Pure Iron (21 page)

“Hey, are you Mick Hendriksen?” inquired a man who looked to be around the same age as he.

Mick put on his publicity smile and nodded. Forcing a pleasant tone, he said, “Yes, I am. May I help you?”

The man averted his gaze nervously, then looked back at the most recognizable member of Iron Falcon and asked, “Hi, I’m Gavin. I heard rumors you were in Monterrey. Wow, I can’t believe I’m meeting you. In person. Er, could I have your autograph?”

“Sure,” Mick said even as Sonia dug a pen from her purse. She handed it to him. He asked the band’s fan, “Do you have something to write on?”

The man groped at his pockets and came up empty. He thrust his arm out, baring the underside of his forearm. “Can you autograph my arm?”

“Sure,” Mick replied evenly. He took the man’s limb in a firm grip to hold it steady and scrawled his name on the man’s pale skin.

“Thanks, man!” the fan gushed. “My buddies will never believe this.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Take a picture with me?”

Mick’s expression cooled, but he nodded, handing the pen back to Sonia. He smiled for the selfie. The band’s fan thanked him again and asked, “Is she your new girlfriend, Mick?”

“My wife,” Mick replied tersely, taking her hand.

The man seemed oblivious that he’d worn out his welcome. He smiled broadly, showing far too many teeth. “Wow! Mick Hendriksen married!” He looked back up at Mick and added, “Trust you to find one hot babe. Did she join the band?”

“Gavin,” Mick said, his patience running low, “my wife and I were having a private moment and we’d like to get back to it. Would you mind?”

Understanding dawned and the man’s jaw dropped. “Oh, yeah, I am such the third wheel here. Well, hey, it was great to meet you. I’ve got all your CDs! Maybe you can autograph them for me some time?”

“Perhaps,” Mick replied noncommittally. “Thanks for the support. Iron Falcon is grateful to all our fans.”

The man waved and walked off, probably to tell all his buddies and lead them over there for autographs.

“One hot babe?” Sonia repeated faintly when the man was out of earshot. She giggled and shook her head. “Ludicrous.”

Mick resumed his position behind her, clasping her snugly to his body. “At least there’s nothing wrong with his eyesight,” he murmured into her ear. “Do you think anyone would notice if I bent you over the rail and fucked you right here?”

“Mick!”

He chuckled in her ear and noticed with satisfaction that her nipples had hardened and pushed against the material of her shirt. He inhaled deeply, catching the scents of saltwater, salt air, sand, hamburger grease, and arousal on her skin. He rolled his hips into her. His hand splayed possessively across her belly. He felt her tremble slightly against him, saw the flush spread across her upper chest and neck.

“Let’s go home,” he suggested.

“Oh, yes.”

Three days later they drove to Las Vegas, hauling their possessions in the back of Mick’s pickup truck. The weather remained fine through the mountains during the nine hour trip which included a few pit stops and a break for lunch. The superintendent of the condominium complex met them at their townhouse to hand over the keys and ensure that all condominium association documents were properly signed. Mick and Sonia yawned through his recitation of the complex’s rules and regulations.

They walked through the unit, seeing it for the first time.

“Jay picked a pretty good one,” Mick murmured as Sonia inspected the kitchen appliances.

“The range is decent,” she said and moved on to inspect the pantry. “Nicely sized pantry.” She fully approved of the washer and dryer in the utility closet.

They moved to the second story where they found the master bedroom and a spare bedroom.

“This is huge,” she exclaimed over the master bedroom with its walk-in closet an
d
en suit
e
bathroom.

“Tomorrow we go furniture shopping,” Mick said as his jaw cracked with the stretch of another yawn. “God, I’m tired.”

“Traveling does wear a body out,” she agreed and rolled her shoulders. “We passed a hotel on the way here. What do you say we stay overnight there?”

“Works for me,” he agreed easily. “Let’s get our stuff in the house first.”

She nodded and together they made short work of unloading the truck. The chain hotel nearby had available rooms and room service. After supper, they each took a long shower and fell into bed. Sonia snuggled against Mick, who was happy to just wrap himself around her.

The next morning witnessed a quick breakfast and the first of several stops into local furniture stores. They hit the ubiquitous Bed Bath & Beyond to pick up towels and linens, cookware and stemware, dishes and silverware, and other small fittings that made a house livable. Mick negotiated and badgered furniture shops into delivering their floor models that same day. A quick trip to a mattress store procured that necessary item to fit the new king sized bed. A final stop at a local supermarket garnered a few days’ worth of groceries, personal hygiene, and basic cleaning products.

“I never realized there was so much needed just to make a house livable,” Mick commented with some bemusement when the last of the delivery trucks departed.

