Playing the Pauses (Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll Book 2)

by Michelle Hazen

  She gives me a look. “Easy for you to say when anything I do is just going to fuel speculation. Even a ‘no comment’ looks like pleading the fifth at this point.”

  “Hazard of the business. You’ll never be able to control what the world says about you, but there’s always a bright side. Notoriety is cheap, but fame?” I sweep my hand around at all the equipment around us, hauled in for just a few hours of use. “Is expensive. And as long as you, Jacob, and Danny know the truth, who cares what anybody says?”

  “Right.” She takes a deep breath. “As long as it gets them curious about our music, they can say what they want.”

  I take a step back as Danny dodges around us. Jera snatches a bra off his shoulder and fires it into Jax’s face when he passes. Her bandmates duck and leap through the backstage, ducking behind any cover they can find and then popping up to volley more undergarments at each other.

  “Is that all you got?” I call with a grin. “Kick it up a notch, boys, I want to see some panties on that stage by encore time!”

  “Ooh,” Jax takes a demi-bra to the chin as he breaks cover. “You hear that, Danny? She challenged us!” His face is bright with happiness, and I have to admit, stage sweat looks good on his chiseled jawline. He points at me. “When the fire trucks come to put out the flames, remember it was your idea.”

  “Big talk from the man who only managed a...” I bend and use two disdainful fingers to pick the heart-printed bra off Jera’s platform combat boots. “Thirty-two A? You think Jim Morrison went home happy with only a teenybopper flag flying from his pole?” I let it wave drolly from my fingers before I drop it. “Call me when you earn one that doesn’t need to come with its own padding.”

  Jax bursts out laughing, but then his gaze hitches to the left of me and I whirl to find Danny, his eyes dancing.

  “Challenge accepted.” And then he, very gently, drapes a bra over my head.

  “Oh, you so did not just touch me with groupie droppings. I know where you sleep, O’Neil.”

  “I’ve heard more frightening threats.” He arranges the shoulder straps so they hang just so against my cheeks. I try to work up a scowl and his rare grin only widens, an unnerving weightless sensation beginning to flutter inside my chest.

  Jera laughs. “All talk and no action, Danny-boy. You better get back out on that stage if you want to show her how it’s done.”

  I tip my head so the bra slides off right into his hands. He lets it drop, I flip a water bottle up into the air and he catches it without looking away. I start to breathe again, my confidence returning at the familiar snap of chemistry between us.

  “You heard the lady.” I give him a slow smile and rake my eyes down the length of him, all simmering sex in black leather. “Show me how it’s done.”

  I swivel toward the backstage, tossing the last water to Jax and letting my hips swing as I disappear down the hall.

  But once I’m back in the dressing room, my pulse is still racing. I pull a water bottle out of the ice bucket and press it to my forehead, closing my eyes. This thing between us just keeps growing, and stalling isn’t doing a thing to help me regain my balance. After all, I was never going to say no. I just wanted to be sure I was in control before I said yes.

  Putting down the water, I pull out my phone and send Danny a text I know he won’t get until after he comes off stage tonight.

  Room 3655. Midnight. When I let you in, turn to face the door and do not speak. Your safeword is Mercy.

  WHEN THE SINGLE KNOCK comes on my hotel room door, I’m smoothing a bold crimson over my lips. I pucker a kiss and flare darkened eyelashes at my reflection. Showtime. I pick up the black silk scarf and slink away from the vanity.

  Limited packing means I have only a single set of heels, but fortunately they are black, a perfect match for the lingerie I sent the venue’s runner to buy during the second half of the show. If she stays in the business, I doubt it’ll be the weirdest thing she’ll ever be sent to pick up.

  Thanks to her, my body is smoothed into a midnight lace teddy with virginal white ribbons teasing around the edges and winding down the garters that frame a pair of panties. They’re more of a suggestion than a rule: barely veiling the place where I’m already growing warm at the thought of Danny waiting in the hallway.

  I make a quick adjustment to center my garter and tug up my stocking. Then I check the peephole and open the door, letting it shield me from the hallway as Danny steps inside. I drop the door closed behind him.

