Heavy Metal Heart: A Bad Boy Rock Star Romance (10 page)

But so much was unknown, and so much could go wrong. 

Torsten broke the kiss gently, barely separating his lips from hers. "I'm nothing like your ex. I promise," he murmured against her mouth, running one hand lightly through her hair. "Give me the chance to prove it to you." 

"I don’t even know you. Why should I trust you?" she whispered back against his mouth and promptly felt him pull away.

She watched Torsten walked backward, away from her. With his eyes locked on hers and an amused expression on his face, he began taking his clothes off. 

Torsten removed his jacket first, sliding one arm out of the sleeve, then the other. He tossed it carelessly onto the ground next to him. His short-sleeved shirt underneath buttoned up the front. He worked the buttons slowly, starting at the top. 

"What... are you doing?" Helena asked in a daze, still reeling from his kiss.

He said nothing but continued unbuttoning his shirt. She saw the hints of his chest tattoos and her breath caught in her throat. It was all she could do to not visibly salivate.

Once finished with the buttons, he peeled the shirt off his arms and dropped it on top of his jacket. Helena's eyes roamed shamelessly over his torso. He was like a living, classical Greek statue, but with a much more impressive package. 

He moved onto his boots, deftly untying the laces and removing them and socks. Helena watched the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex and jump as his hands moved. When he yanked down the zipper of his jeans, she suddenly remembered herself.

"Stop! What are you doing?" she cried. 

"I'm getting naked," he answered lightly as if she asked what book he was reading. 

Torsten pulled his pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles in one, smooth motion, then stepped out of them carefully. He added them to his pile of clothes next to him and stood before her. 

His massive, erect cock pointed straight at Helena as if it knew exactly what it wanted. 

Her eyes darted nervously from
it
 to his face, which remained expressionless. She was soaked with desire, dying to finish what their kiss started, but also utterly confused. 

He spread his hands out in a
here I am
 gesture. "Do what you want with me," he declared. 

Helena blinked. "What?"

Torsten grinned. "I'm naked. You're clothed. We're in your home. You have all the power here." 

He stood confidently, like a fine art model waiting to take his pedestal and begin posing. His mannerisms showed no relinquish of power, whatsoever. Rather, he seemed perfectly comfortable making Helena extremely uncomfortable. 

"Okay...," she said slowly, still not fully grasping his concept. 

"You can snatch up my clothes and burn them, so I ride home naked in the cold. You can hop on my cock and we can fuck like rabbits. You can dress it up in little outfits. If you want, you can grab a knife from this kitchen and cut it off -," 

"Okay, enough!" she cried out. 

"My point is," he continued. "I trust you completely, Helena. You have this hold on me... I know you've been hurt and humiliated and I wish I could take that from you. You deserve so much better. I'm putting my full trust in you because that's what you deserve. You don’t have to fully trust me yet, but I make you feel good. I want to keep doing that." 

Helena breathed deeply as his words sank in, her eyes still gazing over his solid, sculpted form. She still wasn't completely sure of what he was asking. Did he want a girlfriend? A fuck buddy while on the road? He didn't say either specifically, but he was right about one thing: he made her feel
extremely
 good.

He also had a point about trusting her. Swagger or not, he did put her in a position of control by taking all his clothes off. How funny that a few layers of cloth created such a power structure. Nakedness meant vulnerability for both men and women. He likely knew he had nothing to fear from her, but it was still an act of surrender. 

"So what do you say?" he asked softly. 

"How long is the tour?" she asked in response.

"Six weeks. Assuming everything goes well, you'll be welcome to stay employed afterward." 

Six weeks of traveling the world and not to mention, highly satisfying sex. She'd get away from the shitty grind here, be employed, and see new places she always wanted to visit but never had the chance. 

"I'll think about it," she conceded. 

Torsten’s smirk widened. "I'll take it," he replied, and reached down to his pile of clothing. 

"Wait," Helena said. 

He paused with his pants in his hands, eyeing her quizzically. 

"I haven't done what I wanted with you yet," she said huskily, approaching him with a slight sway of her hips. 

