Wild Licks (8 page)

“That's awesome,” I said, not sure what else to say.

“I mean, I know, wow, there are millions of fans who will never even get this close to them. I'm…really lucky.” She sighed.

“You're okay with that?” I asked, curious about how happy she seemed. “You're not really trying for…more?”

“Hey. Before this I was a megafan of Adam Lambert. And
none
of us have a chance with him, you know.”

I shared a laugh with her. Adam Lambert was the most out and proud gay man in the history of pop music, but that didn't stop millions of women the world over from swooning over him.

“Oh, hey, here comes their set,” April said, and we hurried to the edge of the VIP area.

Although we were very close to the stage, it was difficult to see from there. My view of Mal was partly blocked by light stanchions and some sound equipment. But I could barely pay attention to what was happening on the stage when my mind was spinning and spinning on what was about to happen.

When the familiar riff of “Kidnap My Heart” kicked in, my heart went into overdrive, and the next thing I knew, Nick was grabbing me by the hand and pulling me along a maze of barricades, behind some trailers, and then up the stairs into one.

He shut the door behind me and I looked quickly around. The trailer was divided into two halves with the door in the middle. One side was kind of like a living room with two small couches and a countertop. On the countertop was a makeup mirror and a couple of bags. The other half of the trailer had a bed folded into the wall to get it out of the way, a card table, and another makeup mirror.

I sat on the couch, then stood up again, trying to think of what I should say when Mal walked in, what I should do.

Stay focused on your objective,
I told myself, thinking of it as an acting exercise. In any improv acting exercise, each character had a simple objective that the other characters did not know, a motivating factor that would drive the scene forward.
My goal is to…get laid.

I looked quickly at the makeup kit partly strewn on the countertop. There was a penknife sitting there. I picked it up to look at it more closely. The pretty little knife had a couple of dark streaks on the blade; someone had been using it to sharpen eyeliner pencils.

I stretched my legs a little and then bent over the couch so my ass faced the door, and placed the open knife on my back, atop the corset's strings.

Not a moment too soon. The door banged open and in came Mal. I heard him slam the door behind him and then after a stretch where I could hear him breathing hard, another sound. Was that him shoving a chair against the door?

I guess he wanted to be absolutely sure we wouldn't be disturbed.

Did they think I wouldn't notice Larkin Johns hanging around the catering tent with Marcus and chatting up Axel? His gray ponytail, combed back from his receding hairline, was conspicuous as he schmoozed. Did they seriously think I was suddenly going to change my mind about his suitability to work with us or that he could turn the band against me? I'd thrown him out of the studio once; I'd do it again.

These were the thoughts churning through my mind during the Beach Bash show and were still smoldering hotly as I hurried back to the trailer where Nick had sent the woman he'd chosen for me.
Find me one who can really take what I dish out,
I'd told him. I threw open the door, not knowing what to expect, but my mood changed the instant I saw her.

Oh sweet universe, thank you for whatever I did to deserve such blessings as this.
She was bent over, head down, hands on the back of the couch, in a fuck-me position. She was still wearing all her clothes but she had a knife on her back, balanced on the laces of her corset. A gift is made more special by being wrapped—and then unwrapped—is it not?

And I needed this gift. I needed this woman, this involving little puzzle, to make me forget my growing frustrations with our record execs and to supplant my growing obsessions with Gwen and Excrucia. This one looked ripe to satisfy the Need.

I took the knife and wiped it against my jeans, then flipped her loose black skirt over her back. Nice ass, what I could see of it through the fishnets. She wore no panties and a beautiful damp spot clung to the stockings like dew in a spiderweb.

I may have a tiny bit of a fetish for fishnets—specifically for fucking through a hole in them. Some things you imprint on early in life.

She still hadn't said a word. I ran a hand down her thigh and she trembled, but not in a bad way.

I started cutting the corset off her, revealing the strapless tank top she wore underneath it. The tank top I shoved upward until her tits hung free. Standing behind her so my legs touched hers, I reached around to fondle them until her nipples were so hard and tight they felt like buttons.

