Pure Iron

by Bargo, Holly

  “Penny’s your roommate?”

  “Yeah.”

  Leaning in close to her, he whispered intimately into her ear, “By tomorrow morning, you’ll be the wild one, but you’ll only be wild for me.”

  Her breath hitched again. She’d had boyfriends before. What reasonably attractive girl hadn’t? But never had any boyfriend treated her to such blatant sexuality. But never before had she wanted to follow through. She stole a look at Mick and felt excitement fizz in her blood. So this is what giddy feels like.

  The pilot announced that the aircraft would be landing shortly and asked everyone to return to their seats and buckle up. Mick reached over to take Sonia’s hand, entwining his fingers with hers.

  Less than half an hour later, they had deplaned and were walking toward the baggage claim and ground transportation area. Sonia, who had never visited Las Vegas, looked wide-eyed, all agog at the ubiquitous and noisy presence of slot machines. Huge LCD panels showed teasing clips of featured shows: Cirque du Soleil, magicians, singers, comedians, impersonators. A short man in a hat held a tablet with Sonia’s name emblazoned across the screen.

  “That’s our ride,” Mick said.

  “How—?”

  “I called my agent. Jay’s a whiz at arranging things.”

  “Mr. Hendriksen, Miss Houlihan,” the chauffeur acknowledged them with an empty, professional smile and a nod. “Welcome to Las Vegas. Do you wish to check in to your hotel first or head to the chapel?”

  The chauffeur who had seen and heard just about everything was not impressed by a young rock star and his girl and their impulsive decision to avail themselves of a quickie marriage in a city renowned for its support of impulsive behavior. The week before he had driven three movie stars around the city. The things that those three had done in the back seat of his car required a thorough cleaning of the vehicle’s interior afterward to remove any lingering stains on the carpet or upholstery.

  Uncertainty crossed Sonia’s face. Before she could panic, Mick answered, the chauffeur’s inquiry, “We’ll check into the hotel first. I’m sure Sonia will wish to freshen up.”

  “Very good, sir,” the chauffeur replied and led them to a gleaming black limousine. “Your agent, Mr. Donaldson, reserved a suite for you at Caesar’s Palace.”

  “Great. Thanks,” Mick said as he and Sonia slid into the vehicle’s plush interior. Once seated, he took her hand in his as much for her reassurance as for his own pleasure. It surprised him that he liked holding her hand.

  The drive to the hotel ended quickly. The chauffeur pulled the limousine into the VIP area where attendants quickly hopped forward to make them feel welcome. A hotel concierge accustomed to working with high profiles guests met them at the door and led them to a private office where she checked them in. She led them to a VIP elevator that took them directly to the floors where the executive suites were located. Her mouth hung open just a little in awe at the obsequious treatment and luxury of the suite.

  “We can’t stay here long,” Mick said, his voice low and tense. His eyes darted toward the luxuriously appointed bedroom.

  Sonia’s jaw worked, but no words came out. Still holding her hand, he drew her against him and circled her waist with his other arm. He stared into her eyes for a second, then crushed his mouth to hers. She yielded, opening to him, then her tongue entwined with his and he found himself desperately fighting for control. Dear God, he thought, he had never had such an explosive reaction to any woman. This whirlwind romance was more than just sex, although he would be damned if he could deny sex wasn’t a huge part of it. The anticipation of sinking his cock into her wet heat had his eyes crossing. He reluctantly pulled away from her, a noble restraint made more difficult because she surged against him, rubbing her body against his as she rose to her tiptoes.

  “Wear the pink dress,” he suggested with a gesture toward her carry-on bag.

  Suddenly it occurred to her that Mick had packed her clothes. Well, obviously, she chided herself, because Penny wasn’t in any frame of mind to pay attention to any such thing.

  She opened the small suitcase and dug out the pink dress. It was more daring than what she normally wore and purchased especially for her vacation in case she went to a party. The crisp material had a 1950s retro look that she thought classy, while the halter top design was sexy. The full skirt swirled just above the knee.

