Heavy Metal Heart: A Bad Boy Rock Star Romance

by Fields,Annette

  "So this is Paris?" She spun around in a slow circle. Flat landing strips for planes was all she could see in every direction.

  Torsten laughed. "Don't sound so disappointed. We're several miles outside of the city. Most airports are like that. It'll be a short car ride to the hotel." He gestured ahead of them to the sleek, black Maserati that waited for them.

  A man dressed in black slacks and a crisp black polo with Mjolnir's logo stepped out of the driver's seat, leaving the door open. He nodded to Torsten and walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger seat.

  "Get in, love."

  The words sent a shiver down her spine, not out of fear but the pure respect it commanded, which was insanely sexy. Torsten was such a natural-born leader, every order commanded obedience and respect.

  Helena carefully stepped into the passenger seat. Luxurious shades of red and black covered the car’s interior. The seat cushioning her was soft, red leather. The dashboard was red as well, with the steering wheel and console in an inky, luxurious black.

  The man closed the passenger seat after her. She watched Torsten shake his hand, exchange a few words, then made his way to the driver side. He slid in next to her as the man closed the driver door, then walked across the runway toward the terminal.

  "You're driving?"

  "I like to drive myself," he replied nonchalantly. "I enjoy it. Plus, it keeps me from feeling too much like a pompous, assfuck celebrity."

  She couldn't help but laugh at his colorful language. "Such a poet."

  "That's why I write the songs." He leaned across the seat to give her a quick kiss before revving up the engine. "Buckle up, love. I like to drive fast."

  Chapter 21

  Helena

  Helena couldn't keep her eyes away from the window any more than she could keep her mouth closed.

  It surprised her how Paris looked so familiar. Coming from Olso and visiting several other large, ancient cities, she found many of them to have a similar feel and flow. Tall buildings, no less than five stories high, with classically structured facades, and narrow streets.

  Torsten indeed drove fast, but stoplights were frequent in the city. He controlled the Maserati like a cowboy taming a wild stallion. The engine roared with power when in motion, but he eased to each stop gently.

  Each stoplight allowed for a pause to take in the sights and atmosphere. The air smelled clean and fresh, though not nearly as cold as Norway. Parisians crossed the streets hurriedly, tittering in French, which Helena knew at only a conversational level.

  The sky overcast with thick clouds and a light drizzle fell. It reminded her of home.

  After taking a right turn off a roundabout, the compacted city buildings gave way, and the Eiffel Tower came into view. Helena stared at it curiously. Against the gray sky, the dark triangular form looked like an upside down tree in the distance.

  "It looks much better at night, and when we're closer to it," Torsten said, as though reading her thoughts.

  "Will we have time to check it out?" Helena asked.

  "We can make time." Torsten squeezed her thigh with a firm grip that made her heart leap.

  She noticed many Paris neighborhoods had classical mixed with modern designs. Often sandwiched between two classical-looking buildings was a sharp-looking building with glass walls.

  She just spotted another such building when they pulled up to a driveway that read St. Yves Paris. It was a classical, archway structure flanked by two red doors which opened slowly as Torsten approached. What came into view on other side made Helena gasp.

  A fountain flowed in the middle of a gorgeous courtyard. Surrounding the fountain in a hexagonal shape was a lush, manicured lawn. Torsten eased the car in the roundabout circling the lawn and stopped in front of the magnificent building.

  It looked like a palace out of a princess fairy tale. Surely it belonged to some French nobility in previous centuries.

  As if by magic, Helena's passenger door opened and she jumped, tearing her gaze away from the beautiful building. But it was a valet who opened her door swiftly and silently.

  "Welcome to St. Yves Place, Mademoiselle Forss," the valet said in French.

  She gingerly stepped out on shaky legs like a newborn fawn. This ordinary girl from Norway just pulled up to a palace and was being treated like a princess.

