How to Reprimand Your Rock Star (DommeNation #2)

by Mina Vaughn

  He put his hand on mine. “I’m glad.”

  “You didn’t have to do this,” I said, focusing on keeping my fingers from trembling beneath his slightly calloused touch. “I feel bad not flying with the team.”

  His eyes darkened for a moment, and he slid the glasses off his nose and tucked them in his pocket. “Before this weekend is through, you’re going to have to pick, you know.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, stiffening.

  “Me or the team.”

  I made a disgusted sound in my throat. The nerve of this guy. “I just met you, okay? This is fun,” I said, gesturing to my posh surroundings, “but I have a scholarship. I have obligations.”

  He nodded. “Perhaps that’s why I like the challenge.”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Keaton squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry, we got off to a bad start today. How about some champagne?”

  I declined. “Too early. Plus, intense practice tonight after we arrive. Bad idea.”

  “I’m full of bad ideas, especially ones involving tiny closets,” he purred, leaning in to my ear. “Have you given any thought to what you’d like to do once we arrive?”

  I swallowed, feeling his fingers move from squeezing to stroking. “Win.”

  He gave his lip a little bite. “Mmm, I like winning. Especially when the stakes are high and the prize is so delicious.”

  Sitting further up in the seat, I looked at him directly. “I will be with the team most of the time. You get that, right? There are curfews and rules and as much as I want to . . .” I trailed off, searching his face for any sign of disappointment, “spend some more quality time with you, I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

  He pulled something out of his pocket. My lucky roll of tape. That was in my suitcase, how did he get it?

  “What if I kept this? Could you play without your little charm?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “If you think you can hold me hostage with superstition, think again. My future is on the line. I am not to be fucked with right now.”

  He smiled and tossed me the tape. “I needed to see that fire again, Goddess. Thank you for burning so bright.”

  “Why do you keep calling me that?”

  He shrugged. “Because I can see that you value everything your namesake did. Battle, fair and brutal. Wisdom, to temper the storm inside you. Your parents must have had some oracle blood in them when they named you Athena.”

  I blinked. “I told you my name was Thea.”

  He laughed and flicked his eyebrows at me. “Are you denying your namesake, Goddess?”

  I grumbled a no. “I still don’t know how you know so much about me.”

  Keaton reached forward and took one of my curls in his hand. “Does it matter?” he asked, voice now soft. “Don’t fight who you are, and I won’t fight my nature either. Just go along for the ride. You’ll learn much and conquer a great deal, oh Pallas Athene.” He slid his finger up into the curl suggestively, and pulled it back out. I felt my stomach clench.

  “Some say she got that name because she killed Pallas,” I noted.

  Keaton flagged down a flight attendant and ordered a sparkling water. “Ah, so the classics major finally shows herself.”

  “Well, since you automatically know so much about me, Keaton, why don’t you tell me a little bit more about you?”

  He bowed his head. “Anything for you. What do you want to know?”

  I was surprised by his answer. Instead of one of his quirky, flippant answers, his face was open and sincere. His round baby blues sparkled and I forgot what I was talking about.

  “I lived most of my life in England. Met my bandmates there about ten years ago, and we’ve been on tour pretty much ever since. We rarely take breaks. These boys live for life on the road.”

  I listened, nodding. “That must be hard. Not putting down roots.”

  He shook his head. “It’s thrilling. New cities, new faces, and yet they all sing along,” he said, leaning closer. “You didn’t sing along, though.”

  I blushed. “I’m sorry. The performance was amazing, seriously. I just, um, never heard of you guys.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  “You don’t mind?” I asked.

  He sat back in his seat and rested his head against the pillow. “It was a relief, meeting you.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because you didn’t sing along. Not from the first note. You looked in my eyes, all fire and curls, and gave me hell. Fuck, Thea, I liked it.”

  My chest seized and again I felt that familiar feeling he gave me. A breathless, thrilling emotion that felt exposed like raw nerves but smooth and exotic like satin sheets. “You like that I didn’t know you.”