He already dripped precum onto the floor, barely able to contain himself. Standing naked before her had been more arousing than he could imagine. As she strode toward him like a confident bombshell, taking advantage of his naked state, he couldn’t imagine anything hotter.  

Finally, she was coming around to admitting what she wanted. And taking it. 

She stopped inches in front of him. His cock twitched at her closer presence, yearning for her soft, wet mouth or pussy. He looked at her expectantly, and she returned his gaze with her cat-like green eyes and a mischievous smile. That smile almost mirrored the smirk he frequently gave her. He knew he'd become a bad influence. 

Delicately, she dropped to her knees. Gazing at his throbbing erection in front of her face, she reached out and stroked the underside of his shaft with the gentlest, open-handed touch. 

It was so soft, barely even a touch, but Torsten drew in a sharp breath and his cock twitched again eagerly. He’d been dying for contact with her skin again since last night. 

She continued to stroke him gently, hesitantly, then slowly becoming bolder. Like taming a wild animal, his cock pulsed and hardened at her every command. 

When she brought her mouth to his glans, her wide green eyes looked up at Torsten.

Ohhhh, God
.

He wasn't shy, but he almost had to look away from her. Her face, looking up as she knelt before him, pleasing him, was painfully beautiful, almost too much to handle. And she was his. 

More. You're mine and I need more of you.
 Torsten pulled her hair back and began to thrust his hips into Helena's mouth.

"Fuck," he moaned as her soft, wet mouth took him in. Her tongue glided along the underside of his shaft, and he knew he couldn't let her stay there for long. 

He couldn't believe how Lars didn't realize what was in front of him, that he discarded his wife like trash. Helena was everything Torsten dreamed of, and not just because of the pleasure coursing through him right now. 

She was smart, crafty, brave, and oh-so beautiful. She didn't care about being with a famous musician, she just wanted someone to treat her as well as she treated him. She was like an injured bird, but one that never stopped trying to fly every day. 

Torsten felt his orgasm building as Helena's mouth slid gracefully along the length of his stiffness. With one gentle tug, he pulled her away from his cock by her hair. 

"I have one rule," he declared as she took in deep, gulping breaths. He noticed she wasn't wearing a bra under her tank top. Her nipples pointed stiffly at attention, mirroring his cock. 

"What's that?" she asked with that same shit-eating smirk she adopted from him. 

"My woman always, 
always
 comes first." 

With that, he knelt next to her on the floor and sealed his mouth to hers as he picked her up from around her waist. She giggled into his mouth as he lifted her into the air like a feather. 

"I could get used to this for the next six weeks," she murmured as he sat her down on the kitchen island, gently as a baby. 

Torsten pulled away to look at her. 

"So you've had enough time to think, and your answer is yes?" he asked teasingly. 

"I suppose so," she answered with a sheepish grin.

"Mmm, good," he replied, kissing into her neck and pulling her tank up to just over her breasts. "I could get used to this, too," he added as he gazed at them hungrily. 

His lips trailed over the luscious curve of her breast before reaching her nipple. He circled the rigid mound with his tongue, tracing her areola, before gently nipping his teeth against it. 

Helena gasped and arched against him. His mouth traveled further down her stomach, to just above the waistline of her lounge pants. There, he paused. 

"You know, this tour's not going to be all having sex and doing work," he said matter-of-factly as his fingers hooked into the elastic waistband. 

"Is that so?" 

"We're going to see so many places, visit so many countries. I'm going to take you out and pamper you, like a good woman should be." He kissed each of her hipbones, teasingly. 

"You don't have to do that," she replied quietly. 

"I know, but I want to," he said earnestly, looking up at her. 

"No one's ever... pampered me," she said softly. 

"You, of all people, deserve it." Torsten kissed her mons and her clitoris through her pants. "Candlelit dinners, spa treatments, private tropical beaches, you deserve it all." 

Helena squirmed and lifted her hips toward him, eager to get just as naked as him. 

"As long as I'm with you and it's no... trouble," she said shyly. 

"Oh, there might be trouble if I can't keep myself out of this gorgeous pussy in a five-star restaurant," he declared, giving in to her request and pulling her pants down over her hips. 