  Before changing, she opted for a quick shower. It would have been great to linger under the multiple showerheads, but she feared that Mick’s patience would expire before she was ready. Her mind flashed back to a Pirates of the Caribbean movie in which character Elizabeth Swan proclaims how ready she is to be married. Sonia ran her hands down her body and understood.

  Before donning fresh panties and matching bra and the dress, she spent several minutes blow-drying her hair. She debated for about two seconds whether to pull it back into the usual ponytail, but she had nothing to secure a ponytail in place. So, she left the somewhat damp tresses loose. She brushed her teeth and applied mascara and a light coat of lip gloss.

  She emerged from the bathroom and Mick’s eyes practically devoured her.

  “You look edible,” he growled. “Stay put.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom, carrying his overnight bag with him. Fifteen minutes later he came out, dressed in crisp gray slacks and a dark blue silk dress shirt. Sonia’s breath caught in her throat. He’d look good, really, really good, in jeans and tee shirt, but dressed like that he was just plain gorgeous. He’d slicked his wet hair back into a stubby ponytail at the nape of his neck. Pulled away from his face like that threw into sharp relief his sharp bone structure, narrow, aquiline nose, and the full, sensuous lips. If a hawk or falcon had a human profile, it would look like Mick Hendriksen.

  “Wow, you clean up pretty,” she complimented with a teasing lilt.

  He grinned at her as he buttoned his cuffs. Then, he held out his hand and she automatically took it. “Let’s go ring shopping. I want the world to know you’re mine.”

  Sonia grabbed her purse and followed him out. They met the chauffeur who drove them to one of the more exclusive jewelers. The chauffeur patiently waited while his clients picked out the perfect diamond.

  “How may I assist you?” a sales clerk impeccably dressed in crisp black suit, white shirt, and red paisley tie inquired from behind an illuminated jewelry case. If he recognized his rock star client, he gave no sign of it.

  “We’re looking for a bridal set,” Mick replied as he wandered among the cases, towing Sonia along with him. He stopped and pointed to one set. “What do you think about these, babe?”

  Sonia’s eyes widened. “It’s a little big,” she demurred.

  Mick drew her close under his arm. “Sweetheart, I can afford it, if it’s the money you’re worried about.”

  “Er … no … it’s not really my style,” she said, blushing. What she did not say was that she thought the bridal set simply garish. She set her purse on the glass top of the case and splayed her hand. “I’m a chef, Mick. I need something that won’t get in the way of what I do, because I don’t want to have to take off my ring every day when I go to work.”

  Overhearing the conversation, the clerk gently interrupted. “If you’ll pardon my intrusion, but we have something that may suit the lady better, given her occupation.”

  Mick looked up and nodded curtly. They followed the clerk to another case where a selection of bands was displayed. In that case were few clusters of gemstones that would snag on sweaters or require frequent scrubbing to remove debris.

  “Oh, I like that set,” Sonia said, pointing to an art nouveau style bridal set. The graceful design on the bride’s band was enlarged and thickened to suit the masculinity of the groom’s ring. “What do you think? Can you play guitar wearing that?”

  Mick hesitated, surprised that he was expected to wear a ring, too.

  Sonia’s eyes narrowed and she asked quietly, ‘Did you think I was the only one to be off-limits by
wearing a wedding band?”

  Aware that he’d made an egregious error and faintly shuddering at the thought of having sex with any of the promiscuous groupies who clustered around backstage doors and the band’s bus, he moved quickly to rectify it. But he knew he had to be honest with her.

  “No, sweetheart, I just hadn’t thought about it. I was looking more to find something that you’d like.”

  She nodded and the martial glint in her eyes faded. He stepped behind her, making sure that he pressed lightly against her. He subtly rolled his hips so that his bulging cock brushed against her lower back. He hear her slow, deep inhale and watched the rosy blush rise and felt a distinctly masculine satisfaction.

  “We’ll take that set,” he said.

  “Would you prefer to try them on first?” the clerk asked sensibly.

  Sonia nodded and answered, “Yes, please.”