  His eyes go straight to mine and I grip his arm and spin him to face away.

  I drop the silk over his eyes and his breathing picks up as I tie the first knot, careful not to pull his shower-wet hair. The ends of the blindfold slide against my fingers and I cross them and pull them tight. Stepping back, I wait. I know all too well how the silence and darkness of his new world will swallow him, his other senses heightening as he realizes I’m in control and he has no idea what’s coming next.

  One breath.

  Two.

  His post-show tee shirt is black, the material worn and stretched over the muscles in his shoulders like he was thinner when he bought it. The fabric does nothing to disguise the heave of his breathing, not so steady as it was on that night on the balcony. My nails trace the dip of his lower spine as I lean close so my command will feather over his earlobe. “Take off your clothes.”

  I step back so he can’t feel me, has no reference for where I’m standing or if I’m even watching.

  Danny hesitates, his fingers stretching at his sides, and I tilt my head and consider his reaction. But then he shrugs out of his shirt, the movement quick and lean as he flicks it to the floor. He’s all beautiful ink and skin, his whip tattoo stark as his forearms flex before he reaches for the button on his jeans.

  I find my eyes drawn downward, distracted by wondering what pictures will be on his boxers. But there’s nothing beneath but the hard curve of muscle when his jeans drop.

  He kicks his pants and sneakers away, stumbling a little as he puts a hand out to the door to steady himself. His fingers flick at his sides when he straightens again, waiting with his back still towards me. I reach up to make sure his blindfold is covering his eyes fully. It is, so I trickle my nails down the soft skin of his ear to his throat. The beat of his pulse throbs against my fingers.

  His skin is so warm when I’m this close, and I don’t mean to, but my lips brush his shoulder blade and then rest there. The knotted branches of his tree tattoo quiver in my peripheral vision as he gulps a breath and lets it out slowly.

  “Kate...”

  I spin him to face me, pressing a teasing finger across his lips.

  His face seems different with the line of silk obscuring his eyes. His nose is thin and straight, his lips narrow and pale. His mouth is masculine rather than sensual, and yet everything about it whispers dirty thoughts into my mind. He’s all sharp angles and it’s only the low, intense hum of his presence that forces all the pieces of him to make sense together.

  “Shh,” I murmur. “Feel.” I take his wrists, bringing his palms to the bare skin below my collarbone and resting them there for a moment while I watch his expression. He’s definitely amped, maybe even nervous, but he doesn’t seem upset, so I inhale a quiet breath and take the plunge.

  Controlling the pressure, I ghost his hands over my breasts. The boning of this top is pushing my B-cups for everything they’re worth, so there’s a satisfyingly generous swell to kick off his blind tour before he reaches the flat stretch of my ribs. My abs aren’t magazine-sleek, but everything feels good through lace. I let the texture tease his skin, his cock pulsing thicker with every inch our fingers descend. By the time we cross into the bare skin between my stockings and the scraps of my underwear, his erection is nearly frantic and I’m way past ready to move this party out of the foyer.

  I move back, tugging him along with me and careful to touch his side so he doesn’t bump the dresser. He moves slow, feeling out every step. I increase
the pace, forcing him to follow my lead. When I turn him so the back of his thighs touch smooth sheets, his Adam’s apple bobs visibly. I curl my hand around his shoulder, my thumb following the line of his throat in a delicate tease before I push him down onto the bed.

  He resists, his muscles stiff as he tries to control his descent until he can feel the mattress beneath him. I can’t help but smile and shake my head as I urge him toward the pillows.

  By now, the silence has to be getting to him, the rage of the earlier rock concert making the tension between us echo even louder. With possibility. With uncertainty. With everything that is a feast for a submissive and utterly foreign territory to the ever-calculating mind of a Dominant.

  Danny lets me stroke his arms up over his head. He shifts his hips closer to the kiss of my kneeling thigh, but when I wrap a silk scarf around his wrist, he flinches and nearly jerks out of my hold.

  I lean down, left hand cupping his stubble-darkened cheek.

  “Don’t think,” I whisper. “Lie back and let me find all the things your body wants to feel.” My thumb traces his bottom lip the way his did to mine in that hallway outside the gym. “Tell me your safeword.”

