Arousing Her

by Tia Siren

  She gave me a terrified look, like a deer that found itself suddenly in a hunter’s sights. Her pretty lips quivered for a moment, and then she said, “Um, well, I just thought of the title, and…um…”

  I gave her a warm smile to calm her down. “It’s fine, Liv,” I said. “I’m well aware of the mysterious fuck list the press accuses me of keeping. I thought it was very clever of you to play off those rumors, no pun intended.”

  “So there is no fuck list?” She asked the question and then closed her eyes, immediately regretting it. Her eyes popped open and her lips quivered again. “I mean, um…shit…”

  I chuckled and slapped my palms on my knees. “No, there is no fuck list,” I said, shaking my head at such a ludicrous idea. “Anyway, the reason I wanted you to come in was to get to know you a little better and find out what you hope to do with your career.”

  “My career?” She licked her lips and gave me a blank look. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it that far in advance. I just want to sing.”

  “Okay, well let’s brainstorm a little,” I said, putting on my serious mask. “Are you happy being a trio, or would you prefer to be a solo act?”

  “Well, I guess, I mean—”

  “Because I think you could be an amazing solo act,” I said, being honest now. “I mean, no offense to your bandmates, I’m sure they’re sweet girls, but it’s clear that you’re the driving force in the band. You write, you sing, you play. And you have a great voice; smoky, sexy, like Courtney Love in her prime or a young Janis Joplin.”

  Her eyes grew wide as I spoke. She said, “Really?”

  “Really, really,” I said, my head bobbing. “I think you have a raw talent that could be amazing, if you had the right mentor to guide you along.”

  “Is that why I’m meeting with your—what is it—A&E guys?”

  “A&R,” I said with a smile. “No. Fuck those guys. They’re idiots.”

  She gave me a confused look. “Then I don’t understand—”

  “I’m going to personally be your mentor, Olivia Poole,” I said, rubbing my hands together again. My mouth watered. I could taste her on my tongue. I stood up and held out my hand.

  I said, “Come on. Let’s go cut a demo.”

  CHAPTER NINE: Olivia

  I felt like I’d stumbled into a magical dream. Rather than meeting with BEG’s A&R guys as expected, I was ushered into Cain Bohannon’s office for a meeting with the great man himself. He looked even more handsome in the daylight.

  Sitting across from him, watching his lips move, my mind kept drifting back to my fantasies from the night before. I imagined him naked, muscles rippling across his chest and shoulders, his long cock draped between his thighs.

  It was only when he held out his hand and said, “Come on. Let’s go cut a demo,” that my brain clicked back into reality.

  I was more than a little dumbstruck as I stood beside Cain with my arm touching his while we rode the elevator down three floors. When the doors parted, I saw the word STUDIO on the wall with an arrow pointing right. I followed Cain through a set of glass doors and into a control room that had the largest mixing board I’d ever seen. There was a large window over the board, and beyond it was a studio with microphones, guitars, and drums set up.

  “Liv, this is Robbie, our sound engineer,” Cain said, introducing me to a guy about my age with long hair and sleepy eyes. I could smell the faint scent of pot in the air. Cain turned to me and held out his hands. “Let’s cut something slow to get your pipes warmed up. What’s your favorite slow song to sing?”

  “You mean onstage?” I could hear the tremor in my voice and was sure they could, too. “We don’t really do anything slow…”

  “No, just in general,” Cain said. “We can literally call up a music track for just about any song ever written. What’s your favorite song to sing, period?”

  “Well, this is probably going to sound silly,” I said, nervously licking my lips. “I really like ‘Eternal Flame’ by the Bangles.”

  Cain smiled at me. “I like that one, too. Robbie, cue it up while I get her set in the studio.” Cain opened the glass door that led into the studio. He took my hand and positioned me in front of a boom microphone. He handed me a set of headphones and gave me a smile. When I reached for the headphones, his fingers lingered on mine.

