Mutiny's Rebellion Page 3

  “Not exactly an ex,” I say. My breath comes out warm and thick in the small amount of space between us, my heart practically in my throat.

  Torynt’s always been cute. A little too frivolous for anything more than a good time—but there was no way I’d ever do that to Vim back in the day. Not with his friend or co-conspirator or what have you.

  But I wasn’t with Vim anymore.

  And if he had a problem with that, maybe it was time I gave him a chap-in-trouble who could handle whatever he threw at him.

  The corner of Torynt’s mouth twitches. “Did you memory-wipe that poor bastard you saw at the bar?”

  “Not because I wanted to,” I admit. “It’s a long story—but here’s a short one.” I twirl a finger through one of the short waves of his hair. “I’d like to invite you for some fun if you’re up for it.”

  Torynt stumbles back. “If I’m up for it? Sweetheart, this has been a fantasy of mine since back in the trio days—”

  “Fair warning.” I tilt my head slightly. “If Vim finds out, he might get jealous.”

  Torynt chuckles. “Am I supposed to be shaking in my boots?”

  Hmm. Maybe this is what I needed all along. A Natch able to take Vim on if he tries anything.

  “He may have kidnapped a boyfriend or two of mine before. Just to show me he could.”

  “Let him try.” Torynt grabs me roughly.

  “Then show me,” I say. “Show me exactly what you’ve fantasized about all this time.” My face is on fire, my skin in need of a cold, cold shower. But that’s not what I’m aiming for just now. I pinch at my blouse and fan it at the cleavage.

  Torynt smashes his lips against mine before I have a chance to see him coming, his hands on either side of my face, his tongue sliding between my lips, caressing my teeth, pinning my tongue down as it tries to meet his in kind. I gasp as he pulls back and lets me breathe.

  He releases a deep and appreciate sigh. Before I say another word, his hand is on mine and I have to clatter my sandals quickly to match the strength with which he yanks me toward the nearest room. He jiggles the handle. Locked, the moans and panting from behind the door a clue that should have given it away. Torynt doesn’t give up, trying two more doors until we finally find a door that opens.

  Inside is a queen-sized bed and all sorts of naughty toys, though I have to admit the idea of using any in a place like this makes me wonder how often they’ve been cleaned.

  As many times as Vim brought me here, we’d never needed to make use of any of the extras, settling for the bed, the wall, the table…

  Torynt doesn’t seem to stop and ponder any of this, though. He slams me against the door as it closes, cushioning my head with his hand, his mouth seizing mine demandingly once more. I fight for breath between brazen presses of his lips, each kiss hungrier than the last, my swollen lips like the start of a chain reaction that spreads this electric jolt right down to my pussy and back up and out through my extremities.

  I haven’t gotten laid in so long. And I hadn’t realized this crush of mine, pushed aside to respect Vim’s wishes, could cause something like that in me with just his kiss.

  Gasping, he pulls back, tracing a single bent finger down my cheek. “You’re sure about this, Red?”

  “I’m on the pill,” I say. I fumble to get my purse off my shoulder and reach inside. “And I carry a condom in case I get lucky.”

  “Guess that answers that.” Torynt snatches it from me and gazes at it. “Hmm. Grape?” He dips his head, moving closer. “You got a taste for grape, honey?”

  “I got a taste for whatever it is you plan to put in my mouth,” I say.

  He doesn’t have to be told twice.

  The purse falls to the ground and he tosses the condom on top of it, quickly taking off his shirt and tossing it aside. His chest has definitely filled out, more toned, more muscular, and my fingers go to work playing, tracing the tanned, smooth skin as he presses kisses along my cheek, my neck. His hands shift to the bottom of my blouse and he rolls it up. Between kisses, I step back, shucking off my jacket and then lifting my arms and allowing him to toss the blouse on a chair nearby, which knocks over a black leather riding crop. He smiles wickedly. “Has anyone spanked you lately, Red?”

  I lock my arms around his neck, my lacy black bra flush against his chest. “I’ve been too good a girl lately for that.”