"Really, love," he insisted as he came back up to her for a kiss. "I can't wait to show you the world. And I think you're going to love our first stop." 

"Which is...?" she asked, shoving his head back down to the wetness between her legs. 

He kissed the insides of her thighs tenderly. Holding onto her hips, his kisses made their way closer and closer to her beautiful, slick vulva. Her hips began bucking, urging and begging to connect her clit with his mouth. 

He stopped, grinned, and looked up at her again. 

"Paris,
mon amour.
" 

His mouth crashed against her soaking cunt and he sucked her clit vigorously. Two of his fingers slid inside her achingly tight pussy and he beckoned her to come. 

As Helena's orgasm exploded, her hips rolled in a wave against his hand and mouth, but he rode it. Again, and again, and again. 

Helena stared at her ceiling, wondering the last two days had been a dream. She glanced across the bed to the man next to her.  

Torsten breathed softly as he slept, his expression peaceful.

What a beautiful man.

Her eyes roamed over his outstretched, naked form in her bed. The sun rose high after their busy morning, and the window light exposed every detail of his body. She wanted to explore him. His body was like a sexy landscape of limbs and muscles.  

The white sheets contrasted sharply with his tattooed skin, dotted in some places with scars and light freckles. His beard looked rough and wiry against the fluffy pillow case. She recalled how soft it felt when he kissed her mouth, her breasts, and her clitoris. 

In her kitchen, Torsten made her come with his mouth and fingers until she went completely numb from the waist down. They took a quick breather by jumping in the shower, but he couldn't keep from lifting her in his arms and fucking her against the shower wall. 

They had barely finished and toweled off before he carried her to bed and helped himself to her freshly washed pussy for another round. 

After collapsing in exhaustion, Helena slept better than she had in months. She was amazed at how safe and comfortable she felt with him, despite barely knowing him at all. Beneath the cocky, arrogant rock star facade, she saw glimpses of sincerity and caring. 

"Mmmph." Torsten stirred and groaned as he sleepily opened his eyes halfway, and half-smiled at her. "Morning, beautiful." 

"Um. hi. It's afternoon now, actually." Suddenly self-conscious in the bright light, she covered her chest with the sheet. 

"Semantics," he muttered as he attempted to pull her closer, but she reluctantly pulled away. 

He rubbed his eyes and looked at her more alertly. "Is something wrong?"  

She glanced down at the threads of her sheet before answering. "We just... had all this sex, and it was probably more times than my husband and me in our last year together. He's the only other person I've been with, and I barely know you. And it's just weird that you know him, probably better than I did. I don't know, I guess I'm trying to reconcile how weird this all is."

Torsten pushed a lock of hair from her eyes. The tenderness of the gesture made her heart flutter. "It's only as weird as you make it out to be, love. Everyone has a past. Some more colorful than others." He smiled. “Just don’t run out on me again.” 

She scooted closer, allowing his arm to drape across her waist. “So what’s in your past?” 

“In terms of weird sexual situations? I’ve never fucked a band mate’s wife before,” he joked with a light smack to her ass. 

“I mean, in general, you perv,” she laughed, smacking him back. “Although I’m sure you’ve had plenty of weird sex situations.”

“Not necessarily.” He shrugged. “A few here and there, but my sex life is pretty boring for my industry. That’s what I get for being married to my work.” 

“What’s boring? BDSM? Threesomes? Steady girlfriends?” She asked the last one in a mocking shocked tone.

“A little of this, a little of that,” he replied evasively. “Out of respect to my past partners, I don’t kiss and tell.” His fingers traced a line from her hip to her chin, where he cupped her face and stared intensely into her eyes. “I will tell you I’m not a womanizer. Whether casual or serious, I’ve always been honest with my intentions.”

“What are your intentions with me?”

In a flash, Torsten grabbed both of her wrists and straddled her, pinning her down. He brought his mouth down on hers, snaking his tongue between her lips. She writhed in protest against him, but her tongue danced with his eagerly. The submissive position thrilled her, sending an electrifying jolt down her spine.