Wild Licks

by Cecilia Tan

  “I can do that.” She patted me on the hand, more motherly than romantic. “Don’t do anything rash, okay?”

  I had to laugh at that. Was this all a karmic payback for being too rash with Gwen? Or was it merely that I was so distracted and out of my head about her that I was unable to communicate with the people around me?

  I did the only sensible thing I could think of. I called room service and asked for a bottle of whiskey. The helpful Canadian staff was happy to oblige.

  * * *

  GWEN

  The bellman opened the cab door and greeted me in French and then English. I thanked him and let him pull my tiny rolling suitcase into the lobby for me. I handed him a U.S. dollar as a tip without thinking, only realizing as he walked away that I should have changed some money at the airport.

  Axel swept up to me. “Gwen! Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. We’ve got a room for you upstairs.” He held up the card key to a hotel room.

  “No need to thank me,” I said as I followed him to the elevator bank. “You know I’ve been trying to find the thing that will let me break through to him. Maybe this will be it.”

  “We can hope. As I said on the phone, we’re kind of desperate ourselves.” We got into the elevator and he slid the key into the slot there, activating access to the executive level floor. “Do you want to freshen up after the trip?”

  “I could wash my face.”

  “Sounds good. I’m really hoping you’re the solution, Gwen. When you and I talked after the party, I thought, aha, that explains why he was so mellow in our last recording session. He’d just been with you.”

  “What’s he like now?”

  “Oh, you know. Angry, irritable, quick to offense, believes everything’s a conspiracy to ruin what’s good about our music. He’s refusing to come back to the studio until the rest of us, I don’t know, tar and feather our producer and run him out of town on a rail or something.” The doors opened onto a quiet, thick-carpeted hallway and Axel led me to a small but richly appointed suite.

  I shed my coat and washed my face while he waited nervously.

  “He’s my best friend,” Axel blurted when I came out of the bathroom. He looked worried, like he hadn’t slept, not at all like the happy-go-lucky guy I was used to. If Axel was like that, I could only imagine what a ray of sunshine Mal himself must be right now. “I don’t mean to speak ill of him, but understand…he’s not shallow.”

  “If you’re afraid I’m going to think it’s silly that an orgasm”—or giving a spanking—“could change his mind, I assure you I’m not,” I said.

  “I’ve seen it happen,” Axel said, as if I were doubting it, which I most certainly wasn’t. “I know he’s carrying a lot of baggage, but somehow it still works.”

  “Should I know about the baggage?” I wasn’t sure knowing more about Mal’s past would change my actions any, but it couldn’t hurt.

  Axel shrugged. “Here’s the thing. I know his reputation is that he’s a total Lothario, tons of women, all that. But there have only been three really serious ones. All three left him kinda fucked up.”

  Hmm. “Were all three submissive?”

  “Well, the first one was a slightly older cousin of his who spent the summer with his family the same time I was there. We got up to all kinds of trouble. She got it into her head that she wanted to lose her virginity before she went to college but she didn’t want me; she wanted Mal. He eventually gave in to the temptation and then when her family disowned her, he blamed himself for it.”

  That sounded like the Mal I knew, that noble streak hiding a guilty conscience. “Sounds to me like he blames himself for something that was her idea.”

  “Yeah, well, then there was Risa, the one he actually fell head over heels for. He used to call me long distance from England to talk to me about her all the time. She was a serious masochist, so I thought they were perfect for each other. In reality, she was begging him to do even more extreme things and when he refused, she told her family he’d been raping and torturing her and showed them the scars.”

  My mouth hung open. Was that why he was so paranoid about leaving marks? “He blames himself for that?”

  “Well, then she tried to kill herself. He fled the country and hasn’t spoken to his own family since.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I know. The last really serious one was a fan he got involved with. Layla. Pretty nice girl—we all liked her—but you know how when one partner pulls away the other clings on tighter?”

  “I can’t imagine Mal reacts well to clinging,” I said.

