Struck By Lightning: Slow Satisfaction Part 8

To my surprise, James smiled. He sat up and kissed me softly. "If I believed in fate, I'd say that was a sign. What are the odds?"

"And are they better or worse than the odds of being struck by lightning?"

His smile turned into a laugh. "Was that a pun?" In a flash he pulled my legs onto his lap, spanking me playfully several times. I couldn't help it. It was like being ambushed by tickling. I kicked and giggled and shrieked.

I wriggled free, hug-tackled him, and ended up on top of him in the center of the bed, kissing him all over his face. "I'm still mad at you, you know."

"If you say so," he said. "By the way, I agree with your mother. This is a nice dress."

"She bought it for me today. She wants to meet you."

"What have you told her about me?"

"That you're rich and good-looking, which is what she cares about most. My sister wants to meet you, too. They know you're an art-world type but that's all." I was coming to my senses a little, now that the intense pleasure of the o.r.g.a.s.m was receding and the play-spanking had woken me up. "And if you'd really put the rock star stuff behind you, that'd be all they need to know. But that sounds like a big if."

"A very big if." He nodded slowly, his face sobering again into his usual mask.

That would not do. The biggest question he still hadn't answered for me was the story of Ferrara Huntington. It was the biggest thing that I thought could still be a deal-breaker and send me out of here a single woman. I leaned down and nuzzled his neck, as if the subject were closed for now. He smelled delicious, igniting all my cravings again. I nibbled behind his ear. He arched under me, his c.o.c.k not yet ready to harden again, but the rest of him responding just fine. He pulled me down beside him, kissing me back and exploring my neck with his mouth.

Hadn't we just finished having s.e.x? I felt my insides melting again though, my desire rising like a tide. Maybe my body felt we should make up for lost time.

Making out was nice and I enjoyed the feeling that we were in no hurry. When had we ever done this, kissed for the sake of kissing? I lost track of time. Minutes ticked by in my haze of affection, pleasure, and relief. Yes. We needed this kind of connection, too. Affection, exploring each other, letting chemistry take over.

My hands roamed his back, his sides, his hips, until one of them strayed between his legs, and I sucked in a breath as I met the scorching hot stiffness there.

There was no reason to wait. There was so much we had to talk about. "You're ready for more?" I teased.

"With you, Karina, I always am."

"But you know what it means, don't you? If we're going to continue, you'll have to spill the beans about Ferrara."

"I will be unburdening myself when I do," he said, pumping his shaft into my hand as I tightened my fingers around it. "You don't know how much it means to me that I can trust you, Karina."

"Even if you had to set spies on me to be sure of it?" I squeezed a little too hard.

"I never should have done that. Never. But I do not regret the trust I have now, no matter how I came to it," James said, his eyes fluttering under the pressure of my hand. "I need your forgiveness, Karina."

"Need it? Why do you need it?"

"Because you're the person who means the most to me. The person whose esteem means the most. You understand me. You understand my art. I... I will never forget the way you drove that point home to me in London."

I stroked him lightly, then, quickening his arousal. I'd said those things to him. To hear him say them back was deeply gratifying.

He went on. "There's no one I'd rather share my secrets with. No one else I can imagine sharing my secrets with. No one else who gets this close."

Meaning not even Stefan, or Chandra, or Lucinda, or any of the other people in his life I had met. It struck me suddenly that our positions had reversed in another way: Once upon a time I knew nothing about him and he had seemingly known everything about me. Now I was the one who had met his friends, patrons, and ex-lovers, while he had yet to meet the people in my life other than Becky.

His c.o.c.k pulsed in my hand. "How much do you want me, James?"

"Enough that I can't put a number on the answer."

"And how do you want me?"

"So many ways, Karina. So many ways."

"Such as?"

"All the ways I've already had you, and more."

"Oh? Tell me what you're imagining."

"My mind is full of images. Of you, bent over, blindfolded, tied. Of me taking you in public, in private, with my fingers, with my gla.s.s, with my c.o.c.k, in my bed, in my car, on the roof of a building..."

"Hmm. I don't remember the roof of a building."

"That's part of the 'and more.' "

His desire was palpable. "Go on. What are you going to do to me, James?" I ran my thumb over the head of his c.o.c.k, spreading slickness. "It's not enough to just f.u.c.k me, is it?"