  “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

  His kisses devour my skin hungrily, his bent form taking in pinches of my shoulders, the plump of cleavage poking out from atop the lace. Directing me toward the bed, his lips refuse to halt their assault, the little pinching, biting kisses alternatively sending a jolt of pain and a jolt of ecstasy. He pushes me against the bed, my back sinking into the soft plush behind me, and his undulating kisses move to my leg, which he bends up to reach his mouth.

  Softly, his eyes never tearing from my own, he unlatches first one sandal and then the other, peppering soft, nipping kisses along my toes, my ankles, stretching my legs apart just right to feel a burning ache at my vulva, the stretching feeling good and oh-so-bad.

  Moaning, I clutch the sheet beneath my fingers.

  He puts my legs down and then moves up to grasp my skirt by the zipper, pulling it to loosen the fabric and then sliding the material down and off.

  Breathless, I stare at his half-naked form as he looms over me before he yanks me down so my crotch is lined up at the edge of the bed, his head lingering over my lace panties.

  He slides a hand inside the material. “I was going to ask if you needed a little help getting wet,” he says, two of his fingers running down my folds and back up again, adding gentle but rapid pressure to my clit. “But you’re already there.” He grunts and dips a finger up inside me. I whimper at the quick and sudden movement.

  With his other hand, he unties one bow and then the other of my side-tie G-string, leaving me exposed and bare.

  His eyes light up in the dim, red glow of the room and as his finger slides out, a gentle, showerhead-like pressure builds along my labia, directed up toward my clit, and I realize he’s using his Natch ability like a wind-based vibrator on my nether regions, the wind spilling up over my crotch, tickling down my thighs.

  Groaning, I writhe, the shivering radiating outward from my mons and hooking into me everywhere.

  The wind stops and Torynt steps back, his breaths shallow, the glisten of sweat on his body evident even in the muted light. The thump, thump, thump of the music is so distant now as I sit up on my forearms and watch him take off his pants and boxers, revealing a thick, juicy member already stiffening and hard.

  He shuffles away and when he comes back to the bed, he has the riding crop in hand, hitting it gently against his other palm.

  He wasn’t kidding.

  “Bra off,” he says. The crop dances along my outer thigh. “Let me take in this whole, beautiful body.”

  I do as told, unlatching it, being a little extra slow about sliding off one strap and then the other, clutching at the bra in front of my breasts an extra beat.

  Grabbing hold of the leg he was teasing, he shifts it up, exposing just the underside of my buttock to him, but it’s enough for the crop to go down with a whap.

  I bite my lip and sigh at the little sting that radiates outward into pulsing pleasure.

  “Bra off,” he repeats.

  “Why don’t you make me?” I taunt.

  He seizes me by the torso and flips me over. Giggling, I press my cheek to the soft plush of the comforter, the riding crop now tracing up and down my bare back as he slips in closer, his free hand moving in circles over my buttocks, sliding between them, sending another lukewarm-spurt of wind along my slit and making me cry out.

  Then his hand is gone, the crop pulled away as he leans over, close enough to let his crackling voice whisper into my ear. “I want to see how naughty a former bad girl can be.”

  I stick my ass up in the air. He chuckles deeply, then glides a palm under me, sliding it ac
ross my navel and down to my clit, starting up the buzzing all over again.

  With a whap, the crop slams against my ass cheek.

  I buckle slightly, but his hand beneath me tightens, supporting me, keeping me up as it works its magic at my pussy.

  “I’ve never been with such a pale woman before,” he says, the crop sliding across the little welt he must have left behind. “I almost hate to mar that lusciously freckled ass with a little extra color.” He spanks the other cheek for good measure.

  I cry out, my back arching, the bra falling from my grasp.

  “That’s more like it,” he says, then he spanks me again. Tossing the crop aside, he rolls me over, his lips diving to mine briefly before lowering down to my breasts. He pinches one nipple between his teeth, the other going hard at the circular movement of his fingers, then takes the other nipple in his lips before letting go and standing back.

