He reached the box, retrieved the bag of zip ties in the top drawer, and offered one to his friend. Inside three seconds, Reb had the strip secured around Brynna's wrists. While he did that, Rhett moved to the corner near the sliding doors, removing a hanging plant from its overhead hook. Looping more of the zip ties together, he formed a chain that dangled from the hook, stopping when he reached a height that seemed right for Brynn standing there, wrists raised over her head.
Rebel commended him with an approving growl. Didn't waste any time guiding Brynna over. After letting Rhett take over by securing her in position with another tie, he stood back, arms folded across his chest, a sensual smirk on his lips. "How does that feel, mon chou? Nothing too tight or painful?"
"I-" She pursed her lips as Rhett scooted back, joining his buddy to admire how their creativity paid off with the perfect showcase for every luscious curve of her body. "It's not uncomfortable, if that's what you mean."
Rebel nodded. It wasn't just a surface move. Rhett knew the many different ways the guy already assessed her statement, weighing the nuances in her voice and the signals her body surrendered, even fully clothed. Rebel might be notorious for his now-you-see-him-now-you-don't's with submissives, but watching the man actually interact with a subbie was like beholding a champion tight rope act. Instincts ruled but mistakes had to be miniscule, and the end result was always incredible.
Now, he was an actual part of it, too.
And it was just as awesome as he'd imagined.
The air crackled, alive with sexual promise. If only Brynna had gotten that memo. Her feelings were written on her face, betraying her uncertainty about what predicament her blind trust had gotten her into. But if Rhett had discovered anything about the woman during their first time between the sheets, it was her psyche's odd relationship with fear. She kicked and screamed and protested about staring the bastard down, but moaned and sighed and climaxed once she'd let it do its worst. As if she didn't believe she could come out on the other side alive … or the same.
Was that how she looked at Dominants, too?
And if so, why?
More importantly, was this the start of helping her heal from that … what … Domphobia? Of helping her see that the pussy hustler-probably hustlers-of her past didn't have to define the pleasure she could have now. That her submission was a treasure not just to her Dominants but herself … a revival of her heart, body, and mind?
Could they really bring that truth to her now?
He couldn't wait to try.
He took his turn to press close to her, framing her face with his hand, one thumb beneath her chin. "Comfortable is a good start, peach, but we want to know more. A lot more."
She inhaled sharply. Closed her eyes.
He and Rebel hissed softly. Fuck, this was going to be good. She had to be just a couple of years younger than them, but she really was what she declared. A woman. Not some starry-eyed sub gazing up from the club floor, so desperate to please that half their brain power was sucked up attempting to get the right answer, instead of just giving the real answer.
Down side? The moment he demanded "a lot more", she knew exactly what it meant. They weren't after the surface weather report now. They didn't want "not uncomfortable". They wanted everything beneath that. Truth. Honesty. Revelation.
The hard shit.
Her eyes, huge and unblinking, along with her breaths, short and thready, betrayed her acknowledgment of it-and the anxiety that resulted. That energy poured over Rhett, causing his nerves to green-light a race he'd never been to before. What a revelation she was. A submissive who fought surrender, even when every inch of her body screamed for it. The woman took "mind over matter" to a new level.
Rebel stepped forward again. Rhett didn't blame him. Clearly, the guy's fascination with her was also piqued. They were like a couple of kids with a cool new toy. After years of dungeons and latex and high protocol, this shaky girl, in her T-shirt and pajama bottoms, was like Hot Wheels with booster rockets.
Rebel braced the other side of her face, also pressing a thumb beneath her chin. "Talk to us, cher." His demanding husk gave her no quarter. "We need to know everything. There's no right or wrong here, no fantasy that's forbidden or off-limits." He dipped his face closer, nipping at the corner of her lips, giving Rhett a perfect view of the desire tightening his jaw, heating his gaze. "The more you give us, the more we can give you. And perhaps,"-he lifted his stare toward Rhett-"we'll even push you a little. But all you have to do is communicate, to say no. Here, with us, that's exactly what the word means."
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.