  The clerk brought out the rings. The brides’ band fit Sonia’s slender finger. The groom’s band was a little large for Mick’s.

  “We’ll take them,” Mick said again.

  “Your band will have to be resized. It will take a few days for that,” the clerk stated.

  “We’re getting married today,” Mick told him. “I’ll bring the band back tomorrow to be resized today.”

  The clerk nodded his understanding and explained the company’s no-return policy. He rang up the sale, which Mick paid with a black credit card. After the couple walked out the door, the clerk retreated to the back room to place bets with his coworkers on just how soon this quickie celebrity marriage would end in divorce.

  Their next stop was one of the many quick wedding chapels for which Las Vegas was famous. True to the advertisements, the chapel’s staff expedited the paperwork and the ceremony. Fifteen minutes later, the married couple returned to the limousine, followed by the chauffeur who had graciously served as a witness. It was all part of the service in that crazy town.

  “Where to, sir?” he asked.

  Mick looked at Sonia, who said, “Food. I’m hungry.”

  “A restaurant, some place quiet and discreet.”

  “Very good sir. Do you prefer American, Italian, fusion, or Asian cuisine?”

  “American,” Sonia replied firmly.

  “Very good, madam. We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

  The limousine pulled smoothly into traffic and ten minutes later rolled to a halt in front of the restaurant’s sophisticated facade. Sonia practically quivered in excitement at having the opportunity to dine at a venue made famous by its celebrity chef. Paparazzi hovered near the entrance in the eternal hope of catching glimpses of the rich and famous. A few flashes accompanied their arrival, then died off as another limousine pulled up to disgorge its passengers.

  “It’s Tom Cruise!” someone shouted. The photographers surged after the movie star who paused to wave and smile and pose for them.

  Mick grinned and tugged Sonia along after him. Sonia glanced back at the movie star and commented once they’d passed through the restaurant’s doors, “He’s shorter than I realized.”

  He settled his hand at the small of her back and said, “You’re mine now, sweetheart. No lusting after other men.”

  She turned toward him, open-mouthed with shock. But he just grinned at her, eyes twinkling.

  “Oh, you are so bad,” she grumbled at him, realizing that he’d been teasing her.

  “No, Sonia, I am very, very good and you’re going to find out just how good,” he growled in her ear.

  And, just like that, her blood sizzled in her veins.

  The maître d' greeted them with a polite smile asked if they had a reservation. Mick confirm they did. He nodded and murmured that it would be no problem to find them a table. A few minutes later, they followed the maître d' through the widely spaced tables.

  “Hey, Mick. Good to see you,” greeted one man as they passed.

  Sonia’s eyes grew wide as Mick returned the greeting with a handshake.

  “What brings you here?” the country music legend asked.

  “I got married,” Mick announced with a broad grin and held up his bride’s left hand, clasped in his right.

  The singer’s eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed with speculation. “She’s lovely, congratulations. Not in your usual style.”

  “No, she’s way too good for me. I had to snag her before she realized what a bad bet I am,” Mick joked.

  “Well, again, congrats. I’ll be sure to send a housewarming gift.”

  “That’s kind of you, but no puppies, please.”

  “Would I do that?” the singer asked with feigned innocence.

  “Yes, you would and did,” Mick laughed. “See you in September.”

  “What’s in September?” Sonia asked.

  “The band’s got a three week gig out here, at Caesar’s no less. Then we’re on tour for six months and it’ll be back to Vegas for another three-week stint.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot.”

  “The tour is actually on the short side. Iron Falcon isn’t big enough yet to merit an extended gig like Rod Stewart or Celine Dion. We’ll get there.”

  Sonia hoped not, but did not say so. Thus far, she found Las Vegas overwhelming and—dare she admit it—tawdry. They took their seats and a waiter soon arrived to take their drink orders. Mick ordered champagne.

  “We’re celebrating,” he explained to Sonia as he drew her left hand across the small table and kissed her knuckles. She could find no words to argue when the tip of his tongue flicked over her skin.

