Authors: Holly Bargo
“Talk to me, Sonia. You’re angry and I want to know why.”
Her eyes widened with astonishment. How could he not know?
“I don’t read minds, babe.”
“You humiliated me last night,” she mumbled.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“You humiliated me last night,” she repeated. “The whole world now thinks I’m nothing but a—a—a fuck toy.”
He wrapped an arm around her, but her body stiffened rather than relaxed into him.
“Sonia, the whole world knows you’re my wife and that I love you. Maybe I didn’t express that with sufficient delicacy or decorum last night, but I do not consider you my ‘fuck toy.’”
“You made me feel like a possession, something to be claimed and fought over.”
“Oh, honey, that’s the difference between men and women. I
do
consider you mine, entirely mine, and I’m not about to share you with anyone. But that doesn’t mean that I think any less of you, just that I find I’m a possessive bastard.” Her stiff posture started relaxing and he snuggled her in closer to his body. He ran the tip of his nose over her cheek, then nuzzled her neck. He placed a gentle kiss on the soft, tender skin. “If you’d allow it, I’d keep you confined to my bed, naked and wet for me at all times. If there is a God, then you’re my heaven. I know no greater joy than being deep inside you, skin to skin.”
He felt the heat rise beneath her skin, the rosy flush of arousal turning it pink. His hand slid beneath her pajama top and cupped the soft weight of a breast that swelled to fill his palm. She gasped softly as his thumb swiped across the tight nipple.
Between kisses to her neck and the top of her shoulder, he continued speaking, seducing her with words as much as touch. “Your gentle nature and kindness make me want to be a better man. You are good, beautiful inside and out. I want to be worthy of you; I want to give you such pleasure that you’ll never think of leaving me.”
His hand deftly unbuttoned her top. He stroked her exposed breasts and lowered his mouth to suckle on the rosy tips. Sonia’s breath hitched, then expelled on a low moan as she arched her back and pushed her breasts toward him.
“You’ve become essential to me,” he murmured. “A drug I cannot do without, a need beyond all wants and desires.”
One hand gently took hers, drew it to his rampant erection. Under his touch, she rubbed the length of him up and down.
“Feel what you do to me. This is yours, all yours. My body recognizes no other woman but you.”
His hand left hers to slide across her thigh and delve down. Her thighs fell open at his touch between them, granting him unimpeded access. He stroked one finger along her slit, gathering the moisture that gathered there and spreading it.
“Mick,” she breathed, head falling back on a suddenly weak neck.
He gently pushed her down and moved over her. Brushing his lips against hers, he said, “I need you, Sonia. You’re mine.” He positioned the bulbous head of his penis at her entrance and slowly, slowly, pushed in. “And I am yours.”
Sonia trembled as he filled her with almost agonizing slowness. She moaned and tilted her hips to take all of him as deeply as he could go.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped when she felt his balls press against her moist skin.
He drew back and then slowly slid back in, letting her feel every ridge, every bump.
“You’re allowed your feelings, sweetheart,” he said as he slowly pumped back and forth. “Don’t hide them from me. Tell me. I’m a man and men are stupid.”
She wrapped her legs around his hips and begged, “More. Please.”
Mick’s eyes gleamed darkly with passion as he increased the pace and intensity of his thrusts. He raised himself on his hands so he could arch his back and lick, nip, and suckle on her breasts as he hips worked back and forth. She writhed beneath him, murmured incoherently, begged him to let her cum.
“Not yet, babe,” he replied as he drove her to the edge and kept her there. “Not just yet.”
He withdrew and she wailed at the loss of his occupation, only to cry out again when his mouth landed on her quivering need. He licked, long flat strokes of his tongue interspersed with quick flicks and deep strokes that drew gushes of moisture from her. The wet sounds of him eating her out encouraged her hips to buck against his face. But he laid a heavy arm across her, spanning hip to hip, and held her still for his delectation. She panted, cried out when he inserted two fingers into her and pumped them as he continued licking her. Then his lips closed over her clitoris and he sucked hard. Sonia screamed his name as she catapulted into a fierce release that obliterated her headache.
