“What are you thinking, love?” he asked with a nuzzling kiss to her hair.
“Just that my childhood was probably so bland and sheltered compared to yours. I hate how growing up privileged blinds you to how hard others have it.”
Torsten responded by crushing her mouth with his. He kissed her so deeply, she sank like a weight into the memory foam mattress. Helena's body fused with his as she lost herself in the sensations of his mouth.
"Don't pity me, love. I wouldn't be here, in bed with you, if it weren't for my past." He brushed the hair from her forehead softly and kissed her eyelids. "Everything that's ever happened to me has led me to you."
Chapter 19
Torsten
The week leading up to the tour was a whirlwind. Torsten made sure the band rehearsed every single night for at least four hours. They rehearsed different set lists for different cities. Everyone deserved a unique experience, especially if they were following the band around to different shows.
He could see the headline now: The new Deadheads are Hammerheads, following Mjolnir, the heavy metal band named after Thor’s hammer.
Helena buzzed around taking photos and interviewing the band members, but time didn't allow for much privacy. Seeing her smile and laugh with his bandmates made Torsten’s heart swell. She seemed apprehensive of what the band thought of her coming along, but they were thrilled, as Torsten knew they would be.
Really, love. Don’t worry so much about what others think.
They would fly to Paris via private plane, check into their hotel suites, do sound checks, and play the following evening. From Paris, they would sail on a yacht to Ireland and England, then fly down to Portugal and Spain. Two shows were scheduled in Spain, first in Madrid, then Barcelona. From Barcelona, they would travel through the south of France via a private train. Each band member had their own private train car. Roadies and assistants would share a car between two people, which still left them plenty of personal space. They would continue through Italy, Switzerland, Germany and the rest of Europe via relaxing, leisurely train ride.
Torsten made sure every detail was streamlined, from the private plane to the yacht to the UK, and every detail on the private train. He made sure all the staff --from the cooks and bartenders to the pilots, captains, and conductors-- were the most qualified and professional he could find. He wanted the band to focus on nothing but performing. They would play over 30 shows and needed to be at the top of their game for every single one. He demanded much from them and he knew it.
Despite streamlining everything down to the last detail, Torsten couldn't relax. He knew something would go wrong. On every tour, he made sure to account for whatever could possibly go tits up. But there was always something he wouldn't be able to predict.
And with Helena by his side, he felt a sense of duty to be extra diligent. She traveled before, but not as extensively as this. He knew she was tough enough to handle herself in most situations, but in a strange country where they didn't speak the language, anything could happen. Especially in Eastern European countries where kidnapping and human trafficking were more prevalent.
She would be safest when also naked in his bed, with that delectable pussy clamping down on his cock as he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of her.
Just the thought of having her in bed with every single night for the next six weeks excited him like a teenager sneaking off to spend a night with a girl. That thought felt so... comforting, to his surprise. After a few weeks, most women fell in love with his wealth and status, rather than him as a person. But knowing that wasn't Helena's motivation, he found comfort and happiness in the idea of keeping her around.
He watched her approach the private plane from a distance. She packed lightly, which he was happy to see. High maintenance women were never fun to travel with. She wore dark skinny jeans, black leather boots with a chunky heel, and a slimming black blouse as she pulled a small, wheeled suitcase behind her. He smiled, approvingly of her liberal use of black clothing and wondered if she was tapping into her inner metal head.
The dark clothing accentuated her pale, delicate features. It had been nearly a full week since he saw her and he wanted nothing more than to peel the darkness away from her milky skin and drink from the sweet, pink fountain of her pussy. But he would have to wait, at least a little longer.
"Hello, Torsten," she said with a shy smile as she approached.
She stopped an arm's length away from him, but he replied by snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her in to close the distance. He kissed her deeply and savored every moment. The taste of her lips caused his cock to jump almost immediately. Her body melted against his, just as it had before.
Reluctantly, he pulled away once becoming fully re-acquainted with her mouth. His forehead remained against hers as he brought both hands up to cradle her neck.
"I missed you, love."
"I missed you too."
For the first time in a week, Torsten felt a wide grin break on his face. All the necessary busywork to perfect the band and the tour often made him feel like a robot. But with Helena back in his arms, he felt alive and hot-blooded again.
They settled her into the small, but spacious private plane. It would be just over two hours from Oslo to Paris. Two stewardesses were available for all the band's and staff's needs. A full bar with was available at the back of the plane, which Stig and Anders already took advantage of with Bloody Mary's.
The plane had plenty of open space with electrical hookups for the band to rehearse if need. The new drummer, Markus, already had a drum kit set up and drummed away in his own world. Helena giggled as a stewardess marched over to him and yanked an earbud out of his ear to tell him something. Probably to buckle up and prepare for take off.
Helena and Torsten settled next to each other in their seats, which she remarked were more like luxurious armchairs. He made a point of strapping her seat belt, his hands kneading her thighs and hips, and unsubtly brushing his hand between her legs.
"So sweet of you to be concerned for my safety," she teased.
"I want you in one piece when we join the mile-high club." He pressed one fingertip against her clit and felt his hardness return as she squirmed under his touch.