  “I liked that you gave me a piece of your mind. That you stopped me from doing what I wanted. That you treated me like any other punk who stole into the girls’ locker room for a cigarette break.”

  I shrugged. “I just did what I was feeling. I wasn’t trying, you know.”

  This time when he reached out for my hair, he took a fistful of curls and ran his fingers through the bundle of strands. “It’s what’s most beautiful about you, you know. Not those full lips or this wild mane of yours, Goddess. It’s your free, untouched spirit. Bold, honest, and a little naïve.”

  I leaned toward him, boldness and honesty wanting to trump naiveté. “That’s why you want me to tie you up?”

  He nodded. “I want to see you free your goddess.”

  Damn it. I couldn’t pin down a time where I’d be able to see him in North Carolina, but he was here now. Strategy: get him while I can.

  “I don’t want to see you free at all,” I said with a chuckle, pulling the lucky tape out from where I had stashed it.

  His expression brightened. “You’re thinking of doing something inappropriate, aren’t you?”

  I nodded with a sharp jut of my chin. “Wait one minute and then come join me in the bathroom on the left,” I said and stood, walking on skittish foal legs to the first-class restroom.

  I slid the door open and collapsed against the small wall. Jesus! What was I doing in here? I looked in the mirror and hardly recognized myself. My brown eyes were wide with anticipation, and the flush I was feeling had made my cheeks and lips glow. Although I still had no idea who Keaton was, aside from a freaking rock god, I knew he was good for me. Not for the long run, but certainly for right now. I held the tape in my trembling hand as I listened for his footsteps outside the door. I pushed myself further inside as he opened the door.

  “So, Goddess, how can I assist you?”

  “I—I—” I fumbled, “I don’t need assistance. I just . . .”

  Keaton held his finger to my lips. “There’s that naiveté again,” he crooned. “Assistance could mean a number of things.”

  I nodded. “Okay. What did you have in mind?” I had to play it cool, just like in that game of Horse. Make it hard for him, and watch him match my shots.

  Easy, right?

  Keaton sighed and pushed my hair behind my shoulders. “I like you being in charge, remember? I think you have a few ideas on how I could assist you,” he said, kissing my shoulder. I thought I could hear my skin sizzle upon contact. Nobody had ever made my body do that. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling so sensitive. My breaths came heavy as he continued sweeping his lips across my collarbone. “So, how would you like me?”

  “Well,” I said, attempting to turn the tables, “considering we’re headed to North Carolina and not Miami, I’d say your knack for knowing things is off.” Plus, our first time in a bathroom—no thanks.

  He slid the strap of my tank top off my shoulder and kept moving his mouth downward across the swell of skin. I fought a gasp. “Things won’t be finished here,” he whispered into my skin, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you come again.”

  I gasped as his fingers clung to the strap, and his kisses softly pattered against the top of
my breast. Don’t freeze, don’t freeze, I told myself. This sensation, so thrilling and new, nearly paralyzed me. I exhaled a soft moan, letting some of the tension out.

  “You just tell me what you want. I’m here to serve,” he said, slinking his tongue out, leaving a hot, wet trail. “To worship.”

  I panted, my legs clenched, and I summoned the courage to force the words out of my mouth. “Keep,” I breathed, “keep using your tongue.” There was no way I’d be able to talk dirty right now, not a chance. Hell, I didn’t even know exactly what I wanted. I just knew I needed him to keep going.

  He chuckled and nuzzled against my chest, peering up at me with those baby blues. “Where?” he asked, blinking. “To fully please you, I’d like some more specific orders.”

  I tipped my head back against the wall for leverage. I swear my legs were going to give out. Take control, I told myself. It was what he wanted, and it sure as fuck was what I wanted. I channeled my inner Scarlett and opened my mouth.

  “Take off my top,” I growled.

