Sex in Numbers (S.I.N. Rock Star #1)

by S. R. Watson

  “Oh well, I don’t remember at the moment.” He moves aside and let me brew my coffee. He is different today somehow. I’ve experienced his hot and cold before. I must say that I’m not a fan.

  “Look, if it’s about what happened last night, don’t sweat it. It was fun and now it’s over. You don’t have to worry or making things awkward.” Diesel walks over to me and I’m not ready for his response. He cups my face and kisses me slow and passionately. There is no hesitation or teasing like he normally does. This kiss is unlike the others. I feel that he is trying to express himself this way, but I have no idea what it means. I wrap my arms around his neck and he deepens the kiss. He palms my ass and brings me closer to him. I don’t miss the bulge in his jeans.

  “Shut up,” he finally says, breaking the kiss. “Get out of your head.”

  “What does this mean, Diesel?” I don’t want to push or have expectations, but I’m not a mind reader. What are we doing? What does he want from me?

  “Uhhh, I have to go, Lourdes. We’ll talk later. I can’t answer that right now.” He takes a huge sip of his coffee before he jets in the direction of the door. So, he’s running again. What the fuck? One thing is for certain. We do need to talk. He can’t keep screwing with my emotions.

  I march upstairs and grab my phone. Diesel gave me his number, right before I moved to the dorms, but I have never had a reason to call him. I think this warrants a phone call. His phone goes straight to voicemail. Shit. I’m not willing to give up though. I need answers, so I know what I need to do. Later, when Xander gets ready to bring us back, I can’t go. Brooke will have to go back alone. Diesel will have to bring me back tonight or tomorrow, but I’m not leaving here without answers. I don’t want to spend all week trying to figure out his cryptic messages and indecisiveness.

  When Diesel gets back to the house, he is stunned to see me sitting on the sofa. He looks around before walking over to me.

  “What are you still doing here?” He looks at his watch. It’s just after two. “Xander told me he was bringing you and Brooke home around noon.”

  “Yes, he left to take Brooke home about an hour ago.” I fidget because I know this is it. I can’t chicken out.

  “Well, why didn’t you leave with them? What’s going on?” He lowers his voice. “Where is everyone else?”

  “They’re all gone. I stayed because we need to have that talk. The kiss this morning was confusing and unfair. I feel like you’re taking me on a ride I didn’t agree to get on.” I watch as he clenches his fist and his face hardens.

  “Kiss?” Okay so tough shit. He doesn’t like me bringing up the kiss. Maybe it was a moment of weakness for him, but it shows even more, why we need to talk.

  “Okay, forget the kiss. Last night you said we needed to talk. What did you mean by that?” His face relaxes and he runs a hand through his hair.

  “Honestly, I didn’t think we’d be having this conversation today. Thought you’d be gone.” He takes a seat next to me and rests his elbows on his knees. He laces his fingers together and then finally looks over at me. “Be sure you want to know what you’re asking,” he warns.

  “I’m tired of tap dancing around the unknown. What the hell are we doing, Diesel?”

  “Well, princess, I thought we were fucking, but what do you call it?” He smirks and I swear I just want to smack the sarcasm right out of him.

  “Okay, I see this was pointless.” I stayed for nothing. He’s not going to be serious. He just wants to string me along. Damn him, if he thinks I’m just going to serve up the ass the next time he gets the urge to mess with me again. I’m half way standing when he uses one hand to push me back onto the sofa.

  “Sit down, Lourdes. You want answers…just remember you asked for them. I won’t sugarcoat shit.”

  “I didn’t ask you to.” We stare at each other for what seems like eternity before he breaks the silence.

  “You’re a submissive,” he says bluntly. He stares at me expectedly, waiting for my reaction. What the fuck?

  “What the hell are you talking about? No, I’m not.” What kind of crack is he smoking, because surely he’s tripping or high or whatever the fuck crack does to you.

  “Do you even know what it means to have a submissive nature?” He quizzes me like it’s supposed to fucking matter. I’m not that. I roll my eyes. See that. That eye roll means fuck you, I voice internally.