"What, here?" she asked in a breathless whisper.
"Well, if you want to," he smirked. "We have some private cabins on board, too."
Helena blushed, which almost drove him to take her right there in the passenger seat as she suggested.
"So wait, you said when we join. You've never had sex on a plane before?" she asked.
"Well, not this plane..."
She smirked, but her eyes dropped from his and he felt a stab of regret.
"I'm kidding! I didn't mean that." Tenderly, he lifted her chin with a finger. Her olive green eyes nearly made his heart stop.
"I've never had sex on a plane. I've never even brought a woman I’m… seeing on a work-related trip before."
"Aww, so you're a virgin?" The sexy fire in her eyes returned with a smirk playing on her lips.
"I'll shut that beautiful mouth up." And he did, covering her mouth with his and pressing his tongue against hers, whispering promises of what would come later.
Her intoxicating little mouth consumed him so much, he considered carrying her off to the private cabin before takeoff when the plane gently lurched forward.
"Please remained buckled in your seats, everyone, until the captain turns off the seatbelt sign," announced the chirpy stewardess over the loudspeaker.
Torsten reluctantly untangled himself from Helena but kept his hand on her thigh as the plane rolled across the runway.
It felt like so long since he last had her, since he made her come until they lost count in her bed.
He grinned to himself as he watched her try to keep her cool. She shut her phone off, pushed her purse underneath her seat, then tried to read a book. But he saw the pink blush creep up her slender neck into her cheeks. He knew she needed him jus
t as badly. He’d bet his net worth that her pussy soaked through her panties since their kiss on the runway.
"Have you been to Paris before?" he asked, trying to distract himself from the luscious curves of her breasts.
"No," she answered, clearly not paying attention to her book. "I've always wanted to go. It sounds like a beautiful city."
"I think it's better when you have someone to romance." He squeezed her knee gently. "Last time we played there, I spent most of my time in the catacombs."
"The what?"
"The catacombs. Underneath the city are the skeletons of six million people. A maze of rooms lined with bones and skulls."
Helena raised an eyebrow. "And you spent most of your time with skeletons because...?"
"You seem surprised that a heavy metal musician who writes songs about death and the underworld would have a fascination with death."
"I'm not surprised the fascination is there. Just didn't realize you were so... intimately acquainted with the dead."
Torsten's eyes flicked up to the window as the plane lurched off the ground and into the air. "I suppose my upbringing made me better acquainted than most. I've been much closer to death than most people have been."
He watched out the window as buildings, cars, and trees shrunk to microscopic size. After a moment, Helena asked, “Is that all you’re going to tell me?”
“Yes. For now, love.” He squeezed her knee affectionately as she looked at him curiously, but didn’t press the subject.
She put her hand over his, intertwining their fingers. His eyes returned to meet hers, and that cocky grin played on his lips again.
"I much prefer the living anyway."
He leaned in and grazed his teeth against her neck. The heat from her body drove him wild like blood for a vampire. He opened his mouth and gently sucked at the warm, taut skin on her neck.
She let out the softest moan imaginable. Her hand slid up the inside of his thigh and pressed against the bulge in his jeans, already rock hard.
"Fucking hell, love. I need you now," Torsten growled as he unbuckled his seatbelt, then reached across her lap to unbuckle hers.
He stood up and pulled Helena to her feet, despite her protests. "We can't now. They haven't turned the seatbelt sign off!"
"Fuck the seatbelt sign," he replied as he led her down the aisle to the back of the plane. "Everyone on this plane works for me."
Not a single staff member or bandmate protested Torsten moving about the cabin. A few good-natured wolf whistles and cheers erupted from the band as Torsten unlocked the cabin door.
Helena blushed and hurriedly stepped inside, albeit a bit wobbly from the turbulence. Torsten calmly closed the door behind them.
"What do you think?"
The room was small but comfortable, like a hotel room. The king-sized bed took up the majority of the room, but it had a bathroom attached, end tables on each side of the bed, a loveseat against one wall, a desk, and a large TV on a stand.
"Reminds me of a certain hotel from not too long ago." Helena grinned wickedly.
"Yes. Though that room had more wall space for me to fuck you against." Torsten picked her up like a feather and tossed her on the bed.
"I don't think that girl you brought up would have liked that," Helena replied, watching him crawl on top of her like a lion coming in to enjoy its kill.
"I don't give a fuck what any woman likes but you." Torsten pressed his still-clothed hard-on between her legs. He swore he could feel her wetness soak through her own clothing and his.
"That's what I love about you." Helena looked surprised by her own words as if she didn't mean to say them.
Torsten felt a tight squeezing around his heart as he saw the look in her eye. She felt more than lust and he knew he was beginning to feel the same. But how would she feel if she knew the true extent of his past? What he had to do to survive from one day to the next? She sure as fuck wouldn’t say the word “love” in any kind of context concerning him. Undoubtedly, she’d run far away if she knew.
He didn’t want this to end but could he take that risk?
Her hands on his zipper, then reaching inside his pants and taking his stiff cock pulled him out of his own thoughts and into the present. A moan escaped his throat as her warm, wet tongue massaged the underside of his head and he forgot about everything else.