  “I need to be inside you,” he says yearningly, his eyes roving everywhere across my exposed, soaking self. I hear the crinkle of the condom wrapper, watch him as he slides it on top, part of me wishing I could do the honors myself, but the rest eager to get to the part where he’s inside me already.

  I nod, and then the tip of his erect penis dances along my folds, his hands leisurely moving my thighs outward before he yanks me to the edge of the bed.

  I’m soaked and ready, my breaths coming in shallowly, my mouth unable to form words.

  His cock enters, slowly—far, far, too slowly—the buzzing sending me writhing, but his firm pressure on both of my thighs keeps me from twisting too much. The thundering inside me builds and builds and then he stops tunneling, his groin flush against mine, my legs wrapped around him.

  “Red. Jo,” he whispers, his fingers tracing my abdomen and moving up to dance under my breasts. “Sweet, sweet Jo.”

  Then he pulls out a little, slowly, and slams back up, at a much more rapid pace. I’m aching. He repeats the action, taking my hand up to his mouth, biting down gently on my fingers. “Jo,” he says again, and then he’s moving faster, thrusting harder, his hands digging into my thighs as we move in a steady rocking rhythm, over and over again, until I let out a scream louder than any sound that’s escaped my mouth in months—years maybe, his cock shuddering inside me, only adding to the intense euphoria spreading outward from my very satisfied core.

  The door to the hallway opens just then. Apparently, we forgot to lock it.

  “Oh, sorry,” says a gruff voice that cracks as the figure stands dumbfoundedly in the doorway.

  Oh, crap. It’s Clive. And the snooty, presumably off-duty bartender is on his arm.

  He gasps. “Josephine?”

  How does he know my name? He isn’t supposed to remember me.

  Torynt slides out, and I bolt up in the bed.

  “I thought you erased this guy’s memory,” says Torynt, his breath hot on my bare shoulder as I gather the sheets around me to cover my nakedness.

  Clive is still just staring in the doorway, his body framed by the muted blue glow from down the hall, his eyes wide. The woman next to him clutches the front of his V-neck and looks ready to explode.

  “Come on,” she says loudly enough to be heard over the thrum of the music far off behind her. “Let’s find another room.”

  “Yeah, sure, I…” Clive looks confused when he regards the bartender and then me. I mean, how fast does the guy work anyway? Why is he ready to sleep with her, a woman he just met, when he made a point of moving so damn slowly with me?

  I am jealous over the fact that the guy who isn’t supposed to remember me is moving on.

  When I have a naked hunk on top of me. A very satisfying naked hunk.

  What’s wrong with me? How commitment-phobic am I?

  It’s not that I don’t want to commit, I realize with a shock of clarity. I just can’t confine my feelings to one guy. And apparently, I can’t extend the guys in question the same courtesy.

  Yup. For a woman studying Natch law, I apparently had a lot to learn about fairness and equality.

  Torynt sits up. “Bud, do you mind?”

  The bartender is tugging on Clive’s arm, too, and Clive is just staring at me. “I… I’m in your Civil Procedure class.”

  Right. That was where I met him to begin with. So my Natch powers weren’t suddenly failing me.

  I nod quickly, biting down on my lips. “Yeah…”

  He’s still not budging from the door.

  The bartender lets out a growl and stomps her foot like a toddler. “Fine!” she shouts. “Screw you. I can get any guy I want. And I do.” She sends a pointed look my way before heading back down the hall.

  Clive watches her go, his mouth open, then shakes his head as if lost.

  “I’m sorry,” says Clive to us, his hand on the door knob. “I’ll see you around at… Wait a second, are you Torynt?”

  So he knows everyone in this sex room of fun today. Lovely. But the Renegades are pretty well known, especially in this town, where all the Nelian attacks were once focused.

  “Yeah, and I’m also naked,” says Torynt, running a hand through his shaggy hair, “so if you don’t mind…”

  Clive swallows and pulls the door shut as he leaves.

  Torynt mutters something, his warm arm slipping from my waist as he pads across the room to grab his pants. With a flick of his hands, he removes the condom and cleans himself with a disposable wipe before sliding his pants on.

