Mastered By The Mavericks(35)

He was so perfect. Truly built like a pirate who'd been hoisting sails  and slinging rope. His pecs were like slabs of rock. His tattoo-covered  arms visibly rippled beneath her caresses. Best of all, he felt like  he'd just walked in from the Caribbean sun. So wonderfully warm …

"Wow." She couldn't help blurting it, though managed to dial back the  syllable from a roar to a rasp. His circulation was certainly working  fine. Her arms finally free, she formed her body tighter against his.  Everything else was working just fine, too. Better than fine.

And just like that, another shiver claimed her.

The one that made all the difference in the world.

God, she wanted him. Yes, right now. Yes, stroking at her clit and her  pussy, before filling every inch of her clenching channel. And yes … doing  the same thing with his cock this time.

"Sweetheart." Rhett's admonishment was stricter-not that she had a  problem with that. She'd just had his breath in her ear and his cock at  her ass, priming her libido for him in about a dozen ways. So yeah, she  wanted him, too. With all the same nasty, naked abandon she craved from  Rebel.

"You can't blow this off by feeling Moon up," he continued. "As nice as  that possibility feels, your silence about this isn't acceptable."

"To either of us," Rebel adjoined.

Rhett pulled at her fingertips, holding one of her arms up. "Look at  these deep indents from the ties. If you were cinched too tight-"

"Pssshhh." She yanked her hand back. "I'm the girl who did the research,  remember? The one who looked at a lot of pictures while deciding if  BDSM was the thing for her?" She rolled her eyes while joining their  survey of her wrists. "Calm down, mama hens. I loved every second of  that. And the skin's not even broken."

The hen line had Rebel jerking back like one, folding his arms and  cocking his brows. "You see me laying an egg, cher?" he charged. "No.  But I can tell you what I saw. You, shaking like a goddamn feather in  the wind." He stepped back again, practically posing with his puffed  chest. "We're open-minded men. Enlighten us, minette. If that wasn't a  fucking circulation issue, then what-"

"It wasn't a circulation issue." She almost regretted the outburst but  stood by her words when both of them refused to shuck their inner ogres,  unwavering in their growly vigilance. She just wished they'd lean more  toward the warty, smelly end of the ogre spectrum, not the hulking,  stares-like-pure-sin side. "Unless head-to-toe horny is considered a  circulatory thing these days?"

Rebel lowered his arms. Well, there was a shocker. He didn't vibe  overbearing giant all over her any longer. As a matter of fact, he  looked … stunned. Rhett's mien matched.

She'd astonished them?

And at the moment, did it matter? Not when the pause on the air  thickened with breaths, hers and theirs, racing each other in new lust.  Her stare accepted the heat of theirs, burning it in, fusing it to her  senses.                       
       
           



       

Lust flared between all of them like a Stratocaster plugged to a wall of amps.

Thank God. Maybe now they'd gotten the message. But could they really  give her pleasure like that, and not expect she'd want more? Not know  she'd crave to give them the same thing in return?

The huge, hard ridges between their thighs gave her hope. Lots and lots of hope.

Now guys, just start thinking with your little heads, okay?

So, there really was a first time for everything in life. She just  happened to be experiencing a few in a row today. If fate was really on  her side, that list would soon be growing by one more.





Chapter Eleven





‡


What the hell was going on in that beautiful brain of hers?

It was the wrong question and Rebel knew it. More accurately, it was  just the question that didn't need to be asked, because it had already  answered itself. He knew damn well what intent ruled her right  now-exchanging a glance with Double-Oh confirmed he wasn't the only  one-he just didn't know how to process the recognition as reality. Doing  that meant confronting the actual mystery on his mind.

Was this woman going to be his dream or his destruction?

And at the moment, did the answer matter?

His cock issued a resounding no-and he wasn't complaining. Damn. She was  five and a half feet of everything he could have conjured from a  fantasy. The sensual focus of her huge brown eyes. The stiff tips  jutting from her dusky areolas. The fresh dew gleaming between her  creamy thighs.

