by Marian Tee
She gulped. When they said that starting anything with a lie could only continue with more lies --- it was true, and it was happening now.
“I’m a very, very, in demand groupie.”
Staffan did his best not to roll his eyes.
“I do all sorts of stuff. Like, umm, mouth jobs – I mean blow jobs.” She lifted her chin just so he wouldn’t know how she was completely winging everything. “And hand jobs, foot jobs, even umm, anal jobs.”
Two parts of Staffan’s body twitched: his lips…and his cock.
“But one thing I didn’t do with, umm, any of the Celsius guys---”
Staffan’s eyes narrowed.
She inhaled. “I’ve never done it with them. Like done…it…that.” Her soft dark eyes sought his, her voice seductive without meaning to as she said, “I’m still a virgin because I wanted you to be my first.”
The words melted his rage in an instant, turning it into liquid heat, his body on fire.
In one long stride, Staffan had her in his arms, and she was gasping against his lips as he took hers for a kiss that claimed not just her body, not just her heart but her very soul.
With Staffan so near, Saffi was immediately on fire…and in love. Her eyes closed. The truth Saffi had tried to blind herself to was now out in the open, and it was the scariest thing that ever happened in her life.
She had already been halfway to being in love with Staffan Aehrenthal with a phone call, and now that she had spent almost an entire night with him, had been pleasured by him twice---
She didn’t care what other people would say.
Her brain was smarter than the rest, and so was her heart.
And both told her she had found her soul mate, the one man she could only fall in love with.
She wrapped her arms around him more tightly, welcoming the darkness and passion in his kiss, her body instinctively molding to his, pressing her sex against his as hard as she could. They groaned as his cock swelled, trying to push into her even though their clothes were a barrier between their bodies.
His hand sank into her hair, pulling her head back so his lips could move down her body. He sucked at her neck, hard, this time laying a blood red claim on her beautiful skin. That should teach any fucking asshole who wanted to try taking what was his.
“Later,” he whispered against her skin.
She tried to think. “Later…what?”
“Prove to me that you did all those stuff and you’re not just an innocent fangirl who’s bitten more than she could chew.”
She froze.
Hiding a smile, he slowly pulled away. “You aren’t, are you?”
Saffi tried not to look as guilty as she felt. “NO.”
“Good.”
That one word caused her confidence to take a nosedive. She let Staffan turn her around, pulling her against his side as he led her out of the room and past a relieved Bob and the entire crew. Who were all smirking. Again.
She wanted to die.
Desperate dogfish.
How the heck was she going to prove she was sexually experienced when Staffan was her first in everything?
Staffan pulled her closer. He was tempted to kiss her hair but managed to keep himself from doing so. That would make people have other ideas about them, and those weren’t ideas he was comfortable welcoming – maybe never.
He could feel her thinking, worrying, and the way he was so attuned to her thoughts even though they had just met was even more alarming.
“Ovulating orangespine unicorn fish.”
Staffan swallowed a bark of laughter at what she was muttering to herself.
Ah, Saffi March.
I can’t wait to take your fucking virginity and make you mine.
Chapter Five
Saffi March changed her status to In an Open Relationship.
Staffan was throwing her dagger looks, which Saffi did her best to feign ignorance to. He stood poised at the doorway of the airplane, waiting for her – no, he was silently demanding and commanding her with his gaze to go to him.
But she didn’t want to. She couldn’t. For one thing, she couldn’t risk having any photographer identify her and blow her disguise. Secondly – and this weighed most heavily on her if Saffi was honest – she just didn’t feel good standing next to him.
Even after everything, he still felt way out of her league. She was a lowly G, or a fangirl if you will, while he was the star of the tour, the man millions all over the world paid fortunes for the opportunity to see him perform on stage. She had no right to stand next to him.
The door slowly opened with a swooshing sound, forcing Staffan to look away – but not without giving Saffi one last glance. If looks could kill, Staffan would have her six – no, make that sixty – feet under by now.
Staffan slowly descended from the plane, his professional mask slipping back on his face. But he really didn’t have to pretend. He was in a black mood, which perfectly fit his “cold, aloof, arrogant” image. Or at least that was how most bloggers liked to describe him.
A red carpet had been rolled out for him, and he curtly nodded his thanks after the welcoming speech of the airport officials. Behind him, the crew was also getting off the airplane, and he heard something that made him stiffen, with Bob almost bumping into his back.
Saffi was laughing.
His head snapped up as he turned towards the sound.
Saffi was joking around with Carson and Bradley.
Staffan gritted his teeth.
If this was how she fucking wanted to play the game, then she fucking wouldn’t win it.
~~~
An hour later and Saffi was miserable. Staffan wasn’t just giving her the cold shoulder. He was also allowing local Gs to flirt with him and monopolize his attention. The entire crew had flooded the hotel’s exclusive club, with Staffan declaring an open bar. Of course, Gs who were not above touching cock knobs had been allowed inside the “private” party as well.
“He’s usually not like that,” Alan whispered to her. All of them – and she did mean the entire crew – couldn’t take their eyes off Staffan and his harem of girls. Some of them were the most seductive women Saffi had ever seen in her life, their every move designed to incite lust.