  “Yeah. When it went south, she just wouldn’t let go. He cut her off entirely and she went full-on stalker for a while.”

  “That’s where his one-and-done thing comes from?”

  “Yeah. And it’s worked for a good while now, for Mal to have ‘maintenance sex,’ enough to relieve the pressure and then get back to work. But he rejected a fan we know he was friendly with and that’s when we called you.” I’d never seen Axel so serious. “I’m pretty sure it’s because you’re the only one he wants right now, even if he won’t admit it to us. Or himself, maybe.”

  He’d rejected a fan’s advances? My heart gave a flip in my chest, hoping it was true that deep down it was because he wanted me and me alone. “I’ll give it a shot. Seriously, Axel, I welcome the chance.”

  “Okay. Would now be all right?”

  “Waiting won’t help anybody,” I said. The truth was I was as impatient to see Mal as Axel was to have me do it. Sitting around was only going to make me anxious. Amazingly, at the moment I didn’t feel anxious. I felt ready.

  “I’ll call him right now.” He picked up the phone from the night table by the bed and dialed a number.

  I heard Mal’s sharp anger right through the tiny syllable that leaked from the earpiece pressed to Axel’s head.

  “Mal, it’s Axel. Listen. I’m, ah, sorry about Aurora. I thought you liked her. I’ve been talking with the guys, though, and I think I have a much better alternative here now.”

  Mal let loose a long-winded argument of some kind.

  “No, no, no, but really, Mal,” Axel said when he could get a word in edgewise. “We’re going to pay through the nose for the wasted studio time; you know that. We’ve still got nothing to show Marcus. If we miss the delivery deadline, they’ll have to push off release of the next album for six more months. Who knows what it fucks up with the UK. I’m serious. Very, very serious.”

  There was silence at the other end.

  “So for the sake of the band and our friendship, will you please just try? I’m sending you a girl I know you’ll like.”

  My pulse went into overdrive when Mal’s two-syllable answer was clearly audible: okay. The curtain was about to go up.

  Axel rubbed it in: “Promise me you’ll fuck the living daylights out of her when she gets to your room.”

  The response was louder, more exasperated: Okay!

  “Great. She’ll knock.” Axel hung up and breathed a sigh of relief. “Room 1243,” he said to me. “Good luck.”

  Showtime. I slipped my panties off from under my skirt and left them on the floor as I marched out the door.

  * * *

  MAL

  When the knock came, I was barefoot and in sweatpants and hadn’t left the room since sending Aurora away the day before. I could tell from Axel’s voice on the phone that something was up. Was I going to open the door and find Christina there, ready to read me the riot act about how I was endangering all their careers? Or Chino in a wig to break the tension?

  The last person I expected to see when I opened the door was Gwen Hamilton.

  Gwen. I think I kept the surprise off my face with a scowl. I had one second where I could have engaged my mouth to argue, to be rational, to tell her to go away.

  I gave in to the Need instead. I grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her into the room, slammed the door behind her, and pressed her back against it. Chino had said i
t: They sent the sacrifices to the dragon so they wouldn’t get eaten instead.

  This time they’d sent me the woman I wanted most but knew I shouldn’t have. I ground my teeth. “I promised I’d fuck the living daylights out of you.”

  “I know, I heard,” she answered, voice breathless.

  My Gwen. I kissed her hard enough to bruise her lips and she kissed back harder. That only inflamed me more, and I had long ago lost sight of where anger ended and passion began.

  She hitched one leg over my hip and I cupped her calf with one hand. She was wearing knee-high brown boots, a wool skirt, and a downy-soft cashmere pullover sweater. I slid my hand up her thigh as my tongue explored the reaches of her mouth, and she moaned against my lips as I discovered she wasn’t wearing anything under the skirt.

  I worked a finger between her pussy lips and to reassert my claim I forced it inside her, the way suddenly eased by a generous flow of her natural lubrication.

