Pure Iron (8 page)

Silence. He listened. Sonia felt warmth envelope her heart.

“Well, we’re moving to Las Vegas. She’s got a new job out here. I’ll find something.”

More silence while he listened.

“We have that gig here in Vegas and it’ll be great to be able to go home every night to fuck my wife instead of some nameless groupie.”

Sonia flinched at the crudity. Was that all he wanted from her? A bit of inspiration and a convenient bed partner? That hurt.

Her stomach growled and Mck turned around, giving her that patented panty-melting grin. And, damn it, she could feel her panties melting—that is, she would have if she were wearing any.

“Come here, babe,” he beckoned and held out his hand toward her.

Without thinking about it, she obeyed, trustingly placing her hand in his and letting him draw her to his lap. She inhaled lightly. He smelled of musky sweat and sex.

“Say hi to Angelo,” he said, handing her the phone.

She brought it to her ear and said, “Er … hello, Angelo.” Mick started fondling a breast. His other hand dipped down between her thighs, stroking with one long, talented finger. Her breath hitched.

“So, you’re the mystery woman who’s got Mick tied in knots?” a smooth tenor replied. She could hear amusement lurking in the sound of his voice, as though he knew what Mick was doing to her while she was on the phone with him.

“Er … yes?”

“You can do better than that, babe,” Mick whispered in her other ear and his finger plunged inside her.

“Yes!” she squealed, embarrassment flooding her skin with its telltale red tint.

At the other end of the connection, Angelo laughed and said, “Tell Mick to get out of your pussy. The boys and I are coming down for a visit.”

“O—okay,” she replied breathlessly as her hips bucked helplessly. Mick chuckled into her ear as she rode his finger.

“We want to meet the woman who tamed Mick Hendricksen.”

“Say yes,” Mick whispered on the other side of her head and flicked her clit with his thumb.

“Yes!” she cried out as the spasms of climax ripped through her.

He took the phone from her unresisting hand and said, “See you tomorrow, bro.”

“She sounds responsive,” Angelo commented.

“You have no idea. My dick’s never been so happy.”

“I don’t suppose you’d consider sharing?”

“She’s my wife, douchebag. I’m not sharing her.” Sonia thrilled at the possessiveness in his voice and words, but then he ruined it: “I’ve got primo pussy and it’s all mine.” Her body stiffened, but he was already lifting her and settling her down on his cock. He thrust upward, bending his head down to suckle her breasts. The newly familiar excitement rose quickly and soon she was crying out as her overly sensitive tissues rippled with yet another orgasm.

Good Lord, didn’t her body had a limit on those?

“I think we both need a shower,” he said into her ear as she quivered helplessly against his body.

“I used the last towel,” she muttered.

“That’s okay, the suite has two bathrooms. I’ll get clean towels from the other one.”

He lifted her off his lap, relishing the slide of her flesh against his and feeling bereft upon leaving her body. As he walked to the door and opened it, he realized that his dick felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper. Immediately, he felt a sense of shame. If his well-used penis hurt, what did Sonia’s newly initiated vagina feel like? He made a mental note to leave her be for a while, let her heal. He saw the pile of clean towels placed conveniently beside the door and guessed accurately that the maid had visited while they slept. Or fucked. He picked them up.

“Come on,” he said a little brusquely and taking her hand and led her into the bathroom.

“Mick? Are you sure?”

“Sweetheart, I am not going to take you anywhere looking and smelling like you’ve just been fucked to within an inch of your life. I’d have to beat off every man in the city.”

Somewhere in there was a compliment. Maybe.

“You look good enough to eat and I am going to eat you out, but you’re hungry and so I’ll feed you first,” he added as he turned on the spigot.

The water warmed up quickly and he drew her into the spacious shower. Mick lathered up his hands and soaped up every inch of skin. He shampooed her hair and took care to condition it, too. It took Sonia about ten seconds to decide she enjoyed sharing the shower and she lavished the same attention on him. Incredibly, Mick’s penis had once again risen, thickened, and swelled.

“Kneel, Sonia,” he commanded in a guttural voice.

The shower streaming over her, she knelt. His freshly rinsed penis prodded at her lips. She opened up and he slid in. His hands held onto her hair as he rocked his hips in a shallow, gentle motion while her tongue flicked over the fat, purplish tip. The water rinsed away the sweat that bloomed on his skin as he orgasmed in short, jerky spurts. Soon, she stood, letting the shower rinse his cum off her face and neck and chest.

Mick turned off the spigot. They stepped out of the shower and dried each other off. Sonia kept glancing at Mick’s towel, half expecting the vivid colors of his tattoos to bleed onto the cotton, which was absurd, of course. Sonia vigorously towel dried her hair, combed it out, and left it loose to dry. Mick put on a pair of jeans and a loose button-up shirt. Sonia wore the blue sundress he had packed for her and her sandals.

“Zip me up?” Sonia asked, turning her back to Mick and holding her damp hair out of the way.

Mick obliged, lightly kissing the nape of her neck and smiling in satisfaction at the find shiver that ran through her when he did that. He closed his eyes and stepped away, cursing his stupid dick which was raring to go. Again.

Give it a rest, buddy.

“Where are we going?” Sonia asked as he put his hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the door.

“What are you hungry for?” he countered with a question.

“I’m not that picky,” she replied honestly. “But I’d rather not have fast food.”

“Let’s head to the Bellagio,” he said. “There are some good restaurants there and we’ll get a seat overlooking the fountains.”

Sonia’s eyes sparkled at the mention of the famous dancing fountains. “Sounds like a plan, a great plan.”

They walked at a leisurely pace. Anything more strenuous than that would have had them drenched with sweat in the blistering heat. At the restaurant, they were seated immediately, having arrived in that in-between time between lunch (which they had missed) and supper. The hostess who recognized the celebrity patron, seated them beside a window overlooking the fountains, at Mick’s request.

