How to Reprimand Your Rock Star (DommeNation #2) (9 page)

“I . . . of course I’m glad,” I said blinking, dazed. This week had been a blur of brutal practices, discussion of ESPN’s selection show, and basic all-around boot camp training. How was it, then, that I was staring down Keaton in the parking lot? Not that I was upset about it, mind you, but my brain was just in a different place. The transition from working out to wanting to make out was a tough one.

“You don’t look so happy,” Keaton said, leaning against his rental car. It was a shiny Audi and didn’t look like any car my family had ever rented.

This was where my strategy had gone awry. I thought that if I texted Keaton some of the kinky bondage things I was learning about on the Internet, that he’d finally cave and make official plans for when we arrived in North Carolina, the next time I could guarantee we’d be in the same place. I didn’t expect him to show up here, today.

I bit my lip. “I just thought you were in New York City for the next few days. I didn’t know when I’d actually see you again, so yeah I’m surprised.”

I blinked, staring at him in awe. He was here. He came here to see me.

He laughed and lifted his dark sunglasses, eyeing me. “Goddess, are you stalking me?” he joked. “You know my schedule?”

I laughed at his pronunciation—SHED-yool.

In defeat, I raised my hands into the air. “You got me. Yes, I know your tour schedule.”

Keaton shrugged. “I decided to arrive a day early, next gig’s tomorrow night. Thought I’d surprise you. I think I succeeded.”

I glanced around. I had just got out of practice and we were just standing in the Gampel Pavilion parking lot where anyone could just spot him. Cars were starting to fill up for tonight’s game. The boys were playing a tournament game tonight and it was looking like it would be a packed house.

“So, what shall we do? Rent a movie in a local hotel room and pop some corn?” he asked, smacking his gum. “Or would you like to hop in this little car of mine and drive to the coast?”

If only I could say yes to both, or either.

“I have to be at the boys’ game tonight,” I said, partially glad I wasn’t jumping out of my skin to see him. At the same time I was completely and totally fucking bummed out. “We’re going as a team. I can’t miss it.”

Think, Thea. Strategy. How can you sneak a rock star around campus?

He nodded. “Especially with how you nearly got caught going to see me.”

“Almost got caught,” I corrected with a sigh. “If you weren’t so mischievous, you could have told me you were coming and I could have fudged a plan. Or made time. Or something.” Dear lord how I wanted to make time. I just wanted that mouth of his back on mine and I was pissed it wasn’t happening right the fuck now.

He leaned farther back against the car and his shirt lifted a bit, exposing his tight stomach. My knees weakened. “What are you doing after the game?”

I fought the urge to jump on top of him, an urge that was growing with each second. Yesterday’s little romp with Scarlett and Nico hadn’t satisfied me; it had just left my unresolved feelings for Keaton more exposed. I wanted him so badly, and I wanted him exactly the way Scarlett took Nico. It was like I’d had a taste of wine but never got drunk.

He was making me thirsty.

“I have to go to a party with the team,” I answered, another sad but true fact.

Keaton grimaced. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t fare too well at a college party. Too recognizable,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. A large man stood a few rows over from us and I recognized him as Keaton’s bodyguard.

I tapped my lip, gears inside my head turning. I could see all the plays laid out, just like on the court. Yes, I realized, I could be with him tonight. “Actually, you may fit in at this party.”

For once, he looked surprised. “How?”

I pulled out a highlighter that was sticking out of my back pocket. The team had made T-shirts specifically for tonight. “We’re going to a blacklight party.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’m embarrassed to say I have no idea what that is. Do you trip on shrooms or something? Sounds a little hippyish.”

“It’s completely pitch dark except for blacklights. Everyone shows up in white T-shirts and glow-in-the-dark paint. You mark up your hair, your face, your clothes. If I got some of my glow paint on you, they’d never recognize you.”

His eyebrow raised. “A little bit of anonymity. Just a bunch of glowing people and some thumping music and shitty beer?”

I nodded.

“I’m in,” he said, snatching the marker from my hand and drawing a little heart on my exposed shoulder.

Grabbing it back from him, I pulled his hair back and wrote across his neck, “Thea’s.”

“Are you marking me, Goddess?” he asked.

I nodded.

“That is so hot.”

KEATON DECIDED TO GET HIMSELF
some supplies for the party and meet me just outside the event once the game let out. It would be dark enough in the side street next to the party’s address that nobody would randomly think Keaton Lowe himself were standing outside some college ripper.

