Heavy Metal Heart: A Bad Boy Rock Star Romance (20 page)

"So don't."

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you suggest I do?" 

Torsten poured himself another glass of vodka and downed it before answering her. 

"Keep working for me and being with me. And..." He paused before continuing. "Live with me." 

Helena felt her stomach leap up into her chest with her heart. "Are you serious?" 

"Completely." 

"Are you serious?"

"Completely." 

Torsten believed Helena would give the answer he wanted. But he still couldn't help but feel relief and sheer joy at the way her face lit up. A smile started to play at her lips despite trying to keep her cool. 

"Well, we should talk about it. But I could see us moving in that direction, even though it's soon for us." Her attempt at sounding casual didn't fool him. He knew exactly what excitement sounded like in her voice. 

"Fuck talking. Fuck having a timeline." He pulled her roughly against him, and she knew better than to resist. Pulling her soft, sweet mouth to his, he pried her lips open with his tongue. Her soft, little moans into his mouth sent his cock pressing against his boxers. 

Fuck, I really can't get enough of her. Her pussy is the only one I've had for six weeks, we fucked twice this morning, and she still makes me hard in an instant.

Tearing his mouth away from hers, he squeezed his arms around her tenderly.

"Helena, I love you and I'm committed to you. I want you to know that you can trust me. I want to wake up next to you every morning and make you come every single night. I may be rich and famous, but I'll never stray. I promise you, love." 

"I love you too, and I do trust you. You've taught me so much about who you are, and how to be myself." She smiled in amusement. “In a way, I’m grateful to Lars. Not just for saving your life but for bringing us together.” 

At that point, Torsten felt it was a good a time as any to ask his next question. 

"Would you ever want to get married again?" 

Helena's jaw dropped. "What?" 

"Not right now, of course. Or anytime soon. But..." He looked away for a moment and ran a hand through his hair, feeling her eyes on his every move. "I never thought I was the marrying type. But I realized I just never met the right woman until you." 

Helena’s face broke into a wide smile. "Clearly, I never met the right man until you." 

"I just hate that Lars had you first and made you so unhappy." He traced a finger along her cheek affectionately. 

"He hurt me so much, and so many times. But he's what led me to you." She wrapped her hand around his that gently stroked her face. "So to answer your question, yes. After some time I would be open to getting married again." 

She stood on tiptoe to kiss him again. He responded by picking her up from around her waist. She squealed, wrapping her legs around his hips as he walked over to one of the train car windows and pressed her back against it. 

"I don't think I've had you against this particular window," he mused, sneaking a hand inside her blouse. 

"What, right now? We're going through a town!" she glanced nervously at the houses outside zipping by. 

"You say that like I give a fuck." His other hand slipped up her skirt to move her panties aside. "But if it makes you nervous we can fuck with most of our clothes on." 

"So thoughtful of you. Oh! Mm--!" Torsten silenced her moans with his mouth as his fingers flicked over the stiff bud of her clit.

Her legs shivered around his waist as he teased her with just one hand, holding her pressed against the window with the other. Already his hand became slick up to his wrist with her wetness as her breathing grew shallow and more rapid. He waited until she teetered on the edge of orgasm to stop. Slowly and sensually he licked her tangy juices from his fingers, enjoying the desperation on her face as she watched him. 

“Torsten, please. I need to come!” she begged, her cheeks filled with that rosy flush. 

“You taste divine, Helena,” he groaned, roughly shoving her skirt up to her waist to reveal her glistening wet pussy. He feasted on it with his eyes before moving in to give it a long, gluttonous lick. 

She shuddered and bucked her hips, her hands entangled in his hair. Her clit pulsed needingly with barely any touch. He pressed his tongue flat against the hard little nub and ground down. Her orgasm clamped her legs shut around his head like a vice. Torsten thought he might suffocate as the happiest man alive before her thighs released him.  

He rose from between her legs, panting slightly for air as he smiled down at her and worked his belt buckle and pants off. 