Jesus. So perfect.

Maybe she simply was a hallucination …

But when he reached to stroke her shoulder with a knuckle, she didn't  disappear. Her reaction was the exact opposite. So responsive, her flesh  pimpling beneath his touch. So open, her full lips parting. Then so  real, her voice rasping the air between them, reaching for him like a  touch all its own … but zapping his senses as something more. A caress he  felt to the core of his being. Electricity. Lust. But more. Needing so  much more.

"Issues? Yes, I guess I have a few, Sergeant." Lifting her chin, she  edged closer. Closer. Letting him see her quiver anew as he skimmed his  hand down, brushing the pucker of her breast. "And now I am speaking up  for help." She slid her hips in too, rocking her pussy against his hand.  Her sparse whisper mingled with the sound. "Help."

Fuck.

His dream?

His destruction?

Now, the answer felt even more important. She felt important. But why?  Why? And what was that … thing … her voice kept triggering in his brain,  like a damn bullet she'd shot there, tearing so many things apart as it  ripped inside? Painful things. But … significant things, too.

Why did this all feel so damn significant?

And why the fuck was he dwelling on it, when this amazing, naked woman  all but climbed him like the tree of life? And Rhett, the glorious  asshole, had become her accomplice, cheering her on with hums intending  to arouse …

And Goddammit, they were working.

His cock, damn near bursting before, threatened complete combustion. His  desire grew into a long snarl as he snapped an arm around her, locking  her close, forcing her to ride his thigh. Brynna's legs convulsed. Her  eyes turned heavy. Her lips popped open on a gasp.

"Ohhhh!"

Rhett released a lusty rumble. "Fuck me, that's a beautiful sight." A  rough rasp of fabric followed. Reb glanced in time to watch the guy free  a beautiful erection, then palm the broad red shaft and begin to pump.

The veins in his own cock pumped double time.

He turned back to Brynn. Loomed his face just inches over hers, letting  his stare fall to the berry-sweet welcome of her lips. Beneath his  study, her mouth opened more. He didn't give her the kiss for which she  pleaded. Instead, with eyes still fixed on her face, he reached with his  free hand-

To Rhett.

Their palms hit hard. Rhett's fingers curled tight.

Reb moaned, devastated by wonder, gratitude-

Completion.

It hit him harder than he'd imagined. He likely had the Brynna bullet to  thank-or blame-for part of that … but not all. The rest was Rhett. The  huge step he'd taken. The precious gift, even if that was all this would  ever be, that he'd given. While Brynna sent him soaring, his tether to  earth was centered in that hand, twined with his. The one person who  brought him sanity in all the insanity that was his life.

"Is your futon still set up?" Though he charged it to the man at his  side, he didn't stop studying the woman in his arms. He really needed to  make sure she was still all-in for this plan.

"Of course," Rhett responded.

"And you have … supplies?"

His friend chuckled. "I have the basics, but I also know where Dax keeps his accessories."                       
       
           



       

"Of course you do."

"Would you like some?"

"Roger the fuck out of that."

"Handled. Be right back."

Brynna frowned as Double-Oh left. Her bafflement wasn't surprising,  considering the lusty glaze in her eyes. If shit like auras were real,  hers would be throbbing with the kinkiest colors in the spectrum. He  only hoped she was still capable of a few words.

"Wh-where's Viking stud going?"

Well, that was a few words. Unexpected ones, but he'd roll-even did so with a laugh. "Viking stud, huh?"

She rolled her head toward the door. "Viking stud." Then back at him. "Pirate hunk."

He chuckled softly. "You're really sticking to that, eh?"

She bit her lip, suddenly sheepish. "Unless you don't like it?"

"Oh, I fucking love it." He unfurled half a smile, ensuring it met the  endearment's licentious promise. "Just making sure you're positive, ma  petite. Do you know what us pirates like to do with our … treasures?"