And then I ran the knife down her back and she shivered and let out a moan. Knife play is one of my favorite things. People who haven't tried it simply don't realize how sensual the tip of a knife feels when it isn't cutting you, when it's merely leaving a suggestive trail against your skin. It's like a fingernail only ten times more arousing.

Yes, I've been on the receiving end of the knife, too. That's how I learned.

I traced imaginary whorls of smoke across her pale white back, then yanked her skirt down. Now I let the point snag her fishnets a bit as I traced up and down her thighs until I was ready to cut a hole big enough for my dick.

“Step out of the skirt,” I commanded, “and spread your legs as wide as you can go.”

She did.
Yes, thank you, divine fate, for delivering this biddable gift
into my life.

I slid the knife carefully through the fishnets at the wettest place and then tore them with a backward slash of the blade, leaving her gasping…

…and me amazed. Her tattoos suddenly visible to me now:
Love. Pain. Excrucia.

Fate, now you are just fucking with me.
Thrill at having the very woman I was obsessed with delivered into my hands warred with the thought that she must have tricked her way in here. Or had she? Had Aurora found her? Did she know I was looking for her?

I shoved a finger into her and she groaned eagerly, so wet and slippery and ready for me that it had none of the punishing effect I was hoping for.

“Either you're a massive coincidence, or you're the woman I fucked at the Forum,” I said.

She nodded but stayed silent, an intriguingly submissive choice.

“Did you hear I was looking for you?”

A more vigorous nod this time. Sweet angels. My cock strained against my fly as if it wanted to teleport into her. She came back.

She came back for more.

I decided to string her along a bit. “Do you know my rule?”

She shook her head vigorously no. I finger-fucked her hard a few times.

“I find that hard to believe and your disguise makes me think you know quite well. It's common knowledge I don't do repeat engagements.” I jiggled my finger inside her and provoked a gasp. Knowing that she had returned to me even after the previous taste of my depravity emboldened me to push her further. “But as you must have guessed, I was searching for you for a reason. And it wasn't so I could return your panties.”

She pushed back against my finger now, showing how eager she was to be fucked. I added a second and she moaned.

All this chatter wasn't merely building anticipation in her. It was stoking the Need in myself to furnace pitch. “It takes a very special woman to take what I dish out. Something about you made me think I could push you further, though. So I thought perhaps I could satisfy the rule another way. After all, I haven't fucked your other hole yet.”

It was patently obvious I was playing fast and loose with the rule, but within the lust-logic of the Need it sent a surge of hunger through me—through both of us. She clenched around my fingers when I said that. I took the opportunity to jam them in deeper and pull out a good load of her lubrication, which I then spread up and down her asshole. I pushed one finger in and nearly swore.

“The truth, pet. Have you ever had anal sex?”

She shook her head.

By all ye gods and monsters. A virgin. This knowledge only sharpened my appetite for ravishing her, the beast in me roaring with approval. “Don't move.”

I looked for my road bag and found it under the table. I carried it back to her, then paused to strip off every stitch of my show clothes. She was trying to catch a look at me through the long strands of her black wig hanging down. I wondered if her real hair was red. At the time I'd thought it was a dye job but maybe it had been a wig and I hadn't noticed.

I dug out the small bottle of lube, a strip of condoms, and the leather belt I'd taken off to do the show. If you don't take your belt off, or at least turn it to the side, the buckle scratches the back of the guitar.

“You test me, Excrucia,” I said. “You test me, so I'm going to test you.” I trailed the doubled belt over her ass and she stiffened. “Keep those legs spread wide. I'm going to whip you with this belt. I'm going to whip you until every inch of flesh exposed is red. In fact…” I tore away more of her stockings, exposing the full globes of her butt cheeks. “Your ass, your thighs, your cunt.”

She nodded in agreement.

I did as I promised, flailing her with the leather until my arm was tired and her entire genital region was inflamed. Some women can't withstand pain directly to the cunny. But she never buckled, never begged me to stop, never crumpled or curled into a ball.