  “We’re here to just have fun,” he said, moving his hands to my shoulders…so close to my breasts... I wondered if he felt the shudder that rushed through me.

  He gave me a playful look and said, “No pressure, okay? This is just to give me an idea of your range. Have fun. Like singing in the shower.”

  Or masturbating in the tub…

  “Okay, got it,” I said, taking a deep breath. I blinked when he kissed my cheek to wish me luck. My eyes followed him as he went back into the control room to stand behind Robbie.

  “Okay, you’ll hear the music and your voice in the headphones,” Robbie said over the intercom. “Let me know if I need to adjust the levels. If you need the words, they’ll be on the computer monitor in front of you.”

  Wow, just like karaoke, I thought, only in a million-dollar recording studio. I gave him a thumbs-up and held my breath as the music filled my ears.

  This is your shot, Liv, the little voice said.

  Try not to screw it up.

  CHAPTER TEN: Cain

  It was around two thirty when I led Olivia into the studio to record a quick demo. My plan was to impress her with my charm and overwhelm her with my empire, take her to dinner, get her a little drunk, and then…well, I didn’t know what then.

  She wasn’t famous enough to be on the fuck list, but goddammit, my cock was aching to be inside her. I didn’t know what it was about Olivia Poole that had me thinking about bending my rules, but she was unlike any woman I’d ever known.

  Maybe that was it.

  She wasn’t like the rest of the gold diggers and ladder climbers and groupies and fake stars that haunted my life like zombies stumbling through The Walking Dead.

  She was young and fresh and truly talented and just wanted to sing.

  When I asked what she wanted for her career—what she wanted from me—she said she just wanted to sing.

  How fucking refreshing was that?

  She nailed the Bangles song on the first take, so I had her give Robbie a list of five more songs to record. These were just demo recordings I could share with Drew and the VP of A&R to confirm that I was listening with my ear and not my cock, so they didn’t have to be perfect.

  That said, her voice was so damn strong and her singing so dead-on pitch that I could have released the demos as the real thing and nobody would have been any wiser.

  She was wasting her talent screaming punk-rock bullshit into a microphone. This girl could sing. Really sing. And I could make her famous.

  I had lost track of time, so I glanced at my Rolex. It was almost six o’clock and Liv had been in the studio for an hour since her last break.

  I watched her at the microphone, singing her rendition of the classic “Summertime.” Her eyes were closed. She cupped the headphones to her ears. Her breasts gently swayed as she moved. Her tongue darted across her lips. She wasn’t just singing the song. She was making love to it.

  I felt something inside me click as I stared at her face.

  Not an audible click like a switch being thrown, but something subtle I couldn’t otherwise describe, like brain cells switching off and on.

  I took out my phone and called up the file labeled The Fuck List. I took a deep breath as I moved the cursor to the number one spot, which was currently held by Taylor Swift (I know, that was gonna be a tough one). I moved Taylor down to number two, and at number one, I typed in Olivia Poole.

  She wasn’t famous at the moment, but by the time I was done with her, she would be.

  And she would be mine: heart, mind, body, and soul.

  She finished the song and I stood up to give her a standing ovation, making her smile.


  I pressed the intercom button and said, “I think that’s enough for one day. Come on, superstar, let me buy you dinner.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: Olivia

  I was both giddy and exhausted. I’d just spent four hours singing my ass off and playing star as Cain watched me through the glass and egged me on. I closed my eyes sometimes when I sang. Each time I opened my eyes, there he was, staring back at me with a smile that made it hard to concentrate on the lyrics.

  He didn’t ask if I’d like to go out to dinner or what I’d like to eat. He just took my hand and dragged me out of the building and into a waiting car. I had to admit, I didn’t mind being towed along behind him. He looked as good from the back as he did from the front.

