Mastered By The Mavericks (36 page)

And it made him itch—unbearably—to get just as partially naked.

In one motion, he peeled his T-shirt up from the bottom then tossed it to the room’s
other bed. Rhett didn’t cloak his full stare of appreciation. Neither did Brynn. He
flashed a smart-ass smirk at both of them but kept the look pinned to Brynn while
drawling, “The look of the hour is skin,
minette
—and you’re woefully down in the tally. Maybe you should fix that, Double-Oh.”

One savoring growl later, Rhett returned, “Copy that, buddy. Loud and—”

He snapped into silence the moment he slipped her skirt higher. Rebel picked up the
slack, choking loud enough for them both, before scrabbling to rediscover his voice.

“Fuck. Me.”

Okay, the rasp wasn’t really a voice, either. At the moment, he didn’t care. Not much
made sense beyond the roaring blood in his ears and the pounding weight in his cock
as Rhett tugged the garment, higher, higher…revealing the black lace garter set and
thigh-high stockings she wore beneath. And the centerpiece of the whole delectable
paradise? Not a skimpy little thong or even a pair of bikini panties. The smooth,
muscled mounds of her unforgettable ass were hugged by lace-trimmed boy shorts, the
look that officially dared a man to turn not-so-naughty into not-so-nice…

Game. On.

“God
damn
.” Rhett slid two fingers beneath the edge of that adorable underwear. He didn’t stop
until reaching the center panel, between her thighs. “The prim pinstripes kit came
with a devil-in-disguise option, eh?”

Brynn, clearly recognizing the question as rhetorical, only responded with a whimper—a
composure she could only keep to her mouth. Her body handled the situation much differently.
Beneath Rhett’s exploring fingers, her ass was a feverish undulation. Rebel’s point
of view afforded a perfect view of her breasts, nipples nearly stabbing through her
bra to get free. His mouth actually watered as he leaned in to assist them—never let
anyone say he wasn’t a giver—by twisting the shirt’s buttons free then shoving aside
the lace-lined cups.

“Let’s get this moving.” He ordered it at Rhett in a snarl. “She’s ready, man. This
beauty’s tits do
not
lie.”

Rhett sent back a savoring rumble. “Gigantic roger on that.” He curled his hand over
the satin waistband of the shorts—before jerking them down to her knees in a masterful
sweep.

Mouth-watering.
Now
Rebel really knew what it meant.

Her ass, poised high and completely nude, was a landscape of cream perfection, tinted
with just enough of the peaches that had earned her Rhett’s special nickname. As if
she could feel the weight of their stares, Brynn tensed a little. All the muscles
flexed beneath her flawless skin, giving them one hell of an evocative preview for
how she’d react to each of Rhett’s smacks.

“Holy fuck.” Rhett gritted it while sweeping his fingers across the perfect globes.
On the second pass, he scraped his nails too…just enough to leave discernible marks.

“Well said.” Rebel traced a finger along one of the scratches. “And so beautiful.”
He didn’t stop there. Continued his caress along the back of Rhett’s hand. “The canvas…and
the brush.”

Without saying more, he bent again to Brynna. Studied her features closely. A sheen
to her eyes, but not because of any more tears. A growing flush to her cheeks. Tongue
sneaking out, restlessly licking her lips. He almost laughed. The woman looked like
a drug addict awaiting her fix. No matter how this all washed in the end between the
three of them, one thing
would
happen before they said goodbye to her again. A long,
long
conversation about the submissiveness she could no longer ignore.

“A quick review,
ma chatte
.” He cupped her chin once more, angling her face a little higher. “You know why you’re
here like this, right?”

Her anticipating glow sobered. Her mouth tensed. “Because I snuck out of the ranch
without telling either of you.”

“And…?”

“And planned to flirt my way into Adler’s good graces as a pharmaceutical rep with
a closet sex maniac side.”

He shared a stunned choke with Rhett.

“Well…all right. You’ve certainly given new dimension to brutal honesty.”

Her brows quirked up. “What? Did you think I’d captivate him with my witty personality
alone?”

With an I-got-this nod, Rhett lowered a fast slap to one of her ass cheeks. It was
enough to make her yelp, followed by a self-castigating bite to her lower lip. “What
did we say about your words, little peach?”

Brynn dropped her gaze, so damn magnificent in her meekness, before replying, “That
they belong to both of you.”

