Pure Iron (14 page)

His hand splayed across her abdomen in a blatantly possessive gesture as he raised his head and said loudly, “Get out of here, guys. I need some alone time with my wife.”

With good-natured jesting and suggestive comments, Davis, Angelo, Jack, and Kristof departed. Sonia didn’t actually see them leave. Mick was already walking her into the bedroom, grinding himself against her with every step.

They were burning off those calories in less than five minutes.

The band members arrived mid-morning the next day. Sonia headed off to the supermarket for ingredients for another day’s lunch and supper to feed them. When she returned, music made the cottage’s wall vibrate. By lunchtime, she thought she knew by heart every single one of their songs. Then after lunch, Jack and Mick worked on the lyrics to the newest song. Mick’s voice was good, very good, and a just a little rough. But Jack’s voice was pure, sensual velvet, dark and lush and full of sinful promise.

If she were forced to compare Mick and Jack, she would have said their voices had a contrast similar to Carole King’s and Barbra Streisand’s voices. But that comparison paled.

Still, she listened. Without donning earplugs, she had to listen. The developing lyrics plucked at her heartstrings and made her womb clench, especially when Mick’s voice sang them. And then her mind would flit back to the previous night when he’d reduced her to a sweating, panting, boneless pile of quivering heat. And again that morning when he’d loved her so deeply she thought he’d taken up permanent residence—and she liked it.

Kristof glanced through the window to see Sonia gazing dreamily into space, swaying gracefully to the music. He leaned his head toward Mick, gestured toward the cottage, and said, “I think she likes this one.”

Mick looked back at his wife, saw her expression, and felt his body respond. Eagerly. He set the violin and bow down. The band members looked questioningly at him.

“I have to go fuck my wife,” he grated through clenched jaws as he rose to his feet. Four knowing smiles watched him stalk into the cottage.

Sonia uttered a surprised exclamation when Mick grabbed her from behind, twirling her around so that he could crush his mouth to hers. He ground his groin against her as his tongue speared into her mouth.

“Bedroom,” he growled in the slight pause that enabled her to take a breath. Music pounded at them, the hard, throbbing chords and blatantly sexual lyrics, Kristof substituting as lead guitar and Jack’s voice luring unsuspecting women into losing their panties, the drums pulsing a heady beat and the wailing cry of a clarinet adding piquancy.

Sonia’s mind swirled, dizzy with the abrupt onslaught of passion. She hardly knew how she ended up in the bedroom, lying on the bed, naked and spread like a pagan sacrifice as Mick kicked the bedroom door closed. His hands seemed to be everywhere, and then they were there. He growled again as she undulated her body, back bowing, hips tilting, knees bending, toes curling. She reached down to grab hold of his hair as he licked and sucked and nipped between her legs. She heard a high keening sound and realized it came from her own throat. Mick’s long tongue speared inside her and she ground herself against his face. He growled again, the vibrations potent against her swollen, delicate tissues. His tongue curled, collected her cream. Then his mouth moved to suckle at her clit even as his long finger pushed into her body and slowly withdrew. She trembled and mewled. A second finger joined the first, withdrew, then was joined by a third as he pumped her with his hand.

“Mick, please,” she moaned breathily, almost a whine, eyes fluttering shut.

He bit gently down on the swollen bundle of nerves and she shrieked.

A moment later, he gently lapped at her as the orgasmic spasms quieted. She opened her eyes and realized that her husband was still dressed.

“You’re not naked,” she accused, her breath hitching because he still fucked her with his hand. The sensual drag of his fingers inside her hot, wet flesh steadily worked to build her up to a second orgasm which, from the tremble of her thighs, would shatter over her sooner rather than later.

“Let go of my hair,” he said, eyes glinting.

Sonia’s surprise that she still clutched at his head amused him. Her fingers reluctantly released him. He withdrew his hand long enough to rip his shirt over his head and shuck his pants. Then his hand returned to the heat of her body while the other hand cupped a breast and toyed with the hard nipple.

