Pure Iron (4 page)

Her expression softened and her eyes flickered downward, drawn to the impressive bulge still filling the front of his pants. A small smile curved one side of his mouth.

“If you keep looking at it, it won’t go away.”

Her cheeks flamed red and she bit her lip in consternation. But her eyes seemed fixed on his crotch as though she did not know how to look away. He could feel his greedy cock swell even more and he groaned, palming himself through the fabric.

“I need relief,” he said honestly. “You can do that or I can do that. But I need it now and you need to make a decision.”

Her startled gaze flew upward to meet his intense one.

“You don’t have to lose your V-card to do this,” he coaxed even as he slowly drew her toward him. She did not resist. He could see the pulse at her throat flutter rapidly as her breath quickened. Oh, she wanted to, even if she could not admit it.

“H-how?” she whispered.

“Oh, baby, I just need your hands and mouth.”

Sonia swallowed the lump of nervousness that clogged her throat. She understood what he meant. She read books, romance novels that could get pretty explicit.

“I’ve n-never done that,” she confessed when he brought her to a slow halt. She stood between his spread thighs.

“In the state I’m in, you won’t have to do it for very long,” he said, his voice beginning to show strain.

She averted her gaze, then looked at him again. Once again, she bit her lip and worried at it.

“Do you want me to take it out for you?” he asked.

Her gaze flickered downward, then back up. She replied with an almost imperceptible nod. He released her hand and unfastened the button at his waistband and unzipped the fly. He groaned with the slight relief as his cramped dick straightened, the mushroom head pushing above the elastic waistband of his underwear. He looked up at her and her fascinated gaze was fixed on his crotch, her eyes wide with something that looked a bit like fear.

“You’ve never even seen one before, have you?” he asked gently.

She slowly shook her head.

Mick wanted to howl with triumph as sheer possessiveness and pride surged. He was her first. He would initiate her foray into sexual pleasure.

Suddenly, he knew he wanted to be her last, too. The very idea of another man touching her as intimately as he had, tasting her, made his blood boil. The possessiveness confused him. No woman had ever affected him like that: women were easy to come by and easy to let go. They gave him pleasure and he returned it. That was the extent of the relationship.

But Sonia was different. So different. He’d only known her for a few hours and already he knew that.

With a quick movement, he shoved underwear and jeans over his hips and down to his ankles. His heavy cock bobbed expectantly between his thighs. An oily drop gathered at the end, dripped down the side. He heard her suck in a long, drawn out breath of air.

“You’re gonna have to kneel, sweetheart,” he said softly.

Obediently, she lowered herself to her knees. Hand trembling, she hesitantly reached for him. Then drew her hand back. He gently grasped her wrist and drew her hand to him. With his other hand, he curled hers around his girth near the root. She gasped softly at the heat of him, the hardness, the delicate softness of the skin, the rough prickle of pubic hair.

“Hold it steady and lick the top,” he said … well, begged, practically.

She tilted her head sideways as though to figure out the best way to do that.

“Like an ice cream cone,” he suggested.

She leaned down and took a tentative like. He inhaled sharply and she reared back in fright.

Grabbing on to the dissolving threads of his control, he managed a short chuckle and said, “You didn’t hurt me. That felt great. Phenomenal. Do it again.”

Hesitantly, she bent back down and swiped her tongue across the glans again. She inhaled, taking in the earthy, musky scent of him.

“Oh, yeah,” he crooned.

Thus encouraged, she began to lick him more thoroughly, swirling her tongue around the tip, dipping the tip of her tongue into the weeping divot, flicking it around the lip beneath the glans. He guided her hand, stroking where her mouth did not reach.

“That feels so good,” he praised.

Then she opened her mouth wide, folding her lips over the sharp edges of her teeth, and took him inside her mouth.

“Aaaah!” he exclaimed and fought to keep from bucking his hips as she closed her mouth around him and sucked. Her other came joined the first and stroked his balls, learning their shape and texture. He groaned as her tongue fluttered around him, rubbed him. Her hands stroked, feathery caresses interspersed with firmer touches. Then her fingertips gently, lightly rubbed the sensitive perineum and his balls clenched, sending their contents up through the long, thick stalk of his erection and into her mouth.

