Mastered By The Mavericks(31)

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.