In the meantime, I put on my Husky best and headed to the boys’ game. I felt privileged to be sitting with the upperclassmen, who were still talking about how I schooled Wes so badly the other night. I was happy to have made them proud, and even happier to be sitting in their inner circle.

Of course, I was able to bring Callie with me, and although she wasn’t a huge point-scorer or strategist, she was hilarious and the older girls enjoyed her company.

The boys trotted out onto the court to thunderous applause. They were playing Duke, who had been tearing it up the past few seasons. I remember watching their boys’ team in high school and being completely enamored with one of their forwards, Bryan Pikeman. He had since graduated, but I was still a bit starstruck. March Madness had that effect on people.

As much as I wanted the boys to win, I felt a secret satisfaction every time Wes failed. Seeing him cause turnovers or miss a shot sent a shiver down my spine not unlike pleasure. Maybe I
was
a sadist, I mused. Because if watching Wes hurt isn’t fun, I don’t know what is.

Duke was completely outplaying them at every turn, and at points it became hard to watch. My satisfaction at watching Wes fail turned to embarrassment for him. I was surprised to feel pity, but I knew what that awful sensation felt like. To have let your team down in such a completely naked way. Thousands of people watching, knowing it was you who screwed up. Wes may be a jerk and a half, but nobody deserved to feel ashamed of their performance. I glanced up at the girls, who were hiding their dismay poorly, some covering their eyes at the display on the court. Dunks just shook his head and sipped his water with a sour expression.

Tonight was not in favor of the Huskies.

After the loss, we traveled down to where the boys would be coming out of the locker room. We tried to look less morose than we did a minute ago, but nobody could deny that tonight was just bad. Flat out horrible.

And we couldn’t stop checking our phones to see how the other teams were doing.

Then the boys came out and we had to pretend to tell them they lost with dignity when in reality it was a slaughter.

I extended my hand to a few of the guys I had spoken to a few times. They nodded sadly at me and moved on, trying to play it cool.

Wes avoided eye contact with me, but I tried to be the better person. I clapped him on the shoulder and told him he gave it his best. He did. I saw real effort there, real sweat.

He looked me in the eyes and frowned. “Thanks?”

I kept my hand on his shoulder as the team passed. “Seriously, it was a good season and you have a few more ahead of you. Don’t worry.”

Callie looked at me like I had five heads.

Wes’s mouth twitched slightly upward. “Cool,” he said, and moved on with slightly less slouch.

“That was . . . classy,” Callie said as we left.

I shrugged. “Nobody should feel that shitty in front of so many people. Plus, I’m feeling generous tonight.”

She frowned. “Oh really?”

I nodded and pulled out my phone. “Yeah, I’m trying to be good to karma. You’ll see why later.”

“Aren’t you going in?” Callie asked, hand on her hip, highlighter dangling from between her lips like a cigarette.

I looked over my shoulder. No Keaton yet. “Um, I’m waiting for someone.”

She made a
psssh
sound. “Everyone that matters is inside. Who could you . . .” she trailed off and raised her eyebrows. “You wouldn’t take
him
to a measly little college party, would you? I mean, how would that even be possible. Trickst—”

My finger flew to my lips and I shooshed her prematurely.

Callie bounced. “You’re lying. Lying. He’s coming
here
? How? More importantly,
why
?” Her frantic flailing had garnered a bit of attention from others heading into the house, so I pulled her into the bushes and pinched her lips shut.

“Keaton came to surprise me. Nobody’s going to recognize him in the dark with his face all painted, okay?”

She nodded mutely, eyes wide at my fingers that were still holding her mouth shut. I continued. “You don’t make a fuss over him. You don’t act like he’s anything special. You just say he’s my boyfriend from home.”

At this comment, Callie’s lips squeezed from under my grasp and she gasped loudly. “Is he?!”

I shrugged. “Of course not! I mean, we haven’t defined anything and he’s a freaking globe-trotting hot-ass. All I know is that we’re together tonight and we will be in the same city when we’re in North Carolina. So chill.”

Callie’s feet tapped out a little victory jig for me. “Okay, chill, got it.”

I lifted my eyebrows at her in warning. “Don’t blow his cover.”

“I’ll leave the blowing to you,” she said with a wink. The dark hid my blush as she skipped off and a hand wrapped around my waist from behind me.