“Mick,” she pleaded. “Please.”

He wiped his forearm across his lower face and moved up her body, surging as the music surged. Sonia’s hands immediately reached for his shoulders, rubbed over the hard muscle, slid around to his back, twined with the hair at the nape of his neck. She sighed as the weight of his body pressed her into the mattress. She spread her legs further, wrapped them around his hips to lock her ankles behind him.

He rubbed his erection against the wet folds. She moaned and undulated beneath him. He brought his mouth to hers, letting Sonia taste her own musk on his lips and tongue. Her tongue plunged into his mouth even as his cock penetrated her body. They ate at each other as their hips thrust forward and retreated and slammed together again. They found a harsh rhythm that had both of them grunting with exertion.

Absolutely nothing felt so good as this. Somewhere in the recesses of his lust addled mind, Mick understood that the extraordinary pleasure was due to the fulfillment of making love to his wife rather than the empty, superficial pleasure of nailing groupies.

He emptied himself into her with a long, drawn out groan of incredible satisfaction. The hot wash of his seed incited another orgasm. Sonia’s body clamped down, her velvet muscles milking every drop from him.

They lay there. Mick’s heavy, sweating weight pressed Sonia into the bed while they gulped air. The music died away, only to restart with a slow, sensuous beat and the low auditory glide of a tenor saxophone.

“One of these days, I’m going to be on top,” Sonia groused, but her smile belied the sour words.

Mick chuckled and buried his face in her neck and licked at her perspiring skin. Her hands reached down to cup his buttocks, trace patterns on the soft, pale skin there. Mick levered himself up on his elbows. She pulled herself up a little, just enough to bring her mouth to his flat, male nipple. She blew gently across the pink flesh and it obligingly pebbled for her. Then she licked it, pressed her lips to it, teased the small tip with the tip of her tongue.

Mick groaned and felt his cock harden. It was still enveloped by her body. He rocked his hips, using the pleasure of sliding flesh against flesh to swell his growing erection. Then he wedged his arms beneath her and rolled them over without disengaging their bodies.

“Oh!” she exclaimed and gingerly pushed herself upward. The change in angle and the pressure of her body settled over his pushed him deeply into her as the saxophone’s long, drawn out wail punctuated the music.

“Oh!” she exclaimed again as she adjusted to this new feeling of being filled from below. Bracing her hands against his chest, she raised her hips and slowly lowered them. Her eyes fluttered closed in pleasure. She repeated the lift and drop of her hips, adding a little twist of her hips on the drop.

“Oh!” she moaned. Her back bent as she brought her head to his chest to play with his body there.

Mick hissed at the touch of her lips, tongue, and teeth upon the sensitive bits of his anatomy. He settled his hands on the flare of her hips and held her as he bucked beneath her, thrusting upward. Sonia’s breath caught as she felt the strength in his arms that took control and moved her body in such a way that she was soon pleading with him to let her cum. He moved one hand, reached between their bodies, found her clit, and pinched it lightly. The extra stimulation cracked the barrier to ecstasy and another orgasm shattered it. Cymbals crashed, followed by a fast and furious drum solo.

Mick drove himself up into her body, but it wasn’t enough. He lifted her off him and she cried out in protest. He rose, settled her on all fours, and maneuvered behind her. With a firm hand, he gently pushed between her shoulders until her breasts pressed into the bed and her ass presented itself in blatant invitation. Placing his legs between hers, he widened her stance. He gripped his the base of his cock, held the throbbing appendage steady as he aligned it with her opening. He rubbed the mushroom tip of it against the blooming slit just to hear her moan. He returned the moan when he pushed into her body, watching himself sink into her.

God, he’d never seen anything more erotic than his cock being swallowed by Sonia’s yielding flesh.

He pulled back until only the tip remained embedded. Then pushed back in. He established a slow, steady rhythm that had her begging for harder, faster, deeper as he prolonged the pleasure, drew it out until she trembled uncontrollably beneath him. So he leaned forward, bending himself over her, covering her body with his and forsaking the sight of their coupling. A surprisingly intricate melody flowed from Kristof’s guitar.