“I’m cumming!” he announced, ending on a long, drawn out groan as his hips rocked helplessly.

Sonia managed to capture and swallow the first couple of spurts, but the entire ejaculate proved too much and she found the thick, salty substance draining out of her mouth and over Mick’s still-hard cock. His semen lubricated her hands and she tightened her hold as she stroked him up and down.

“Ah … God,” he gasped and fell backward on the bed.

Sonia opened her mouth and let his softening dick slide out even as she gently released her hold on it. She drew the back of her arm across her mouth and chin to wipe off saliva and semen.

Looking at his heaving chest and the wet mess of his pubic area, she accurately guessed she did not have to ask whether he enjoyed her inexpert ministrations. Sonia sat back on her heels and wondered what she was supposed to do. At the flash of a mental lightbulb, she rose and disappeared into the bathroom, which wasn’t hard to find. She dug out a clean washcloth, turned on the spigot, rinsed out her mouth and drank some water before it ran warm, and wet the washcloth in the warm water. She wrung it out and brought it to the bedroom. Again, she knelt between his thighs, but this time she gently wiped him clean.

She rose and took the soiled washcloth back to the bathroom. A minute later she returned, paused, opened her mouth as though to say something, then closed it without speaking. A blush spread across her face and neck and Mick wanted to see how far it extended. She took a few steps toward the door.

Mick sat up and said, “Stay. Please.”

“Why?” she asked, standing poised to flee.

Suddenly suffused with energy, he forced himself to say slowly, gently, “Because I want you to. Because you want to stay.”

She averted her gaze, uncertainty evident in her posture. He rose and pulled up his underwear and pants. With a yank, he zipped the fly, but left the waistband unbuttoned. He brushed past her and picked up his guitar, hoisting it into place. A second, two seconds, to gather his thoughts, then his fingers worked their magic and the music flowed. The tune that he had painstakingly teased from his mind suddenly poured forth complete. His ear, mind, and hands committed the score to memory.

Sonia could not help but listen as the guitar wept beautiful music. The notes rang surely and with confidence.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

He lowered his guitar when the song ended and looked at her, eyes bright and burning. “I’ve been working on this song for over a year, but couldn’t get it to flow, couldn’t figure out anything beyond the refrain. Until you. A few hours with you and I’m suddenly creating the best work of my life.”

Sonia’s mouth opened, then closed again, for lack of words.

“Stay. Please,” he asked again. Begged, really.

“I—I—”

“We’ll get married,” he continued in a rush, keeping his voice soft and persuasive, the volume low. The cold part of his mind reasoned that if the woman whose novice attentions had just given him the absolute best blowjob in his life wouldn’t have sex without a piece of government paper, then he’d happily take care of that little obstacle. “We can fly to Las Vegas in less than two hours.”

“I—I—”

He set down the guitar and crossed the room. Mick wrapped his arms around her, aligning her body against his. He lowered his lips to hers and, before kissing her senseless, said, “Say yes.”

“But—” Sonia gasped a weak objection when he let her up for air. He rolled his hips against her and she realized that he was hard again. A quiver rippled through her and she felt her core grow slick with a fresh secretion of moisture. A second later, she found her mouth captured by his, Mick’s hands roaming beneath her shirt to stroke her back, dipping beneath the loose waistband of her shorts to caress her butt. And she was certain that her brain cells had begun to melt and every intelligent thought dribble out her ears.

“I’ll buy you a restaurant, a little cafe so you won’t be wasting your education,” he offered spontaneously as the cold, calculating part of his brain asked why she should stay with him. What was in it for her?

“I wouldn’t marry you for your money, Mick,” she protested stiffly.

“A wedding present,” he coaxed, rocking his hips into her again, letting her feel the strength of his irrational, unreasonable, unaccountable desire for her. And if the marriage didn’t work out—as he fully expected within a few months—then she would have her restaurant to fall back on.

He could feel and see her hesitation.

