How to Reprimand Your Rock Star (DommeNation #2) (15 page)

The elevator door opened to a wide white marble foyer. Several rooms branched off from it, and I didn’t know where to start. My heart hammered a bass beat in my chest as I summoned the courage to call out to him.

“Keaton?” I managed. I glanced at the room to my right and saw a white stone bathroom and a tub filled with floating candles and white lilies. I swallowed hard. Would we end up in there? Visions of us splashing, hot and wet, nearly made my knees buckle.

To my left, I heard the faint strum of a guitar. I followed the sound, willing each nervous foot forward until I found myself walking through a dining room that sat at least twenty, then onto a balcony overlooking the ocean.

“Ah, my prayers were answered. Athena herself has arrived,” I heard from my left.

Keaton perched precariously on the railing, grinning with impish delight while plucking a black guitar’s strings. “I’m glad you came.”

“So am I,” I answered with a candid grin. All that charisma he possessed onstage was something he maintained in his private life. He was so damn charming I couldn’t bear it.

“Congratulations, by the way,” he said, hopping several feet from his perch and landing lithely on his bare feet.

I nodded with a sheepish bob. “Thanks. I felt lucky,” I said, shrugging.

He approached me. “Now you’re catching on.”

“To what?” I asked as he took my hands in his. My body shivered at his touch, regardless of how demure it was.

He pulled me closer. “How things work,” he whispered, folding his arms around me in a slow-dance pose. “You’re beginning to understand.” Suddenly, I heard a lilting guitar again. It was the same tune he was playing earlier. But where was it coming from? Keaton began to sway with me as the ocean breeze ruffled my hair.

“So, I really was just lucky? Not, like, talented or anything?” I asked with a frown.

Keaton chuckled. “No, your talent earned you that luck.”

I groaned. “You’re so cryptic.”

He bit down on his lip. “There’s the fire I love. So, are you going to punish me for my esoteric speeches and confusing rhetoric?” Keaton winked and sashayed our dance down the balcony toward a different door. “I’ve provided you with some tools, Goddess, in addition to luck.”

I glanced inside the wide French doors to my right and gaped. Inside was a bedroom, all white marble and turquoise silk. A four-poster driftwood bed sat in the middle of the room, arrayed with nautical coils of rope and a set of black leather tools. The ocean breeze escorted me inside.

“Let me introduce you,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me inside.

He picked up a suede item that had a handle and dozens of small soft strips coming off its top, like a ponytail. “This is a flogger,” he said, gripping the handle and bringing the fabric tails down on his hand with a gentle whack. He handed it to me. “It doesn’t bite unless you make it.”

“I know what it is, and I’ve used one.” I took it in my hands and swallowed hard. The implication of using this on him made me weak. I tested it on my wrist. The feeling was actually very nice, a soft teasing pressure depending on how hard you whipped it.

“This,” he said, picking up what looked like a thin leather spatula, “is a riding crop. But surely you must know that, too.”

Suddenly I had the unbidden thought of Keaton beneath me, bucking his hips as I slapped the crop’s tip across his thigh. And it was no longer going to be just a fantasy—it was about to be reality.

He laughed at my expression. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

I toyed with my hair and let him proceed.

“I have here ropes of varying lengths, and a few sets of cuffs—metal and fabric.”

Saying nothing, I walked over and sat on the bed, overwhelmed. Taking a cue from me, he joined me, flopping down with an emphatic bounce. His energy was infectious and soon I began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, lying back and weaving his hands together behind his head. “Because this all looks quite serious.” He mock-frowned at the kinky setup.

I shrugged. “I just,” I fumbled, “don’t know why you want this.”

His face frowned in sincerity now. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

I nodded. “I know. I don’t exactly look like this type, though, do I? Even when you first met me, you suggested I’d like to tape you up.”

His hand tossed my lucky tape in the air. Again. Dammit, how did he do that? It was back at my team’s hotel, in my duffel bag.

I continued. “So I just want to know why. Why me? Why this?” I asked, spreading my hands wide.

He squinted. “You’re not saying this turns you off, are you? Because I
know
you like it.”

Hot breath shot out of my mouth in an exasperated sigh. “It doesn’t, trust me. I just didn’t realize it until you. So, how did you know?”

Keaton sat up and straightened my laurel wreath. “Because I figured out why Athena stayed a virgin goddess.”

My breath caught in my throat. Surely he couldn’t know I was a virgin.

He continued. “Men were always desperate for her. Who wouldn’t want the goddess of battle and knowledge on their side? But they all had the wrong approach, those suitors. Athena, much like the virgin goddess Artemis, loved the hunt. She loved pursuit.”

“So, she wanted to be the one calling the shots?” I asked, picking up that soft flogger again and running it through my fingers.

“Precisely,” he said, taking my chin in his hand. “Those Greek guys were clueless. Good thing I’m only half-Greek.”

“What’s your other half?” I asked, wondering at his blue eyes.

“Norse,” he said with a shrug. “I suppose my ancestors were all Vikings or other tricky folk.”

I shook my head. “You are one curious man, Keaton Lowe.”

“You have no idea.”

Channeling the inner goddess of the hunt, I pushed Keaton back onto the pillows. His rascal grin reappeared. “And I’m always right.”

“And you’re so humble,” I grunted as I placed my hands on either side of his head. His baby blues shone as he looked into my eyes. The apprehension and nerves had subsided and been replaced with a feeling of certainty.

I was on the hunt.

I leaned forward and brought my mouth to his. Our lips melted together for a moment, and I felt his body stiffen beneath mine. The tight feelings of desire that knotted inside of me took control of my rhythm as I rocked against Keaton’s prone form, tonguing his mouth. A soft moan reminiscent of a song escaped from his throat. I kissed his stubbly jaw and then down his sinewy neck.

