by Cecilia Tan
“Yes. But why don’t you call me by my name? But you can only call me by my name when you mean it like that.” He moved behind me then, running his hands over my stomach and purring into my ear. “Only when by saying it you mean ‘man who owns my body and my pleasure.’ Say it.”
“A-Axel,” I stuttered.
One of his hands slid down my abdomen under the gathered waist of the gown. “You don’t sound very sure of that.” A finger slid right over my pubic bone but stopped short of my clit. “Who am I?”
“Axel,” I tried again.
“Who?”
The man who owns my body and my pleasure. I leaned back against him, touching my tongue to the back of my teeth as I sucked in a breath. “Axel,” I breathed.
“That’s it,” he said, and rewarded me with a long stroke over my clit.
I was copiously wet and my clit throbbed under his touch, as if being neglected before had made it all the more desperate for contact.
“Last chance to take your gown off before I ruin it,” he whispered in my ear as his finger switched to circling my clit.
“Don’t stop,” I answered, my belly quivering. “Please don’t stop.”
I couldn’t imagine how a man could be so good at fingering a woman without feeling what she was feeling herself. Maybe he’d had a lot of practice. Maybe he was good at reading my reactions. Maybe both. I couldn’t really think that deeply about it while his hand played in my panties like a virtuoso. He spread my lips with his outer fingers while the inner ones teased the underside of my clit, and when that ache turned white hot and unbearable he soothed it with another round of circles.
On and on and on it went, until my panties were soaked with juices and my neck was soaked with sweat, until again we reached that point where it was too much for me and I tried to struggle away from him.
Except that just like before he held me fast and didn’t let me get away, plying the pleasure onto my flesh no matter how I writhed or struggled. The struggle became heated but again there was no way I could win it.
I reached the point of surrender once more, gasping as I went limp and then a second time as he chose that moment to plunge a finger into me, the sudden stimulation from inside rocketing me into orgasm. I found I was too hoarse to scream, but I made a long moan as his finger inside me continued to wiggle and crook against a pleasure spot inside, drawing the orgasm out longer than I expected and still not letting up when the peak had passed, making me cry out in distress. “Oh God, oh God!”
He clucked his tongue. “That’s not the name you mean to call out, is it?”
“Axel!” I sobbed. He didn’t let up one bit. “Axel, oh God, Axel.”
“Are you going to come again? Come again for me.”
I had often heard orgasms described as “explosions,” but this was the first one I’d had that felt like one. Like I blew apart. And still he did not stop, his finger inside me and the palm of his hand rubbing my clit, too.
I sobbed again. “Why don’t you stop?”
“Because you begged me not to,” he whispered, doubling the pace of his efforts. “Remember?”
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Axel!”
“Do you want me to stop now? Do you?”
I arched back against him, exploding again, screaming “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Except these were the yesses that meant I was coming, not “yes I want you to stop.” But he was merciful and let me finish coming before he slid his fingers out of me, settling to a slow, gentle massage between my legs. I could barely think: all I could do was feel. I felt incredible, every part of my body glowing, my heartbeat slowing. I couldn’t remember ever coming like that because no lover before had ever pushed me so hard. Is he that special? I wondered. Am I that special? I had an unfamiliar feeling I couldn’t define fizzing in my chest, and down below a new need, no less raging than the previous one, was burning hot.
“Mmm. You’re amazing,” he said, burying his face in my hair. “I could make you come all night long.”
I didn’t know what line I should deliver after something like that, so I said nothing. I’d had enough of orgasm and what I needed was much more … solid than that.
He gave me my cue. “Tell me what you want, Ms. Hamilton.”
“You, Axel.” My cheeks got hot all over again.
“Me? You have me.” He slid his fingers back and forth over my swollen pussy as if he knew that would make me feel empty inside.
“I want to have sex with you.”
“I am pretty sure what we just did counts as sex,” he said, sounding amused.
“Your cock, Axel,” I finally said, feeling the blush spread not just over my cheeks but over my whole body. And it felt good rather than mortifying—like my inhibitions had been ripped away by sheer need. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Are you sure? Consider before you answer. If I fuck you, I’m going to make you come on my cock.”
I growled. I wanted him to get to it now, not talk to me about it. “That’s the point of fucking, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s the point. But I’ll warn you. After you have my cock, you’ll find all others inferior. In fact, you might find it difficult to come without it inside you.” He gave me an insouciant grin. “Fair warning.”
“Prove it,” I said, trying to goad him.
“I will. When I’m good and ready,” he said. “I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here.”
The words laced through me like a shock, sending my mind tumbling and another rush of lust through me. Why did it affect me like that when he took charge?
I’d have to think about it some time when I could think. Right now he was pulling me down to rub my cheek against his erection and even though I didn’t really have a thing for oral sex I found myself salivating. His flesh was hard as stone. I could feel it throbbing and it was like every throb was answered by one between my legs.
“You feel that?” he said. “You still want it?”
Each word he said only melted away my resistance even more. “Yes, Axel, yes.”
“Then you’ll do exactly as I say, won’t you, Ms. Hamilton?”