  Torsten had gotten out himself on the other side and tossed the keys to the valet. He walked around the back of the car and slid an arm around Helena's waist as he approached.

  "Don't look so stunned. This is one of my favorite boutique hotels in Paris."

  "I can't help it, it is... stunning," Helena said.

  "Wait until you see the inside." Torsten gently urged her forward. Helena walked up the marble steps to the luxurious dark wooden doors. A doorman made a quick bow of his head and pulled one door open. As she crossed the threshold, Helena could not pick her jaw off the floor.

  The ceiling seemed impossibly tall with an intricate chandelier in the center that looked roughly the size of Torsten's car. Two sets of staircases flanked each side of the room, covered in a luxurious red carpet, tinged with gold and black thread.

  A posh-looking sitting area sprawled across the center of the massive room, with luxurious armchairs and a mahogany coffee table that stretched out like a river. Two clean-cut men in expensive-looking suits sat and conversed in French while drinking espresso.

  A fireplace about as tall as she was sat flush into the left wall, the marble mantle outlining its figure like a well-fitting dress.

  Torsten left her side to approach the smiling woman at the front desk across the room, his boots echoing softly on the shiny, marble tile under his feet. Helena's eyes continued to flit across all the details in the massive, luxurious room.

  She never experienced this kind of luxury in her life. Glancing over at the chatting businessmen, she felt out place. Plain and shabby. Lars never told her what kind of money the band made. He never made any kind of effort to take her to a place like this. She wondered if Torsten was trying to impress her or if this was par for the course when it came to touring.

  In another moment, Torsten was back at her side. "Our villa is ready."

  "Our... villa...?"

  "After that cramped room on the plane, I feel like having a bit more space. Let's follow the lady. "

  The smiling woman from the front desk now stood at the open front door. As Torsten and Helena followed, her smart Louboutin heels clicked sharply on the steps. She led them around the left side of the main property, following a paved garden path.

  Adorable cherub statues and freshly cut topiaries stood on either side of them as they rounded the side of the main building. More trees and greenery surrounded them, along with the sounds of small, gentle fountains and chirping birds. Helena inhaled the freshness of the air around her. She couldn't believe they were still in a city of over two million people.

  They came to a clearing and approached a beautiful structure that looked like a miniature version of the main building, complete front the elegant stonework, to the front door made of rich, dark wood.

  The smiling woman approached the door and unlocked it with an antique-looking lever-lock key.

  "Enjoy your stay!" she exclaimed in French as she dropped the key into Torsten's hand.

  "Merci beaucoup," he answered with only a slight accent.

  Torsten pulled the door open and stepped aside with an exaggerated, flourishing bow that Helena couldn't help but laugh at. She stepped into the chic apartment, but Torsten did not follow.

  "I have to go to the theater for sound check. You are welcome to come document as your job entails. Or you can enjoy the villa and be good and naked when I get back." His tone made clear which option he preferred.

  Helena smiled coyly. "How different will it be from all the sound checks and rehearsals from before we left?"

  "Completely the same," Torsten sighed with an eyeroll. "Except that we're in Paris."

 
; "I suppose I can use zee footage from Norway while I update zee tour blog from le terrace," Helena mused in a mocking French accent.

  Torsten laughed as he enveloped those arms around her and pulled her in for a hungry, needing kiss. They had been naked barely an hour ago, and still couldn't pull away from each other.

  "Remember, you are to be naked when I get back," he whispered to her gruffly.

  "Or what?" she teased.

  "Or I'll tear off your clothes and make you." He hesitated and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Actually I'm more likely to throw myself at your feet and worship your pussy, begging for a taste."

  "A Norse God of a man worshipping at my feet? A tempting offer."

  With a final quick kiss and grope, Torsten pulled away from her with a smile. "I'll be home in a few hours."

  Home. She found it interesting that he used that word. Being around him really did feel like home, no matter where they were.