“Well, we’ve got the basics,” she said, counting the major items off on her fingers, “bedroom suite, living room suite, dinette set. I can go out later to pick up a desk and task chair, a TV, and stuff like that.” She flopped down on their new sofa and sighed. “I really don’t want to cook tonight.”

Mick grinned and flopped down beside her. Pulling out his cell phone, he said, “That’s what delivery is for.”

She smiled back at him. They ordered Chinese food and dined at their new table.

Another night passed in exhaustion, with snuggling being their selected option for intimacy.

The next two days passed in a flurry of arranging and rearranging and shopping for a car.

“Mick, it’s too much,” she complained.

“You can’t be without transportation,” he said.

“I can drive the truck when you’re on tour,” she reasoned.

“The truck’s not safe,” he objected. “It doesn’t even have air bags.”

With a grumpy sigh, Sonia bowed to the inevitable and helped choose a practical little car.

“Don’t you want something larger?” he asked.

“I’m not going to be hauling furniture,” she pointed out. “I just need something to get me to and fro in reasonable comfort.”

Mick looked at the convertible Volkswagen Beetle and his mouth twisted in disappointment.

“It’s cute,” she said.

He shook his head and glanced back at the blazing red Audi R8 further down the lot. With a sigh, he acquiesced to her preference and modesty. Mick bargained hard, they signed the deal, and she drove the shiny, apple green Beetle off the lot and followed him home. It looked incongruous in the garage next to the battered old truck.

Later, lying next to Mick in a moist, post-coital glow, Sonia brought up the subject of home decor. “Do you have any preference as to paint, wallpaper, or colors?”

He rolled on top of her and showered butterfly kisses upon her skin. “Decorate however you please,” he offered, not bothering to tell her that it would be more her home than his, as she would live there more than he. Sometimes he did know when to bite his tongue. Or, rather, her tongue. Which twined around his, just like her legs tangled with his. Mick’s penis once again swelled long and hard and eager to find its home inside her body. She moaned softly as he sheathed himself inside her hot, wet, velvety flesh and pumped in slow, luxurious strokes. Her little moans and mewls told him more than words how much she enjoyed his possession of her body. She undulated beneath him in unconscious encouragement to go faster, thrust harder. But he maintained a deliberate pace that inexorably built up her pleasure until her body spasmed and clutched at him, until she arched her back and cried out, until her eyes locked on his and the hot, sweet passion in them sizzled through his own body to boil up from his testicles and emptied from him in long, sticky spurts.

“I don’t feel like cooking supper tonight,” she groaned into his sweaty shoulder.

Mick laughed weakly.

Eventually, they ordered pizza delivery. The delivery man’s nostrils widened at the unmistakable smell of copulation when he delivered their meal, but he said nothing and accepted the tip paid to him for his service by the tall, tattooed man who quite obviously wore nothing more than a pair of partially zipped jeans. Mick and Sonia ate, made love, napped, ate some more, and made love again. By the next morning, both felt bonelessly languid and satiated.

Since staying in bed for a solid week, however delightful that might have sounded, wasn’t practical, they used their last vacation days to explore the entertainment options and attractions in and around Las Vegas. They took in a few shows and concerts, once with the headlining act recognizing Mick and inviting him to pick up a guitar and play along with them. Mick smiled as he declined the opportunity, saying in front of the audience, “One man shouldn’t play with another man’s tools.” The singer who’d invited him glanced meaningfully at Sonia, who blushed in rosy embarrassment.

Kristof called. “Hey, man, we’re in Vegas. We need a quick practice session before our first concert tomorrow.”

Mick held the phone to his ear with one hand while the other stroked Sonia between the legs as she reclined on his lap against him. He stroked a finger in and out and she tried to stifle her breathy moans as he spoke to his bandmate.

“Sure, Kris. When and where?”

“Caesar’s will let us have the stage tomorrow morning about ten o’clock to practice. You can make that, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied in a gravelly voice as Sonia moaned low in her throat.

Kris spent a few more minutes discussing the arrangements, the set list, and a few other concerns as Iron Falcon’s lead guitarist continued to torment them both.

“Good. Now fuck your wife so I don’t have to listen to it.”

Mick dropped the phone, grabbed his wife’s hips, lifted her up, and slammed her down over his rampant cock. Back in his own hotel room, Kris stroked himself and imagined bending Sonia over to bare her sweet derriere for him.

“Ah, hell,” he muttered as he wiped the sticky mess with a damp washcloth. “I’ve got to find a woman.”

But just any woman wouldn’t do. He wanted what Mick had.

The next morning, Mick strolled onto the stage looking happier and more relaxed than anyone had a right. Kristof frowned in disgruntled envy.

