Wild Licks (20 page)

I scalded my tongue a little on the almond milk and then sat there sucking air through the O of my lips to cool it. That was when I knew what my next step had to be.

If I wasn't ashamed to tell Ricki everything, it was time to bring in some help. No one knew Mal better than Axel, and maybe the two of them could help me untangle the puzzle.

I turned on my phone to add “Enlist Ricki/Axel in Project Mal” to my to-do list and then checked my e-mail while waiting for my milk to cool enough to drink.

There was a message to my regular e-mail account from an address I didn't recognize, [email protected].
Who uses Hotmail still?
The subject line was “Gwen, please accept this sincere career advice.” If not for my name, I might have deleted it as spam.

It wasn't spam, but it was very weird. The attachments were all photos of me. One with Mal at the
Midnight
premiere. One with Dr. Torres at the Monteleone fund-raiser. One with Simon Gabriel. One kind of blurry and dim, of me talking to some random guy I didn't even know or remember, one who must have been at the record company party.

The e-mail read:

My
purity and angelic nature
?
I could feel the whip marks on my back burning. Well, I had just had the demons beaten out of me, hadn't I? I had to laugh. People had the weirdest ideas.

I forwarded the e-mail to Reeve with the subject line: “
Should I be worried about this?
”

The last thing I needed was some weirdo on the Internet latching on to me. Well, that was why we hired security.
See, Mal,
I thought,
I can take care of myself. I'm doing the responsible thing.

Thinking about him now, though, in the calm and quiet, I felt tired and vulnerable. The fear that he would successfully abandon me surged up again and I clamped down on the lump in my throat. I'd never felt like this about anyone before, not Chuck, not even my high school crushes in the worst of my teen angst. Yeah, being rejected hurt, but this wasn't that. This was like when Mal left, a piece of my soul went with him.

Tomorrow I'd talk to Ricki and Axel and ask for help. I'd tried every way I could think of to get through to Mal, and he had shut me out again every time. Even while he was saying he loved me he was slamming the doors of his heart.
I love you too much to destroy you.
His words echoed in my head. I tried to only hear the first few words and I whispered them to myself:
I love you too…

I wasn't in my best emotional state when we flew to Montreal for the next recording sessions, but I'd at least assumed that throwing myself into working on the album would be my best bet to get my mind off Gwen. I suppose in some ways that was true, because there was enough drama and strife during the sessions to occupy any man's full attention.

Working with Larkin Johns lasted until our fifth day in Montreal, which was the day he finally turned the band against me, whereupon I bit his balding head off and threatened to mail it to Los Angeles in an international mail sack. He stormed out rather than prolong the confrontation, and confirming my worst fears, Axel and Chino immediately went after him, no doubt to placate the idiot.

“What say we take ten, everybody?” suggested the Quebecois engineer whose name I hadn't learned, and then he, Ford, and Samson made themselves scarce, perhaps to the cafe across the street where a gaggle of our fans had taken to gathering each day. I did not care. I went to the fire escape to cool down in the first hint of chill autumn air and look down over the shadow-filled alley between us and the next building.

I gripped the steel railing hard enough to make my palm hurt. The injury had mostly healed but underneath some tender spots lingered.

Things were not going well.

Our previous studio stint, the three-week “trial run” with Johns, had been productive to a point—we'd narrowed down the prospective song list somewhat and had fully finished the recording for two more songs, bringing the total to four. It had made me optimistic that continuing with Johns was a viable option. But since we had been in Montreal, he had systematically undermined me, drawing the members of the band to his side until I stood alone in the face of withering idiocy.

I supposed I had best call Christina, who hadn't come to Montreal with us. Johns was probably on the phone to Marcus right now. We had the studio booked for another two weeks here. What I wanted to do most at that moment, though, was heave large objects from the fire escape. Perhaps I was still not calm enough to speak to anyone.

I heard the sound of knuckles rapping against the metal door frame behind me and expected to see Axel standing there to confront me when I turned.

