Pure Iron

by Bargo, Holly

  His mouth opened at her light touch and she gently traced the inside of his lip. His lips closed over her finger and he sucked on her finger, teeth biting down just enough to keep her from withdrawing it and tongue flicking against the sensitive tip. Sonia shivered as he licked her fingertip, feeling desire flare. Mick’s hand flexed on her butt. The old tee shirt she’d worn to bed—one of Mick’s—had risen to gather just under her breasts, baring her belly to his morning wood.

  “You’re awake,” she murmured.

  His eyes opened and he smiled, tongue still licking her fingertip even as his free hand glided up her ribcage to cup a breast. He circled the nipple, then wiped his thumb over the hard tip. She mewled, that little sound of excitement and lust that he knew would never fail to excite him.

  He took the nipple between forefinger and thumb and lightly rolled it, pinched it. She arched her back, which pressed her breast into his hand. Mick hissed as she skimmed a hand down his abdomen, traced the definition of hard muscle, and followed the happy trail of hair to Mr. Happy who was soon going to be Mr. Ecstatic-and-Satisfied if she kept that up. He hissed again when she took him in her warm and rubbed her thumb over the ultra-sensitive tip.

  “Good morning,” she cooed.

  “It will be,” he replied around her fingertip as he rolled them over until his body anchored hers. His hand on her butt grabbed hold of her panties and pulled the cotton crotch aside as he tested her readiness. Heavy lids lowered over his eyes as he found her wet for him. He sank a long finger into her and she moaned softly, hips moving in physical demand to fill her.

  Mick opened his mouth to let go of her finger and aimed for her neck. He tasted the tender skin there as he fit his penis to the slick entrance to her body.

  “Say you want this,” he rasped as he wedged his hand between her buttocks and the mattress beneath. He rolled his hips, coating his erection in her cream.

  “Yes,” she replied as she angled her hips to capture his erection and swallow it within her body. She moaned as he slid home.

  Mick established a slow, rolling rhythm, adding a little twist as he slid into her body. Sonia widened her legs, raised them so that her feet were planted on mattress beside his hips. He braced himself on his elbows and forearms so he could contort his back sufficiently to suckle on her breasts. Soon Sonia’s fingernails dug into the back of her shoulders as she bucked beneath him, thrusting upward to meet his downswing. The sexy sounds she uttered were music to his ears, especially when she reached the point of begging him for release.

  “Not yet,” he growled as he maintained that maddeningly steady pace that drew out the nigh unbearable pleasure.

  Sonia extracted her nails from his skin and reached down between their undulating bodies. She smiled in triumph when her questing fingers found what they sought. Then it was Mick’s turn to moan when she cupped the heavy weight of his balls, fondled them in their suddenly tight sac. He could feel himself swell even further as his thighs trembled and his balls drew up tightly to his body. He shouted as sperm boiled upward and outward, the hot fluid spurting from him in jerky splashes.

  The heated wash of his semen inside her launched Sonia’s own climax. She released his testes and wrapped arms and legs around his body as he pounded into her. Her wail throbbed in time with the spasms of the inner muscles clutching at Mick’s cock in an involuntary effort to keep him buried within her.

  “Now it’s a good morning,” he said, his dark brown eyes twinkling at her as he pulsed and twitched inside her body and their combined fluids leaked from her pussy to puddle on the sheets.

  Sonia just sighed her agreement.

  He withdrew from her and she moaned softly, as the sensation sent orgasmic aftershocks through her body. Pressing soft kisses against her puffy, distended nipples his said, “Go take a shower. I’ll fix breakfast.”

  He grinned as he watched her backside sway as she walked away from him to the bathroom. Yeah, he planned on taking her there, too. His limp dick twitched happily at the thought.

  With a groan, he yanked on some shorts and walked to the kitchen. Sonia did not linger in the shower and joined him just as he was setting out their plates. His eyes focused on the way her breasts jiggled freely beneath his vintage Moody Blues tee shirt. He swallowed a groan, knowing that she was naked beneath the fabric, soft and nearly threadbare it was so old.