“When was the last time you did anything on impulse, Sonia?” he asked between long, drugging kisses as one hand palmed her breast and kneaded the plump flesh. “When was the last time you did anything just because it felt this good?”

Sonia had to admit to herself that the entire day had been one impulsive decision after another, which was so extremely and incredibly unlike her. Nor could she deny that it all felt good, delicious even. She moaned softly, indecision warring with expectations and drowning beneath pleasure.

“Say yes,” he demanded, sinking a hand down the front of her pants until he could stroke her so, so intimately. She sucked in a huge gulp of air and her hips bucked. “Say yes.”

He inserted a finger inside her tight channel and pulled it back out. She whimpered. He stroked upward again, pressing the heel of his palm against the fleshy mons.

“Say yes.”

Her thighs began to tremble and her breath shortened to shallow pants. He pushed in a second finger and she moaned against his mouth, her hips rocking restlessly.

“Say yes.”

He reached further in and found the G-spot and rubbed his fingertips over it. Sonia’s breath hitched and she made the high keening noise again as her pussy clenched rhythmically and her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Yes!” she cried out.

In the battle between sense, indecision, and pleasure, pleasure won.

Mick scooped her limp form into his arms and lay her down on his bed. His erection screamed at him to sink into her, but he drew the line at having sex with an unconscious woman.

“I’ll get your things,” he whispered to her.

The fact that she was unconscious didn’t faze him. He’d informed her. He licked her honey off his fingers, then walked over to the cottage next door where the three-way showed no signs of diminishing in vigor or volume. Since it wasn’t really necessary to sneak in, he walked boldly through the cottage into Sonia’s room. Her suitcase was neatly stowed in a corner of the room. He opened it and retrieved the smaller carry-on she had tidily packed inside it. Rummaging through the bureau and closet he pulled out panties and bras, pretty sundresses, and a pair of white sandals that would go with anything. He saw no sense in bothering with pajamas; she wouldn’t need them. He took her toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, and hairbrush. He sniffed at the bottles or perfume, finding the light, floral scent that he had smelled on her. He found her packet of birth control pills and paused.

She said she was a virgin. She acted like she was a virgin. Her pussy was definitely tight enough to be virginal, so why the birth control pills? He considered that for a moment and remembered that one of his old buddies had a sister who took the pills to regulate her very irregular cycle. Okay, she had fucked-up hormones. He could understand that.

The pills went into the carry-on bag. He zipped it shut.

Mick decided that anything else she needed he could buy for her.

As he walked back to his cottage, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and, with the aid of speed dial, was quickly connected to his agent.

“Hey, Jay,” he greeted.

“How’s it going, Mick?” Concern loaded Jay’s voice. He knew of Mick’s recent dearth of creativity.

“Never better, Jay. Fantastic, in fact. I need you to get me two tickets to Las Vegas.”

“Mick, you’re not going to do something stupid are you?”

“I found my muse, Jay, and I’m going to make damn fucking sure she stays with me. We need to leave today.”

“Please don’t tell me one of the groupies you’ve been fucking has blackmailed you.”

“She’s not a groupie and I haven’t fucked her. Yet. We’re getting married first.”

“Married! Mick, have you gone crazy?”

“Oh, yeah, and it feels good, really, really good.”

“Mick—”

“Jay, I’m an adult, have been for several years. This is my decision.”

“At least get a prenup.”

“She’s not marrying me for my money.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yeah, actually, I can. Just book the flights and send me the confirmation.”

Mick closed the door quietly behind him and set down the small suitcase. He tiptoed to the bedroom to check up on Sonia. She had rolled over and was curled up, her hands tucked beneath her chin, her breathing soft and regular as she slept. A small smile played across her lips.

Quietly, he withdrew a few changes of clothes and toiletries and stuffed them into an overnight bag. His cell phone vibrated as he carried the bags and her purse to the car. He deposited the bags in the car and glanced at the flight confirmation. Good old Jay had come through for him again.