“Will you be pinching my lips shut later?” Keaton asked softly into my ear. I spun and kissed him hard.

“Yeah, with my own lips,” I said and nibbled his bottom lip.

He growled.

I pulled out my paints. He already wore a white tee and I saw he had picked up some novelty sunglasses that were neon-yellow rimmed. My face was done up war-paint style with stripes under my eyes, a line down my nose and my lips were neon pink. I decided to mark Keaton with the same design to show my ownership of him. He squinted and squirmed as I ran the paint all around his face. I loved the way his skin felt under my slippery fingers, and I realized I wanted to paint all of him.

I also decided to write “I Love Thea” and “Go Huskies” up and down his arms to take attention away from his tattoos and help him blend in more as a fan. No, not really. I just wanted to touch his arms some more.

My handiwork wasn’t bad, I thought, as I looked him up and down. Even covered in neon paint, Keaton was gorgeous.

“Can you hide that accent?” I asked, wondering what people would say about a guy from my small town who happened to have a British accent.

“Yes,” he said, “although I’ll only speak if spoken to by you, Goddess.”

I swatted his firm ass. “That’s more like it.” Looks like my session with Scarlett and Nico had really emboldened me.

I took him by the hand and led him into the party. The music was thumping like crazy and the place was jam-packed with students. Blacklights shone from every lightbulb and made the house look like a club. Husky fans were made up like neon warriors and most of the boys’ team was intoxicated already, trying to drink off the pain from the night’s loss.

Reese and Donelle saluted me from a dark corner, and Callie worked her way across the room with two cups in her hand.

“Here,” she said timidly, staring completely doe-eyed and awestruck at Keaton, unlike when she had met him at the concert. Maybe it was finally setting in.

Keaton waved his hand in decline. I did the same, but he turned to me.

“Have a little fun. I’ll take care of you.”

I straightened. “I do
not
need you to take care of me.”

“I meant,” he said, lowering his head but keeping his eyes on me, “that I’d love to serve you by being the responsible party tonight.”

I thought for a moment. “That’s better,” I said and took the cup. There was no practice tomorrow and I could use a little loosening up, considering my senses were always on high alert when Keaton was around. It would be nice to take the edge off and just relax with him. It’s not that he made me nervous; he just made me very,
very
aware. Aware of my body, his, my words, the things he did and did not say. A sip went down and soothed my throat.

“Let’s dance,” I said, and my black-lit man followed me to the dance floor.

The music wasn’t his style, since there was always much more hip-hop at parties than rock, but that didn’t stop Keaton. His body moved in ways we normal people could never coordinate. Each small rock, each motion of his hips drew attention. Eyes just kept finding him, as though he were a human hiding among zombies and they just now got the scent of his flesh.

If he kept this up, they’d be onto us soon. I had to do something. He just danced so well, so sexily, so goddamn irresistibly that I had to push him off the dance floor.

And into the wall.

I kissed him, grabbing his throat and pulling him closer to me. We gasped for air and I couldn’t help but press him further into the wall and squeeze our bodies together as close as possible. Our tongues danced, our bodies danced, and I felt new sensations just from this second kiss. It was more ferocious than the last one, more needy. My body was starting to tell me what it was I wanted from him. As if I already didn’t know.

“What was that for?” he whispered when I came up for air.

“Your dancing. It was
conspicuous
,” I said, planting a playful smooch on his chin.

“Conspicuous?”

I nodded. “College guys don’t dance that well,” I said scanning the crowd. “They hold their beers in the air and they grind against girls’ asses. They don’t . . . move like you do.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he chuckled. “I
am
a performer, though, so I suppose my moves are a bit more artful.”

“Perform for me,” I said, tucking us farther into the room’s corner. There were plenty of people making out at the party. Nobody would pay particular attention to us. “I want to watch you dance, now that I’m safely blocking you from the crowd.”

Keaton smiled. “Will you dance with me?”

I nodded.

He grabbed my hip. “Then let’s heat up this little corner.”

Keaton’s body began to move to the rhythm, and mine followed. I had never been much of a dancer at parties, but tonight was about letting go. I finished the drink I was holding and let our hips crash together to the bumping sounds. His eyes burned under the blacklight and his painted smirk drove me crazy as we thrashed against each other to the music.

After a frantic minute, I felt his body responding to mine. I was already wet just from feeling and watching how his body moved, and now that I could feel his hardness against my groin, I just wanted to get out of the party and be alone with him.