"Man does not subsist on meat alone," he murmured, nibbling my neck. "Or woman. Admit it, Karina. You like what I do. You like what I demand."

"I do."

"Which is why you'll let me tie your legs apart and spank your p.u.s.s.y."

"Yes, James." Another deep thrill ran through me as I felt the power shifting, as I felt his dominant side coming forth after being in check all evening.

"In public."

"Yes, James."

"With my c.o.c.k in your a.s.s."

My b.u.t.t cheeks clenched at the suggestion. "Yes, James." That wasn't something we'd done yet, or even discussed. I supposed we were discussing it now. "But remember what we talked about."

"You give me your heart, your body, I give you a piece of my past."

"Tell me about Ferrara," I said, leaning down to lick the head of the c.o.c.k in my fist like an ice cream cone.

His grimace was feral. "Tell me everything you know about her and I'll pick up where you leave off," he said, "after I get this dress off you, before I ruin it."

Yes, I decided, this trading s.e.x for knowledge rule was working out very well. "Well, let's see. I know she's the ex-wife of your record company guy." I helped him by wriggling free of the top of the dress. "And that she's claiming you're married. That's all."

He kissed his way down my naked torso and then breathed softly into the pubic hair I'd kept. He parted my lips with sure fingers and licked in a careful circle around my c.l.i.t until I wriggled to put him right on target. Then I yelped because he nibbled at my c.l.i.t, not hard, only to warn me, to remind me who was in charge now. With it trapped between his teeth, he could flick his tongue mercilessly across it and I dug my fingers into the bedspread.

I noticed, of course, that while his mouth was busy, he couldn't answer my questions. I supposed if the delay was buying him time to think about his answer, at least I approved highly of the method. He let go and returned to gentle licks then, making me whimper, but I held perfectly still this time.

"Good girl," he whispered when he lifted his head. "Now. Things you should know about Ferrara. She's been l.u.s.ting after me for more than ten years. Since before I signed with the record company, in fact."

One of his fingers played lightly up and down my seam, distracting me slightly, but only slightly. "How old is she?"

"She was Huntington's trophy wife. I think she is now thirty-nine."

"Okay, but was she chasing you before or after they were married?"

"After. But she and Huntington weren't traditionally monogamous." He chuckled as he slid a finger into me. "She's the one who introduced me to the society."

"Ah, right. Vanette told me she knew her but wouldn't tell me anything else." I sucked in a breath as he drew his finger gently in and out of me.

"The other thing you should know about Ferrara, which hardly anyone else does, is that she took over the record company from her husband about two years ago when they divorced. She's a very hands-on executive, and she served as producer when I did a residency in Las Vegas called Bride of the Blue. A rock opera spectacle."

"I imagine it was."

"She grew increasingly difficult to work with over the course of the show. That was the last straw for me, why I decided to quit entirely." He paused in his speaking to slip two fingers into me and lick my c.l.i.t at the same time. He kept that up until I started to tighten up, nearing o.r.g.a.s.m, and then he backed off. "Her husband and I had made a deal that an earlier double alb.u.m counted as two, and then the farewell tour alb.u.m would be the final one on my contract. Unfortunately for me, it was a verbal deal, and the week before the Madison Square Garden concert, she began leaving me phone messages insinuating that would not satisfy her."

"Satisfy her? You mean the record company."

"She is the company now. She keeps her ex-husband around as a figurehead, and he continues to do whatever she says. Probably hoping she'll take him back if he's a good boy." He clucked his tongue. "So, quite literally, she owns me."

"I had no idea being a rock star was akin to indentured servitude," I joked.

"Oh, but it is," he said seriously. "Did you ever see George Michael's videos from the nineties?"

"I had a friend when I was like eleven who was in love with him, yeah."

"He sued his record company in England, saying they had essentially turned him into a 'professional slave.' He lost the case, but it wasn't a frivolous one. At a certain point it doesn't matter what they pay you. When they can force you to do whatever they want, you're beholden to them."

"I don't imagine you take well to being forced into anything."

"No." He dragged his fingers over my G-spot and my toes curled. "Is that enough for now? There is more to tell you about my battle of wills with Ferrara."

