Mastered By The Mavericks(24)

She lifted her hands, scratching at his back to bring him closer. Her  mouth parted, all but pleading for a deep kiss, but he gave her only the  tip of his tongue, making her reach up with her own to meet his  taunting stabs.

"Ahhhh." she finally cried. "Rhett. I'm-I'm going crazy. Please!"

He pulled back up, indulging a moment of just gazing at her. Holy fuck.  With her hair splayed on the pillows, her eyes hooded and horny, and her  body restlessly writhing, she was a sight he could have watched for  hours. A fantasy he didn't even know he had.

A lover who sure as hell didn't fit into the one-night-fun file anymore.

A challenge to be confronted later. Much later. If this woman was going  to take him down, body and spirit, then he was sure as fuck going to  enjoy the ride.

"Please what?" Ribbing her was more than a pleasure. It was like  splitting a diamond open, exposing fascinating new facets of her. As she  arched her neck, glaring at him with a mix of outrage and arousal, he  dropped his voice to a whisper. "What do you want, Brynna Monet? I can  deny you nothing, creature of my dreams. Should I caress you? Taste  you?" He looked deeply into her eyes, purposely drawing out a pause.  "Fuck you?"

She wet her lips and gulped. "Is there an ‘all of the above' box?"

He chuckled. Adorable little fox. He wondered if she'd have answered the  same, had he included everything he wanted on that list. Didn't matter.  He was ready and willing to give her everything she'd asked for.

"For you, peach, there absolutely is. And oh, look … here's a pair of perfect tits, just begging to be first for the fun."

A quiver claimed her as he tugged her bra straps down to her elbows. He  used them to trap her arms at her sides, thereby exposing her erect tips  to his heated gaze. "They-I-don't do begging," she snapped.

Rhett didn't miss a stroke as he sucked at her right peak. "Oh,  sweetheart … yes you do." He licked and nipped his way over her skin, set  on attending the other nipple, already standing at full readiness for  him. "In this case, times two."

She wrestled against the straps. "Ohhh, no. We're not going there,  soldier. Your little figurative freedoms aren't going to-ohhhhh!"

Biting a woman's nipple had never felt so fucking good.

Her scream was only the beginning. It jolted the air before squeezing  his cock, making her taste all the sweeter as he flattened his tongue  against her engorged nipple. He primed her other tip for the same feast,  pinching the stiff red bud between his thumb and forefinger then  twisting just enough to make her shriek again.

"Ahhh! Bastard!"

"Oh, peach. Flattery will get you everywhere."

He scraped his teeth down the side of her breast, cherishing the feel of  her flesh against his mouth. He alternated between long licks and  little bites, yearning to mark her even harder, pledging to take it  slow … at least this first time.

First time? You mean the only time? Yeah, get that through your goddamn  head, asshole-the big one and the little one. She may not be a flighty  club submissive but she's also not the kind of woman who wants to ride  off into the kinky sunset with you. She deserves a man who can give her  stable and strong and normal, not a guy who grew up as a transatlantic  chess piece, who learned relationships from magazines and eavesdropping  on the flight attendants' conversations …

The discomfort of the memories was eclipsed by the magic of Brynn's thighs.

He moaned while gliding both hands along that flesh, like fine silk  stretched over her solid dancer's muscles, while tracing his tongue  between her ribs and into the valley of her navel. He stopped there,  exhaling hard, forcing control over the cock now threatening a full  revolt if not set free soon. The wet spot on the inside of his pants  only added fuel to that fucking fire.

Dear God, he couldn't wait to taste her.

Clenching his jaw helped tether his erection, at least for a few more  minutes. After that victory, he dipped his head lower. Pushed her legs  wider. Inhaled the rich, heady ambrosia of her soaked, pouting pussy.                       
       
           



       

"Fuck."

"Rhett!"