  He opened a bottle of Perrier and handed it to me without asking if I was thirsty. Then he proceeded to spend the next few minutes telling me how awesome I was. “Fucking amazing” was the term he kept using. I thought that was fucking awesome.

  I sipped the fancy bottled water, which tasted like Alka-Seltzer, and took it all in stride.

  I’d had smoke blown up my skirt before by guys just trying to get me in the sack, so I took Cain Bohannon’s words with a grain of salt, especially knowing what I knew about him from the Internet (which Mona swore was all true). Cain Bohannon was a legend of debauchery and bad behavior.

  Bad boy billionaire, star fucker, industry bully, obnoxious asshole, and owner of the famous fuck list…

  Even if his fuck list didn’t really exist, it was clear he was used to having his way with everything in his life, including his women. Cain Bohannon didn’t ask for permission. He just did what he wanted, no matter the cost. All you could do was hold on for the magnificent ride.

  The words I had jokingly said to Mona when she told me about the fuck list echoed in my brain.

  I remembered saying, “Hey, if it will get him to notice our music, I might fuck him!”

  Sitting just inches away from him now, so close I could smell his musk, I wondered if I had the guts to back up my own words.

  The dampness between my legs was screaming yes.

  But t

  I had flirted with him, shown off my body to him. But I would not fuck him just for a contract.

  * * *

  We had dinner at a swanky Italian place called Scarpetta that I was grossly underdressed for, but when the maître d’ saw I was with Cain, he smiled and welcomed me like the Queen of England. I nearly choked on my breadstick when I saw the prices on the menu, but Cain just smiled and offered to order for the both of us so I wouldn’t order the cheapest thing on the menu.

  He ordered some sort of gourmet salad as the entre, and I told him how my mom started to take me to music lessons even before I could read and write.

  “When I was a kid, I couldn’t make my mind up about which instrument to play,” I told Cain, sipping on my wine, “So she indulged me, first trumpet, then piano, then violin...”

  “Sounds more like spoiling to me,” Cain said with a cheeky grin. His smile really was sexy and I almost forgot what I was saying.

  “But it was chorus practice that I loved the most.”

  “You have a beautiful voice,” Cain said, staring into my eyes. His compliment seemed genuine. “And I’ve heard many voices.”

  And fucked many women, I thought.

  Two waiters appeared at our table. One removed our empty salad plates, and the other brought in our main course. A luscious slice of Lasagna sizzled before me. The waiter then refilled my glass. Had I already had two?

  “Do you really have a fuck list?” I asked, eyeing Cain coyly. I heard myself ask the question. I wondered if my brain had sent it to my lips without thinking or if it had come from another part of my body that was dying to get in on the conversation.

  Cain chuckled again, almost blushing. “Tell me more about this list.”

  “Ah, so you deny it,” I said. “The list of famous women you want to fuck and the ones you’ve already fucked.”

  “We’ve already been over that,” he said with a smile.

  I leaned toward him and licked my lips. “So, there is no list?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So you’ll fuck a woman even if she’s not famous?”

  Cain leaned towards me and whispered, “I’m going to fuck you.” He paused. “Even before you’re famous.”

  Even before I’m famous? I glanced around the restaurant. I got it. He was wining and dining me just to get me to fuck him. He made me feel like a star, singing my guts out just to get me to fuck him.

  “Oh no you’re not,” I said. “I’m not that desperate. I don’t need you to get a career in music. I’m not one of your starlets who sleeps her way into the music business. I’m not going to fuck you.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE: Cain

  I couldn’t believe what she was saying. Was she really so proud? Were her values really that strong? Most young singers would be capable of killing to get the chance to sleep with me for a contract.

  I sat back in my chair, amused at how offended Liv looked. I could see her fighting to control her rage while she twirled the lasagna around with her fork, her blond strands sweeping down across her beautiful flushed face.