How the heck could she compete with that when all she knew about sex was from free Amazon erotica novels? She didn’t dare buy the paid ones since that would show up on her credit card bills, which her parents still took care of.
Donovan shook his head. “Strictly speaking, he used to be like that before and after his relationship with the Cougar.”
Saffi knew who the Cougar was even though it was her first time to hear someone refer to Chloe Gustav in such a way. After all, she was one of America’s Sweethearts, the woman who took over Julia Roberts’ throne when the latter went into semi-retirement.
Alan grimaced. “I really don’t get what the boss saw in her.”
“They grew up together so he probably sees something that others don’t.” It hurt her to say the words, but she felt like she had to defend Staffan.
Alan nudged her shoulder with his. “Aren’t you going to do something?”
She shrugged helplessly. “He’s mad---”
“Bullshit, Sa---I mean, H. You did all this crazy stuff for a reason and now you’re just going to let it go like that?” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
Donovan nodded firmly. “Get your man back, H.”
“But I can’t go through those women,” she protested. “They’re like…I don’t know…rattlesnakes and queen cobras and I’m like a---a domesticated worm!”
Alan took firm hold of her shoulders. “First of all, no sane human being keeps worms as pets. Secondly, you are not a worm. You are a…tigress.” Alan ignored Donovan when his lover looked at him like he was crazy. “Got that, H? You’re a fierce tigress!”
“A tigress!” Saffi actually let out a roar, carried away by the image in her mind, and made a clawing gesture at Alan.
Donovan
choked on his laughter.
Alan nodded, straight-faced, even as he dodged Saffi’s clawing fingers. “That’s right. A tigress---like the tiger in Pooh but the female version! You can be strong when and where it counts. You can do this. You’re the smartest girl in the world. If you can’t go to him, make him go to you.”
Slowly, an idea occurred to her. “I’ll need your help. The two of you.”
Donovan grinned. “We are at your service.”
~~~
What the fuck were they talking about? Staffan knew he shouldn’t be brooding about what a certain girl and his two goddamn traitorous backup dancers were talking about. He should be having the time of this life, with all his concerts selling out even before his tour officially began. He was surrounded by beautiful women, all willing to do anything he wanted. He had wealth, fame, and everything else that a man could want.
So why the fuck did he want to smash the two men’s faces simply by daring to stand close to Saffi?
And Saffi!
Damn stubborn girl. What the hell did she want from him?
His phone rang. The name that flashed on the screen made Staffan’s face harden. He rejected the call without hesitation. He had no time for Chloe’s explanations. As far as he was concerned, what she did said it all.
When he looked up, Staffan cursed long and fluently at the sight that greeted him.
Saffi was dancing on the ledge, and his entire crew was cheering for her, chanting just one word that made Staffan stand up so quickly he ended overturning his table, causing bottles to crash on the floor and the women around him shriek in surprise.
STRIP.
In seconds, he had shoved his way to the ledge. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled. Had she fucking forgotten she hadn’t even her fucking underwear under his trench coat?
Staffan was jealous.
Over her.
His tone said it all. Surely he couldn’t be faking it?
Delirious at the realization, she could only smile down at him.
The dreamy smile on Saffi’s innocently beautiful face practically knocked Staffan off his feet.
“I was waiting for you to get me.” She bent even lower, her breasts tantalizingly close to his face as she touched his ear with her lips. “I was waiting for you to take what I promised.”
He couldn’t move fast enough at her words. Staffan pulled her down the ledge in one swift, graceful move while taking care to ensure that no one ever had the chance to see what was – or wasn’t – underneath his trench coat. His heart was beating fast as he made his way to the elevator, with Saffi in his arms.
One thing he had to say about her: she was great for cardio. With her around, there was always a reason for him to move quickly, his heart beating a mile a minute.
When the elevator doors closed on them, Saffi barely had time to breathe before Staffan had her legs wrapped around his waist, his lips slamming on hers. They groaned in unison when her sex rubbed against his cock as she locked her arms around his neck. She pushed herself closer to him, so desperately eager to have every inch of their bodies touching the same time her tongue entered his mouth and her nipples stretched and pricked his chest.
“Staffan.” Just being able to say his name out loud as Staffan kissed and held her in his arms was an exquisite pleasure, and it drove her crazier.
He shuddered, even more aroused by the way her voice lovingly wrapped itself all around his name. She was a natural born temptress, needing no sexual experience to beguile men. All men.
But no one else would fucking have her because Saffi March was his.
The elevator doors finally slid open. Saffi stiffened, and his hold tightened in response. Keeping her in his arms, legs still wrapped around his waist, Staffan walked briskly down the hallway.
Encountering the surprised gazes of housemaids and bellhops made Saffi flush red, and she quickly tucked her face in the crook of his neck, closing her eyes, and inhaling his scent.
Oh God, he smelled so wonderful. He had taken a shower during their flight, and the fresh scent of his shampoo just made her more eager to find out what it would be like to have Staffan make love to her.
Not Staffan Aehrenthal the billionaire rockstar.
