Pure Iron (34 page)

“Good thought,” Jack approved with a firm nod. The album, one of their earlier works, featured a preponderance of hard rock. They quickly reviewed the songs in order of play and were ready when the concierge returned to inform them they should make their way to the stage. Davis scooped up several spare drumsticks, as those had a tendency to break when the music got wild.

“I’ll have a chair brought to you,” the concierge murmured to Sonia as the band walked onstage to enthusiastic applause and cheers. She thanked him and watched the concert from the wings.

Davis began with a dramatic drum solo to which Mick added a high pitched whine from the guitar that involved much fast and intricate fingering of the strings. “One, two, three, four!” he counted. On the count of four, the music crashed down. Or exploded outward. Regardless, it was loud with a heavy beat, suggestive lyrics, and almost violent chords. The many fighters and their partners danced to the strong rhythms. Several of the more aggressive women tossed loud invitations and intimate apparel at the stage. They called out primarily to Jack, Mick, and Kris, although when Angelo’s saxophone started a wailing solo he received a loud cheer of approval and every drum solo elicited a manic bump-and-grind from the audience.

After the first few songs, Mick spoke, introducing the band members. His rough, smoky voice carried that sexy growl that had men listening and women sighing. He kept the patter to a minimum; the crowd was there for the music. The audience sang the refrains to several songs as the band played. They stomped their feet and clapped their hands.

As she listened to the music, she watched the audience. An audience full of fighters and their women proved to be a crowd of very fit, young people. Anyone who looked over thirty was probably a trainer, she thought. Sonia’s eyes widened as she was sure she saw several couples engaging in public sex right there in the pit.

As the concert went on, Davis, Jack, Angelo, and Kris lost their shirts. Women howled their collective appreciation as muscles rippled beneath sweat-shined skin.

“Take it off, Mick!” a small group of women cried out.

With a sexy smirk, Mick ignored the demand as his talented fingers ripped a wailing riff from the guitar. But the chanted demand spread and rose in volume. Mick sent a quick glance of apology to Sonia and finally obliged to satisfy the audience. The leather vest went flying toward Sonia and landed with a moist splat on the stage floor.

Once their demands were met, it wasn’t long before the women in the audience boldly demanded greater exposure.

“We’re flattered, ladies,” Jack shouted above the din. “But there are certain rules we have to obey and not getting naked on stage is one of them. If you have a backstage pass, we can talk about mutual exposure!” He rolled his hips, drawing every woman’s eyes to the prominent bulge pressing at his zipper.

A collective groan of disappointment swelled even as a scattered group of concert goers screeched their excitement. The band launched into one of their rollicking tunes with a thumping bass beat.

“This could get ugly,” Sonia muttered to herself as she rose from the chair and walked back to the green room. Her head throbbed and she hoped she had some painkillers in her purse.

Half an hour later, she leaned back in a chair, eyes closed, a lukewarm bottle of water in her hand. She could hear footsteps and excited chatter beyond the door. Cries of welcome shrilled, announcing the concert’s end and the band’s return backstage. The door opened and she heard Davis’ deep voice boom, “Give us a moment to freshen up, ladies.”

Whines and groans of reluctant compliance followed the reasonable request as the band walked into the room. Their sweaty bodies practically vibrated with residual energy. Sonia could not help but notice that all five men sported impressive erections that strained at their zippers.

Mick’s eyes lit up when he saw Sonia waiting for him. Closing the distance between them, he reached out to clasp her against his body and growl into her ear, “I need you
now
, babe.”

Sonia opened her mouth to tell him that she had a splitting headache, but he took the parted lips as an invitation and crushed his mouth to hers. She pushed against his chest and forcibly turned her head away, even as he reached one hand beneath her skirt.

“No,” she rasped.

His hand stilled and his eyes narrowed. “No?” he repeated in an angry tone that she would deny him in that moment of fierce physical need.

She swallowed and compromised, “Not here.”

Neanderthal tendencies to shout his authority, his dominance, his
ownership
of her body, strained his every muscle. With thinning control, he mastered the compulsion to simply take what his body demanded.

“Not here,” he agreed thickly, and practically dragged her across the room.

“Hey, where are you going?” Jack called out.

“Out,” Mick answered curtly.

He hauled Sonia through the doorway and excited groupies poured into the room. Several of them clutched at him, but he shrugged off their grasping hands. He pulled Sonia through the building to the parking garage. In the garage elevator, he hit the emergency stop button.

“What?”

Practically beyond words, Mick pressed her against the elevator wall as he reached beneath her dress and tore off her panties.

“Now,” he reiterated on a guttural grunt, wrenching open his jeans. He lifted her and held her in place for his savage, upward thrust. Sonia cried out against the burning pain of invasion when her body was not yet ready. Mick pushed in and pulled out with the rapid force of a jackhammer, grunting when he found his release. He rested his forehead on top of her shoulder as he breathed heavily. He pulled out of her, set her on her feet, and pressed the button to resume the elevator’s travel to the topmost floor of the parking garage.

With the sharp edge of passion dulled, Mick could focus on driving them back to the condo. But adrenaline and need still rode him hard. Before his marriage, nights like that one would have seen him plow through at least women. But he was determined to be faithful and that meant he had to quench his desires on just one woman.

“That hurt, Mick,” Sonia scolded when he drew her into the bedroom and quickly rid himself of his jeans, boots, and socks. His lip lifted in a silent snarl of aggression as he tore off her dress.

He walked her to the bed, pushing her down when the back of her legs bumped against the mattress.