  Helena turned around to observe her new home for the next two nights. If she and Torsten could just stay in this beautiful little cottage, in this quiet garden, in the most romantic city in the world, she’d leave her whole previous life behind and make this home in a heartbeat.

  Chapter 22

  Helena

  Helena spent her first half hour in the villa just walking in awe from room to room, gazing at everything and hardly daring to touch any of it.

  It was lavishly decorated, yet still airy and spacious. Eclectic wallpaper adorned the walls, each room with a different pattern. The walls in the lounge expressed a nature scene. Trees and birds stood out against a pale blue sky. In the open master bedroom, a noble, gold damask pattern stood out against a royal blue background.

  But the enormous bathroom, complete with its own spa and massage tables, was painted in a romantic, deep red.

  Helena stood in the bathroom and slowly began peeling her clothes off. She was still sweaty from the sex marathon with Torsten on the plane.

  That’s right. I’m part of the mile high club now.<

  She approached the tub seated under a window that opened like French doors. Upon opening them, she was relieved to see a high row of topiary shrubs guarding her privacy.

  The rectangular tub was roughly the size of a large dinner table, at least twice as long and wide as any normal bathtub. She turned a faucet and began lighting the candles which sat in elegant red votives along the edge of the tub. Their light filled the room with a gentle red glow.

  A bowl of freshly picked rose petals sat under a soft, folded towel on the window ledge.

  Wow. Living in luxury means you don't even have to wish for certain little things, Helena thought to herself.

  She stepped into the tub gingerly as it filled up. The hot faucet was turned all the way up, but the water didn't scald her. It was just hot enough and rolled over her skin like a gentle massage. Like a lover's touch.

  She took a handful of petals from the bowl and scattered them across the water's surface. They floated delicately, as did their scent in the air.

  The candles also contained subtle, flowery smell. Their flames flickered gently in the breeze from the open window, casting red-tinged shadows on the walls. Steam rose from the water like a mysterious mist.

  Helena sank into the water up to her shoulders, stretching her legs out and resting the back of her head on the edge of the tub. She closed her eyes and took in the warmth on her skin, the delicate floral fragrance in the air, and the gentle chirp of crickets outside her window as the day darkened into dusk.

  Now this is some Parisian romance.

  She had no idea how long she sat in the tub when she suddenly jolted awake. Heavy footsteps thudded on the ceiling above her and her heart froze in panic. The only thought that surfaced to her mind was that the water never got cold.

  "Helena?"

  Her breathing and heart rate returned to normal. Torsten was back.

  "Down here, in the spa!"

  The footsteps moved to the edge of the ceiling and started down the stairs. She smiled as she watched his form reveal itself gradually with each step down the stairs. First his boots, then his

  calves and thighs, his pelvis which she had gotten to know so well that day. Next his trim torso and chest, and finally, his shoulders and handsome Nordic face.

  "I see you did as I asked and won't make me beg," he mused.

  "Get in with me," she urged, lifting one foot out of the water to make a small splash.

  Torsten removed his clothes devastatingly slowly as she watched. As he peeled his shirt off, his bare skin seemed to glow red from the candlelight. Like he was some seductive demon from Hell, preparing to steal her soul in exchange for the greatest pleasure she ever felt.

  "How was sound check?" she asked.

  "Shitty, as it always is, trying to sound decent in a new location," he grumbled as he stepped into the tub next to her. "But we got it done. We're ready for tomorrow night and that's all that matters."

  He dropped an arm around her shoulders as Helena slid herself against him.

  "Do you like it here?" he asked, playing with a wet lock of her hair.

  "So far, so good," she conceded. Are you kidding? I love it here.

  "I'll take it."

  He pulled her into his lap and slid his arms around her waist. He kissed her deeply, and she immediately felt him growing harder between her legs.

  She switched her position to straddling him. A low moan escaped his throat as she slowly rubbed her vulva against his thickening cock. His hands slid down her back and he grabbed full handfuls of her ass. He moved her hips harder against him.