Not Sweden’s #1 Sex God.
Not Mr. Rockstar Chic.
But just Staffan – the man she had secretly felt so incredibly close to even though they had never met.
Serendipity, she thought giddily then giggled when another thought occurred to her. “Serendipity” wasn’t enough. If it was Staffan he would call it something else.
Fucking serendipity.
Staffan sensed Saffi smiling against his skin as he took them out of the elevator, and the thought of it made his heart kick up a weird fuss. But it also intensified his arousal and he quickened his pace, practically running towards the suite. Forget about being looking fucking cool! All he wanted was to fuck Saffi March and he was going to fucking kill anyone who fucking stood in his way.
Bob opened the door to his suite for him.
Staffan paused just before going in. “H.” It was an effort to speak when all he could think of was finally making Saffi his.
“Mm?” she mumbled against his skin, the heat of her cheeks telling him how mortified she still felt.
“Do I need to buy condoms?”
“No,” Saffi answered without hesitation. She had bought her pills three months ago, the moment after he called, but he didn’t have to know that.
“Are you sure?”
“The pills are inside my bag. You can check them.”
He pressed a kiss to her hair, unable to help it. “Sorry for being an ass. I just wanted to be sure.”
She kissed his neck. “I understand.”
The tenderness of her action and her words didn’t escape Staffan – or Bob. He looked at his bodyguard, whose face was expressionless. “No one disturbs us,” he said in a hard voice.
Politely keeping his gaze off the girl in his employer’s arms, her face a picture of embarrassment, Bob answered, “Yes, boss.”
The door slammed shut in his face, followed immediately by a long, loud whimper.
Bob allowed himself a small grin. For almost a year now, Staffan had been an unfeeling bastard, uncaring of what happened in his life. Following the breakup, Staffan had been careful to maintain the same image, allowing him to be photographed with different women. But what no one knew outside his crew was that none of those women had made it to his bed.
Who would have thought that someone like this “H” – whose cute and clueless ways made Bob and everyone else suspect her as anything but a groupie – would be the one to get the famous rockstar to start living – and having sex – again?
The Sex God was back.
Bob silently prayed it would stay that way. A happy sexually satisfied Staffan Aehrenthal was a much easier employer to serve than someone who was celibate, perpetually drunk, and violently bad-tempered.
~~~
The moment they entered the room, Staffan pushed her back against the door, kissing her even more hungrily, one hand supporting her while his other hand hurriedly untied the knot keeping his trench coat close around her. Groaning, she helped him get rid of the coat. It fell to the floor, the same time Staffan gently lowered her to the ground without breaking their kiss.
“I’m dying to fuck you.” His voice was a rough, low murmur, his breath fanning her ear as he spoke, and it was like having him sing to her and only her.
Her insides melted at the thought, and she trembled for more than one reason.
Staffan pulled away to rip her cropped top away, leaving her completely naked.
Saffi whimpered, unbearably turned on at the realization that she had nothing on while Staffan was still fully clothed. It was deliciously decadent, something that no one who knew Saffi March would ever imagine happening to her.
His eyes devoured her, and he growled in protest when she started to cover her breasts and cross her legs
together in order to shield herself.
“Don’t tell me an experienced woman like you is shy about being naked.”
Knitting kingfish!
She had almost forgotten what she was supposed to be tonight and the rest of the weekend. Saffi forced herself to let her hands fall away from her body. Straightening, she slowly walked past him, her hips swaying---a timeless and instinctive wile that she unconsciously used.
His dick grew larger and harder, and his eyes followed Saffi’s every move. She could never be a groupie. Saffi was just too beautiful inside, too innocent, and too refined to be one step above a paid whore. But she was a natural-born temptress, and every second that went by convinced Staffan that he had finally found the girl who might just erase the vile bitterness of the past.
She turned around, and his throat became dry as her long, curly hair swayed becomingly against her back as she turned to face him, her beautiful breasts pert and upright, nipples outstretched, and the pink tender flesh between her thighs begging to be kissed.
Saffi tried not to frown nervously when she realized that Staffan hadn’t followed her further into his suite. She shifted on her feet, not knowing what to do or how to act. It was hard to keep still when she was naked inside a room with Staffan Aehrenthal.
The thought of it made her want to pinch herself.
Staffan still hadn’t moved.
“Ahem.” She tried to sound confident and demanding.
He did his best not to smile. He also tried to ignore the way his dick ached like hell.
“Why are you there?”
“I’m waiting for you to tell me what I’m supposed to do next,” he answered lazily, delighting in the way her big dark eyes became even bigger. “I want you to call the shots.”
Saffi stammered, “Uhh, no. You call the shots.” She tried not to sound so panicky and desperate. If he left her to call the shots, nothing was going to happen and she wanted, oh dear Lord she wanted something to happen between them. She was dying for it.
Staffan slowly shook his head. “I want to see how good you are, H.” He raised a brow. “Or are you telling me all those stuff you said are just lies?”
“Of course not!” She was really getting used to lying. In fact, she had completely lost count of the number of lies she had uttered in less than 24 hours that she had spent with Staffan.