"You owe me the rest... later." I tried to wrap my legs around him, but he put his hands on my knees, flattening my bent legs against the bed.

"You've gotten more flexible," he observed.

"Some of my flexibility returned when I was training for the ArtiWorks performance," I corrected.

"I approve. Anything that lets me do this." He ran his c.o.c.k up my wet seam, levering himself up on his hands. "Are you ready for me?"

"Yes, James." I held my breath for a second, thinking he was going to plunge in. But no, he teased me with the tip, pushing in an inch or two and pulling out, again and again. "Oh f.u.c.k!"

"Mmm. Most sensitive part of my c.o.c.k and the most sensitive part of your opening. What's not to like?"

I groaned. The shallow penetration felt so good I was melting, but at the same time I wanted more. So much more. "You're f.u.c.king me the way you give information, a little bit at a time!"

He laughed then and drove deep, exhaling and closing his eyes as he did. "You don't know how hard it was waiting to do this."

"I think I have some idea!"

"From the very first time we met, I mean." He f.u.c.ked me slowly now, savoring every inch as much as he savored being back in control. "That very first night. Ten years earlier, I would have had you six ways before we got to your apartment, and then I never would have seen you again."

"Then I'm glad it's now."

"Me, too." He tucked his hands under my b.u.t.t and levered me up to meet each slow thrust.

"So what would the six ways have been?"

"It's just an expression."

"Nothing is just an expression with you, James."

He chuckled. "Very well. Let's see. Six ways. Well, your mouth, your p.u.s.s.y, your a.s.s, with both my fingers and my c.o.c.k, that would count as six. But let's not count my fingers. Let's count my c.o.c.k alone. I could have also f.u.c.ked you between your b.r.e.a.s.t.s, against your tailbone, and between your legs but not inside you. That would be six, too."

A year ago I wouldn't have counted being f.u.c.ked between the legs as "s.e.x," but after what I'd been through in London, I definitely counted it now.

"Oh, and, Karina, in case I wasn't clear, one of the reasons I want to leave the music industry is that I take my promises seriously."

"I know you do." I reared up enough to kiss him.

"And one of the things that I love most about you is that you do, too." He moved his hands now to press my palms flat against the pillow on either side of my head, his hips speeding up as I wrapped my legs around him at last. "We worked long and hard to reach this point, to be able to join like this." He punctuated his point with a sharp thrust. "To deserve each other like this."

I nodded, feeling like liquid pleasure was pouring out of his body into mine.

"So here's the promise I want to ask for, and that I want to give. Explicitly." He paused, though, as the sensations washed over him, too, making him shudder.

"Is that why they call it explicit s.e.x?" I asked.

He half laughed, half growled and kissed me to shut me up. When he raised his head he went on. "This is for us alone. My c.o.c.k, your p.u.s.s.y, exclusively."

"Meaning you won't f.u.c.k Ferrara even though she owns you?"

"Yes!" He raised himself up a little. "And you won't let anything enter you but this. Well, and other things that I put there."

"I promise," I breathed.

"I promise," he answered, solemnly, and then began f.u.c.king me so hard the bed shook against the wall.

This time after we were done we took a quick shower and he told me more about Ferrara's efforts to micro-manage the Bride of the Blue production the last time they were in Las Vegas. James's sense of outrage thrummed through the small room.

"Seriously, who does she think she is? I'm the artist. It's my vision. What does she know?" He toweled his hair dry and then shook his head, leaving short black spikes going every which way.

"Well," I said, merely to play devil's advocate. "What does she know? I thought she was a talent scout?"

"I suppose." He calmed down slightly. "She used to dance and do some ch.o.r.eography before she married Huntington, so she thinks she knows that side of it. But her knowledge only gives her license to meddle."

"Does she sing?" I wrapped a towel around myself.

"Thank goodness, no. But honestly. I got quite tired of her trying to tell the dancers or my ch.o.r.eographer what to do, and they eventually learned to do what she said while she was watching and then go back to doing it my way the second she was gone. No company needs that kind of stress." He pulled on a bathrobe. "For the farewell tour, thankfully, she stayed put, and I have a much better relationship with the dancers than she does. And the band? They won't even speak to her unless they're forced to." The smile on his face as he thought about his bandmates was relaxed and genial.