  "Grind your sweet clit on me, love," he ordered. "Use me to make yourself come."

  "But I want you inside me." Helena reached down to stroke his pulsing shaft underwater, already fully hard.

  "No. You know my rule." Torsten covered her mouth with his as she began to protest. His grip tightened on her ass firmly as her hips moved back forth.

  The ache to have his cock inside her made the build-up to her orgasm agonizing. She rubbed her budding clit against his rock hard shaft, but it was barely enough. She needed to be filled up if she was going to fall over the edge.

  "Please, I need your cock to come."

  Torsten smirked at her. He knew she did. He was just waiting for her to beg for it.

  "What do you need, love?"

  "I need you to fuck me," Helena panted. "Please, I'm so fucking close..."

  He lifted her hips and paused, holding her swollen, aching vulva just an inch away from his cock’s head. His eyes never broke contact with hers as he pulled her down at the same time he thrust up.

  She screamed at the sudden intensity of his cock plunging into her. Her orgasm burst through her almost instantly. Torsten's cock barely pumped into her two more times when she came.

  He wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest as she shuddered and writhed on his cock.

  "Did you get started without me?" he demanded.

  "No, that was all you," she answered in between ragged breaths.

  "I like making a minute-woman out of you," he growled into her ear. "I want to make you come faster and faster every time. Until I'm making you come with my mind."

  Helena laughed as she rested her head on his shoulder.

  Funny, handsome, sexy, fantastic lover, musically talented and financially successful? You just may be the total package, Torsten.

  After coming down from her orgasm, she lowered her pussy all the way down Torsten's shaft. She cupped his tense, heavy balls in one hand and stroked them as she began to ride. Torsten groaned an "oh fuck, love," and leaned his head back. His hands dropped away from her and he rested his arms on the edges of the tub.

  Helena was just getting into a good rhythm as she rode him when he suddenly raised his head and looked at her with panic in his eyes.

  "What time is it?" he demanded.

  "Uh, 8:30 if that clock is correct."

  "Fuck!"

  Torsten
promptly pushed Helena off his lap and raised himself out of the tub. She watched, stunned, as he grabbed a towel and hurriedly dried himself off.

  "Get dressed, or we'll be late."

  "Late?"

  "Yeah, I told you we're getting dinner, remember? I made reservations for 9. If we're late, they'll give our spot to someone else."

  "But, what about..."

  Torsten smirked that cocky grin she was growing to love. He gently took hold of her arms and stood her up in the tub. "I can wait, love. I know you'll take care of me." He kissed her deeply and delivered a naughty smack to her left ass cheek. "We've got plenty of time to enjoy each other. But this trip together may be once in a lifetime."

  Chapter 23

  Helena

  They dried off and got dressed within fifteen minutes upon realizing the time. Having to do nothing but throw on pants, shoes, a shirt and a jacket, Torsten was ready in five. Each article of clothing was tailored to fit him perfectly so no one could guess he just threw them on.

  "I'm glad Mr. Famous Rock Star doesn't take longer than a woman to get ready," Helena remarked while flipping through clothes in her luggage. She settled on a slinky black bodycon dress that showed just enough thigh.

  “You’re welcome to take away my man card if I ever do,” Torsten replied, glancing at his watch.

  Once in the car, Helena watched Torsten sneaking glances as she applied her makeup. She secretly loved that he couldn’t his eyes off her. His right hand squeezed around her thigh, his other remained on the steering wheel.

  “When we’re back in Norway, I’m buying a self-driving car,” he grumbled.

  “Why’s that?” She finished applying lipstick and closed the visor mirror.

  “So you can finish riding my cock on our way to dinner.”

  “I like a man with his priorities in order.” She grinned and placed her hand over his while excitement flooded her system like a drug. It had been years since she’d been on a proper date.