“Thought so,” Benji whispers against my skin with a sinful chuckle. He lifts his head up to press the tip of his nose against mine, making my eyes blur as I try to keep my gaze on him. “I’ve been told what you like, but I clocked you the minute you walked through that door.” Benji untangles his hand from my hair to pat my cheek in an infuriatingly mocking manner. “How about I run the show tonight? Turn off that brain of yours?”
I swallow loudly, fear sluicing through me. “You won’t tell anyone?”
Benji cocks his head in confusion. “Tell anyone what?”
“That you… that I let you…”
Benji stops me with a bone-melting kiss. When he pulls away, my body is liquid gold, my brain quiet as he swirls his fingers against my still overheated skin.
“I signed an NDA, but even if I didn’t, tonight would be just ours, hmmm?”
Okay, yeah, that makes sense. What’s the difference between giving pain and receiving anyway? It’s all the same receptors in the brain. At least that’s what I try to convince myself as Benji kisses down my chest, lips leaving fire in their wake. Pain is all I know, pleasure is a less common experience. Benji carefully undresses me, fingers touching any spare skin he can find, lips lingering on the skin of my thighs, even the scarred pieces that are hidden by tattoos.
His fingers dip to the back of my knees, carefully pressing up until my feet are flat against the bed, knees bent. Everything is too slow, too sweet. The anxiety is welling up inside me, I can’t take it. Just when I’m about to kick him, shove him the fuck away, his teeth press into my inner thigh. A low moan escapes me at the sweet pleasure of the pain. His teeth stay there long enough for me to feel my heartbeat pounding under my skin, the decadent promise of a bruise tomorrow.
Benji proceeds to bite the hell out of my thighs. The feeling is so indescribable, so perfect. I stare up at the unlit chandelier hanging above us. The glass is dull in the dark, no sparkle left in it. Sometimes that’s how I feel when I perform. The only time I mean anything is when I’m on stage, when I’m performing for my fans, for the fucking label. Like a damn chandelier that’s only worth anything when lit up.
I toss my arm over my eyes to stop the thoughts wanting to invade this moment I’ve paid a lot of money for. Benji stops biting and smacks my thigh hard, the slap ringing through the silence of the room. Removing my arm from my face, I turn my gaze back towards him.
“Did you take a shower at the arena?” Benji asks, voice firm, but low.
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
“On your hands and knees.”
“No.”
Benji rises up to his knees on the bed and places his hands on either side of my head. His gaze is dark, fathomless, even in the dim of the hotel room. God, his eyes are so light blue. Like a fucking husky. Who even has eyes like that?
Lifting one hand, Benji pinches my chin between his fingers. “Get on your hands and knees, Nolan. I won’t ask twice. Don’t you want my cock?”
My entire body goes liquid. “Yes.”
Benji sits back on his haunches, watching me like a hawk with those damn impossible eyes. I let my gaze linger over his taut abs, his hard cock hanging heavy between his thighs in a small patch of light brown hair. I roll over onto my hands and knees with a quiet exhale. Benji runs his hands over my back, tips of his fingers skipping up the curve of my spine.
Folding my arms, I bury my face in the silky soft comforter. My breath puffs against the material, rebounding back up against my face with each heavy exhale. Benji is quiet behind me until I hear the telltale sound of a lube bottle. This part I know, this part is easy. Giving myself over to someone until my body is no longer my own, belonging only to them. After all, I always belong to someone else, never myself.
Instead of feeling lube-slick fingers pressing inside me, the soft touch of Benji’s tongue jerks me out of my thoughts.
“What are you doing?” I exclaim, voice high-pitched as fear rolls through me.
Benji presses down on my lower back until I curve back towards the bed. His skin is so hot against my own chilled body.
“Who’s in charge tonight?” Benji whispers against the skin at the small of my back.
I kick at him hard, my heel connecting with his thigh. “I’ll let you think you’re in charge, but we all know it’s me. Get on with it, motherfucker.”
Benji rewards my attitude with a stinging slap to my ass. I dig my fingers into the thick comforter as Benji returns his attention to my ass. His fingers bite into my thighs as he holds me still, holds me so that I can’t squirm away from his seeking mouth. When he presses his tongue into my hole, I clench my thighs hard to keep from crying out. My vision goes black for one solid second as he moans softly. He turns his head away, resting his face against one ass cheek. I have no idea why that’s so fuckingendearing like he has to keep touching me even as he catches his breath.
“It’s a trip having a tattooed rockstar at my mercy,” Benji admits quietly, words uttered so softly I don’t think he intended me to hear them.
“Stop saying cute shit and just fuck me.”
Benji’s sigh is long and loud, but he listens. He stops trying to fuck me with his tongue and crawls back up my body.
“Put your hands on the headboard, Nolan,” Benji orders, breath fanning across my back with each word.
Against my better judgment, I do as Benji says. I stare listlessly at my tattooed knuckles wrapped around the wrought iron headboard. The metal is freezing under my palms. I use the cold to anchor me to the now, in the moment, so I don’t float away on a spiral of overthinking.