  “Just give him back his memories,” he says, frowning as he approaches me, another wipe in hand. “Want a rinse?”

  I want to laugh, but there’s something a little off about him, a little bit of the light in his eyes dimmed.

  He’s disappointed that I’m still flabbergasted by Clive. But can he blame me? I didn’t expect him to walk in on us.

  Clutching the sheets the whole while and telling myself not to get things started up again, I take Torynt up on his offer for a rinse and then have him dry me off with his little wind blow dryer before getting myself dressed.

  Torynt lingers awkwardly, his gaze darting appreciatively every few seconds my way, particularly when I wiggle my butt to get back into the thin skirt.

  “That guy clearly has a thing for you,” he says once I finish and scoop up my purse from the ground. “I don’t know why you erased his memory, but… Oh. Unless it was Vim—”

  I take a fistful of his shirt and silence him with a kiss. It seems to have the intended effect, his swagger buckling for just a second.

  “Thank you,” I say, breathy. “I needed this. And I need you to know—I didn’t just pick you because you’re a pretty face and you were right there.” I tap his nose like he’s an adorable little dog and he grips my hand hard, yanking me even closer toward him.

  “You’re welcome to fuck who you want,” he says. “I’m just glad tonight it was me.” He swallows, the Adam’s apple at his throat bobbing noticeably.

  Despite what he says, he doesn’t want to be a one-night stand. I get it.

  I don’t particularly want him to be, either, but there’s my whole career to think of, and he’s a Renegade. He’s not a criminal, but he is a former one, and a definite skirts-the-law-type these days.

  Besides, he deserves a woman with her head on straight. I’m still flustered here by a guy I’ve only dated a few weeks, who shouldn’t even remember I exist right now—and a so-called supervillain whom I can’t get out of my head.

  “Do you know I’m friends—or acquaintances—or teammates or something with two women who have their own harems?” Torynt says.

  A choking sound escapes from between my lips as I clutch his bicep with my free hand. That is the last thing I expected him to say.

  He grins a little. “One’s married to all four of them.”

  “Four?” I say. “Married? That’s bigamy and there’s no way it’s a legally binding—”

  He puts a finger to my lips. “I forgot you’re little Miss Soon-to-Be Lawyer, huh? Forget the law. Never said it was a
legally-binding document. Doesn’t matter to them—besides, she’s a Nelian princess and our laws don’t apply to her.”

  A Nelian princess? Torynt is involved in stuff that’s way beyond me, that I simply don’t have room for in this complicated brain space of mine.

  But that’s beside the point. “You’re saying you want me to be a part of a harem?” Was that what he was asking? As if. No need to be so formal. Of course he could sleep with whomever. I mean, we hadn’t seen each other in almost three years. I wouldn’t expect…

  My stomach drops. With a bizarre kick to the gut, I realize my insatiable, unreasonable little heart wanted, hoped for his whole self.

  I’m clearly better off single.

  “I’m just saying—my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this.” He pauses to run a palm over his cheek and I want to leap forward and kiss him there, my engine getting revved up when it’s supposed to be winding down. “I know you have a thing for Vim you’ll never get over—”

  “Huh?” I lean back, my libido cooled like he’d just drenched it in cold water. “That’s not—”

  He puts another finger to my lips. “And you clearly have issues with that grad student lingering, so…”

  “So?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  “You’re special.” He clutches my chin. “And I’d be a fool to let you go over a silly little thing like you being attracted to a couple of other guys.” His lips meet mine again, the promise of more, sweet and seductive, but he pulls away again. He spanks my butt. “So go get ’em, tiger.” His eyes sparkle.

  I open my mouth and close it. Then I give him a nod. “Don’t go anywhere,” I say. “I need your phone number before the night is done.”

  He grins.

  At the very least, I finally got a gorgeous fuck buddy who understands—and I’m not letting him go.

  The thump of the music grows louder in my ears as I open the door and slip outside into the room. The blue and purple lights are flashing from the dance floor at the end of the hallway—the rumble of voices just barely audible beneath the roar of the bass.