“Marriage is treating you well,” Davis commented, his grin brilliantly white within the dark chocolate of his face.

“You bet,” the guitarist agreed with self-satisfied smirk.

“So, where is your lovely bride?” Angelo asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Trying to figure out if she can walk,” Mick replied with a snicker.

“God, you’re crude,” Jack griped as his fingers rippled over the keyboard.

“And you’re not?” Mick shot back incredulously.

“Hey, I’m not married. My dad wouldn’t talk like that about my mom and you shouldn’t disrespect your wife, either.”

Mick went silent, thinking on his friend’s words. Perhaps Jack was right. It was one thing to talk trash about the groupies who’d sleep with anything that arrived on a tour bus, but to speak like that in reference to his wife was just … wrong.

“You know, Jack, you’re right,” he said slowly. “It is different.
Sonia
is different.”

Jack’s eyebrows rose with surprise and he said, “Wow, you’re admitting I’m right. Be still my heart.”

“Fuck off.”

“Already did,” the keyboardist tossed back with a grin. “And I left them begging for more.”

“Them?”

Jack laughed and said, “You know there’s more than enough Jack to keep more than one woman happy every night.”

Angelo and Davis groaned. Kristof grunted and settled the bass guitar in his hands. “Let’s get cracking, guys.”

“Okay,” Jack agreed easily. “
Break My Touch
is first.”

He launched into the almost delicate melody that heralded the incongruous beginning of their breakout hit, a hard rocking song that put Iron Falcon on the map. The popular favorite appeared in every set list. With practiced ease, the other band members joined in, their instruments and voices blending harmoniously. They worked through the rest of the set list, running through a few of the tunes repeatedly until the music poured smoothly from instruments and throats.

“That’s a wrap, guys,” Davis said as the notes from the last song died away. “Good work.”

Angelo rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers. “Hey, guys, let’s grab lunch.”

Mick grinned as he checked his cell phone. “Sonia’s invited y’all over for lunch. She’s cooking.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Jack enthused as he gently covered the keyboard. “Woman cooks like that, you keep her forever.”

“Amen, brother,” Davis agreed.

“What’s she making?” Kristof asked as he carefully set his guitar on its stand.

“Beef stroganoff,” Mick read the answer from the text message.

“Yum,” Angelo agreed and led the way off the stage.

As there wasn’t sufficient room in the short drive for everyone’s vehicles, band members parked along the curb at the condominium complex.

“A condo? Really?” Davis scoffed as he looked around.

“Everything is new or recently installed so nothing should break down while I’m on the road. And it’s a safe place. I don’t want to worry about Sonia getting hurt.”

Davis nodded and said, “Yeah, I worry about my mom and sister like that. I was never so glad as when I could afford to move them to a better neighborhood. Did you know that Letitia’s engaged?”

“No, really? That’s great. Anyone we know?”

“Nope, some boy she met in college. God, my baby sister’s just graduated from college. That makes me feel old.”

Mick laughed and slapped his friend on the back. “You’re not getting old, Davis, you’re maturing. Like fine wine.”

Angelo guffawed and said, “What do you know about fine wine, Mick?”

Mick grinned back and said, “Enough to recognize that my Sonia is champagne to your rotgut self.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Jack quipped. He inhaled, catching the fragrance of their lunch wafting through the open window. “God, that smells good.”

“Hey, babe,” Mick called as he opened the front door.

“Honey, I’m home!” Angelo called out in his best Ricky Ricardo accent, which wasn’t very good.

The five men trooped into the kitchen where Sonia was dumping buttery noodles into a large bowl.

“Out,” she commanded, glancing up at them. “Out of my kitchen.”

Kristof walked up behind her and settled his hands on her hips. She gasped and went still. He took advantage of the opportunity to press a kiss into her hair.

“Hey, man, hands off my wife,” Mick growled only half-playfully.

“You could leave that joker,” Kris murmured to her. “I’m the better man.”

Sonia bit back the nasty rejoinder that clogged her throat and managed to say lightly, “Thanks, Kris, but I’m perfectly happy with the man I’ve got.”

Mick smiled with wicked satisfaction and more than a smidgeon of triumph. Kris’ hands tightened on her, lightly squeezing, then he released her and stepped back. Mick did not miss the slight relaxation of her muscles which signaled relief. He took the place that Kris had vacated and lightly rested his hands on the flare of Sonia’s hips.

“I’ve got you, babe,” he whispered into her hair and she leaned against him, relying on his strength. It made him feel ten feet tall and stronger than a locomotive. Damn, pretty soon he’d be leaping tall buildings and wearing a snazzy red cape.

“I’ll take the noodles to the table,” he offered.

“Thanks, Mick.”