Rebel lowered a tender kiss to her forehead. “Good girl.”

She sighed. “Thank you, Sir.”

He only acknowledged her words with a polite nod. She wasn’t acquiescing to this because
she wanted hearts, flowers, and sonnets. She’d given them her straight-up honesty
because she craved the same: voices that would intervene with the screams in her head,
leaders who could calm the confusion that’d driven her actions in the first place.
It felt damn good to comprehend that—and to know Rhett did, too. Disciplining her
for it was another twine in the rope that bound them closer. He hoped like hell it
led to more—but if it didn’t, this was
beaucoup de bien
for the memory books.

With that in mind, he nudged her chin up again. “Let’s be completely clear. None of
this
honesty earns you a free excuse from the
dis
honesty that’s already gone down.” He read the retort that sparked into her eyes,
quickly reined into silence. “Oh, don’t worry,
minette
. I saw where you went with that. And yes, running away from us was just as devious
as boldface lying to us. Perhaps worse.” He made sure she could take in every inch
of his face again, now defined by the memories of the panic when realizing he’d climbed
into bed with nothing but a mound of pillows. “You ran from us, Brynna. After we all
shared ourselves like that—bared so much, stripped away so much more than our clothes—you
bolted from our bed then fled the ranch itself, not even giving us a chance to help
you process the emotional fallout. I think there’s a word for it in
your
vernacular. Something like ‘unhealthy’?”

This one would earn him her wrath. Annnnd there it was, blasting away the haze in
her eyes, pushing through her locked teeth as she seethed, “That’s not—
ow
!”

Rhett’s hand against her butt, smacking down twice as hard as before, prompted her
outcry.

“It’s not…what?” Rebel countered. “Not correct? Not fair?” He paused, making sure
she saw the anger fire up his eyes, too. “Because…why? You thought we wouldn’t listen?
Wouldn’t understand? That we wouldn’t get it, about that war in your mind? That we
wouldn’t know what it’s like to look for the path between your head and your heart?
Between the duty and the danger?”

He’d clearly hammered another nerve. Her fury gave way to grief, tightening her body,
making her yank in his hold. Rebel stretched to secure her by the nape, forcing her
gaze to remain on him. “You have to hear it, Brynna. What you did was dangerous. Very,
very
dangerous. You—and Zoe, and her unborn child—could have easily been killed.”

Her face crumpled. “No!”

Rhett didn’t discipline for the outburst. Reb didn’t blame him. Her own agony was
punishment enough.

“We know that wasn’t your intention.” He rubbed her neck, pressing his fingers as
firmly as his words. “And we know you’re sorry. But now…you’re going to prove it to
us, as well.” He let her drag in a long breath then let it out on a rickety sigh.
“Do you still understand me?”

She nodded, shaky and teary. “Y-Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

He slipped his hand back to her jaw…unable not to notice how her lungs heaved harder,
pushing out her nipples, now erect as two perfect rubies. The only thing that would
make those breasts more stunning would indeed be a pair of clamps, maybe attached
with a glittering chain, turning her chest into a sparkling masterpiece…

“Rhett’s going to spank you now.” He descended into an authoritative tone. He liked
the voice best for scenes. Not only did it help keep his cock in check—definitely
a plus, considering where the damn thing clamored to be right now—but purifying everything
into strict business mode also separated emotions from actions, meaning he could fill
in the gap with as much naughty dirt as he wanted.

In the case of this extraordinary woman…he
wanted
.

Without even looking back up at Rhett, he knew the sentiment was shared.

Fuck, yes
.

“Eighteen,” he intoned then. “That’s the number you’re getting,
cher
. One for every ten minutes of the hours you decided to run from us, instead of trusting
us.”

As he spoke, Rhett massaged her ass again—though the strokes were tougher this time,
kneading and pinching. As he dug in harder, Brynn let out a high-pitched mewl.

“Ssshhh, little peach. Take it in. Breathe. I’m warming you up. Bringing the blood
to the surface of your skin, so you’re well-prepared…for what’s ahead.”

She struggled to obey but the wicked lilt he laid over his promise was a steel hook
down her throat, snagging her breath. And damn it, the woman wore uncertainty like
most others wore silk robes. So fucking alluring.

Rebel couldn’t wait to strip it from her.