  “Thank you,” she said politely before digging her fork into the fluffy eggs. “Do you think there’s enough time to do a quick load of laundry before we have to be at the police station?”

  He glanced at the old analog clock on the wall. It was early, very early compared to the hours he normally kept.

  “Yeah, there should be enough time.”

  “Good,” she said and rushed to throw her very limited wardrobe into the washer before returning to the kitchen to finish her breakfast.

  “I’ll wash up,” she offered when they’d cleared their plates. She grabbed his plate and hers and turned toward the sink. Mick correctly interpreted that as an indirect suggestion that take a shower and change into something more respectable. So he came up behind her and put his hands on her hips. He pressed his bulging groin against her.

  “Mick!” she gasped and set the plates down on the countertop with a clatter.

  He pulled up the shirt she wore, baring her curves. With one hand remaining to hold her in place, he used the other to flick open his cut-offs and slide them down. Returning that hand to her hip, he stepped out of his pants and kicked them aside. With a roll of his hips, he slid his erection in the warm crevice between her buttocks. Sonia gasped again.

  “We’ve got plenty of time, baby,” he crooned as he rubbed against her.

  He put one bare leg between hers and gently applied pressure. She braced her hands against the counter’s edge and widened her stance. He pushed the shirt up her back and over her head so it slid down her arms. First one arm, then the other, slid from the shirt and it dropped to the floor.

  Mick looked at the long, supple line of Sonia’s back, the flare of her hips, the rounded firmness of her butt. He smoothed a hand over her derriere and then between her legs. He groaned. She was already slick, practically dripping. For him. Only him. He bent his knees and aimed, grasping his cock to ensure he hit home on the first thrust upward.

  They both groaned as her body yielded to him, closing snugly around him. He leaned his chest against her back and braced himself with one hand on the counter’s edge. The other hand moved forward to play with her breasts as he began a slow pump from behind.

  The fragrance of sex rose warm and heady and mingled with the wet sounds of their coupling. Before long, Sonia’s thighs trembled and her knees wanted to buckle because Mick was melting every bone in her body as he moved within her body and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck and the back of her shoulders.

  “Cum for me,” he crooned in her ear. His hand moved down and pinched her clitoris. Sonia’s jaw dropped open as the pleasure exploded and she lost awareness of anything else but that glorious feeling.

  Mick followed her over that precipice, the fronts of this thighs slamming into the backs of hers. He grunted loudly with the release of ejaculation. Sonia’s arms trembled as Mick rested his weight against her back and his warm breath passed by her ear in moist pants.

  “God, I can’t get enough of you,” he murmured and pressed a tender kiss at the juncture of neck and shoulder.

  The words he’d just said touched off a chord and he pulled out of her body. Sonia continued to lean against the countertop, naked and shuddering from the aftershocks of pleasure, as he grabbed his violin and bow. Soon, wildly dreamy music filled the cottage as he obeyed the inspiration.

  Sonia gathered strength and forced herself to stand without leaning against the counter. A cool breeze wafted through the open window and brought attention to her thighs, smeared with the sticky evidence of after-breakfast sex in the kitchen. Her head dropped in embarrassment and she nearly groaned when she saw th
e residue of their passion trickling down her legs and splattered on the wooden floor.

  A full body blush accompanied her hurried burst of energy to clean the mess off her thighs and the floor. Thank God for paper towels! She pulled the old shirt back on and turned her attention to cleaning the skillet, dishes, and stovetop.

  The washer beeped. She moved the wet load to the dryer and set the temperature on high in the hopes that her clothes would dry in time for them to leave for their appointment at the police station.

  Sonia’s phone rang. She bit her lip and worried it when she saw the caller identification displayed onscreen. With a sigh, she answered: “Hello, Mrs. Johnston.”

  “Sonia!” Penny’s mother shrieked. “What is going on?”