“That dress is so perfect,” he mumbled, eyes half-closed with desire. I sat up straight with my legs on either side of him, still rubbing his hardness with the apex of my legs.

“It’s staying on,” I said, surprised by my boldness and the rich authoritative quality of my voice.

“Of course, Goddess,” he said as I reached for some rope.

I looked between him, the bed, and the restraints and tried to figure out what I wanted to do. “Give me your wrists,” I said. I remembered how Scarlett had done it during the Skype session and made my attempt.

He held his muscular, tattooed arms toward me subserviently and nodded. I was about to begin wrapping them together when I noticed a flaw in my plan. “Take your shirt off first,” I said. “And fold it.”

Keaton sat up, no grin, just the face of someone who was serious about what they were going to do. He really wanted this. Then again, the pressure between my legs told me that already. I ground against him and felt him twitch. With a quick motion, Keaton removed his soft black tee and revealed his chest, with abs that went on and on to a gorgeous V at his hips. Not a hair on his body. I wanted to lick it.
I could,
I realized. Hell, I would, once he was properly tied up.

He brought his wrists obediently back to me, after carefully folding the shirt, of course, and I began to wrap the rope around them, then between them, effectively binding his hands together in prayer. He had said he was worshiping me, so it was only fitting. I was pleased that I had improved on Scarlett’s form.

“Over your head,” I said, “and scoot back against the headboard.”

He complied quickly.

Finding a shorter skein of rope, I raised his bound wrists and tied them to the slatted headboard of the bed. I watched his chest rise and fall rapidly.

“You are quite good at this,” he remarked.

“I don’t know how,” I said, shrugging, admiring. This was much more than Scarlett had done. The knots were neat and it was actually very beautiful.

“The mind is an amazing thing,” he said, looking at me with a dreamy gaze. “It can conjure memories outside its current body.”

“Is that really how you
know
things? Not your psychic great-great-grandma?” I asked with a giggle, picking up the riding crop and running it down his side. He shivered.

“No, it’s not how I know. I know because I’ve been around this stuff for a long time,” he said with a purse of his lips and a naughty snicker. “And speaking of long time, I hope you don’t mind staying the night. I called your coach and said you were with your mom and uncle.”

I brought the crop down on his left nipple. “You called my coach?”

He bit on his lip and groaned. “If making you angry has this effect, I’ll call every member of the team tonight. The roster’s on the table in the—”

I cracked the crop down again, this time on his hip.

“More, please,” he said.

I grabbed the flogger. My fingers had been itching to use it. Since it was soft, I figured I could put a little more weight behind it, so I raised my hand high and lashed it across his chest with a loud thwack.

“Yes, Goddess,” he said, eyes rolling back in delight. His body writhed beneath me. I felt myself getting damp and decided it was time to rid him of his leather pants. Scooting back, I undid the button and zipper and was shocked to find he was wearing nothing underneath.

I shimmied the pants off his hips and took a moment to blatantly ogle. He, for once, remained silent. Probably figured any of his quirky little comments would earn him another smack.

I took the flogger and slid its silky tails across his cock. He nearly jumped a mile off the bed. I wrapped my hand around it and brushed the tip with the flogger, this time a tad harder. He groaned loudly and I repeated with another flick. Then, when I noticed I was panting, I took his pants off completely and grabbed another bit of rope.

“You want your quarry fully helpless, don’t you Goddess?” he said, half-smile up one cheek.

“Maybe I’ll bind your fresh mouth next,” I replied. He laughed loudly and I watched his gorgeous abs tighten and ripple as he chuckled. It occurred to me that his band name was appropriate—he was quite a trickster.

The next coil of rope I used to repeat the same pattern on his ankles. I bound them together and then threaded the rope between his legs to secure it.

“That’s called a two-column tie,” he said. “How much experience did you get at that little play party? Have you done a lot of research, or are you just a natural?”

I didn’t know what to say to him. I never did. He was so clever and peculiar and I was just an athletic college kid who had fallen into his life. I didn’t know why I was here, or why he wanted me, but I did know that we were both sure about it. I glanced at the little box of foil packets he had left out with the bondage gear.

“Go on,” he said in a throaty whisper.

I complied, then slid off my own panties and dropped them to the floor. The sight of him, this powerful rock star, beneath me and tied to the bed, was enough to make me orgasm without even touching him. I sat up on my knees, pulled the dress up to my hips, and settled over him. I dropped the skirts of the gown and they flowed around us like white water.

“Take it slow,” he whispered. “It will . . . hurt less.”

He
did
know.

I moved my hips, found him easily, and pushed down. Inch by inch I felt myself slide down him. My head fell back, and I let loose a long moan.

“That’s right,” he encouraged. He watched me with an awed expression.

I pushed further down and felt some pressure and a bit of a sting, and then a flood of desire. It felt so deep, so warm, our bodies combined. The sensation of fullness surprised me with its strange combination of satisfaction and discomfort.

I laughed. I felt so free, so uninhibited. I began to move faster, sliding nearly off him and then dropping back down with a bounce. He joined me with a throaty yes, and bucked his hips.

I pushed my hair back from my face and rocked back and forth, watching his hands wiggle in the ropes and his face with a tortured but delighted expression. “Take me, Goddess. You’ve caught me, now enjoy the spoils of your hunt.”

I reached back and unzipped the dress, wanting to be naked and wild and free. I pulled the diaphanous material over my head and threw it to the ground. Keaton watched me, fully liberated, grinding against him, loud and untamed. The smell of salt from the ocean outside filled my head and the feel of his body consumed me. The new sensations took me by surprise and I reveled in the completeness and abandon. Keaton’s eyes flashed at me from across the bed as I cried out in pleasure, consciousness slipping from my body.