  “It means some freaky kink shit, where you get off on the guy telling you want to do, and if you don’t listen, he gets to beat the shit out of you until you conform. No thank you.” He is biting his lip, obviously trying to keep from laughing at me. “What the fuck ever. I’m not one of those ‘please spank my ass and make me listen, Sir’ kind of bitches.” Holy shit. The other night…in the storage room… he said, Sir. He was trying to get me to say, “Yes, Sir.” Stop the fucking presses. Is he trying to tell me now that he is a dominant? Wait. And the song about him having demons. Holy shitballs.

  “I see the wheels turning, princess. Say it.” I scoot over a tad away from him. Does he want to beat me? “You’re analysis on what it means to be submissive is wrong, by the way. Women read too many romance novels. That shit isn’t real life.” It’s his turn to roll his eyes.

  “So you’re a Dooommm?” I stutter.

  “Dominant,” he finishes for me. “I am, I guess, but not in the traditional sense. My taste are somewhat modified and I don’t practice this on a regular basis. I’m very selective and very private, so I don’t BDSM clubs or anything remotely similar. There are varying degrees to the term, but yes, I like control. I’m different in that I don’t spank women—not to inflict pain anyway. I happen to like slapping your ass. It’s just so inviting and curvaceous . No, there are other means for me to deliver punishment if I deem it fitting, but for the most part, there is no need. The acts I partake in are consensual. The woman wants to submit—hence never forced or coerced. If a woman doesn’t want what I want, I walk away, simple as that.” My mouth falls open with all that I have just learned about him. I have to say, I never saw that one coming. I just thought he was a manwhore.

  “But we didn’t do any of that control stuff you’re talking about.” I have to say my curiosity has been piqued. How has he hid this about himself? I would have never guessed.

  “Exactly. You weren’t ready. I don’t share this part of myself with every woman I fuck.”

  “Sheesh. Why not? You consider it some sort a gift. Some sort of privilege.” Give me a break.

  “Something like that,” Diesel admits. I’m baffled. “That is not a part of me that I share willingly. It’s my dark place, and not everyone is equipped to handle that side of me, or deserves to know something so personal about me. If it’s going to be a quick rocks off session, why bother? They won’t be around long enough for me to care to indulge.”

  Hearing him talk about fucking someone else stings a bit. I don’t want to picture that shit. “So how does any of this make me a submissive?” I want to get back to his first accusation. How did he arrive at such an asinine conclusion?

  “It doesn’t. The two are independent of one another. My tendencies have nothing to do with yours. I just recognize the trait because I am a dominant.” He turns and places one knee on the sofa. He is facing me now and I can’t escape his scrutiny. He is watching my every move—my reaction to whatever it is he is about to tell me. “A D/s relationship is about power exchange, but a submissive is not powerless or weak. The submissive willing submits because she trusts that she will be taken care of. You’d be surprised to learn how many powerful women, executive types, practice the lifestyle. The relinquishing of responsibility can be liberating. The woman’s willingness to submit is her power.”

  “Again, what does that have to do with me?”

  “From the moment we met, there was a connection. I think subconsciously our inner needs recognized the traits in one another. That first day, you conceded to letting me keep my things in the closet of your room and to sh
aring the master bath with me, although there were other bathrooms in the house.”

  “That’s only because I didn’t want to be bitch and make you find a place for all of your shit, after I just took the room that was once yours. Also we were the only two bedrooms upstairs. Why would I insist you use a different bathroom than the one upstairs with us? It’s called compromise.” How in the hell did he make that inference? So I must be a submissive because I let him keep his shit in my room and was willing to share a bathroom?

  “Then, there was the shower incident. You stood there, frozen in place, and watched me shower. You could not move because I had affected you in that moment. Without trying, I had control. Just briefly, but it was there. I just didn’t make the connection until thinking back on it last night.” I laugh, but he just stares at me.

  “You are quite delusional.” Add that to your repertoire — manwhore, dominant, and delusional.

