Pure Iron

by Bargo, Holly

  “Let’s go back to the house,” he murmured.

  “All right.”

  Chapter 8

  Sonia stretched as she lay in bed, savoring the pleasant ache of a body well used. She closed her eyes for a moment, smiling at the memory of the marathon lovemaking she had enjoyed with Mick.

  Enjoyed. What an absolutely inadequate word for the depth of meaning and the height of passion that had consumed them.

  About that time she realized that Mick was playing his acoustic guitar. She listened for a minute, enjoying the snippets of music that his fingers drew from the instrument before faltering, trying a new cascade of notes, and then trying again until just the right combination fit like railroad cars coupled together. The music coming from the guitar sounded almost defiant, as though he were taking a stand and daring anyone and everyone to cross that figurative line in the sand.

  After a few seconds, she realized he was. That developing song was statement of strength, of belief in the two of them. “We are strong,” it seemed to declare. “And we will not falter.”

  What a difference a week makes, she mused as she rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

  Sonia put on a comfortable pair of short, loose tee shirt, and athletic shoes. She paused near Mick, perched on a stool and hunched over his guitar. Her gaze caressed the width of his bare shoulders, the tattoos running up his muscled arms. After a few seconds, he raised his head and said carefully, “Out for a walk?”

  She gave him a soft smile, grateful that he would not exercise some dominating, macho control over her that she would have to fight. “Yes, I need to get back into the habit of daily exercise.”

  His eyes gleamed when he replied, “We’ve been burning calories, lots and lots of calories.”

  Her cheeks reddened, but she remained firm in her resolve: “Yes, we have, but it’s not the same. I’ll be back in around an hour.”

  Mick nodded his acceptance, if not necessarily his approval. He wondered if he could afford to hire a bodyguard for his wife. He wanted to make sure she was protected.

  He did not return to picking out notes on the guitar until her pert bottom and tawny ponytail had rounded the corner and disappeared from view.

  During that hour, he found that the music seemed reluctant. That frustrated him. Not only did Sonia inspire his music, but he needed her nearby to set the music free. An hour passed. Mick knew because he kept glancing at his iPhone. He gave up all pretense of composing, set the guitar down, and started pacing. Another ten minutes passed and he felt an indescribable sense of relief as he caught sight of her slender figure headed down the beach toward home.

  Home. The thought caught him by surprise. He wondered when he had begun to think of the cottage as home, because home was where he hung his hat. For the last eight years, that had mostly been the touring bus.

  He wondered if the cottage were for sale.

  Sonia walked up the steps, skin shiny with sweat and her shirt sticking to her body. “It’s a gorgeous morning,” she said, throwing him a smile with her appreciative glance.

  He nodded and asked, “Good walk?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “It felt great to get back into the swing of things.” She rolled her shoulders, the muscles and joints warm and loose. “I’m headed for the shower,” she said, then tossed him a flirtatious glance. “You’re welcome to join me.”

  Mick forced himself to gently lower the guitar and properly secure it in its protective case before following Sonia to the bathroom. She was already standing beneath the warm spray. He yanked off his pants and stepped in behind her.

  She shivered delightfully beneath his touch as he smoothed soapy lather over her body. He damn near trembled as she did the same to him. He did tremble when she sank to her knees and took his freshly rinsed cock into her mouth. Before he could ejaculate, though, he pulled her back to her feet and then lifted her up. She squeaked at the contrast of the cool tile and the warm water and moaned when he drove his aching cock upward into her body.

  He held her steady afterward, gently drying her off with a fluffy towel. Then she was down on all fours while he covered her body with his own and found his second release—and her third—of the morning. Well, since the sun came up. He’d fucked her well and good shortly after midnight. Which was, technically, morning. As often as he had made love to his wife in the past week, it was a wonder his dick hadn’t broken.