  “You were made to be fucked,” I heard myself saying. “This hole was made to be fucked.”

  “Yes, Mal, by you,” she said.

  Sweet mother of angels, I could not get my cock into her fast enough. I stepped out of the sweatpants and lifted her against the wall, pushing myself into her. Her cry of pain was loud in my ear as she clung to me.

  “Does it hurt?” I pressed.

  “The best pain in the world,” she whispered, panting. “Best.”

  “Squeeze me now.” I wrapped my hands around her buttocks and rolled my hips. She contracted her muscles around me and I heard myself groan.

  I carried her to the bed, fucked her hard until I was winded, and then pulled out abruptly. I stood, my cock dripping with her juices. “Strip.”

  She wasn’t even wearing a bra. She tossed the sweater and skirt aside and then all she was dressed in was her skin, sweat, and desire. She lay back unbidden and spread her labia with her fingers, beckoning me.

  No flogger, no fire, no knives, or claws—all I had were my hands, teeth, and cock. Plenty to make her suffer. I ran my hand loosely up and down my length. “Spank your clit. Do it.”

  She swallowed and gave herself an experimental pat, jerking in surprise at the sensation even though she’d barely put any force behind it.

  “Harder.”

  She gritted her teeth and smacked herself audibly. “How many times?”

  “Until I tell you to stop,” I said, pulling her toward me by one leg until her buttocks were at the edge of the bed. I cradled her leg against my chest and pushed my cock into her while she continued to hit herself. She caught me with her swats a bit but I didn’t care. Pain and I are old friends.

  I pulled free. “Stop. Hands behind your head.” I lay down beside her on my back and bent my knees. “Keep your hands there, and get on my cock.”

  She got to her feet and then straddled me, and I enjoyed the sensation as she struggled with nothing but motions of her hips attempting to get my cock inside her. Stiff and heavy with blood, it lay along my abdomen, curving slightly toward my stomach. This was a trick, of course. I didn’t think there was any way she could succeed at my order, but while she tried oh how sensual it was, her clit and her lubrication dragging up and down my length. I tightened my abs a few times, making my cock lift slightly, making it seem as if she might have a chance, but no.

  Her frustration and my glee grew in tandem, the noises from her throat increasingly pleading in tone.

  “You want it.”

  She nodded.

  “Would you like help?”

  “Yes, please…?” She sat up straight, her arms trembling with fatigue.

  “You know how our trade works.”

  “Pain for pleasure, I remember.”

  “Exactly. Keep your hands where they are.” I reached down and took hold of my cock. She lifted herself and I held myself steady, pointing directly up, until she had engulfed me and lowered herself with a deep groan.

  I smacked her on one breast and she rocked back against my bent legs.

  “Uh-uh,” I scolded. “No escaping the pain.”

  “Right. Sorry.” She thrust her nipples at me. I grabbed them with my fingers and pinched mercilessly. She screamed and the way her interior muscles squeezed me I wondered if she came.

  I demanded to know. “Did you just come?”

  “No, Mal.”

  “I would love to train you to come from pain itself,” I heard myself say.

  She made a happy, needy noise in response.

  “Make yourself come. I’ll stop torturing you when you do.”

  I went back to smacking her directly on the nipple and then pinching, which didn’t go on anywhere near as long as it might have because it took her only a minute or two to bring herself off. She was always beautiful but never more radiant and alive than in that moment, screaming from release while she rode me.

  I pulled her down against me, driving my cock into her and letting my heavy hand fall onto her bare bottom at the same time. No warm-up swats. I went directly to my heaviest blows with my open palm. Her cries were only quieted by her need to inhale a fresh breath.

  After many deep strikes, I switched to the other hand, the other buttock, and spanked her until it was as scalding hot as the first. Then I dug my fingernails into her sore flesh and dragged her up and down on my cock until she began to come again.

  “How many times do you think you can come before I do?” I asked her.

  “I don’t know,” she confessed easily. “I might be getting overstimulated.”