A long moment later, he rose over her again and glided into her body. Her eyes rolled back and she did not even notice that he scooted her back further onto the mattress. He moved her with easy strength, positioning her every way he could think of as he drove his penis into her with steady endurance. He kept his hands moving, stroking her silky skin, holding her deliciously helpless.
They belonged together, damn it. There was no Mick without Sonia, nor Sonia without Mick. When he could no longer repress the need to ejaculate, he pounded into her, focused on the jiggle of her breasts, and growled, “Mine,” as hot semen boiled up from his testicles and filled every bit of her.
They lay entwined for a few minutes before Mick drew her into the bathroom where he made love to her in the shower. Afterward, he bent her over the sofa and then fucked her on the kitchen counter. He kept her aroused and wet and hungry for his possession until she gasped that she had to leave for work. He quickly worked them both into a final climax.
“Get cleaned up and dressed, sweetheart. I’ll make you a quick breakfast.”
She nodded dumbly and did as he bade her, returning shortly to eat the food he put in front of her.
“When you get home,” he promised as she left, “I’m going to fuck you into next month.”
A shiver of anticipation ran through her.
It didn’t last long. Lights flashed and questions bombarded her as she raced from her car to the kitchen entrance. How the paparazzi knew where she worked she had no idea, but their presence annoyed her.
“Hello, Sonia,” Juan called out with his usual friendly smile.
“This attention is unseemly,” Antonin reproved, his narrow face twisting in a frown.
“I’m sorry, Antonin,” she replied as she stashed her purse in her locker. “I certainly didn’t ask them to be here.”
“Well, as long as they stay outside the kitchen and you stay inside, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”
She managed not to shrug as she pulled on her uniform jacket and made her way to her station, which Juan had already prepped beautifully for the day’s luncheon crowd. The tenderness between her thighs distracted her with every step.
“That was an incredible concert!” Conchetta, who worked the fry station, enthused. “Do you think you can get me Mick’s autograph?” The other cooks’ expressions brightened with interest. Other than Chef Kilrook, they didn’t often get a celebrity in their midst.
“Er—” she began uncomfortably, not wanting to commit her husband to something to which he had not agreed.
“People,” Antonin’s somewhat nasal voice pierced the air. “Sonia is here to cook, not to trade on any pseudo-celebrity status.”
Although she wanted to bristle beneath the insult, she could not refute the man’s words. “I’m a cook,” she said, “just like you. I’m not famous and I don’t want to be. I just want to cook good food.”
The two cook’s assistants entered, gossiping. When their gazes lit upon Sonia, they rushed forward to ask about the availability of the other men of Iron Falcon.
Sonia decided that polite demurral wouldn’t work; she’d have to be blunt.” I don’t provide escorts for the band.”
The two women blushed at the inference everyone made from the rock star’s wife’s response to their request. Antonin raised one eyebrow, but otherwise remained expressionless. He’d not show his approval of the new, young cook’s show of backbone, but he’d not shoot her down for it either.
“Get to your stations, ladies,” he said.
The maitre’d opened the doors to the restaurant and hungry diners walked in and began placing their orders. The next four hours passed in the typically chaotic busy-ness of a popular kitchen. Sonia sautéed scallops and cooked risotto until the thought she would dream of them. Then Antonin assigned her to sautéing asparagus with lemon and garlic and Brussels sprouts in butter and lime juice.
Plate after plate left the kitchen, with only a couple returned. Overall, Antonin remained impressed with the quality of Kilrook’s new hire. Until the diners began requesting to speak with her. Denial after polite denial was sent back. Requests and denials were exchanged without Sonia’s knowledge. Really, the attention focused on a cook other than Chef Kilrook in Kilrook’s own restaurant could not be endured. After Sonia’s four-hour shift ended, he sat with his boss for a few minutes to discuss the unexpected problem.