He walked back into the bedroom and gently shook Sonia awake. He would have preferred to kiss her, but then he’d lose control and they’d miss their flight. She blinked sleepily at him, pushing her mussed hair back with one slender hand. Damn, he needed to get her a ring.

“Time to get up, sweetheart,” he said quietly.

“Huh?’

“Time to get up,” he repeated.

Like a sleepy child, she obediently followed the gentle tug of his hand and rose from the bed. She visited the bathroom and then let him lead her to the car.

“Buckle up, sweetheart.”

She buckled her seatbelt, leaned her head back, and promptly fell back to sleep. He let her snooze on the short drive to the airport.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he gently urged her. “We’ve got a plane to catch.”

Blinking and bleary, she yawned and followed him. Mick led her through the airport where they picked up their boarding passes. They garnered some curious glances and a few people squealed in recognition.

“Mick! Mick!” one particularly loud group of young women called, bouncing on their toes in excitement. “Is Davis with you? Angelo?”

Since none of the band members were with him, he simply shook his head and smiled. He pulled Sonia into the preferred traveler line where they could avoid the long wait to progress through security.

“In a hurry, sir?” the TSA agent queried.

“Running a bit late for our flight,” he replied.

“I see you’re headed to Vegas.”

“Yeah, getting married.”

Sonia blinked rapidly.

The agent looked at her and back at Mick, taking in her innocent, sleep-rumpled appearance and his wild hair and tattoos. He raised a speculative eyebrow, but said nothing more that could be construed as disapproving.

“Have a nice trip,” the TSA agent said and waved them through.

Mick led Sonia at a hurried walk through the terminal to their departure gate. He gestured to a seat and she gratefully plopped down.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“I could go for some iced tea,” she answered slowly, thinking to herself, “Married. Am I really doing this?”

Mick caught the sudden indecision cross her face and he bent down to wipe it away with a drugging kiss. She sighed into his mouth and he fought to remember they were in a very public place.

“I’ll get you that tea,” he promised. “Don’t wander.”

She blinked at him, still dazed. She blinked again and shook the cobwebs from her thoughts. Oh, she should let Penny know what was going on so she wouldn’t worry when she realized Sonia wasn’t there. If she realized, a cynical little voice whispered in her mind. Latching on to a semblance of responsible behavior, she pulled her cell phone from her purse and sent a quick text message: “Going out of town for a few days. Please tidy up the cottage.” Perhaps Penny would see it when she came up for air.

Mick returned a few minutes later with a bottle of iced tea as the flight attendant announced first class boarding.

“That’s us, sweetheart,” he said and held out a hand to help her stand.

She took it and followed him aboard. Having never traveled first class before, she sat down in mild amazement at how solicitous the flight attendants were, asking if she were comfortable, if she would like something to drink, if she needed a pillow or blanket. She stretched her legs in front of her and marveled that she could actually do so.

“Wow, first class is nice,” she commented under her breath.

“Stick with me, babe, and I’ll give you first class all the way.”

She blushed.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Going to Vegas?”

“Getting married to a man I’ve only just met today. This is insane.”

“Insanity feels wonderful, doesn’t it?” He grinned at her and she could not help but smile back.

God, he was so handsome. She felt her insides quiver at the thought that tonight would be her wedding night and that this gorgeous, talented man would be touching her in every intimate way. Sonia squirmed in her seat.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he whispered in her ear.

She gulped and blushed.

“I’m going to touch every inch of you,” he continued to whisper, his lips brushing her ear. “I’m going to taste you. And then I’m going to fuck you so thoroughly that you’ll still feel me inside you a week later.”

Sonia’s breath hitched.

“Hey, are you Mick Hendriksen?” asked a passenger across the aisle.

Mick cleared his throat and looked at the young man who watched him with hero worship in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m Mick,” he replied politely and extended his hand. The other man shook it eagerly and introduced himself: “It’s an honor to meet you, Mick. I’ve been a fan, a huge fan of Iron Falcon for years. I’ve been to your every U.S. concert in the last four years.”

Although Mick resented the intrusion into his seduction, he recognized the crucial importance of devoted fans like that man. “It’s always a pleasure and an honor to meet a dedicated fan like you, Tom. What’s your favorite tune?”