"Does my future wife want my cock?" He asked, his voice gruff and full of lust. 

"Yes. Give me your big, hard cock." Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to catch her breath. Those sweet, gorgeous tits just barely covered her disheveled blouse. 

"I want to hear you say it." His cock sprang free and he stroked along the full length of his shaft as she eyed it hungrily. 

"Your future wife needs your cock. Please fuck me, Torsten. Fuck me hard." 

"Fuck, I'll marry you just for those three sentences." 

Normally he loved to tease her and make her beg for as long he could stand it, but not right then. She was dripping wet and ready for him, and just pledged to be his forever.

He impaled her with the full length of his cock, erupting a shrill scream of ecstasy from deep in her throat. As soon as he plunged fully into her hot, tight pussy, he pulled out.

"Turn around and look out the window while I fuck you." 

She obliged and he pulled her skirt up over her soft, feminine hips to reveal her gorgeous, creamy ass. A satisfying smack left a bright red handprint on her right cheek. 

He reached around and released her her tits from her blouse to press them against the window. The cool glass hardened her budding nipples, which he rolled and pinched between his fingers. After releasing her tits his hands traced the outline of her curves from her sides of her ribcage to the inward dip of her waist. Then finally grabbing hold of womanly hipbones, he sank his cock into the hot, wet paradise of her pussy again. 

"Don't stop fucking me this time. You better not stop," she moaned at his reflection in the glass. 

His answer was another rough smack to her supple ass cheek, never losing his rhythm as he rooted into her. 

"It's so fucking hot when you tell me what to do," he snarled as he leaned forward, biting her earlobe. 

"Then fuck me harder!" Her words slurred together as if she were drunk, but Torsten felt her next orgasm building around his cock. He knew she was drunk on all the sensations in her pussy, her clit, her nipples, her ass cheek, and in her brain. 

He reached around and pressed his fingers to the button of her clit, pounding deeper and more forcefully into her.

Her moans turned to incoherent wails of ecstasy as her orgasm released throughout her body, triggering his own. Her muscles seemed to pull his cock even deeper into her as his come pumped out like a firehose. 

They barely had time to catch a breath when a loud knock pounded at the door. 

"Fuckin' what?!" Torsten yelled.

"We just got into Oslo! We're home!"

Home. 

Helena thought about that word and what it meant. Once she stepped off that train she knew it would take on a completely different meaning than what she thought or experienced before. 

Home was once a sleek, loft apartment that she could barely afford. More often than not, it was completely trashed no matter how many times she cleaned it. If she was lucky, her husband would be passed ou. On a typical, day the place would be trashed but her husband nowhere to be found. That home didn't make her happy. It waited like a like dark shadow stalking her every day. It made her numb with sadness but it was the home she returned to every night for years. 

Until her home changed. She shrugged off that one like a jacket and found her apartment where she lived alone. It was better in some ways. With no one else around it stayed clean. She  furnished and decorated it to her liking but it still didn't feel quite right. She felt like an imposing guest in someone else's home. Like she could stay for as long as she needed, but it would still never be her place. 

And then Torsten crashed into her delicate world like a storm. He swept her up in his tornado of a life, and she felt more at home with him in train cars, hotel suites, and castle towers than any of her previous so-called homes. No matter their physical location she felt completely at ease to be herself in his presence. Somehow he had that effect on her. She felt accepted, cared for, and comfortable. She felt at home. 

She had no idea what kind of place he had but she was about to live there with him. Permanently. 

That thought only made her feel even more at ease with just a touch of excitement coursing through her.

I wonder if he's got a sense of style or if it's a total man cave. 

Judging from the venues, rooms, and cars he picked, he definitely had style.

As their train veered off the main track to stop at their private station, she looked out the window at the familiar city. Torsten's hands drifted over her shoulders to wrap around the front of her gently. 

"You probably want to stop at your old apartment to get your things," he murmured into the back of her neck as he kissed her there. 

