Taking the Lead (Secrets of a Rock Star #1)

by Cecilia Tan

I nodded my head as best I could in the stocks like that, and then a fresh swat from his bare hand fell on my sore flank. We weren’t done? Somehow I had thought that my admission should have ended the scene, but no.

  Because admitting I needed to surrender, and actually surrendering were not the same thing. The spanking started gently. Yes, gently, but on my already sore skin it sent shockwaves of sensation through my whole body. His bare hand was so much more intimate than the paddle. He varied the angle, the pressure, the rhythm, as if he were transmitting a message in code right through my skin.

  And that message was I want you. I cherish you. I adore you. I love you.

  You’re endorphin high and imagining things, said a little voice in my head. But it was being drowned out by my cries, which sounded much less like yelps of pain than like throes of ecstasy.

  And to think we weren’t even having sex yet. Well, not in the strict sense.

  AXEL

  I know BDSM takes people to a lot of places in their heads. There’s no guarantee it’ll go where you want it to, though. It’s like jamming with other musicians. You know basically how the song goes but you get ideas while you’re playing, and you try them out, and if you like how it sounds, then you and the people you’re playing with can chase after it. Sometimes the chase takes you down a rabbit hole and sometimes it takes you right back where you started.

  When I spanked Ricki I had meant it to be the next step in punishing her, the next step after the paddle, but as I ramped up the spanking to full-force blows she sounded a lot more to me like she was getting ready to come again rather than confess more secrets to me. Maybe there were no more secrets? Sometimes you have to roll with it. I ramped back down to a light, sensual smacking and she moaned and thrust her ass back into my touch.

  I could barely stand it. I grabbed her by the flanks and ground against her. The denim probably felt rough against all that sore skin, but I wanted something else more than I wanted her suffering right then. I pushed my jeans down to the middle of my thighs and rubbed against her again, my cock against her tailbone.

  “How do you feel now?” I growled.

  I was not expecting the answer to be “Loved.”

  I was terrible at keeping up the cold, cruel dom act—especially when I answered “Really?”—but I thought I had at least done a credible job of being a kidnapper/interrogator. “Ricki, I’ve just beat you pretty much to the point of bruises and now I’m menacing you with my cock. You’re not scared?”

  “I told you, somehow I lose all fear when I’m with you. That’s the only reason you get through to me.”

  I kicked my jeans the rest of the way off and came around the stocks so I could look her in the eye. “I’ve got whips here. Knives. Buttplugs.”

  “Those were never what I was afraid of,” she said.

  “What were you afraid of?”

  “Mmm.” She took a moment to form the words. She was high on endorphins and her inhibitions were down. I wondered what she was going to say. “I was afraid to be myself. Maybe sometimes I still am, but … less and less. I’m learning that with you I don’t have to be afraid of that.”

  Wow. That was pretty big. “I want the real Ricki, you know. What else?”

  “I … I was afraid of love.”

  “Everyone’s afraid of love,” I murmured.

  “No, I mean … I had this idea that my dad was a failure because he’d lost the love of his life. Like his tragic story was that after my mom died, his whole life was derailed and went downhill. But now that I know more about it, I realize his life was already a wreck. I’m trying to wrap my head around the idea that my success or failure won’t be because of who I love. Or how.”

  “Mm. I’m very glad you’re coming to all these deep realizations,” I said. In fact, she was shedding her inhibitions and having epiphanies faster than I could keep up. Which was all good. “But I must be losing my touch if you’re this coherent,” I joked lightly. “You should be incoherent with lust by now.”

  What she said was so serious, yet she looked like she was holding back a grin. “You might have to hit me harder if you want me to be incoherent.”

  “Are you telling me you want me to get out the whips?”

  “Are they much worse than the paddle? I definitely deserved the paddle. I feel so much lighter now.”

  I kissed her, hard, a kiss she couldn’t escape, trapped in the stocks like she was. The kiss was supposed to give me some time to think about what to say to that, what to do next, but the next thing I knew I was too absorbed in kissing her to do much thinking.