  “Hmmm. Then it was the change in your clothing. You started with the baggiest shit ever known to man. It may be simply coincidental, but after our run in with you getting out of the shower and conversation of how beautiful you were, things changed. You didn’t need the clothes or the make-up that you were hiding behind. You subconsciously submitted to my wishes.” If my eyes bug out any further, I think they’ll pop out of my head.

  “Just wow.” It’s the only coherent thought I can form at the moment. “Brooke is the one. You know what? Never mind. I don’t believe any of that.”

  “I can think of several instances, now that I’m thinking about them, but I won’t explore them all,” he continues, like I haven’t said anything. “Your last and final acts of submission was at the club last night. Contrary to your extreme need to be covered, you wore the skimpiest piece fabric one could get away with and still call it a dress. Of course, it was for my benefit—you needed to get my attention. You were seeking my approval, my desire, per se. It made my cock so hard during my whole performance. I knew I had to fuck you. I had to give you a taste of what you were asking for.” His eyes are hooded now, as he recalls our romp session in the storage room.

  “If all that isn’t proof enough, you gave me the most precious gift. I say precious; because it is something that you have never given to another, yet you gave to me so freely. You let me claim your ass, literally, in a final act of submission that erased all doubt for me.” I don’t know what to say. Yes, some of the things he said have some merit, but that doesn’t make me a submissive. It makes me a woman who is ready to explore her sexuality, after believing for so long that this feat wasn’t possible.

  “Diesel. You have your perceptions and idealizations about the reasons for my behavior. I can’t change that. You’re entitled to your opinion. Question is; what are we doing? You’re so hot and cold. One minute you’re dismissing me, without so much as a word or explanation, and the next minute you’re fucking me in the ass in a storage room. I’m not just a piece ass for you to fuck between groupies, when you’re bored, or simply when the mood strikes because you think you recognize some submissive behavior from me.” There I said it. I didn’t let my traitorous body keep me from getting my point across.

  “I’m not looking for a relationship, Lourdes. I won’t be your boyfriend. I can’t give you that. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to explore a D/s relationship with you. In that, I won’t sleep with anyone else. We would be exclusive.”

  “I’m not looking to be your kinky sex slave, Diesel.” He throws his head back and belts out a hearty laugh. It’s so contagious that I can’t help but to join in. We’ve gotten into a serious topic here, yet he is able to lighten it with a simple laugh.

  “Absolutely not, princess. Let me show you a side of me that so few get to see. I promise you unimaginable pleasure. I will introduce to things that will make your body sing. You can refuse or change your mind at anytime. I’m not into pain; so don’t have to worry about that. Mostly just a release of control and allowing me to introduce you to some things.” The look in his eyes is hopeful. I can’t believe I’m even considering this, but he said I could refuse anything or change my mind. I’m somewhat afraid, but I want the pleasure he promises. I want to take back my power by my decision to give it to someone. It will be my sexual experience, to be of my free will, and not decided for me.

  “Do I need a safe word?” I look down at my intertwined knuckles. Diesel cups my chin and makes me look up at him.

  “We will discuss beforehand the things I want to try with you, so you can tell me if anything is a hard stop. If you decide to try it and don’t like it, then you simply tell me to stop, or in some cases dig your nails in my arm.” Why would I dig my nails into him? Or do I even want to know? “I don’t want to talk about safe words right now, though, because my dick is already getting hard and ready to play. Unfortunately, I know they guys should be back any moment now, because we’re supposed to hear from Desiree by four today. It turns out that we don’t have to wait until Sunday,” he finishes.

  “So am I to assume your inquisition on safe words means you’re saying yes?” I ask. I said I didn’t want to talk about it, but it’s useless. I know the answer, but I need her to say the words. Verbalization of her understanding of this arrangement we’re about to enter.

  “What are you proposing? A D/s relationship where we explore your world of kink, and be sexually exclusive, minus any romantic relationship? Did I just about sum it up?” I can’t get a read on how Lourdes feels about this proposal, but she is correct.