Chapter 20
Helena
As the plane touched down in Paris, Helena stirred under the covers. She’d taken a quick nap after their fuck fest. The gentle movement of the plane and Torsten’s glorious naked body next to her assured her she wasn’t dreaming and she smiled.
They never left the private cabin for the entirety of the flight. At one point, Torsten wrapped himself in a towel to receive the ordered food from the stewardess. He was keen on answering the door completely naked, still rock hard with his cock coated in her pussy juice, but Helena insisted on the towel.
They spent the entire two hours catching up what they had missed while apart. She explored his body as if it were a new landscape, reacquainting herself with his muscles, tattoos, and glorious cock that practically made her come on command.
"We don't have to get off immediately," Torsten told her sleepily after the captain announced they were entering Paris airspace. "We have a private runway and can leave the plane whenever we want."
Helena took the time to shower and put on fresh clothes and makeup. She knew Torsten didn't care, but she didn't want to face the band and plane staff in typical "walk of shame" fashion. She knew she wasn't just another conquest, she was Torsten's woman.
Not to mention she had a job to do and had to maintain professionalism.
Torsten continued to doze, stretched out and naked on the king-sized bed like a lazy cat. He was so tall the bed barely contained him. Helena admired his long, rippled figure for a moment before rubbing his massive, sculpted back to wake him.
"Mmmmm," he groaned, but did not move.
"How long are you going to sleep here?" she chuckled.
"Dunno. I won't have a proper night of sleep for six weeks, so might as well get it in now."
"That's not how sleep works." Helena sat on him, straddling his ass. She pressed her fingers deeper into his skin, working into the taut muscles of his back.
"Mmmmmph."
"What ever happened to wining and dining me in Paris?" she asked teasingly.
"I need to recover from you sucking and fucking me, first."
"Awww, poor Torsten." Her tone dripped with sarcasm as she lowered her mouth to his ear. "The lead guitarist of Mjolnir is getting so much pussy, he can't even get out of bed."
"Heh. I'm not as young as I used to be, baby."
She playfully bit into his shoulder. “Poor old man. Don’t we all wish we were younger.”
“No, not really.” His voice floated up from the pillow after a long pause. Helena’s eyes widened as she realized the gravity of what she just said.
“Fuck! Torsten, I’m sorry.” She bit her lip, feeling like an asshole for referring to the past again. “I don’t mean to keep bringing it up.”
“I know, love. It’s fine.”
Helena slid off his back and he rolled to his side to face her. “I did have some good times as a young troublemaker but I wouldn’t trade any of it for right now. With you.”
Helena felt her heart melt into a puddle as she gazed at him. His fingers trailed along her cheek and neck. It was scary how fast she was falling for him, how much devotion and care he showed her.
He talked and walked a big game, which everyone saw. But only she saw the moments like this, where he was sweet and gentle. He was almost vulnerable.
"Aren't you such a softy," she smirked. Inwardly, she cringed. She knew, in his own way, he was letting his guard down and opening up to her. Why couldn't she do the same? She knew why. She couldn't bear to be deceived and taken for a fool again.
"I'm one of the biggest softies you'll ever meet," Torsten replied with the same leve
l of snark. At least he didn't hold it against her and could dish it back at her. "Once I'm over being a fucking hardass."
Helena slid her hand down his chest, across his abdomen, and around his back to give his bum a squeeze. "I don't think you'll ever lose this hard ass."
"Ugh, such a pervert. Just like me." Torsten gave her a warm kiss. Every kiss of his always felt so warm and sincere. Was that an expression of how he felt? Was it the chemistry between them? Or was that just a sign of how many mouths he's kissed before?
With a sigh, Torsten rolled out of bed, stood, and stretched. Helena remained lying in the pile of pillows, admiring his physique from her vantage point.
He walked around to her side of the bed and slapped her ass, which made her jump. Underneath her clothes, it was still pink and tender from all the slapping and grabbing an hour earlier.
"Now who's being lazy?"
Helena giggled. "You hush, Torsten Hard Ass."
She saw the hint of a smile as he put clothes on, almost hurriedly. He was happy. Despite whatever he'd been through, he knew how to be happy.
He’s happy with me.
She began gathering her luggage, but Torsten told her to leave it. "The staff will bring it up for us," he said with another warm kiss. "That's what I pay them for."
He held the door open as they exited the room.
Ugh, he's a gentleman too. Probably getting a good look at my ass, but a gentleman all the same.
As if to shatter the illusion, he delivered another quick smack to her rear as she walked through the door. She shot him a scolding look but couldn’t keep from smiling. Her sensitive skin tingled with the sensation, sweet pleasure on just the edge of pain.
They were the last of the passengers to leave, as she guessed. The stewardesses busied themselves with cleaning, tidying up around the seats and vacuuming the floor. Helena blushed when they looked up and smiled at her.
"We hope you enjoyed the flight, Miss Forss!"
"Thank you," she mumbled.
Torsten led her to the exit at the front of the plane, past all of the staff members who would surely be gossiping about her, and down the short flight of steps onto the Tarmac. She saw Paris in the flesh for the first time.
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