“Yes!” There wasn’t any idea in my mind of doing anything except exactly what he said. Wanting him blotted out any other thoughts. I hadn’t known it was possible to want someone, or something, so much.
AXEL
“All right. Just remember, you asked for it.” This was going way better than I could have dreamed. Ricki Hamilton was like putty in my hands. Warm, hormone-soaked, woman-scented putty. Yes, the playboy image was definitely working a lot better than my old one, which Christina called “emo urchin.” The less said about that the better. I ran my hand up and down between Ricki’s legs one more time for good measure. “On your hands and knees.” I pushed her forward for effect and she went with it, wiggling her ass toward me as I flipped her gown over her back.
“Hold still,” I told her, and I reached into the storage compartment where I had stashed some stuff. Sakura and I had originally planned to go from the ceremony to a series of parties, so I had previously stashed my toiletry bag and a change of clothes.
I took out the straight razor with one hand while I rubbed her buttock with the other. “I meant it when I said hold still.”
She froze. I slipped the blade under the edge of her panties and cut them away. I think she said “holy shit” or something like it.
I was kind of thinking the same thing. Ultimate bad-boy sex. Taking charge sure as hell was working for me. Every time my erection started to flag a little, I would say something and it would kick back up. Right now it was stiff as a flagpole. I slid my boots off and finally got out of those damn faux-leather stretch pants.
Condom. Just in case. I tossed it in front of her. “Open it.”
It turned me on so much whenever I saw her hands shake. She took the little square in her fingers without picking her elbows up off the carpet. “I thought you said you were clean,” she said.
“I am. I just like the fact that t
his shows you what’s coming. You’re about to get fucked, Ms. Hamilton. In case there was any doubt.”
She could barely tear it open her fingers were trembling so much, but she was waggling her behind at me at the same time. Wetness oozed down beautifully; I wasn’t going to need lube, that was for sure.
“Good. Hand it back to me.”
I took the condom from her and rolled it onto myself. She hadn’t turned to look at me and I wondered about that. Was she that completely submissive to me at that moment? I decided to find out.
“Face on the carpet. Reach back and spread your cheeks. Show me where you want me.”
She did it without hesitation. So hot. I wondered if I was even going to last three seconds inside her.
Better take it slow. I rubbed the head up and down against her, getting it good and slick.
I decided to fuck her with just the tip. I wrapped my hand around my shaft and fed the two inches or so sticking out into her. That produced a lovely whimper. So did the thrusts that followed, shallow but numerous. Yes, that was nice.
Her whimpers took on a desperate edge and she began to rock back against me, but she couldn’t make me go deeper with my fist around my cock like it was.
“What do I have to say to get you to fuck me for real?” There was a hitch in her voice, almost like she was about to cry.
“Hush now. I’m getting to that.”
“Please?”
“I mean it. Hush.”
She fell silent and I felt her slip back down into surrender. So amazing. So trusting.
Time to reward her for it. I stopped teasing and slid all the way into her. Her head came up with a gasp and I guessed that she wasn’t expecting me to go so deep or to feel so big. I honestly haven’t compared dick size with too many other guys—I mean, other than the guys in the band—but that was the reaction of a lot of women.
There are a lot of parts of sex I like. I like kissing and I like orgasm and I like everything in between. But there’s something special about that first moment of penetration. I get pissed off when they don’t bother to show that part in porn. That first time the key fits in the lock is special. I wondered if she felt it, too. It seemed like it, as she kept her head back and a long moan of pleasure slowly escaped from her. Each time she breathed I felt her squeeze me. She turned her head to the side and I saw her eyes were closed in ecstasy. And to think I hadn’t even started to move yet.
I love that first minute or so after penetration, while my partner’s body is molding inside to fit me.
Ricki Hamilton was reshaping her insides in the shape of my cock.
I had to be careful with thoughts like that. Almost made myself come. Maybe it was just the intensity of the moment but it felt to me like a perfect fit, and I don’t just mean like a hand in a glove—heart, mind, soul, I was in her and it felt like I belonged there.
You’re just high on the Grammys, I told myself. Christina had warned me about having a “Velcro” reaction to groupie sex, but never once had I felt like this just from putting my cock into someone.
But of course it wasn’t “just” that. It was the way she had looked at me, the way she had felt in my arms, the scent of her skin and the sound of her voice. Her firm but long-suffering voice when she had been struggling to keep being polite to that tool of a date she’d brought, and her quavering, overwhelmed voice as she’d submitted to me. I’d played around with BDSM with some girls before, cheeky bottoms who liked being spanked and fucked hard. It was like an extreme sport to them and I’d enjoyed it, but it had never made me feel like this.
Like I never wanted to pull out. Like I never wanted my skin to stop touching hers. I leaned down, pressing my chest to her back, moving the stray parts of her dress so I could get as much skin contact as I could.
And then I murmured in her ear, the orange-blossom scent of her hair intoxicating me. “Are you ready for me to move?”
She nodded, her breathing rough.