“Let’s give it a week. She’s not seeking out attention, is she?”
“No,” Antonin replied. “Actually, I’m impressed with her. She’s focused on the food, cooks beautifully. She’d challenge even my skills.”
“Let’s give her a chance then. She’s not responsible for the paparazzi, especially if she’s doing nothing to draw their attention other than being married to a rock star.” Kilrook shrugged, knowing that his own wife sometime garnered unwanted attention because she was his wife and not because she was an excellent interior designer in her own right.
“It’s a distraction,” Antonin grumbled. “The kitchen staff are all twittering over her. Sonia’s handling it gracefully, but …”
“It’s the newness of it,” Kilrook soothed his temperamental head chef. “Once they realize she’s not going to pander to their curiosity, they’ll buckle back down to work.”
“I hope so.”
“A week. If the furor doesn’t die down by then and is too distracting to our customers and staff, then we’ll let her go.” He felt a twinge of pity for the young woman, but not too much. After all, it wasn’t as though her family relied on her paycheck. Her rock star husband could support her in luxury. “Oh, and bump her up to full time. As long as the media are interested in her, we might as well take advantage of that increased business.”
Mick met Sonia at the door with a hug and kiss. He wrinkled his nose at the odors of grease and sweat clinging to her.
“I need a shower,” she said, pulling away from his arms. “And I never want to see another scallop.”
“You look tired,” he commented, kissing the tip of her nose. “Go take a nice, long soak. I’ll fix a quick supper for us.”
“Thank you, I will,” she replied. “Make something light, please.”
“Soup and sandwiches okay?”
“That works.”
“Go relax,” he ordered and watched the seductive sway of her hips as she walked away. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers, cracking the joints. He’d had a productive day working on the new tune that had been simmering in his brain for the last few days. He walked to the kitchen and pulled out sandwich fixings and a can of tomato soup.
The house phone rang. He picked it up with the customary greeting of “hello?”
“May I speak with Mrs. Hendriksen, please?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Antonin Sangbleu,” the caller identified himself. “Is this Mr. Hendriksen?”
“Yes, how may I help you? Sonia can’t come to the phone right now.”
“Please let her know that her schedule has been changed. She’ll be working full-time beginning tomorrow. Please ask her to arrive at two o’clock in the afternoon.”
“I’ll tell her,” Mick promised and wrote down the message so he wouldn’t forget.
“Thank you. Good-bye.”
Mick thought that this Antonin was rather abrupt, but he shrugged and returned to heating their soup and assembling their sandwiches.
In the bathroom, Sonia glanced at the lacy bit of emerald nothing that Mick had set out on the vanity for her to wear. Someone had gone shopping, because she knew she had nothing like that in her closet or dresser drawers. She quickly showered and washed her hair, then filled the tub and seasoned the water with the wonderfully scented bath salts for a nice, relaxing soak. The hot water relaxed her sufficiently that she dozed off.
In the kitchen, Mick glanced at the clock. With a sigh, he covered the sandwiches and took the soup off the burner. He walked to the bathroom and eased the door open. Sonia reclined in the tub, eyes closed, a small smile curling the corners of her mouth. The warm scent of white tea and ginger filled their humid air.
He squatted down beside the tub and traced a fingertip down the silky side of her neck, across the elegant sweep of a collar bone. She hummed in gentle pleasure at the light touch and her eyes fluttered open.
“Mick,” she said, her voice low and throaty.
He simply looked at her, eased his hand over the wet satin of her skin, sliding below the surface of the still warm water to fondle one breast and then the other.
“Oh, Mick,” she breathed as the inevitable flush of arousal rose and spread.
He leaned over her to kiss her. Her mouth yielded readily, opening for him. He pulled away and quickly peeled off his tee shirt. The falcon pendant bounced against his skin. He rose, unzipped his jeans, and shoved them down. As usual, he wore no underwear. As he was already barefoot, there was no need to pull off socks and shoes.