  When I pulled back I was breathless and my lips felt swollen. She looked like she felt the same. And I was the one on the verge of being incoherent with lust. I forced myself to focus on words, on the message I was trying to get to sink in this time.

  “Okay. You feel loved, you feel lighter, you’re less afraid … What else are you feeling?” I asked as I moved around to run my nails appreciatively over her glowing butt cheeks.

  “Possessed.”

  “Like a demon …?”

  “I mean, by you. I feel very much yours, Axel.”

  I resisted the urge to pump my fist in victory even though she couldn’t see me behind her. And then I had an idea. “Aha, but will you still feel that way when I let you free?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  I undid the spreader bar from her ankles, then unlatched the stocks and lifted the top piece. “Stand up.”

  She took her hands from the notches and straightened up slowly, looking around nervously. Say what you want about how flattering clothes or sexy lingerie or fetishes are, but she was never more radiantly gorgeous than right now—buck naked, hair loose, and unsure what to do with her hands.

  “You feel loved and possessed and mine when I kidnap you,” I said. “But later, when the scene’s over, am I going back to being chopped liver? Am I going back to being a kinky thrill for you? A booty call you can make whenever you’re horny? An orgasm dispenser, a human dildo whose dick works on demand?”

  Her face was red as she moved to cross her arms over her chest. I swatted them down, making it clear her body was for my eyes. She put her hands on her hips instead, an intriguing bit of defiance.

  I wondered what was behind it. “Because that’s kind of how you’ve treated me,” I went on. “When you called me and said you needed me, I was there. When I tried to call you, you changed your number.”

  Her moment of defiance wilted a little, but only a little. She bit her lip and took a deep breath, making her chest rise. I let myself watch her tits instead of her face while she worked up to whatever she was going to say. “Okay, I confess that was unfair. But I had convinced myself you didn’t care that much. That caring for me was an illusion that you only maintained while we were playing. You know why I was able to think that? Because you let me. Because you never told me how you actually felt.”

  Oh, nothing hurts as much as the truth. Mal was right, too: I should have told her earlier. I mean, if she hadn’t been so damn skittish to begin with I would have said “I love you” a lot sooner, wouldn’t I? Hindsight’s 20/20. I wasn’t about to make it out as if my not telling her had been her fault.

  I nodded to acknowledge her point. “All right, Ricki. You’re right. Just goes to show I’m not perfect, either.”

  The look on her face was an excited smile and I knew I’d said the right thing. Now it was time to get to some serious sex, before my balls fell off in protest. But sex unlike any we’d had before.

  I moved to the corner of the room with the futon. It was on a platform a few inches high, and made up in bright pink bed sheets. I lay back in the middle of it and tucked the bare pillow under my head. “Let’s find out how you feel when I’m not forcing you, not tying you up. How do you feel when you could just run away?” I bent one leg and my erection bobbed. “When the choice of what to do next is entirely yours?” I had a moment of internal panic: what if she decided to just walk out now after all
? What if it was all too late?

  She did not walk out. She dropped to her knees and crawled to me. I wasn’t expecting that, and I wasn’t expecting that the sight of her crawling in my direction would practically make me come it was so hot. This wasn’t a sex-kitten kind of crawl, either. It was more of a penitential crawl. I think if she had been all raw-tigress about it I would have grabbed her and just fucked her silly on the spot, and it would have been fun and grand … but it probably wouldn’t have lasted, either. The pattern would just repeat again. It was time to see what would happen when I wasn’t “forcing” her, when I wasn’t teasing her or making her beg.

  When she reached the edge of the futon she sat on her heels and put her hands on her thighs. “I’m not running away. I … I shouldn’t have to rely on you to ‘convince’ me I need sex. If … if that’s what I want, I should be responsible for it.”

  “Am I what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure? I thought my outrageous sexuality was a detriment to you.”

  “That was one of the dumbest things I ever said. I want you, Axel.”