“Good. Because I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you.” Dirty talk, for sure, and a little bravado on my part since I really couldn’t come up with words to describe how complete I felt with her in my arms, with her body joined with mine.
I started slow, withdrawing a few inches, but my own urgency and need to claim her drove me to snap my hips hard, as if I could crack open the secrets of Ricki Hamilton that way.
She was gorgeous under me. I should have made her take the dress all the way off so I could see more of her, but then again being partly draped with fancy fabrics was sexy, too. Her spine was long and straight, her skin shimmering with perspiration, the curves of her ass pale and perfect. She matched my rhythm as I sped up and set a long-distance runner sort of pace, as if she were in sync with me. Unmatched. Could sex be better than this, could a woman be more perfect?
Wait. I thought of a way to make the sex better, and it was the same way as before. Dominate her. Spanking was way too obvious.
“I’m in control of your pleasure, Ms. Hamilton.”
She nodded, lowering her head to the carpet again. So beautiful in her submission. So sweet.
“It’s time for you to come again,” I told her, as I reached under her to find her clit.
“I don’t think I can,” she said breathlessly.
“Say my name,” I urged her. What had we said it meant earlier? That it was the word for the man who owned her pleasure? “I want an orgasm, Ms. Hamilton.”
“Axel,” she said, and sucked in a breath as my fingers squeezed her clit from the sides at the same time I thrust into her.
“If you can’t, you can’t, but you have to at least try. For me.”
“Yes, Axel,” she said, her eyes closed with effort now, her body rocking back against me.
“That’s a good girl,” I said. “I’m not coming until you do.”
I brought her to the edge again, her moans and gasps loud and desperate, her muscles gripping me tight inside, but I couldn’t seem to get her to go over the edge. Holding back was getting harder and harder the more sounds she made and the louder she got. I felt like having demanded that she come again, I owed it to her and myself to make sure she came again. Otherwise we’d both be let down.
“Hands behind your back,” I commanded and nearly came myself when she instantly complied. Intending to just keep her in that position, I tore a decorative strip of fabric from her dress and wrapped it around her wrists.
But the moment I pulled the binding tight she went off, screaming and spasming inside, an orgasm so sudden and intense that it triggered mine, too. I drove into her with every ounce of energy I had left.
When I was finished I didn’t even want to go soft because it was going to mean slipping out of her. Maybe Sakura was right about the dom thing being more important than I gave it credit for.
Maybe there was no maybe about it.
CHAPTER FOUR
RAZOR SHARP
RICKI
I had never been completely undone by sex before. I had thought it was all about wanting cock. Big deal: Gwen had a whole catalog of high tech ones of those. But once I had Axel Hawke’s cock inside me I realized the intense craving for him to fuck me had been so large it was hiding a much more frightening need.
A need for connection. Like we were the only two people in the world, like I was the only person who mattered to him and he was the only one who mattered to me. I worried about so many people—my sister, my father, my staff, my boss at Blue Star, the press—but in that moment it was as if they were on the other side of a glass wall, a wall he built with his … his … dominance. When Axel was in control my worries were shoved out the door. Then I felt him moving inside me. Until then I hadn’t realized that the deep-deep ache I felt in my bones was loneliness. A pain no space age dildo could assuage.
While he fucked me Axel became my everything. My absolute everything. And in the moment that felt so right, so good, so noble and true.
But then it was over and I started to “come to my senses.” As I
lay there under Axel Hawke with my cheek against the limo’s carpet, I thought: That expression is completely wrong. First you come. And then your senses return one at a time. First came sensation, or maybe that had never left. But now instead of feeling the pounding beat of pleasure below my hips, the main thing I noticed was how scratchy the carpet was against my face. At least the carpet didn’t smell. Then came hearing. The limo was still moving and I could hear the thump-thump of the stereo of a car passing us on the freeway. My tongue tasted like I had run a marathon and I wished for Grant’s champagne. The realization of what had just happened—what I had just done—was starting to creep in. I opened my eyes. The scrap of cloth he’d tied my wrists together with had ended up on the floor next to my face and the disco ball was still going.
“Could we turn that thing off?” I asked.
Axel popped upright. “Sure.” He switched it off, and changed the lights to a rosy indirect glow. “That better?”
“Much.” I moved slowly, investigating how I felt physically while I put off examining my emotions as long as possible.
I tried to pull the gown up around myself and decided modesty at this point was borderline hypocritical. Especially when Axel, buck naked, rearranged himself to recline comfortably on his side, his head propped on one bent arm. Now I could see the tattoo was a long, skinny black dragon that had one of his nipples in its stylized mouth. He picked up an old phone handset attached to the car and talked to the driver briefly. I got the impression they knew each other, or maybe Axel Hawke was just that friendly with everyone.
“We’re not far from Sakura’s if you want to get cleaned up there?”
I blinked.
He sat up and put a hand on my arm. “You all right?”
I cleared my throat. “Fine. Just had my mind blown, is all.” My shaken heart and mind would all settle back down in a few minutes, right?
The thought struck me then that I was going to be answering tabloid questions about Axel Hawke for months. Which might have been fine if a publicity stunt had been the extent of it.