  He grinned and took my thin tank-top strap in his teeth and pulled down, freeing one breast. His left hand reached for the other side and pulled my shirt all the way around my stomach. My chest heaved as I felt his stubbly jaw scrape against my sensitive skin. His tongue slid between my breasts and his hands stroked gently from my collarbone down to my navel. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sensation.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, pushing me further into the wall and taking a sensitive nipple into his mouth. We had bypassed first base today, I noted. Good thing I played basketball and not baseball. While this new sensation made me beyond ecstatic, part of me longed for the sweet and silky kiss like the ones we shared backstage and in the closet.

  Then I remembered I was in charge, and if I wanted a kiss, I could take one.

  Yanking Keaton by his hair, I pulled him to my mouth. “I want a kiss here first,” I breathed, and took a long and deep kiss from him.

  Then I pushed him back down to my nipple and he nibbled it roughly.

  I gasped at the feeling, and fought the urge to reach for his clothes. I wanted to see him the way he was before, sweaty and shirtless. He sucked harder and I moaned, involuntarily lifting my hips to him.

  He took the moan as encouragement, and licked and bit and sucked. “Take your shirt off too,” I said, recalling his encouragement to tell him what I wanted. Plus, our little closet encounter left me wanting to touch his skin so badly.

  Keaton looked up, mouth red and swollen and wet and opened the buttons on his tight black shirt. “Like this?”

  I nodded. “Just like that.” He tossed the shirt to the floor and was about to bring his mouth back to my nipple but I took his head in my hands.

  “No,” I said.

  His face fell, but he nodded. “Whatever you want.”

  Power surged through me. Here was a man used to getting whatever he wanted, and yet he’d still stop if I wanted him to. He misunderstood my directions, however.

  I pushed him to a kneeling position. I needed to know what that felt like. “I want to stretch again.”

  “Yes, please,” he said, running his finger across the waistband of my workout pants. I gripped my fingers in his hair and pulled him to my hips, showing him exactly what I wanted. God, I had imagined his tongue inside me ever since the concert two weeks ago.

  “May I?” Keaton asked, rolling the top of my pants down, exposing my purple polka dot underpants. I didn’t think I’d need my fancy stuff on the plane. Oops.

  “Consider it an order,” I said, surprised at the husky tone of my voice. I smirked at myself. Scarlett would be so proud.

  “I am . . . unworthy, Goddess,” he said, pulling my pants and shorts down in one swift motion. He pulled them off one leg and I swung my thigh around his neck. Keaton didn’t hesitate for one second, he simply buried his face and fingers between my legs and got to work. I gasped so hard I thought I’d get us caught. His mouth and tongue moved in perfect synch, slipping in me, slinking up me, making me bite my tongue to keep from screeching his name. I looked down, at my fingers stroking the black and blue peaks of his hair, at his face intensely kissing, his fingers gently rubbing. Within moments, I was undone. I moaned, completely ignorant of anyone else outside the lavatory who may be listening, and gripped his shoulders as the pleasure snapped and unwound inside me.

  The plane shook, and Keaton pulled away with a mischievous look on his face.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice said over the speaker as I nearly collapsed against the wall, body numb with pleasure, “the fasten seat belt sign has been turned on. Please remain seated. We are hitting a pocket of turbulence.”

  “Can’t say my skills had ever brought a plane down, but there’s a first for everything,” Keaton said, pulling himself to standing and gently scooting my shirt back up. “I do look forward to more of your orders, Goddess.”

  I nodded, completely unable to form words, and we finished dressing. He scooted out of the bathroom first, and I followed a minute later. Nobody in the cabin seemed to notice, but then again, who knew if Keaton did this sort of thing a lot. That thought nearly gave me pause—was I becoming a groupie? The feeling sunk inside me and all the newfound sensations began to fizzle and become replaced with shame. A groupie. No, not me.

  As I found my seat again, I saw that Keaton had poured us both some sparkling water. “You must be parched,” he said, handing it to me as I buckled myself in.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking the drink and a long sip.