Much to my surprise, the blond head that greeted me with a tentative smile belonged to none other than my superfan Aurora. Her blond hair was loose and her top was dangerously low cut for such chilly weather.

“Hey,” she said.

“How did you get in here?”

“Axel sent me up here to talk you off the ledge.”

“I am not on a ledge!”

“Uh-huh,” she said with a knowing look. “What say we go back to the hotel since you're not getting much done out on that fire escape?”

I remembered what Chino had said, that my sex life was the whole band's business because I was so difficult to deal with if I didn't get off regularly. Had they really approached this woman to throw herself at me? Apparently they had.

The moment we were alone in my hotel room, I turned and pinned her with a mere look. She had her back to the door. I hadn't let her get more than a step or two into the room. Now was the moment when I should command her to pull that top down and expose her breasts for my admiration. Or perhaps strip down entirely before she should be allowed into my domain, my small kingdom where no woman could enter unless naked and on her knees…

The fantasy image in my mind raged out of control. Not Aurora crawling naked into the room, but Gwen. I could see it, hear her voice, imagine the look in her eye. I banged my fist against the wall and Aurora squeaked.

Poor scared soul. She didn't dare move.

I ground my erection against the corner of the wall where the bathroom jutted out. Mother of angels and devils, I was trapped in a torment from which there was no sane escape.

“Axel put you up to this?” I heard myself ask.

“Y-yes,” she said. “Well, he approached the group of us and asked for a volunteer. And I volunteered.”

“Did he…did he…” I couldn't bring myself to ask if he'd screened her the way Nick always did. I knew perfectly well he hadn't.

“I…I know your reputation,” she said, her voice halting. “I'm not a kid. I'll…I'll try anything once.”

I want to fuck you until you bleed. I want to leave bruises like flower petals all around your nipples from my bites. I want you to scream for me to stop as much as you scream for me to take you…

But not you.

“No,” I whispered, my hands against the wall. “No, angel, you're not…what I need.” Not who I need.

I ducked into the bathroom and locked the door behind me, tore open my jeans and smacked my erection with my hand against the marble sink top. Even if I didn't have serious doubts about Aurora's actual willingness to have sex with me, she wasn't the one I wanted. Even the most brazen partner wouldn't have been able to supplant the burning image in my mind of Gwen.

Gwen on the porch of my condo, stripping off her clothes and setting them on fire before I would allow her through the door…I let the fantasy play behind my eyelids while my fist pumped mercilessly on my dick. Naked, defenseless, crawling into my presence, ripe for debauchery.

Iron. I would have iron manacles made for her, brutal things that would weigh on her skin, and new chastity devices, all of which she would wear for me, bear for me, to prove her worth to me. And then, one by one, she would earn their removal by pleasing me, by pleasuring me and submitting to whatever tortures I might devise…

I came suddenly, my heart racing and a bellow escaping my lungs as I pumped line after line of glistening seed into the bowl of the sink.

It took some time for my breathing to slow to normal and for the flush to recede from my face. Once it had, I washed up, tucked myself away, washed my hands, and then listened at the door. Had Aurora left?

No. She was sitting by the window with the teapot and two cups, reading a book like a civilized woman.

“You made tea,” I said, as if stating the obvious would help it to make sense to my brain.

“I thought it might help you calm down.” She put down her book and poured both cups. I picked mine up while she added milk and sugar to her own.

“You look confused,” she said after taking a sip.

“I confess that I am. I didn't expect you to stay.”

“Mal,” she said. “Maybe this will come as a shock to you, but some fans aren't after sex.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Just to help, honey. Just to help.”

I leaned back in the chair, exhausted. “I…appreciate that. Thank you. I apologize if I was uncouth.”

“You've been through a lot. Is there anything I can do?”

It was soothing to hear a kind voice. “Yes. Please take a message back to Axel that…” That I need to be alone to cool down and get my head together. That's what I should have said, but what came out was: “They can expect me back in the studio after the four of them come to their senses and stop listening to the poisonous drivel that Johns has been feeding them. Can you do that?”

“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.

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.