He showed her so by tangling a hand in her hair, and pulling her head to the side.
Slanted his mouth over the exposed column of her neck, which looked and felt like
the silk he’d evoked. “The warm-up,
minette
…it’s like foreplay, only better.”

She tasted so good. He licked, sucked, and nipped at her, reveling in her wild pulse
against his tongue, as he snuck a hand into what little was left of her cleavage,
fingers seeking a pert nipple to toy with. She gasped as he made contact. Her areola
crumpled against his fingertips. Her nipple was hot and hard, swelling tighter as
he rolled then tugged on it. Before he even touched the other, a harsh cry broke from
deep in her throat. As he actually pulled at her nipple, she sobbed.

Rebel captured the sound with a deep sweep of his lips. “Better?” he asked, after
dragging up from her.

“Yes, Sir.” Her gaze radiated over his face, full of wonder and arousal—

Smack.

Then pain.

“Ahhhh!”

“One.”

Her lips twisted and her throat convulsed, clearly debating the legitimacy of Rhett’s
placid claim. In her mind, they should’ve been at eight or nine already. The guy hadn’t
pulled the blow by a single fraction—a move for which Rebel issued approval with a
quick glance. Rhett replied with a sexier-than-shit smirk while raising his hand back
up…

Smack.

“Two.”

To Rebel’s shock, she responded with nothing but a stubborn grunt—and a newly tense
body. Rhett’s face tightened, taking notice of the same thing. Rebel dipped in at
once, hoping to help the situation. Though she relaxed a little as he trailed the
flat of his tongue from her earlobe to collarbone, she tensed the moment Rhett lifted
his hand again.

Smack.

“Ohhhh!”

“Three.”

“Damn it!”

Rhett gave her four and five without a reprieve.

“Mother
fucker
.”

Six. Seven. Eight.

Harder. Harder. Harder.

“Crraaaap.
Really
?”

Rhett grunted hard. Pinched both her cheeks just as brutally. “Any more creativity
on that little tongue of yours, peach? Because that just earned you another swat.
I’d
love
to make it a nice, even twenty, just for symmetry’s sake.”

“God
damn
.” Rebel couldn’t restrain it—not when the vibrations of the spanks still rang on
the air, and the bloom over her backside filled his greedy vision. “So would I.” He
chuckled, not a little sheepishly, as she shot him a who’s-side-are-
you
-on glare. “
Trés désolé, ma belle fifille
…but if any woman’s ass was made to be thrashed like this, it is
most
certainly yours.”

Rhett rumbled with baritone agreement. “She’s so hot already.” He flattened his hand,
smoothing the perfect humps now. “Fuck.
So hot
.”

Rebel fought the urge to raise his hand and test that theory—but his mind already
created the scenario that would follow. The heat of Rhett’s hands, fusing into his
own. The craving to have more. The need for those long, powerful fingers against
his
flesh…around his balls…

Never to be.

The boxes of Rhett’s life were clear—and made of steel. While Rebel had danced along
their edges, even teased the man to peek out a little, he’d never even hoped for the
chance to gain more. Then Brynna had come along—magical, sensual Brynna—stirring a
sexual freedom in Rhett that surpassed anything Reb dared to imagine, much less desire.
When she was finally gone, the man’s box would slam shut again.

That meant focusing fully on everything they could have together now. Basking in the
beauty of her soft shoulders and lolled head, feeling the force of what she gave back
to them, right here and now. Of how incredibly she processed the power Rhett had infused
to her body, then refilled so much of the air with it. The power of her submission
made his senses swim…and set his libido ablaze.

“Fuck.”

He breathed the word, robbed of its volume by his pure gratitude. Thank fuck for the
counterweight of lust, helping him push out the rest of it.

“Make it hotter.”

He didn’t miss how his command made Brynn shiver—or the tighter puckers at the tips
of her tits. She was scared—but damn, did she like it.

“Do it, man,” he emphasized to Rhett. “More. Make her ass hotter. Eleven more swats.”
He grinned a little at Brynn’s taut little moan. “We can do a lot with that, can’t
we?”

To his pleasure—more than he could admit—one side of the guy’s mouth kicked up in
a devil’s smirk. But to his surprise, Rhett didn’t lift his hand again. He kept taunting
the two fleshy hills, squeezing more color into them by the second.