"Yeah, I should." 

"Or do you want to come home with me first? So we can rest after this long journey." He sank his teeth into her neck and sucked until she squirmed. "Or
not
rest." 

"A tempting offer, my vampire king," she said in her worst fake Romanian accent, turning to face him. "But I'll go to my old place first and start packing. I want to move in with you as soon as possible." 

Torsten's face broke into a grin so wide, she saw his happiness beaming through. He couldn't play cool or contain his joy any more than she could. 

He raised her hand to lips and kissed the center of her palm. "I'll drive you in the car I have waiting for us here. I'll drop you off then come back with a van. We'll move you in before night falls, my love."

"You have a 
van
, mister Maserati?" 

"We used it for touring around Norway back in the day. It's white and windowless, too. Perfect for kidnapping!" 

"How
dare
 you trigger me with past trauma!" she joked with a playful slap to his chest. Her kidnapping in Romania seemed so long ago and so benign in hindsight. Everything turned out okay as long as she was with him.

The train slowed to complete stop at their platform. Whoops and cheers sounded in the other train cars. She wasn't the only one happy to be going home. 

Torsten's awaiting car, this time, was a cherry red BMW M8. 

"Okay, I don't know much about cars but I thought these only went up to M6?" she remarked as she stepped inside.

"Yes and no. This is an M8 prototype. It was never officially released for sale," Torsten replied coolly as he shifted into gear and accelerated. He laughed as Helena flailed against the passenger seat and gripped the edges with white-knuckled hands. 

"I should also mention this is a supercar." 

"Meaning it goes really fast?" Helena adjusted her seat belt and her hair, trying to get her bearings but smiled to herself. She enjoyed the thrill, yet still felt safe next to him.

"Exactly, my love." 

They arrived at her apartment within ten minutes. 

"Fuck, I'm surprised the cops didn't pull you over."

Torsten shrugged. "They wouldn't be able to catch me, anyway." 

"Mm-hmm. You sly devil." She leaned across the seat to cup his chin and give him a kiss. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer as their tongues danced, embraced, and melted against each other. 

"You're pulling me out of my seat," Helena said into his mouth in mock protest. 

"So?" He sucked gently on her tongue. "I don't want you to leave me, even if it's for a few minutes." 

"The sooner I get inside and start packing, the sooner we'll be home together." Home. She could get used to the new, fuzzy feeling in her core from that word.
Home
.

"Hurry that beautiful ass up then."

"You have to let me go, asshole!" 

They both laughed as she twisted and squirmed in his arms. He released her reluctantly after one final kiss. 

"Maybe I'll come in for one last fuck in your bed for old times' sake," he said in a low voice filled with lust. 

"If you do that we'll never get any moving done." Helena scooted away until she pressed against the passenger side door. "We can fuck on every available surface in your house once I'm moved in." 

"
Our
 house," he corrected with a sly grin. "Go on, then. I'll be right back, beautiful." 

"Love you," she mouthed, blowing a kiss as she stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her. She loved being able to say it freely now. Love lifted her spirit like wings. 

She saw him mouth, "Love you too," through the dark tinted glass, his pale blue eyes shining brightly as ever. 

He waited for a moment, watching her go up the short staircase to her front door and pull out her key. Then with a loud engine roar and squealing tires, the supercar peeled down the street at highly illegal speeds. 

He was already gone when Helena shoved her key into the lock and her heart stopped. 

The gentle force of inserting her key pushed the door open.

It was unlocked. 

Someone was in her house.

Helena froze at the front door. She wracked her panicked brain trying to remember if she locked her front when she first left for the tour six weeks ago. It felt like a lifetime ago. 

Fuck! I can't remember. My neighbors would have called or emailed if something was fishy, though. If it was really bad like a break-in, the police would reach out to me.

With those thoughts giving her confidence, she pushed the door open further. The foyer looked normal enough. She took two tentative steps inside and immediately regretted it.