  He debated for about two seconds the idea of them heading to the kitchen to eat breakfast in the nude. Nope, not a good idea. The boys would be arriving soon and there was no way he would let those lechers see her naked.

  He yanked on a pair of shorts and headed back outside to the front porch where he’d left his guitar. Settling the instrument back into the crook of his arm, he picked up the tune where he’d left off and his fingers somehow easily found the rest of the music.

  Sonia was finishing her breakfast when the SUV pulled up and disgorged the four band members and their instruments. Davis paused before heading up the short flight of stairs.

  “New tune?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Mick replied as he strummed.

  “I like it, man.”

  Mick looked up from the guitar and said, “I think we should open tonight’s set with Queen’s Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”

  Jack’s draw dropped. “You’re kidding me, man. Queen?”

  “Don’t knock Freddy Mercury,” Angelo said.

  “That woman’s got you twisted in little knots around her pinky finger,” Jack commented. “We have enough of our own music that we do not need to be playing anyone else’s covers at our concerts.”

  “I got to agree with Jack,” Kris said. “Besides, we already have a few sappy love songs in our set list.”

  Mick shrugged and bowed to the majority opinion. “All right. It was just an idea. Never said it was a good one.”

  “Hey, man,” Davis said, laying a hand on Mick’s shoulder. “If I ever find a woman who does for me what Sonia does for you, I’ll be there right alongside you with the sappy love songs”

  The five men headed to the back patio and set up their instruments. They agreed to keep the practice session short. A little more than an hour later, they put up their instruments and kicked back to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet, listening to seagulls, water, and the laughter and shouts of families playing on the beach.

  “I understand why you come out here every year,” Davis said as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes against the sun. “It’s peaceful.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Angelo agreed and inhaled deeply of the fresh air smelling of sand and saltwater.

  “We’ve got several hours to kill. What do you want to do?” Jack asked.

  A smile spread across Mick’s face.

  “Besides fuck your wife,” Jack added dryly.

  “I’d like to go to the aquarium,” Sonia interjected her preference. She slanted her gaze at Mick and added, “We didn’t get to see the whole thing last time.”

  Her suggestion set off some good-natured squabbling, but, in the end, they went.

  “Whatever Sonia wants, Sonia gets,” Jack sang, substituting Sonia’s name for Lola in the song.

  “Knock it off, dumbass,” Mick said, playfully cuffing his keyboardist.

  Jack ducked and laughed.

  They paid their admission and entered into the dim interior. Speaking in hushed tones—why, they weren’t sure—and occasionally bursting into raucous laughter that drew disapproving glares from other patrons, they let Sonia lead the pace and set the direction. No one approached to ask for autographs or pictures.

  “That’s almost depressing. No one recognized us,” Angelo sighed with insincere melodrama.

  “Maybe we’re just not as famous as we think we are,” Davis commented.

  “You know, I heard that the Eagles used to mingle with the crowds right before a concert and were almost never recognized. If megastars like that can go undetected at their own concerts, then you shoul
dn’t complain,” Sonia said.

  “Eagles? Is that what you listen to?” Kristof asked.

  Sonia nodded and said, “Yep. My folks raised me on the oldies and I grew up to love that stuff: Credence Clearwater Revival, Fleetwood Mac, Simon and Garfunkle.”

  Jack looked pained and said, “Please tell me you’re joking about Simon and Garfunkle. Next you’ll be claiming to like country music.”

  “I do.” She chuckled with evil glee. “I have a Willie Nelson CD. Want to listen to it?”

  He shuddered theatrically and groaned as though in pain.

  “Hey, Mick, does your woman have something to wear to the concert?” Kris asked, changing the subject.

  Startled by the question of her attire, Sonia looked over at the modern day Viking and flushed beneath his piercing gaze. “I just thought I’d wear regular street clothes, shorts and a shirt.”

  “Best not,” Angelo said slowly. “We’ll make sure you get backstage, but we’ll call you onstage to introduce you as Mick’s wife. That way the groupies will be a little less likely to mob him.”