  The waiter arrived with menus and recited the day’s specials.

  “Why don’t you order for us?” Mick suggested.

  Excited by the opportunity to sample the celebrity chef’s reputedly exquisite cuisine, Sonia quickly scanned the menu and asked the waiter to repeat the specials. Then she placed their order. The waiter looked a little surprised, but nodded and retreated to relay the order to the kitchen. The chef himself left the kitchen to inquire as to the special request on the entree.

  Without stammering, Sonia quickly explained that she meant no insult to the chef, but that the lighter sauce she requested would better complement the champagne they were drinking. The chef paused a moment to consider her reason, then nodded his acceptance.

  “Very perceptive of you, miss,” Oliver Augustin said. “Apparently, you have an educated palate.”

  She smiled faintly and replied, “I’m a chef, too.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, I just graduated from the CIA,” she replied with justifiable pride.

  “And you are here seeking employment?”

  “What? Oh, I wouldn’t suggest changes to your menu and then ask for a job.” Sonia was genuinely horrified by the very idea.

  “Where are you working, then?”

  “Er, I’m not right now,” she admitted sheepishly. “My internship finished a couple weeks ago and I’ll be on the job hunt come July.”

  “We’re on our honeymoon,” Mick interjected, raising her left hand so that the wedding band sparkled under the discreetly dim lights.

  “Ah, young love,” Joseph said with a curt nod and a faint grin. “Come back tomorrow at eleven o’clock in the morning. I want to see what you can do in the kitchen.”

  “I … er …”

  “We’ll be here,” Mick said firmly. Turning his attention to Sonia, he commented, “I can’t let you pass up this incredible opportunity, sweetheart.”

  “Thank you,” Sonia said to them both. It was all she could say.

  The chef retreated back to his kitchen while wait staff stared in amazement after him. Sonia took a deep breath and felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rise in her throat. She hurriedly took a sip of champagne to swallow it back down.

  Soon their appetizers arrived, followed by their entrees. They shared a light dessert. Mick kept the conversation easy, lulling his bride into a sense of comfort with him. It wouldn’t do to spook her.

  About ten minute
s before they were ready to return to the hotel, he called their chauffeur. When they exited the front doors, word had spread that Mick Hendriksen of Iron Falcon was visiting. Paparazzi shouted his name and camera flashes popped like quiet lightning. Mick’s first inclination was to rush forward and make it to the limo as quickly as possible. But then he reconsidered: why not use these media piranhas? He stopped and wrapped an arm around Sonia’s waist, holding her close beside him.

  “Mick, who’s the new girl?” one of the photographers shouted.

  “Gentlemen,” he said loudly, “I have an announcement to make, if you’ll all be silent for a moment.”

  The paparazzi complied, although the camera flashes continued.

  “Smile, baby,” he whispered in Sonia’s ear. He raised his head and announced, “I’d like you all to welcome my wife, Sonia!”

  Gasps and other less polite exclamations could be heard and the flashes increased to a frenzied pace as Mick drew Sonia around to place a passionate kiss on her mouth. He ignored their questions about the suddenness of his nuptials and his wife’s identity while he plundered her mouth.

  “On the count of three, we’ll make a run for the limo,” he murmured against her lips.

  “Okay,” she replied. He felt her tremble beneath his hands.

  He counted and on three, they ran for the open door on the limousine. Their chauffeur quickly closed it behind them and returned to the driver’s seat.

  “Back to the hotel, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  Mick pressed the button that raised the smoked glass divider between the driver and passengers. When they were private, he hauled Sonia onto his lap and kissed her again.

  Sonia moaned as his warm hands roamed over her body, cupped her breasts, stroked her inner thighs. She found she could not control her hands, either. She reveled in the heat of his skin beneath the shirt and the hard, sculpted muscle beneath that. He groaned when she grew daring and stroked the front of his pants. After a minute of that, he put his hand over hers and held it still, pressed against his pulsing erection.

  “Baby, if you continue that, then you’re going to lose your virginity in this car.”