I’m ravenous. I love him like this, his passion raw and unchecked.

  He lifts an eyebrow and smiles at me like the devil himself. “You still think you want to be manhandled?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “If you think you’re man enough to control me,” I goad. “I think the jury’s still out on that.”

  Grabbing my hips, he roughly drags me to the edge of the bed and holds me there so my pubic bone is pressing against the edge of the mattress, and I’m standing on my tiptoes. “No jury, sweetheart,” he rasps. “I’m the judge, jury, and executioner.”

  Oh, God. My fantasies were never as good as this.

  He slaps my ass a few times to prove his point, and the heat shoots straight to my sex. “You like that? You like when I spank that gorgeous ass of yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want it harder?”

  God help me, I do. But there’s no way I’m admitting that to him. Instead, I wiggle my ass in answer. He laughs, a deep, throaty sound that sends chills of pleasure dancing along my spine. He spanks me again—each stroke coming harder and faster in rapid succession—and before long, my ass is burning. I writhe against the bed, trying to get away from his punishing hand, but the friction as my pubic bone grinds against the mattress just drives my arousal higher. I’ve somehow managed t
o wiggle away from him a little, and he drags me back to the edge of the bed, grabs my wrists in one hand and holds them at the small of my back as he delivers a few more spanks that somehow just make me more desperate for him to fuck me.

  As if reading my thoughts, he leans over and growls in my ear, “I’m going to fuck you now. You’re mine, tonight.”

  He flips me over onto my back and devours my mouth as he slides his cock into me. Ahh. It’s everything I imagined and more—impossibly hard and thick and pulsing, filling me deliciously. He doesn’t move—he just holds himself inside me as we kiss each other frantically. He sucks on my bottom lip and then bites it—hard—and I almost come again right then. I’m out of my mind with lust. I rake my nails down his back, no doubt leaving big red marks that will crisscross his skin in the morning. I want more!

  I dig my fingers into his ass cheeks, trying to pull him deeper into me, trying to make him fuck me, for God’s sake! His cock—so full but infuriatingly motionless in my needy sex—is driving me insane.

  “Don’t move. I want you to feel me throb in you.”

  Oh. Fuck.

  He pins my arms above me and dips his head down to bite my neck, the soft, wet heat of his tongue immediately soothing each sharp nip of this teeth. I can’t stay still, no matter how hard I try. I need him to possess me. I need him to fuck me so hard, I’ll still feel it three days later. I writhe beneath him, bucking my hips in an unsuccessful attempt to move him inside me.

  “You have no idea what you do to me.” With a groan, he starts fucking me in earnest, his thick, hard cock pounding into me so hard, my whole body moves an inch with every thrust. The fact that he’s holding me down on the bed is the only thing that keeps me from flying off the other side.

  “Your cock feels so good.”

  “Oh, baby, your pussy was made for me.” His eyes are half closed as he pumps into me.

  I’m getting close to another soul-wrenching orgasm when he pulls out abruptly.

  “Stand up,” he barks. I look up at him, slightly dazed.