“Let’s go to my dorm,” I whispered.

His hand wrapped around my shoulders as he put his mouth to my ear. “Patience, dear.”

Wait, did he not want me? Why was he prolonging this? I won’t let him stop me.

My hips pinned him to the wall and I rolled my body against his. Was he teasing me? He didn’t want me to throw him onto some dorm room bed and fuck him silly? “I want you now.” My bold words didn’t seem to startle him, but they sure surprised me. I was propositioning a rock star at a blacklight party.

His warm breath tickled my ear. “Tell you what,” he said, glancing next to us. “There’s a closet door two feet down from you. Want to see if we can steal a little moment alone?”

I looked over and saw a louver door right by my shoulder.

“Think we can keep it shut?”

He shrugged.

“Think people can see in those little slats?”

“Probably not,” he replied, not seeming to care.

I bounced on my toes the way Callie had done earlier. “Let’s go,” I whispered, and when nobody was looking in our direction, we slipped inside the closet door.

Keaton laughed so hard once we got inside that I worried about people hearing us.

In his hands was a large fur coat.

“Do frat boys wear furs now?” he asked in a high-pitched whisper.

I stared at it and looked around the dark closet. “It’s a coat closet, but I don’t think people have used it since the eighties.”

He pulled another fur off the rack. “Look at the shoulders on this one.”

I stared at the pointed-triangle tufts of mink in awe. “I have no idea how this was ever an acceptable fashion statement.”

He dropped it on the floor. “Sure would make a comfy place to sit.”

The closet was tight and there were only a few feet of space on the floor, but he was right. Hell, if I could line a room with fur coats and roll around on them with Keaton I would, but for now, kneeling together on a fur coat from 1980 would do.

We fell to the ground together, frantically kissing. He worked his fingers into my hair and slid his tongue down my throat with desperation. My hands flew to his hard chest, caressing his muscles over his shirt, then under.

Keaton followed suit, running his hands under the tee and up my chest. I felt shivers. So this was college, I realized, getting a little tipsy and then felt up in a closet. Except, most people aren’t with a rock star.

His fingers felt amazing on my hot skin, and when he rubbed his thumb along my nipple I thought I was going to have an orgasm. Was that possible?

I doubted we had much time, and I really wanted to show Keaton my appreciation for his visit.

Also, I finally wanted to answer Callie’s question about size. There. I admitted it.

So I unbuttoned Keaton’s jeans and boldly slipped my hand inside.

I fought a gasp as my hand ran down his cock. He moaned softly as my hand roamed his body. It was dark, and I really wanted to just take my time with him, but our bodies were desperate and I just wanted to make him feel as good as possible. And, of course, I was hoping he’d return the favor.

And at that thought, as though he were reading my mind, Keaton’s hand found my button and zipper. One finger slid inside, but it was all he needed. All I needed. I couldn’t believe how ready for him I was, how easy it felt to accept his touch. I moaned and then muffled myself with his lips. I really, really didn’t want to get caught yet.

Soon we were kissing and touching and kneeling in the furs with hot, frantic bodies. I wanted to strip us down and feel the soft coats tickle our skin, but I knew we could save that fantasy for another time. The way he looked at me, eyes glinting in the soft purple light that peeked in from outside, it told me he wanted more.

I felt his finger rubbing me quickly, and soon my pants were around my knees and his fingers were inside me. It felt so full, so new. And with the people just outside, so taboo. I liked the forbidden feelings he was bringing out in me. His thumb circled my clit and soon I was holding back gasps and sighs and the only thing I moaned was Keaton’s name as I pulled his ear to my mouth. “I’m coming,” I whispered in a frantic pant.

His hand withdrew and I whimpered then focused on his needs more. Something Scarlett’s book had said was that regardless of top and bottom, the best D/s relationships were ones where everyone’s needs were met. Now I didn’t know all of Keaton’s desires, but I knew at least one.

I slid his jeans down and took his body in both hands. His head rolled back and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as I brought him to the edge, working my hands up and down his shaft. Keaton glanced up at a trench coat with a long, dangling tan belt.

“What do you want to do with that?” he asked as I eyed it.

“Tie you up,” I moaned, voice hoarse. I quickly bound his hands with it and then brought my fingers back to his hard body, which twitched at my contact.

And with a gorgeous moan, Keaton came, bound and in a closet. And I found out that black light makes everything more interesting. And glowy.