  Sonia debated for about half a second how much to say and decided to keep the details to the bare minimum: “Police raided the vacation cottage last night. They found Penny and some other people in possession of illegal drugs and arrested them.”

  “Penny says that you called the police!”

  “I did,” she admitted heavily.

  “How could you? I thought Penny was your friend.”

  “Penny is my friend,” Sonia replied and continued over Mrs. Johnston’s incredulous snort. “And she needs help. I’m hoping that this will force her to get help.”

  “She’s in jail, Sonia. That’s not discreet like a rehab center.” Mrs. Johnston’s voice dripped disapproval.

  Something clicked in Sonia’s mind and she asked, “That six-month sabbatical last year was a cover story for Penny’s being in rehab, wasn’t it?”

  “Never you mind that, you little traitor,” Mr. Johnston’s voice snarled over the connection. “You stay away from our daughter. I’ve got a lawyer who will make mincemeat of you if you press charges.”

  “Press charges?”

  “Penny says you trashed the rental and blame her for it.”

  Sonia ground her molars. Jaws clenched, she replied, “I can’t answer to what Penny claims. But I was gone when she had her party.”

  “Yeah, I heard you married some pothead musician. He’ll have you doing heroin before you know it.”

  Sonia pulled the phone away from her head and stared at it with disbelief. Knowing that any protest about Mick not being pothead would fall on deaf ears, she instead said, “Mr. Johnston, Mrs. Johnston, I truly have Penny’s best interests at heart. I’m sorry this happened, but it’s for the best. Good-bye now.”

  She ended the call, cutting off their screeches of protest.

  A few seconds later, her phone buzzed. They were calling back. She quickly set her phone’s settings to refuse any calls coming from the Johnstons. She had enough on her plate without trying to negotiate a cease fire with her former best friend’s parents.

  Sonia walked to the front parlor and watched Mick play. HIs eyes were closed and he swayed to the muck that poured from the violin. Sonia found herself swaying, too.

  The wild music repeated, found a refrain. Mick found his cell phone and quickly set it to record. His mind and ears and muscles absorbed the music as lyrics began to form in his throat. He opened his eyes to see his wife dancing gracefully to his music. His flaccid dick immediately sprang to life. He played and she danced. He watched, entranced by her lithe form and the tantalizing glimpses of skin revealed by his shirt when she raised her arms above her head or bent over.

  Eventually, the music faded, the cascade of notes burned into his ears, hands, and brain. Sonia approached him and pressed a kiss to his chest. “That was beautiful,” she said breathlessly.

  She looked up at him and he immediately noticed that her pupils were dilated. Her hard nipples poked against the thin material of the tee shirt. He lifted the violin back to his shoulder and said, “Suck me, baby.”

  She licked her lips and sank to her knees. The bow pulled across the strings, a wailing accompaniment to her capitulation. He felt her hands brace against his thighs and the bow drew another cry from the violin. As her mouth settled over him, slow, sensual music flowed from the violin and entwined with every lick, every scrape of teeth, every suck, every caress of her hand where her mouth did not reach. Until he cried out, too, as he spurted the essence of himself over her tongue and down her throat.

  They remained there for a long moment, the silence broken only by the sound of hard breathing. From the back of the cottage, the dryer beeped.

  “I have to get that,” Sonia murmured as she rose to her feet and hurried to answer the appliance’s call.

  Mick then realized that he stood in the front parlor of the cottage, buck naked with a violin. Anyone could have walked by and gotten an eyeful. He snorted. Mick hadn’t been self-conscious about his body in years, especially not since Cosmopolitan magazine had featured a nude spread of the Iron Falcon, their arms, legs, and various instruments strategically positioned. Hell, he still got the occasional fan mail from that, women offering to have his babies and tattoo artists offering to ink his chest and back and anything else he cared to display.

  Matter of fact, the flash of the camera lighting had caught the gleam of Kris’ Prince Albert piercing. That sparkle still had fans screaming at him to drop his pants at every concert.