He pressed in with his nose. Took another long breath. "You smell so  goddamn good. Really like peaches … only with a lot of other things  added." He slid his tongue out, venturing a tentative taste. "So many  good things … "

Her intimate lips, engorged by arousal, quivered against his mouth. He  licked in, moaning deep as drops of her juice flowed along his tongue.  There was no sweeter nectar in the world. When he looked up to see her  neck arched back, her breasts thrust up, and her hands curled into the  pillows, the sampling tasted even better.

But he didn't just want to sample.

Wrapping his hands around her legs, he angled deeper into her core.  Drank from her openly, savoring her pulse beneath him, her folds around  his tongue, her desire totally at his mercy. She let out a high moan as  he widened his mouth, lunging then retreating, sucking then laving,  always teasing the slick membranes that led to her body's most secret  sanctuary. As badly as his cock begged for its time there, he wasn't  going to rush any moment of taking her this high. And higher still …

"Rhett!" It was pitched high with need, finished off on a frantic gasp. "Oh … damn … I'm-I'm going to-I won't be able to stop … "

A perfect segue to the moment that he did.

"No!" she yelped again. "Oh, no! What I meant was-"

"Oh, I know what you meant, peach." He leaned back, enduring the  cock-to-fly persecution again, praying that Blake was half the slapper  the press said he was, and liked hanging with the ladies when he was  here. If that was the case, there was a good chance the man kept a stash  of rubbers-

Yessss.

Sometimes, the treasure really was right where expected. There in the  nightstand drawer, neatly layered in one section of an organizational  tray, were the square packets he sought. The other compartments of the  organizer held a tube of water-based lube, a pink anal plug imprinted  with Just For Her, a long-tubed vibrator, and a sizable cock ring.

Well, hell. Forget the notorious playboy. Dax Blake was a man after his own heart.

A sexy-as-fuck whimper trickled from Brynna as he withdrew one of the  condoms. "Oh, thank God," she blurted, closing her legs a little and  gyrating her hips a lot. "Hurry. Please!"

Imagine that. It was the very thought ruling his brain-until she started  her little bump-and-grind with the mattress. With his zipper only  halfway down, Rhett stopped. Nailed her with the stare he saved for  subbies trying to pull brat moves with him. She wasn't anywhere near a  brat, but she also wasn't getting away with that sneaky shit.

"You want me to hurry, or are you interested in doing the job yourself?"

She froze, too. For a second. "You're the one who left me like this!"

He felt a brow arch. Half a grin inch up. "I haven't gone anywhere, peach."

She huffed. "Really? Are you doing semantics now? Can we dither later? Please?"

The other side of his smile formed. Ohhhh, he just couldn't help it-nor  the words that flowed out, easy as the birds that glided over the lake  outside. "Little peach pie, are you begging me?"

He braced for her profanity. Probably another huff, reinforced with a tormented girl growl.

Instead … she laughed.

It wasn't a huge sound, or necessarily a pleased one-but the pure  honesty of the sound was like nothing he'd ever witnessed, nor would  soon forget. Against his better judgment, he felt his smirk widen.  Joining her humor, letting her know how easily she could get under his  skin, was against every Dom code that had to exist. But that was  freeing, too. He didn't expect anything the perfect little subbie thing  from her, meaning she didn't expect the flawless big-bad-Dom from him.

Her husky retort was the perfect break-in to his thoughts. "Well, I  won't tell anybody the begging thing happened if you don't. How's that?"

He went ahead and added a laugh. Dear fuck, was she really this cheeky  little negotiating machine all the time? He wagered the answer was  yes-in which case, it became clear how she and Dan Colton, Sir Dark and  Dirty the First, were doomed from the start.

Bad news for Colton.

Even worse news for Rhett Lange.

He was a goddamn sucker for sassy negotiators-especially this one. By  proposing her little deal, she challenged his brain. By challenging his  brain, she revved his imagination. And God help the woman who cranked  the throttle on his imagination.

"Deal," he told her, prowling back down the bed. Enjoy the reprieve,  foxy. As he positioned himself near her feet, he deftly added, "As long  as you do it again for me."