  “Prove it.” I put my hands behind my head and stretched out.

  Ricki licked her lips and looked me up and down.

  “Prove you’re not a do-me queen,” I continued. “Prove kink isn’t just a handy way to make sure all you have to do is lie there and look pretty while someone else does all the work and takes all the blame.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “You’ll … you’ll tell me if you like what I do, though?”

  “I think you’ll be able to tell.”

  “Will I? If I have to tell you what I’m feeling, can’t I ask for the same?”

  Oh. “Of course you can. I mean you’ll be able to tell because I won’t be holding anything back.” I reached out a hand toward her. “Come on, Ricki. You broke my heart. See if you can heal it again.”

  She grabbed my hand a bit harder than I expected and she started to tear up again, but another deep breath, another bite of her lip, and she had set herself to her task. She started by kissing me.

  Good place to start. She kissed almost chastely, exploring my lips with hers, parting them tentatively with her tongue, and then darting in to draw my own tongue into the dance. Every inch of me wanted to grab her by the hair and flip her over and take control again, but I held myself to a needy groan and kept my hands to myself.

  She pulled back with a glazed look in her eye and then proceeded to kiss her way down my body, pausing at my left nipple, and again at my left hip, until she had worked her way all the way down to the inside of my ankle. She cradled my foot and kissed it up and down the arch and across the tops of my toes. I’ve never had a foot fetish but I suddenly understood part of the appeal. She was abasing herself and yet she wasn’t—it was too loving and joyful to be abasement.

  She changed from kisses to licks on her way back up, licking the ticklish spot on the inside of my knee and then licking, licking, licking up the inside of my thigh. My breath caught in anticipation as I found myself suddenly hoping that the next thing in her mind was to suck my cock. The urge to just grab her by the ears, paint her lips with pre-come, and see how deep I could thrust was very strong. But I resisted. This was about seeing what she could and would do, about letting her have the lead and seeing what she did with it.

  She started with my balls and I let out a long purr as she discovered that if she mouthed them just the right way it sent me into an erotic haze. Nerves rooted deep in my system were firing and the tip of my cock leaked freely.

  Next she began to nibble along the shaft, cradling my balls in one hand and steadying my cock with the other while her mouth worked gradually upward. A string of expletives issued from my mouth without me even realizing it at first.

  When I did realize it she was nearing the crown, but then she began working her way down the other side and I switched to just repeating her name a million different ways. Fast, slow, breathless, rising in pitch, dropping in pitch, hopeful, like a growl …

  She moved to giving butterfly licks all over the head of my prick, as if cleaning it of the entire coating of pre-come, making me repeat her name faster and faster, and then essentially screaming it as she closed her delightfully wet, hot mouth over the whole thing.

  Oh fuck!

  I was coming before I could stop it, before I could say anything. She clamped on and took the first couple of spurts directly into her mouth before it became too much and she pulled off with a cough, but her hand kept pumping me and milking me until I had ceased shuddering and mewling like a cat. When I was done I yawned and stretched like one, too.

  Ricki wiped her mouth on the loose pillowcase and then settled on her knees near my head.

  “That was a good start,” I said, and I think that caught her off guard. I grinned wickedly. “A very, very good start. Now climb up here and keep me busy until I can get it up again.”

  RICKI

  I climbed astride Axel, wondering what I was going to do next. He shifted position, bending one leg and seating my sopping pussy against his thigh while sucking one of my nipples into his mouth.

  He let it go long enough to say, “I want you to rub one out on my leg.”

  “You mean come?”

  “Or fake it so well I can’t tell the difference,” he said with an evil grin.

  “What did you mean earlier when you said I was a better actress than I thought?”

  He toyed with my wet nipple with his fingers. “You really had me convinced you were an ice queen. That that was the real Ricki.”

  “It’s not,” I said. “But I can’t let the world see the real me.”

  “I don’t care what you show the world, Ricki Hamilton, so long as I’m the one who gets to see the real you. In fact, I like that thought. I’m the only one who gets to do this.” He wiggled a knuckle against my clit and jiggled his leg.