  He set the violin down with practiced care and walked to the bathroom. He regretted having to wash Sonia’s smell off his skin, but knew that she’d be horribly embarrassed if he accompanied her stinking of sex. Amazing, mind-blowing sex. Passionate, wet, loud sex.

  Oh, fuck. He took himself in hand and jerked off, letting the shower wash his spunk down the drain.

  Yeah, thus far he was digging this marriage thing.

  He tied his wet hair back into a low ponytail and listened to the sound of the spigot run as Sonya took her second shower of the morning. He glanced at the small closet, seeing the three dresses she had. He decided he’d take her shopping as soon as their appointment at the police station was over. It wouldn’t bother him if she ran about naked for the rest of their honeymoon, but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it.

  His phone rang.

  “Hey, Jay.”

  “Hey, Mitch,” the agent replied. “I’ve got a lead on a few possibilities in Vegas. Will it be just you and the girl or do you want someplace big enough for the whole band to crash?”

  “Something for just the two of us,” he answered. “The boys haven’t quite accepted Sonia yet.”

  “All right,” Jay responded noncommittally. “I have four condos that would work. One’s within walking distance of that Kilrook’s restaurant. Another’s a few blocks from Caesar’s.”

  “Send me pictures and locations. I’ll go over the options with Sonia.”

  “Hey, man, it would be more convenient if the band stayed together,” Jay suggested.

  “I don’t need one of the boys putting the moves on my wife,” Mick said flatly.

  “It’s your funeral,” Jay said. “I’ll get the pictures, stats, locations, and prices to you in a few minutes.”

  He looked up as Sonia emerged from the bathroom.

  “I gotta go, Jay.”

  Proving that a man was capable of multitasking, Mick ended the call as his overeager dick started to swell. Down boy.

  “Wear the blue dress,” he suggested as she bent over to pull on her lacy panties. Damn, he wished they had more time.

  She turned her face to him and raised an eyebrow. Realizing how dictatorial he had sounded, he smiled at her and added, “It matches your eyes.” And it was the most demure of the three pretty dresses. He suddenly discovered a desire within himself to hide her beauty from every other predatory male out there. That possessiveness was probably how the whole burqa thing came about: men wanting to keep their women’s beauty hidden from all but their own personal enjoyment.

  He watched as she slipped the dress down over her body.

  “Zip me up?” she asked, presenting her back to him.

  “Sure,” he said and obliged. “Ready?”

  “I’ve just got to put on my sandals.”
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br />   At the mention of footwear, Mick realized his feet were bare, too. With another sheepish grin, he slid his feet into some shoes and waited another minute while Sonia finished buckling an ankle strap. She straightened and grabbed her purse.

  “Ready?”

  “Let’s go,” she agreed.

  “We’ll go shopping after. You need more than just three dresses.”

  “Thanks,” she said, mentally calculating how much money she had to spend and what she needed to buy. “Is there a Kohl’s nearby?”

  “A what?”

  “Kohl’s. It’s a department store. Like Walmart, but somewhat better quality overall. They carry a bit of everything.”

  “Oh,” he shook his head, finally honing in on the conversation instead of the music playing in his brain. “Yeah, I think there is.”

  “Mind if I turn on the radio?” she asked, hand hovering over the dial.

  “No, go ahead.”

  She turned on the radio and scanned the stations until she found something she liked. Mick’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

  “You like country music?” he asked as Lady Antebellum sang about love and yearning.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Mick listened for a minute. “That’s stuff’s not too bad. It’s not really what I expected.”

  “You expected twang, I suppose? And banjos?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “The lines between country and pop have pretty much blurred over the past thirty years. My parents listen to a lot of Garth Brooks, Reba McEntire, Randy Travis, and Brooks and Dunn.” She grinned and added, “They also listen to Eagles, Beach Boys, Fleetwood Mac, and Aerosmith.”

  “You grew up with the oldies then.”

  “It’s good stuff,” she agreed with a firm nod. “There’s a reason why radio stations and musicians are still playing those songs decades after they were released. The good stuff never gets old and tired.”