  “You think so?” Davis asked with disbelief.

  “She’ll need something sexy, but not slutty.”

  “Um …”

  “That pink dress,” Mick said. “Wear the pink dress.”

  “What? I … oh, all right,” she agreed with a little shake to her head.

  “I want to see this pink dress,” Kris demanded.

  “It’s sexy and classy,” Mick stated. “I don’t want any other bands thinking her easy pickings.”

  “I’m quite capable of saying no,” Sonia said acidly.

  Angelo rested a hand on her shoulder and said gently, “Saying no isn’t necessarily enough.”

  Davis nodded and explained: “Sometimes players are so hyped up after a set that ‘no’ isn’t an option. Mick’s trying to protect you. Be grateful for it.”

  She nodded and bowed to their greater experience. “Okay.”

  Mick curled an arm around her waist and pulled her in close to his body where she fit to him like a puzzle piece. “We’re headed back home. Sonia needs a nap. We’re going to be up late.” He dipped his head to growl in her ear, “Very late.”

  Her breath caught.

  Mick and Sonia returned to the cottage. He scooped her into his arms and carried her into the house all the way to the bedroom. With a grunt he tossed her onto the bed. She bounced and laughed. Laughter turned quickly to sighs and moans … and then she screamed his name. More than once.

  They fell asleep. Mick curled around her, one leg wedged between hers, one arm draped over her, one hand cupping a breast. He woke first, looked at the time, and decided that they had plenty of time for another round. Or two. Or three. Sonia woke as a soft orgasm rippled through her. She undulated beneath him as he savored her. She came hard as he pounded into her body and climaxed within her.

  They fell asleep again. Again, Mick woke first. But that time he refrained from indulging his desires and headed for the shower. He’d need another after the concert. He put on a clean pair of jeans, white tee shirt, black motorcycle boots, fingerless leather driving gloves, and his pendant, an iron falcon with outstretched wings attached to a thin cord of braided black leather. Each band member had one, specially fashioned for them when their first album hit gold. By unspoken agreement, they always wore their pendants for every show. He tuned his guitars and violin and packed them carefully in the truck.

  “It’s time to get up, sweetheart,” he said, gently shaking Sonia awake.

  She blinked blearily at him. “What time is it?”

  “Three o’clock,” he said. “You’ve got just enough time to shower and dress and get yourself a quick sandwich.”

  “Okay,” she said sleepily and padded, still half asleep, into the bathroom. Mick laid out her pink sundress, some sexy lingerie, and a pair of sandals.

  He had a sandwich and glass of iced tea waiting for her when she finally emerged from the bedroom. His mouth watered. The pink dress was just as he remembered. She had her hair pulled up into an elegant French twist, which left her graceful neck and slender shoulders bare. He felt an unaccustomed desire to either drape jewelry over her to highlight those lovely assets or to cover her beauty with a shawl because she belonged to him—him, damn it!

  “Wear your hair down, babe,” he requested, his voice already thickening with desire.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m sure.”

  She shrugged and pulled the clip from the twist. Her hair uncoiled and fell in soft waves around her head and shoulders.

  “God, I could eat you up right now,” he growled even as he handed her a plate with the sandwich on it.

  Her cheeks flushed as she picked up the sandwich and stuffed it in her mouth so she would not have to respond. He moved to stand behind her, hands lightly stroking her from her hips to just beneath her breasts. She doggedly forced herself to concentrate on anything else as she ate and drank. It was no use. Her panties were soaked.

  “I can’t sit now,” she complained as he led her to the truck.

  “Why not?”

  She glanced at his evil little grin and knew that he knew damned well why not. But she answered him anyway: “Because I’ll soak through my dress.”

  “No, you won’t,” he said as he boosted her into the truck’s cab. He pulled her skirt up so that it frothed and poufed over her hips and her butt and the bottoms of her thighs were in contact with the vinyl upholstery. “Stay just like that,” he ordered as he closed the door.