  “Oh fuck,” I said, vibrating with the motion. “How do you think of these things?”

  He turned his attention to my other nipple then, licking it and nuzzling. “I’m going to make this hurt a little, Ricki.”

  I swallowed. “Okay.”

  “The closer you come to coming, though, the less it’ll hurt. You know that, right?”

  “I believe you,” I said, rubbing myself a little harder against his leg. I don’t think I’d ever been that wet before.

  “So if you don’t like the pain, you’ve got the antidote.”

  “Am I allowed to come?” I asked.

  He grinned as if the question itself pleased him. “Yes. In fact, we might not stop until you do.”

  “Might?”

  “I reserve the right to change my mind, of course.”

  “Of cour—” I yelped as he latched onto my nipple like a lamprey, suckling so hard that I could feel his teeth.

  Those wicked teeth. I rubbed against him, trying to soothe the ache he was making. He switched to trapping my nipple between his teeth and torturing the nub with the tip of his tongue. And he would vary the pressure, ramping it up until it felt like it was going to be too much and then backing off. All the while I bucked and ground against him.

  He switched to the other breast, this time biting the side. He had his lips over his teeth but it still hurt like a motherfucker and I snaked my own hand between my legs, desperate to sweeten the sensation.

  But he was right: the closer to orgasm I got, the less like pain it felt, or the less I minded it. Eventually I was moving so much, bucking so hard as I got close, he couldn’t keep his mouth on me and he switched to pinching my nipples with his fingers.

  “Come on, Ricki. Come for me now, darling.”

  “Trying,” I gasped out. So close, so close! But it was like now that the pressure was on, it was hard to get all the way there.

  “You know me,” he said, increasing the pressure on my nipples, then backing off again and pulling on them in time with my bucking. “I don’t give up. Well, unless you say you really really mea
n ‘no,’ of course.”

  “No,” I said, “I mean, yes, I don’t mean no. I’ll get there, oh God, Axel … yes, yes, yes, yes!”

  Something finally flipped in Axel when I came, I think. He had been holding himself back the whole time, keeping something in reserve maybe, but when I came, he held me against him and kept rubbing me even after I’d pulled my own hand away.

  “Again, Ricki, again. Come on.”

  All I could do was moan. His bent knuckle fit perfectly against my clit and I screamed into the pillow next to his head as he set me off again.

  Before that one had even faded he had flipped me onto my back, grinding his thigh against me and then sliding downward until he had planted his face firmly between my legs. One finger was immediately tugging the swollen pleasure spot inside me while his tongue attacked my clit relentlessly.

  I screamed again, utterly ecstatic but utterly spent as the third orgasm in as many minutes exploded outward like a supernova of heat.

  I was limp and panting and his finger was still inside me, moving slowly now, I thought, because he was milking the last of the orgasm from me. But no, he was only waiting until I caught my breath.

  “Those orgasms were for you,” he said, as he raised his head and looked up my body. “These next three are for me.”

  “Three!”

  He nodded with evil glee on his face. “It’s only fair.”

  “I’m not even sure I can come again.”

  “It just might take a while,” he said, and buried his tongue in my folds once more.

  It did not take long at all for the next one. With two fingers in me now, he amazed me by finding tight spots that still needed release. His fingers and his tongue worked in time to coax another one out of me.

  But then I hit a plateau where that combination of fingers and tongue was no longer working. He folded me in half then, pushing my knees up to my shoulders and holding them there while his tongue dug around for another angle.

  My cries sounded loud in my ears even though I couldn’t breathe well in that position. My thighs echoed the sound back to me.

  His tongue felt like a nail file now—rough, stabbing at my clit. And yet my arousal continued to rise despite the torture. Or maybe because of it. Maybe that was the point. My cries turned to screams of desperation as I hovered on the edge of being able to come, as if I was stretched on a medieval torture rack, strung out with no relief.