Which only made my desire to have her burn even hotter. What a prize. What an incredible prize. I'd known there was something about her that intrigued me, but I hadn't expected this…perfection. I brushed my fingers over her swollen clit and she shuddered.
LOVE PAIN
her tattoo read. I believed it now.

I found myself contemplating whether next time I could make her come with the belt and nearly came myself from the mere thought. And then the thought:
Next time? You've already decided there'll be a next time?

Think about that later. Right now, think about where you want to put that cock of yours and what it'll take to get it in there.

So many possibilities. Use the belt to secure her hands behind her back and have her service me with her mouth for a while? No. I had no patience for that right now and I needed no assistance at all in the rigidity department.

Lube, fingers, preparing her, stretching her. That was next.

She stifled a soft cry, plaintive and hungry, when I drilled her ass with one well-lubed finger. This was going to take some time, but it was one of those tasks in which thoroughness would be rewarded and haste would mean ruin.

I was good at being thorough because I was good at denying myself temporarily. It took long enough to work in a second finger that I began to wonder if her arms were growing tired of her position, then decided to let that be another test.

Perhaps there was not as much weight on her arms as I thought. She began pushing back against me as I filled and stretched her. Very encouraging.

A third finger was difficult but inevitable with patience. My hands are large. But so is my cock.

“Time to take me, darling,” I said when the amount of lube in the bottle was beginning to dwindle and my hand was moving easily at last. “You remember how big I am?”

She nodded. This silence thing was interesting. I would have to ask her about it…assuming she didn't run off this time.

I took my time tearing open the condom package and rolling it on. Her legs trembled with anticipation.

I drizzled lube up and down my length and then rubbed the head against her now supple and sloppy hole. I still had to push to get it in but
sweet angels and demons
it was worth the effort. Two inches of me were buried in her and it felt like my entire body was throbbing with pleasure.

I pushed another two inches in with a snap of my hips and she flung a hand back, trying to slow me. I allowed her that, taking the rest gradually—never letting up my weight but slowing the penetration, filling her bit by bit until there was no more to give.

“You have me,” I whispered, and she shook. What beauty, what beauty in her obedience, her submission. It spurred such strange and sudden feelings in me, an urge to reward her, to glut her with pleasure, as well as to guard her jealously against those who would misuse or exploit that biddable nature of hers.

These were unhealthy thoughts for me to be having about a strange girl I knew nothing about, a mystery woman who could be anyone, have any motive. But I could not stop having them with my cock buried as it was.

Enjoy the moment, isn't that what they say? I seized her by the hips then and force-fucked her hard five or six times, making her use her voice at last. She cried out wordlessly and I froze with the echo of her cry in my ears.

I had just played a show and my hearing might have been off. But I knew Gwen's voice when I heard it.

Gwen.

I had to be hallucinating. I had been obsessed with Gwen and with Excrucia and my lust-addled mind had decided they were the same person. Right?

I fucked her hard, trying to clear my head, but the cries only sounded more and more like Gwen.

Enough. “You sound like you're not being satisfied,” I taunted. “Shall I put another beer bottle in your cunny?”

Angels and devils, she nodded. Fine. I pulled out abruptly, went to the tiny fridge on the wall, pulled out a beer, and popped the top off. I drank a deep draught and poured the rest down the sink, then barked at her. “Turn over. On your back.”
Now,
I thought,
I'll see it's not Gwen.

It was Gwen. Heavily made up with black lips and false eyelashes and a black wig but
it was Gwen
. I could see why Nick had been fooled, but knowing her as I did now, there was no mistaking her. I pushed her knees up to her chest, stuffed my cock into her ass again, and teased at her slit with the beer bottle. She shuddered and wriggled until I realized she was trying to get her clit against the glass. This exquisite creature, for whom pain was pleasure, was the same woman who had sat prim and proper beside me at that banquet and had tittered amusedly in the theater at the sexual innuendos in band names? But she was also the one who had admitted that the works of Ariadne Wood turned her on, who had brazenly propositioned me in the limo, and who had tormented me with her tongue, a spoon, and chocolate.