  She was a challenge, and I wasn’t used to being rejected. In fact, I wasn’t used to having dinner with a woman who wasn’t throwing her panties at me by the main course. And Liv had no intention of sleeping with me? No. She would be mine. She would beg me to put her on my fuck list, beg me to fuck her.

  And I would fuck her. And I would make her famous. It was the only way she could be on my list.

  “Liv,” I said softly. “I didn’t mean to offend you. You are a wonderful singer. You proved that in the studio today.” Liv glanced up. “Fucking me isn’t a condition for you to get a contract.” Now she smiled, relaxing her body against the back of her chair. “And there is no fuck list.”

  “Glad to hear it,” she said. But she had stopped flirting with me and it was driving me crazy.

  “But if there were, you would be on it,” I said to get her attention. “And do you know what I would do to you?”

  Liv glanced at me from under her eyelashes. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “I would first kiss you.”

  “Kiss me?”

  I lowered my voice. “Kiss you slowly. So you feel the warmth of my tongue. Then I would kiss your neck and bite your shoulder, making your whole body shudder. I would brush my hand over those big beautiful breasts of yours and gently squeeze them until you took my hand and guided it down between your legs, your pussy already hot and wet for me.” I paused for impact. “Are you already hot and wet?”

  Liv said nothing but glanced down at her hands in her lap. I was already feeling my cock twitch at the thought of touching her.

  “And then I would slide my hand up your skirt and move your wet panties to one side, rub your swollen clit with the tip of my finger and make you roll your head back with pleasure. Then when you’re wet and ready for more, your pussy aching with anticipation, I would slide two fingers into your tight, wet pussy and thrust them against that magic spot until you begged me to put my cock inside of you… and fuck you.”

  Liv cleared her throat. “But there is no list. And I’m not on it.”

  I ignored her comment and continued, my cock hard in my pants. “And when you beg me to fuck you, I’m going to rip your panties off and ram my rock-hard cock into you. And then I’ll ram it in again. And again. And again. And you’re going to squeeze your muscles around my cock, feeling every inch of it as it slides in and out of you.”

  Liv shifted in her seat, still looking down at her lap. My dirty-talk was working. She was turned on. She wanted me. “And you’re going scream as you come over and over again. And then you’re going to beg me not to stop. You’re going to beg me for more. You’re going to beg me to fuck you again. Harder and faster. And my cock is going to pleasure you all night long. Liv, I’m going to fuck you like no man has ever fucked you bef
ore.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Olivia

  I drank more wine, feigning disinterest. I could not let on that he had me panting at the thought of his cock inside of me. I could not let him know that his dirty-talking made me so wet my pussy ached.

  I quickly changed the subject. “So tell me how you got into the music business. Do you actually play an instrument yourself?”

  Cain laughed. “You really are something, aren’t you?”

  And I tried my hardest not to think about all that he had said, all that he would do to me. No. I would not fuck him. I tried hard to listen to him as he told me about his childhood experiences with music, how his father would punish him if he didn’t practice the piano every day. I felt sorry for him as he related the time he got a beating from his father when he had not played perfectly at a recital.

  But then he changed the subject and told me how his first fuck was with his new piano teacher at age fifteen. “Those were my favorite lessons,” he said. And my mind returned to the images of his huge cock thrusting hard inside of me.

  When we left the restaurant two hours later I was as full as a tick and more than a little drunk. Cain had to hold my hand as we climbed into the back of the limo. I fell laughing into the seat as he fell in behind me.

  I sat in the seat sideways, leaning against the door and gazing at him with dreamy eyes. He gave me a smile and then told me to give the driver my address. I was a little sad to do so. It meant our night was soon to end. I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to see him drive away, leaving me on the sidewalk all hot and bothered.

  Cain blinked at me for a moment. He licked his lips and let his eyes drift to my mouth. I ran my tongue across my top lip.

  He said, “You don’t have to be famous for me to fuck you.”

  I leaned in and brushed my lips to his.

  “Good,” I sighed. “Take me home and prove it.”