Sonia could not explain it, but she felt protected and cherished as Mick covered her body with his own, surrounding her as he penetrated and filled her. He braced his body on one arm. His other hand reached below to stroke the undersides of her breasts and her belly, then slid along her body to flick her clitoris, rub it, and make it scream for release.

Jack’s fingers danced over the keyboard, a ripple of music that felt to the ears as the preliminary contractions of Sonia’s inner walls felt to Mick’s cock as they rippled around him. He knew she was headed toward yet another orgasm. He increased his pace, the easy friction of his flesh against hers fraying his control. Her wail of pleasure and her body straining against his in an effort to swallow him whole broke his control and he plunged into her body, pounding at her until his balls drew up tightly against his body and the tingle of impending climax exploded into a whole-body sizzle.

He withdrew, their combined fluids leaking from her body and dripping down her thighs. She sank bonelessly, flat on the bed. Mick lay beside her and ran a hand down the length of her back and over her butt, long strokes like he was petting a cat.

“Well, that took the edge off,” he quipped breathlessly.

Equally breathless, Sonia laughed. Eventually, she said, “I need a shower.”

“Don’t,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

“I like knowing that you smell of our passion. I want them to smell me on you.”

“They know we just ravished each other,” she replied with a sleepy, satiated smile. “They don’t need the reek of sex to figure that out.”

“Kristof and Jack look at you. They need to understand that you’re mine and I don’t share.”

“Apparently, you have shared.”

“Not you, Sonia. Never you. You’re mine.”

“Good to know, because I don’t share either. You’re mine as much as I’m yours.”

“God, yes,” he agreed, nuzzling her.

She giggled and rolled over. The light breeze wafted through the open window and over her sweaty, sticky skin. It felt refreshing. Mick reached over to run his fingertips across her chest, ribs, and belly.

She turned her head to face him. His eyes glittered as he continued to caress her. He watched with masculine satisfaction as her languor tightened into renewed desire. Her hand stealthily moved to stroke him, tracing the ridges and valleys of his muscles beneath his skin to tangle softly in his pubic hair and fondle the treasure rising from that nest.

Every muscle felt utterly drained of strength and energy as Sonia dragged her butt to the shower. Her skin, on the other hand, was overly sensitive. Goose pimples rose from the faintest whiff of air over her body, the soothing warmth of the shower’ spray, the slightly rough texture of a washcloth sliding through soapy lather as she removed the sticky, fragrant evidence of marital passion from her skin. She flinched as she washed between her legs, for the delicate skin there was extra sensitive and still inclined to launch her into orgasmic aftershocks.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Mick had already rejoined the band. He cradled his guitar to his naked chest and inhaled with deep satisfaction the scents of sweat and sex rising off his skin. A small, satisfied smile curled his lips because he knew his bandmates envied him, wanted their own women ready-to-hand. Jack no longer even attempted to conceal the bulge in his pants. Mick wondered if he’d just whip it out and masturbate in front of them just to give himself a little release. Hell, if Jack did that, he’d be sorely tempted to haul Sonia onto his lap and fuck her right there in front of them to show those horny bastards that she belonged to him. Of course, that might incite the boys to do more than watch.

He dismissed the thought. Sonia wasn’t ready for ménage. And he didn’t want to share.

They finished the lyrics to that last song and decided to quit for the day.

“Is Sonia cooking tonight?” Angelo asked as he cleaned and packed the clarinet, flute, and saxophone.

As though having overheard his question, Sonia’s voice called from inside the cottage, “Mick, light the grill, please.”

“You might want to burn off the sex smell while you’re playing with fire,” Jack suggested acidly. He rubbed his hand over his swollen crotch. “Damn it, I need a woman.”

“There’s usually some sort of party going on down-beach,” Mick replied as he turned on the propane and ignited the grill. He set the temperature. “I’m sure you can find something to shag there.”