  “Excellent,” I breathed into her ear. “I shall enjoy forcing you to come until either you are begging me to stop or I can’t stand it any further and empty myself into you.”

  I felt her insides squeeze me.

  “Hmm, yes, that will help move both possible outcomes along,” I said, spanking her for another ten or twenty blows before I returned to dragging her up and down, knowing her clit would be rubbing against the roughness of my pubes.

  She came again, gratifyingly soon, her body going limp and allowing me to drive into her even deeper. I kept that up for another two or three orgasms, spanking, spanking, grinding, until she didn’t cry out any longer but merely trembled all over with a paroxysm.

  I pulled free and rolled her onto her front, entered her again, and then slid a hand under her until her clit was trapped between two of my fingers. A pinch produced a squeak from her but no resistance, and I set to sawing against her clit with a finger while fucking her again.

  I was going to lose this challenge in that I was going to come before she begged me to stop, but of course this was a game that had no loser.

  “I want you to come one more time,” I said as I drove into her slowly, teasing myself, rolling my hips in a circle. “I will not be denied.”

  “No,” she said, then realized it might sound like she was protesting, and added, “No, of course you won’t, Mal.”

  The heat of the moment had taken me utterly. I was not myself. And yet I was. “I fantasize about you, Gwen. About keeping you like a pet, a slave, a captive whom I can do this to anytime I desire.” I suckled her neck, deliberately bringing up a dark purple hickey and making her moan. “I imagine you naked in my house, no clothes at all, not a stitch, perhaps chained, perhaps restrained, depending on the day.”

  “Mal,” she said with a gasp as my fingers sought out her clit again. “Oh, yes, Mal.”

  “When I come in the door, you’d present your cunny to me for immediate filling.”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “Would you be wet and ready for me, my slave, my toy?”

  “Yes!” She tightened as her arousal heightened again. Her eyes were closed as if she were picturing what I described. “And…and even if I wasn’t…”

  “That’s right. This cock would be yours to take. As many times a day as I wished.”

  “Yes, oh yes, Mal…”

  “Would you do it? Would you let me chain you to the bed with your legs open and fuck you four times a day?
You might not even come.”

  “Only if you wished it, Mal.”

  “Or I might make you come. Like now. Come, Gwen. Come!”

  By all ye gods and monsters, she came on my command.

  * * *

  GWEN

  Mal must’ve come when I did. I was so overwhelmed by my own orgasm and the fantasies he was describing to me that I didn’t even realize it at the time. As my own climax ebbed away, though, and I gradually floated back to Earth, I realized he was doing the same, breath slowing, muscles relaxing, mind returning.

  He shifted and cradled me against him, pulling one edge of the duvet over us so we wouldn’t get chilled as we cooled down from the white-hot intensity of the sex we’d just had.

  I shifted myself onto my side and he moved with me, tucking my cheek against his chest. I lay my hand on his breastbone thinking, Is this the first time we cuddled together like this? We were both too spent to move much, and for once no one was about to run away or storm off.

  And he wasn’t. I could sense it, feel his inertia, as if he were a great weight come to rest at last.

  “What am I going to do, Gwen?” he asked, his voice humming against my ear.

  I ran one palm soothingly over his skin. “Axel said your head would clear after sex.”

  His arm around me tightened. “It was not mere sex that has improved my mood.”

  I took that as a compliment and smiled to myself. “Does that mean you’re ready to talk about the band and Larkin Johns?”

  “Yes, I suppose it does.”

  I lifted my head a little so I could see his face. He looked thoughtful and somber. No, not somber. Sad. I had never seen Mal sad before. “Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on? Maybe I can help you sort it out.”

  He sat up enough to pile up the pillows behind us and then lay back again, welcoming me into the crook of his arm. What can I say? I felt such a rush of happiness as I settled against him. I felt like I belonged there. At least for the moment he seemed to have given up trying to convince me he was bad for me.