Sonia forced herself to merely nibble at the assortment of breads brought to the table while they perused their menus.

“Have you been here before?” she asked.

“A few times. The food’s always been good.”

“Do you recommend anything in particular?”

“It’s all good,” he repeated. “Why?”

Sonia pouted in exasperation. “I don’t know what to order. There aren’t any prices marked and I don’t want to get something that’s too expensive.”

Mick chuckled and said, “Oh, baby, I can afford anything on this menu. Don’t worry about that.”

Feeling a bit stupid and naive, Sonia returned her attention to the menu. The waitress approached and took their orders. As she left, music blared and the show began. Sonia watched with rapt attention. Mick watched Sonia.

Their food arrived and they ate, conversing easily like old friends. Sonia marveled that she had such a comfortable relationship with this man with whom she really had so little in common. They rose from the table, Sonia grimacing a little at the ache of sore muscles and tender flesh.

“Let’s take a walk,” Mick suggested, feeling a little guilty for her discomfort.

“All right,” she agreed and took his hand.

They wandered with no particular direction in mind. They posed for photographs with a Storm Trooper and an Elvis impersonator. Mick watched Sonia watch the famous play of lights overhead on Fremont Street. He found her delighted and awestruck expression fascinating. In a city where the rich and famous frequently played, someone occasionally recognized Mick, approached, and requested an autograph. Sonia remained quiet and observant as he graciously signed arms, scraps of paper, ticket stubs, and one half naked fan’s breast.

“Who needs a television when the people watching out here is so … interesting?” Sonia commented with a low laugh as a chubby older woman wearing nothing but red shorts, espadrilles, tiny white angel wings, and some strategically affixed duct tape paraded past them.

Mick hugged her to him and replied, “It’s like going to Walmart late at night, isn’t it?”

She shuddered theatrically and giggled, having seen several “Wal-Martian” photos via social media. She watched the play of colored light undulate over Mick’s tattooed arms.

They walked a little further and stopped by a street vendor to purchase Italian ices.

“Would you like to see a show?” Mick asked between bites of his lemon-mango ice. His dick protested, but both it and Sonia needed a break. He hadn’t missed her shuttered expression that followed his callous claim after declining to share his wife and knew that he’d erred greatly. Sonia deserved better. His young wife had apparently decided to put his crass words behind her and he appreciated her all the more for that forgiveness.

“That sounds like fun. Do you have anything in mind?”

“I’ve yet to see a Cirque du Soleil show. Everyone says they’re really spectacular.”

She nodded and said, “Then let’s do that.”

“Which one do you want to see?”

“There’s more than one?”

He grinned at her. “Cirque du Soleil has, I think, seven shows going on right now, each with a different theme. I think there’s a program of attractions in our hotel room.”

Sonia shot him a wry glance, swallowed a spoonful of her delicious watermelon ice, and retorted, “If we go to our hotel room, I doubt we’ll leave any time soon.”

“And would that be so bad?” he quipped.

“No, it’s been amazing. But I’m … well, I’m sore.”

“Then we’ll just stop by the concierge’s desk.”

She agreed to the compromise. They walked back to the hotel to the concierge’s desk, which took them through the casino. Cigarette smoke mingled thickly with the noise of myriad slot machines and conversations. Music blared through loudspeakers. The concierge greeted them with the customary professional and empty smile and politely assisted them in producing and reviewing a program of that week’s shows.

They decided on a show and took a taxi to the venue.

Seated in the darkness in the back of the immense theater, Mick rubbed his thumb back and forth over Sonia’s palm. She felt a fine shiver travel through her as he aroused her body. He moved her hand to his leg and pressed it against him in nonverbal command to leave it there. Then he moved his hand to her lap. His fingers eased the skirt up her smooth leg, baring the silky skin to his touch. He stroked her gently, lightly. She shifted uneasily in the seat, but her legs relaxed and opened for him. He accepted the invitation, caressing her inner thigh in tantalizing, circular strokes that edged ever closer to the thin shield of her panties. Her breath hitched as his finger traced the narrow lace edging her panties. A small smile played about his lips as he slid a fingertip beneath the thin fabric. Sonia bit her lip to quell the moan that wanted to escape.

Her attention torn between the spectacle onstage and the intimate touching in her seat, Sonia squirmed when that finger pressed into her folds and stroked through them, spreading the moisture that gathered there. She started panting when that same finger pressed further inward and caressed the hot, wet flesh. Her knuckles whitened with the strength of her grip on the arms of the seat as an orgasm washed through her. She clenched her jaws to keep from screaming and informing everyone in the audience and onstage of her sexual release.

Smiling with satisfaction, Mick eased his hand from between her legs and put his finger, shiny with her juices, in his mouth. His eyes glittered as he sucked her flavor off his skin. He wiped his finger on his denim-clad thigh and returned his hand to her lap, gently drawing her skirt back over her trembling legs.

Two could play at that game, she thought wickedly as she began to stroke the hard-muscled thigh beneath the denim. A little smile curved her lips when her warm hand cupped his erection through his pants. She stroked firmly up and down, surreptitiously unfastening the fly. She edged her fingers inside his pants and encountered hot flesh. No underwear. Her smile widened as she eased out his erection. Her fingers danced lightly over the steely column of hot flesh, until he grasped her teasing hand and pressed it firmly against the top of his thigh. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “If you keep doing that, things are going to get messy.”

That little smile on her lips widened further.

“And I’ll pull you into my lap and fuck you in front of everyone,” he warned.

Her eyes widened and her smile disappeared into a silent “O” of shock. The reserved Midwestern girl couldn’t compete with the wild and uninhibited rock star.