“I’ll make it good for this time,” he promised and dropped to his knees as he inserted his body between her knees. He dove forward to tend to her tender flesh with his mouth until she shattered on his tongue. He rose on his knees and plunged into her body. Mick ruled her until they both sank into exhausted slumber.

He lay beside her the next morning, fingers laced beneath his head, and stared at the ceiling. Sonia sprawled on her belly beside him, the covers dipping down almost to her waist. In the dim light he saw the red marks of his possession on her skin, marks made by his hands and mouth while she shuddered in pleasure beneath him.

He liked seeing those marks there, knowing that he made them.

He breathed deeply, inhaling the scents of warm skin and musk. He’d used her roughly the previous night and guilt for causing her discomfort ate at his conscience. He’d taken her hard in the elevator as though she were some slutty fangirl good for a brief tryst and discarded like trash afterward.

How was he going to manage that need and energy that rode him hard after a performance like last night’s? Sonia might forgive him the once, but he doubted she’d tolerate repeat treatment. But, God, the energy was incredible, amazing. The hard, thumping music of that concert reminded him of the early years when he’d been all about the music and passion. Hell, they’d cut that album before they even had a single tune played on the radio in the days when they’d worked hard just to get a gig at a local bar.

The hard, angry music took him back to those days. He’d been younger than Sonia was now when they recorded that album. He looked at her again and stretched a hand over to gently stroke her back as though he were petting a cat. In her sleep, Sonia moved into his touch, an unconscious gesture that pleased him to no end.

She was so young, he thought. So innocent. Sure, she was no longer a virgin, but virginity was not the sum total of innocence. She looked at him and saw goodness and beauty beyond a physically fit body and handsome face.

And what did he see when he looked at her?

Her tawny hair reminded him of a lioness, with the courage and ferocity that a lion signified. Her guileless blue eyes reminded him of a clear summer sky, beautiful and honest. This woman held no deep, dark secrets that could destroy their marriage. Her soft, silky skin drew his touch, made his mouth water with the need to taste. Her body delighted his senses. She was smart, talented, and, for some weird reason, found him worthy of love.

She sighed and rolled over. Cool, air conditioned air wafted over the bared breasts and made the rosy nipples pucker. Unable to resist the sweet temptation, he leaned over to lick them, to savor the taste and texture on his tongue. His throbbing erection damn near cheered at the idea.

Not unlike some other mornings in their short marriage, Sonia awoke to the utterly delicious sensations of Mick making love to her. She sighed with happiness, then moaned softly as a gentle orgasm washed over her and left her languid and mightily aroused. She reached down to touch him, delighting in the feel of his skin wherever her hands could reach. She sighed again when he eased into her body and rocked his hips. She wallowed in the exquisite care he showed her, the tenderness, and the pure pleasure that canceled any offense he had committed the previous night with his rough use of her.

She came the realization that she did not particularly like rough sex. Sure she read romance novels, many them flirting or simply wallowing in BDSM. Sure, she enjoyed occasionally borrowing some lighter kink from the subculture.

Her hazy realization made her aware of the old joke: What’s the difference between erotic and kinky?

“Tell me, what’s the difference?” he murmured as he gently rocked his hips in an action that intimately stroked every special spot and put pressure where it was certain to do the most good.

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. She giggled, then delivered the punchline: “With erotic, you use a feather. With kinky, you use the whole chicken.”

Mick chuckled and gasped as that familiar sensation of impending climax grabbed him. His rhythm quickened, lost control. As he frantically pumped into her, Sonia leaped off the cliff and soared into her own climax. The spasms of her flesh around his added that last bit of sensation he needed to propel him over the cliff of pleasure as well.

He lay on top of her for a moment until she wriggled beneath him and muttered, “You’re heavy.”

He chuckled again and rolled off, missing the wet heat of her body as soon as he left it. He stroked her cheek with the back of one finger and asked gently, “Feeling okay?”

“Mmm,” she replied. “A little tender, but, yes, I do.”

“I think we need a lazy morning,” he said.

Sonia rolled over onto her side and reached to run her hand over the muscular bulge of his shoulder and arm.

“That’s a perfect idea,” she replied with a wicked smile.

They made love twice more before their grumbling stomachs compelled them to seek food. So they rose from tangled sheets and conserved water in the shower where they made love again. By the time they had dressed and were working on breakfast, Sonia commented, “My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”

Mick cocked his head, then shrugged. It was yet another one of those sayings he had never heard, but understood.

“Where do you get those?” he asked.

“Get what?” she responded around a mouthful of pancake and Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup.

“You come up with these little sayings that I’ve never heard—and I’m well-traveled. I don’t think they’re colloquialisms from Ohio.”

She shrugged, took a swallow of orange juice, and said, “I read a lot. Some of those sayings are what I’ve picked up from historical romances. Oftentimes they’re pretty apt.”

“You’ll have to bring your e-reader on tour.”

She raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

“There’s lot of downtime, especially on the bus,” he said. “Do you have a laptop computer?”

“No. I don’t have a lot of use in the kitchen for a computer.”

“I’ll buy you one. We’ll have to find something that can connect via satellite or something like that.”

“All right,” she agreed without any real enthusiasm, thinking that if she used it as little as she anticipated, perhaps he would find good use for it. “We’re leaving in what five days?”

He glanced at the calendar and said, “Six days. We have three performances left and then we depart the day after.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’ll be glad to get out of Vegas.”

“Me, too.”

He smoothed a hand over her damp hair and said, “I know, honey.” He brought up the topic of the previous night’s show in a misguided effort to turn the topic from remembrances of media harassment. “So, what did you think of last night’s show?”

She shrugged and offered him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, but that’s not really my preferred music. I really like the songs you’ve written lately, though.”