Bound to Please(35)
And she couldn’t wait.
Chapter
Ten
You know, I played guitar once.”
After she’d finished the last of the strawberries, she expected him to whisk her into a broom closet or some other nook and ease this need between her thighs. But instead he’d led her outside, past the valet, and away from the hotel. Now they were strolling along a narrow, man-made path.
He liked to torture her, that much was obvious.
Still, part of her was enjoying the easy way they talked as they walked along the smooth cement trail that ran beside the wild coastline. But even the Ritz gardeners hadn’t been able to tame the wild vines of jasmine that still grew along the perfectly rounded edge of the concrete, the flowering vine’s perfume mixing with the sea-salt air. This scent made her nostalgic, made her think of home.
“So you’re a musician, then?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I was never very good, but I got blisters trying. My dad loved music. He taught me how to play.” Growing up, it was one of the few things they did together, one of the limited activities they shared an interest in, so she’d taken advantage and spent as much time as possible learning about music. “I think that was why I always found myself going out with boys who were in bands.”
“You’re a groupie?” he said teasingly.
“No. I swore off musicians when I turned thirty. Along with sculptors, potters, and painters. And writers. They’re the worst.”
“You really have dated quite a few creative types.”
“It’s a disease.” She thought of James Cleaver and wondered if she’d finally found a man who met her requirements. He’d become even more flirtatious on the phone over the past week, yet she’d been unable to get as excited about this turn of events as she thought she should be.
Mark squeezed her hand. “Oh? So you only date photographers now.”
“Nope. I eliminated them, too.”
He chuckled and they kept walking.
“Anyway, my parents were total hippies. Always had people around, playing music. During the summer of ’75 Jerry Garcia would come and jam with my dad. I was only five, but I knew even then that I was witnessing something special.”
“Wow, 1975. I wasn’t even born yet.”
She gave him a playful punch. “Brat.”
“So I’ve been told. The ladies don’t seem to mind my rakish disposition, though.” He tilted his mouth in one of those killer grins of his.
She said, “Speaking of the ladies, I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“When did you know you were… you know? That you liked to be dominant.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him give a start. “Wow. That was a strange conversation segue.”
“I’m known for them. Sorry.”
Slowing his pace, he regarded her dubiously. “Seriously? You want to go there?”
She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Seriously.”
“Fuck, I don’t even know. I did tie my girlfriend to my bed when I was sixteen.”
“Why am I not surprised? And you just… kept exploring?”
“Kinda. I really got involved about five years ago.”
“Why then?” she asked.
“I just needed something… more.”
“Like?”
“Christ, Ruby,” he said, running his hand over his scalp.
“Tell me,” she said.
He blew out a gust of air. “Because sex had become routine, easy.”
“Oh.”
“See? You don’t want to know.”
She tugged his hand, urging him to keep walking, talking. She did want to know this part of him.
“Tell me,” she said.
“Shit. Okay. Well, I just always liked being in charge, having control over someone, over their pleasure. At first I couldn’t believe I actually enjoyed inflicting pain on another person. But then I accepted how much they liked it and it fed me. I get off on making people get off, I guess. In music, in sex.”
She smiled. “So, big, bad rock star Mark St. Crow is really just a people pleaser at heart.”
“I can’t help it if it pleases some people to be spanked with a hairbrush, doll. I just do what I can.”
She was glad the dark night hid her blush. She coughed. “I bet. So five years ago you started getting into, uh, spanking people.”
“Yeah. We put out our first record, and our venues got bigger and bigger. Our band became more well known. Soon I had girls… er… well…”
“Go on.” She could take it. She could. This thing between them was temporary, and she was curious—and curiously turned on—to learn about his voyage into BDSM.