  He swallows again. “Mercy,” he repeats, his voice rough.

  “Okay.”

  I don’t want to move. The hard lines of his face are even more fascinating when he can’t watch me back, and I want to taste him. The stubble on his jaw, the soft place behind his ear, those sinful, knowing lips.

  Instead, I tie his wrists. Expert knots with loops that won’t come loose, but can be quickly undone even after hours of the fabric pulling tight against them. His pale-knuckled hands wrap into fists, but his shaft throbs steel-hard against his stomach. I stroke a hand down his chest and cup his balls, tracing my thumb along the base of his cock so I can watch his ribs hollow and then expand with a hard breath. I huff warm air over the sensitive skin and a low growl vibrates in his throat as his hips punch up toward me.

  Trailing my touch down his legs so he knows where I am, I tie his ankles wide to the bottom corners of my bed. He doesn’t struggle, but his entire body is tensely motionless, calf muscles twitching against my palms as I move higher again. I wait, giving him a moment to sink into the vulnerability of being tied, watching him for any signs of panic. He’s almost violently turned on, and my inner muscles squeeze with yearning at the sight of him splayed out on my bed.

  I could kick a leg over his lap and slide his thick cock into me, but now that I have time and privacy, there’s no way I’m missing out on any of the fantasies I’ve panted after during all those crowded hours on the bus. I crouch over him, the ends of my hair brushing his ribs as I lower my head to lay my lips against his stomach. His skin twitches at the contact and I nip lightly at him, his breath hissing out.

  I smile behind the curtain of my hair because yeah, this one likes a taste of pain, and that’s a hard itch to scratch for a man in the position he usually occupies in the bedroom. I wrap my hand around his dick and squeeze as my tongue begins to trace the sleek rise of his abs. He groans, pushing himself into my fist, and my whole body aches to feel more of him.

  I take my time, teasing his thighs and the flat plane of his nipples. I give him hot tongue and unexpected bites until he’s straining against the ropes, the bed creaking as he pulls, his body bowing intensely upward. I squeeze my legs together, tension winding through me as I wonder if he has enough stamina for me to let him come once before I start to ride him. I'm dying to get him inside me, but first, I want to watch him lose control.

  Danny’s panting so hard by now that I nearly miss the word he grits through his teeth, but then it clicks into my mind like a splash of cold water.

  “Mercy.”

  Chapter 10: Mercy

  I snap up onto my knees, pushing the blindfold off Danny’s eyes.

  “I’m untying you,” I tell him even as I yank the scarf loose from his far wrist. “That was your first hand and I’m doing your second right now.”

  The knot is only half undone when he rips it free and bolts up to sitting, both of us moving to the ties at his ankles at the same second.

  “There. You’re loose,” I soothe. “Everything’s okay.”

  The scarves fall and he’s off the bed and pacing as I sit back onto my heels, my eyes wide. I thought he was fully on board. It's not like I top all that often, but I’ve certainly never had anybody safe out on me before.

  Danny shakes out his arms, turns and prowls back the other direction. I relax, my heart rate coming down as I start to recognize his reaction. He’s not scared, he’s just having a control freak attack at being the one under the blindfold for the first time. Which explains why he was still hard as a steel pipe even while he was blurting out his safeword. As reactions go, I’d have preferred an orgasm to a freak out, but I’m not here to let him languish in a comfort zone that isn’t really working for him anymore.

  I unfold unhurriedly to standing, poised in my heels as I cross the room without blocking the path of his pacing. On the table waits the second item I sent the venue runner for: two glasses and a small bottle of 20-year-old bourbon that pretty much maxed out my spending money for the week.

  The foil of the seal crinkles as I break it, and I pour myself two fingers of dark amber deliciousness. I lean back in my chair, the drink dangling from my fingers while I watch Danny pace.

  “Well, now we know you don’t have stranger fantasies, and you’re not a switch.”

  He stops and throws me a glance, exhaling a tense laugh.

  I roll a shoulder in a shrug. “Hey, it was the most likely choice, statistically speaking.” He starts to pace again, and I catch his wrist the next time he goes by, tilting my chin toward the chair next to mine. “Sit with me.”