  “Anything for you,” he said. “And you know you can have anything from me. I want your orders, anytime, anyplace.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at him and nodded.

  Huh.

  No, I decided, I wasn’t a groupie. A groupie would have gone into that bathroom for his pleasure. To blow him, or to fuck him. No, Keaton wanted to please me in there.

  Maybe he was my groupie.

  “Then come here,” I said, yanking the collar of his shirt toward me. He looked surprised but delighted at the move. “You don’t seem to be the cuddly type, but I am,” I explained, and pulled him close to me. Keaton put his arm around me and sidled up.

  “Oh, I could get used to orders like this,” he replied. I stifled a giggle.

  “Did you go to college?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, but I’m probably just as well versed in the classics.”

  “I’m curious about your Greek tattoo,” I said, touching his shoulder, “the Lion Gate of Mycenae.”

  He smiled. “My mother was Peloponnesian. She died when I was just a baby. I got this to honor her.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “Your name is decidedly un-Greek.”

  “Well, my middle name is Kyrios.”

  I high-fived him. “You’re my people!”

  He laughed. “So yes, the tattoo has a meaning. They all do actually. We can do an in-depth lesson some time,” he joked.

  “I want to know more.”

  Keaton shrugged. “My dad was a musician, too, and we were on the road often. He never hit it big, but we did get to see the world. We traveled all over South America by bus, backpacked in the Alps, and even stayed at hostels between shows. It was just him and me and a guitar most of the time. He passed away before he could see me reach the stardom he had always longed for.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Keaton waved his hand. “Don’t be. I know he’s proud. Of my music, at least. Not necessarily my antics.”

  I pinched his arm and was startled to see someone next to me.

  “Glad to see you’re comfortable in first class, Thea,” Coach Dunks said.

  My face fell. “Yes, sir,” I replied, fumbling for an explanation as to why I was, well, cuddling with a rock star.

  “I came up here to relay some of the strategy Reese and Donelle had discussed, but I see you’re busy.”

  “Coach, I—”

  “Just,” he said, shaking his head in disappr
oval, “keep your head in the game.”

  The rest of the flight was short and definitely less eventful than before Coach had given me a reverse pep talk, but when Keaton and I parted, he took my hand. “Things will fall into place,” he said. “I’ll see you.”

  People had begun to stand and exit, and soon I’d be with the team. “Well, should we make plans? I have practice tonight, but—”

  “I have a show tonight,” he said, “and some press stuff.”

  My face fell. “When will we . . .” I trailed off. The first game was tomorrow night, and all day we’d pretty much be discussing strategy, watching videos, and practicing. No time to slip out, and he’d be gone by our second game.

  “Just trust me. Keep your phone handy. I will serve you yet, Goddess.” And without another word, Keaton the megastar exited with his entourage, leaving me with nothing but his cryptic prophecies and a stunned silence.

  The team joined me easily, forgiving my absence much better than Coach had done, but then again, they didn’t see me lounging, post-orgasm, with a superstar.

  “How’s the knee holding up?” Callie asked, pulling me aside and a few paces behind the crowd as we headed to the bus that would take us to the hotel. “Was he up in first class with you?” she whispered in a high pitch and a hot burst of breath.

  I poked my finger in my ear to dislodge the uncomfortable moisture. “Jeez, Callie,” I grunted. “Yes, he was.”

  Her hands flew to her mouth and she stifled a squeal.

  I smirked at her.

  “You didn’t,” she said, eyes wide.

  “No, we didn’t,” I said, voice coyly dodging her accusation.

  “But . . .” she prodded.

  I shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m very relaxed,” I said, shaking my shoulders. “Loosened up some tension.”

  She slapped my shoulder. “You bitch!”

  I pushed her gently. “I know.”

  “Ahhhh!” she shouted. “Details?”

  “Not on your life,” I said as we closed in on the group. Our duffel bags were being loaded into the side and one by one, we marched up the steep stairs of the bus.

  Callie slid into the seat next to me. “Eight inches?”