  “It’s all I’m capable of offering. I’m not looking for a girlfriend or any false expectations of things leading to more. I want to fuck you in ways that will ruin your vanilla mentality and have your pussy aching for me. I can be faithful to the arrangement, but I won’t be yours in the romantic sense. If you catch feelings, all of this will end. I’m sorry, I don’t want a relationship with anyone.” Lourdes gets up and walks over to stare out of the window. I have to be honest up front. I don’t believe in trickery or playing with a woman’s heart. She has to be in this for the right reasons from the start. I don’t know if I’m capable of loving or being loved, so I rather not start down a path that leads to disappointment. Things are safer this way. No expectations equals zero disappointments. I am, however, willing to give her the best of me, if she lets me. My sins. My darkness. My demons. They define who I am and at present, the best I can offer, hence the best of me.

  “Okay,” she says so lightly, I’m unsure if I heard her correctly.

  “Okay, what?” I get up and walk over to the window where she is standing. She turns around and looks me directly in the eyes.

  “Sir. Okay, Sir.” I can’t believe my fucking ears. That is not what I was implying or expecting her to say. I was merely trying to get a clear answer of agreement of our arrangement. Those words coming from her mouth is music to my ears. My cock is at full attention now. She looks down, entering into submission mode. I lift her chin because that is not what I want. I put her hand over the hardness of my jeans, so she can feel how happy she has made me.

  “You see what you do to me?” I’m milliseconds from saying to hell with it, and bending her over right here, when I hear the door downstairs. The guys are back. Damn it. “You’re safe for now. But later—” I cut my sentence short as Keyser is the first one upstairs. Lourdes leaves out the door onto the deck, I’m guessing to hide that blush I’ve put on her face.

  “Have you heard from Desiree yet?” Gable asks following behind Keyser.

  “Not yet.” I look up at the clock. It’s twenty past the hour. Her call is late. “Don’t worry. She’ll call.” I don’t want to worry, but I’m curious as to why we haven’t heard anything. What if the executives said no? This would be a major disappoint for the guys.

  “What if they’ve decided not to bring us on?” Keyser asks, echoing my thoughts.

  “Then we keep trying. Platinum records is huge, but if they don’t sign us, then it’s their loss.” The door opens and closes downstairs. Xander�
��s back. I might as well find something to watch on the TV, I hate this waiting shit. Patience is not a virtue for me.

  “Look who I found outside,” Xander announces as he enters the room. It’s Desiree. My heart speeds up as I jump off the sofa.

  “Hello, guys. Sorry I’m late. That traffic was monstrous, but I didn’t want to deliver the news over the phone.” That has to be good news right? Surely she wouldn’t have driven all this way, just to tell us no. Xander waves at Lourdes to summon her to join us. Desiree heads to our dining table and sets down a briefcase. She has the tightest dress on. I can’t see how she can breathe, let alone walk. I see lust in the eyes of the guys with every step she takes in her stilettos. She swings her hips, not sure if it’s her natural switch, or if she is putting on an enticing show for us. Even Xander’s nose is open, and he has a woman that he is seeing at the moment. That long distance shit is for the birds. Still, I’m not even tempted. I just want the news. Is this the moment that changes our lives forever?

  “Not a problem. We’re glad that you made it. Unexpected, but a pleasant surprise,” I assure.

  “Glad to hear because I have some good news,” Desiree comments. My ears perk up and the guys move in closer to the table as she continues, “Our label wants to sign you guys.”

  “Hell yes!” Xander woots.

  “Oh man. How does this work? When do we start?”

  “Well, I’ve been assigned to manage you guys. Please understand that you won’t start as the main act. You guys have only a few of your own original tracks, and you don’t have a substantial following outside the bars you play.” I expected that we would have to put in the work. We’re ready to do what it takes. “We would start by having you guys be the opening act for Reckless Ambition”

  “Holy Shit.” I can barely contain my surprise. Those guys are fucking huge. I admire their sound and their story is similar to ours, in respect to how they got started.