  After a pause, he nudges the chair so it’s facing mine and drops into the seat, fingers tapping at the armrests. After a slow sip of bourbon, I set down the glass and slide it closer to him.

  “First time I let somebody tie me up, I thought I was having a coronary.” I tip my head, a wry smile tickling the edge of my lips. “Of course, I came six times, too.”

  “Yeah, that was not happening for me.”

  “Okay. So what was happening for you? My tongue not speaking your language?”

  “No.” His headshake is so quick it makes my neck muscles ache in sympathy. “That was definitely not the problem.”

  I lean forward to nudge the drink closer to him because he obviously needs it more than I do, but he catches my hand before I get there. He folds it inside both of his, bracing his elbows on his knees as he drops his forehead to our knuckles. My heart gives a big, painful thump.

  “Is that what it’s like for you?” he whispers. “When you’re tied up? When I tied you up?”

  My stomach twists and I wonder if I misread his reaction. “I sincerely doubt it. But you’re going to have to give me a little more information here.” When he doesn’t answer or lift his head, I squeeze his hand. “Seriously, Danny, if this is going to work, you’ve got to talk to me. Bondage is hot, it’s not hot...” I make a dismissive noise. “Whatever. I’ve got lots of toys in my box and I don’t take the thumbs down personally. But you’ve got to give me something to work with here.”

  He looks up and his eyes rip right through me. I catch my breath and he squeezes my hand before he releases me, chuckling unevenly. “I am really not used to being the one who gets that speech.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression.” I prop a high-heeled foot on his chair, nudging his thigh playfully with one pointed toe.

  He picks up the glass of bourbon and shoots it, wincing as he swallows. “Shit, that’s good.”

  I laugh and take the glass back, pouring another and taking a sip. He ignores the second glass, instead snagging mine and leaning back in his seat, totally unconcerned with his nudity now that he’s untied. There’s a smudge of sin-red lipstick at the point of a tattoo that scrolls up onto his abs, and it looks like a still life of debauchery.


  “I hated not being able to do anything for you.” His eyes hit mine. “I didn’t like that you might be getting bored and there would be nothing I could do about it.”

  Seriously? He safed out because he was worried about me? But then I remember how he kept shifting to keep in contact with my skin, his bonds creaking when I came close to his hands.

  I tilt my head, the loose curls of my carefully styled hair spilling down over my shoulder, and smile. “This isn’t a charity and I’m not your wifey, Rock Star. If I weren’t having fun, I’d go home and watch Game of Thrones instead.”

  The corner of his mouth tips up and he takes a sip of bourbon.

  I drop my foot back to the ground and lean forward, my knees fitting neatly between his, the smooth shadow of my stockings brushing his inner thigh.

  “If you’re here to figure out what you want, you’ve got to stop worrying and trust me.” I peek up at him through my lashes, my fingers walking their way up his legs. “If it would make you feel better, I promise I won’t let you leave until you get me off...”

  He chuckles, threading a hand into my hair and my pulse jumps, wondering if he’s going to kiss me. But he seems content to just look, his eyes more relaxed now as they drink in my face like he’s somehow getting more out of it now than all the other times he’s seen me.

  “Take your free pass, Danny. Show me something you know you enjoy, and we’ll start there.” My hands rest at the crease of his hips, encouraging him to take the lead.

  “First off, the idea that I’d want a blindfold when you’re wearing that?” His eyes stroke down my body. “Is just fucking crazy.”

  A slow smile warms my lips, and I pull my shoulders back a hint more, enjoying his reaction. “Mmm. Is that so?”

  He finishes the bourbon without taking his eyes off me and sets the glass on the ground. “You know what I like?” He takes me by the hips and lifts me straight out of the chair as my eyes pop with surprise. “I like to see.”

  He sets me on the round table and it wobbles—until I scoot back a little to put my weight over the center support. Danny pushes the bottle and the other glass aside, letting them thump carelessly onto the carpet as he lays me back; the surface cool under my bottom and the hooks at the back of my corset pricking my spine.