He didn’t really want to engage the man in conversation, but fans like that were utterly devoted until they weren’t, until they turned rabidly antagonistic because of some slight real or perceived. And disgruntled fans could do a lot of damage.

“Man, I never can choose between Masquerade and No Such Number.”

“Interesting. They’re very different songs.”

“Yeah,” Tom nodded in agreement. “The drum work, though, is absolutely astounding in both of them.”

“Ah, you’re a drummer, then?”

“Yeah, I play a little,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’m in a garage band at home, we do a small gig here and there, play at a local bar. We’re okay, but it’s not what we do for a living, more for entertainment.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Mick said. “I worked as a short order cook in my teens and still like to play in the kitchen every now and then. If I had to do it every day, it wouldn’t be fun.”

Tom laughed and commiserated, “That’s what my wife says about making dinner every night. And it’s only to hear the kids complain they don’t like whatever it is she makes.”

“You have kids? How many? Girls or boys?”

Tom perked up at the rock star’s successfully feigned interest in his family. “I’ve got three kids, two boys and a girl. She’s the youngest and my little princess. My oldest boy just turned six years old and he’s already an Iron Falcon fan.”

Mick chuckled obligingly and said, “I’m glad you’re starting them young. That plays into my retirement plan.”

A look of horror crossed the man’s face and he asked “You’re not planning on retiring any time soon, are you?”

“Only in about four or five decades,” Mick reassured him.

Tom smiled in relief. Then he seemed to realize that he had interrupted the celebrity’s personal time. Awkwardly, he said, “Well, it’s been really kind of you to indulge me, Mick. I’ll let you get back to your girlfriend. Sorry to have interrupted, but I was just so excited …”

“No worries, Tom. It’s always gratifying to meet a fan. Would you like me to autograph something for you?”

“Would you? Really?” He started digging in his pockets for something Mick could autograph. Then he remembered he had a folder stuck in the seat pocket. He pulled it out and handed it Mick, who accepted it with a nod.

“Sure. Let me see if my fiancée has a pen I can use.” Sonia, listening to Mick deal graciously with his fan, retrieved her purse from underneath the seat in front of her and rifled through it in search of a pen. A moment later, she extracted a pen and handed it to him.

“Fiancée? The tabloids haven’t mentioned anything about that.”

“After my agent, Tom, you’re the first to know.” Mick winked at him and said conspiratorially, “Let’s keep it just between us, though, shall we? My girl’s not comfortable with publicity yet.”

“Oh, sure. Mum’s the word.”

Mick signed the folder and handed it back. “Thanks, man. We both appreciate your discretion.”

“Of course. I’m glad to help the cause of true love.” Tom grinned.

Mick grinned back at him. Tom turned his attention back to the contents of his folder.

“That was nice of you,” Sonia complimented him in a quiet undertone.

“Without fans I don’t have a career,” he said with a slight shrug. “Making nice with fans is part of the job. Iron Falcon really owes its success to really dedicated fans like him. They’re the ones who propel a group forward, buy the albums, and attend the concerts.”

“And it costs nothing to be cordial to keep them as fans,” she added in that same quiet tone.

“There is this about that.”

She chuckled.

They chatted lightly, the type of getting-to-know-you discussion that fostered camaraderie and genuine liking for one another. Sonia was glad that, although they seemed to have little in common, Mick and she enjoyed many of the same things and held many similar opinions. There was just enough difference to keep them from becoming bored with each other.

“What was your childhood like?” she asked.

“Poor,” he replied tersely. He held his silence for a minute, not really wanting to go into his childhood, but then realizing that if anyone had a right to know about it, his wife would.

Wife.

The term suddenly struck fear into him.

This was more than just an official piece of paper that would unlock the key to Sonia’s figurative chastity belt. For a second, he considered calling the whole thing off. But then he reconsidered. She brought the music back to life within him and that was more than worth the term wife. He ordered that cold, rational part of his brain to shut up.

He started speaking, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard, because this was private. In concise terms, he described growing up with single mother.