  He crossed around the front of the truck and hopped into the driver’s seat.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She expected that was a rhetorical question and just nodded. He flashed another grin at her, turned on the ignition, and set the vehicle in gear. Resting the left hand on the steering wheel, his right hand crept beneath the froth of material to stroke her intimately. Sonia gasped, but could not help but tilt her hips toward his questing fingers. She gasped again when his fingers slid beneath the wet crotch of her panties. And minutes later she pulsed around him, keening as his clever fingers coaxed yet another orgasm from her body.

  With one last stroke, he withdrew his hand and stuck his fingers in his mouth to suck off her musky moisture. His expression was one of masculine satisfaction as he eyed the flush of her skin.

  “I love the way you taste.”

  Sonia leaned her head back against the seat. She looked beneath her lashes and realized that her hard nipples pressed obscenely against the fabric of her bodice.

  “I can’t believe you just did that?”

  “What, touched you?”

  “Made me cum in your truck while you’re driving!”

  “Just proves that men can multitask, too, babe.”

  The quip made a chuckle bubble from her throat.

  “Mick, I think I’ll be rocking that slutty look after all.”

  “No way, babe. You’re a little wrinkled, but not slutty.” He gestured with his hand toward the crowd lined up at the ticket gates. “See?”

  Sonia’s eyes opened wide. The only way to show more skin than what a large portion of the female concert goers was wearing would have been to show up naked. She saw everything from micro minis to bikinis that looked to be made of little more than sequins strategically pasted in place.

  The truck pulled up to the back gate where security personnel verified Mick’s identity.

  “Who’s she?” one of the guards asked.

  “She’s not authorized personnel,” the other guard said. “She’ll have to go around front like everyone else.”

  “She is my wife and she comes with me,” Mick said firmly.

  The two guards looked at them suspiciously. With a snort of impatience, Mick held up Sonia’s left hand to display the wedding ring. He held up his left hand to show the matching band.

  “My. Wife. Get it?” he snapped.

  “Uh, sure, Mr. Hendriksen,” the guard said and w
aved him on through.

  Mick drove as though he knew where he was going, which was good because to Sonia the whole back area of the concert venue seemed to be utterly chaotic. Of course, a commercial kitchen looked chaotic to the average observer, though she knew there was order to it. She supposed the same principle applied.

  He parked near a truck that bore the band’s logo and hopped out. He crossed around back to retrieve the fiddle, opened the passenger side door with old fashioned courtesy, and handed Sonia down from the cab.

  “Hey, Mick!” one of the roadies called out and waved as he approached.

  Mick smiled and waved back. “Hey, Joey! How’s set-up coming along?”

  “We’re about ready for sound check,” the grizzled roadie informed him, his curious gaze focused on the pretty blonde in a pink dress. “It’s not like you to bring one of your girls back here, Mick.”

  Mick forced a smile and said politely, “Joey, meet my wife, Sonia. Sonia, this is Joey. He’s been with us since we started touring and has worked with some of the greats.”

  “Wife, eh?” Joey said and held out his hand for her to shake. Sonia took it and murmured a polite hello. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Quit, Joey. You’re giving her a bad impression of me.”

  The roadie laughed and shook his head. “Mick, my boy, if you can be tamed, then there’s hope for all mankind after all.”

  The rock star just shook his head, knowing there was nothing to be gained by taking that topic of conversation further. Instead, he said, “I’ll carry the fiddle with me if you don’t mind transporting the guitars to the stage. They’re in the back of the truck. Point me to the stage entrance, would you?”

  “Sure, Mick.” Joey pointed as he headed toward the truck’s bed. “Want me to find a chair for your wife? I assume she’ll wait for you backstage.”

  “Yeah, that would be good. Thanks.”

  “No prob. By the way, the rest of the band’s here.”