Pure Iron (29 page)

Mick stepped into the tub. As he lowered himself into the warm water, Sonia reached out to touch the thickening, lengthening arousal rising between his legs. She stroked it with her wet, warm hands as she levered herself into a sitting position as he knelt down. He hissed when her tongue flicked the fat head, tasting the drop of pre-cum already leaking from the small hole at the tip. His knuckles whitened with the force of his grip as she focused her attention, hands, and mouth on his cock and balls, licking up and down with the flat of her tongue, swirling that tongue around the glans and under the delicate ridge. He groaned when she wrapped her lips around him and sucked.

His muscular thighs quivered with the effort not to plunge in and out of her mouth. His hands cramped with the force of his grip on the sides of the tub. He could not control the guttural sounds that swelled from his throat. Sonia reveled in the feeling of feminine power over this strong, virile man.

“I’m going to cum,” he warned her, his voice thick and rough. He pulled back, but she bit down slightly and her tongue rubbed the underside of his cock with more force. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked hard and her hands stroked everywhere her mouth did not reach.

“God, yes!” he cried out as hot spurts of creamy semen hit the back of her throat. Sonia’s tongue and throat worked him as she swallowed, prolonging his release.

Finally, she relaxed her jaw and he pulled out of her mouth. His chest heaved as he sank down into the water. His eyes glittered as he unclamped his hands from sides of the tub and put them on either side of her head. With a growl, he leaned forward and held her as he crushed his mouth to hers, tasted the salty, musky essence of himself on her tongue.

He rose, bringing her to her feet as he did so. They stepped out of the tub. He grabbed a towel, rubbed her dry, then himself. He caught her to him again, mashing her breasts against his chest, kneading her buttocks and rubbing her mound against his rapidly recovering groin.

“Bed. Now.”

He walked her to the bed, kissing her the whole way. He lifted her and tossed her. She landed with a bounce that made her breasts bounce, too. With yet another growl, he leaped after her, landing between her legs. He raised her legs, draped them over his shoulders, and dove down between her thighs to feast upon her scented flesh. In moments he had her undulating and begging him for release. A few more moments and she keened as an orgasm crashed over her. Before her body had settled down, he crawled over her, folding her legs back so that she was opened wide and vulnerable. He positioned himself at her entrance, rubbed the tip of himself tantalizingly against the swollen and sensitive folds, and finally sank deeply into her.

They groaned in unison. He held still, throbbed inside her. Then nature took command and he began to move. Her soft cries and moans encouraged him to greater lengths, different positions, varied speeds until, finally, she mewled as another orgasm made her tender passage clamp down on the pulsing cock within her. But he endured, his stamina all that much greater for the second round. He used his mouth and hands and cock and repeatedly drove her to climax before finally succumbing himself in a long, drawn out orgasm that left him feeling utterly drained, strangely enervated, and absolutely euphoric.

They slept, supper forgotten.

A few hours later, they woke aroused and ravenous for each other. A bout of slow, languid lovemaking sent them off into another few hours of sleep. When Sonia woke next, her belly rumbled. But hunger was forgotten with the erotic touch of Mick’s hands and mouth upon her body. He positioned her on her belly, drew her hips up, and slammed into her from behind. Sweating and sticky, climax hit them hard. Mick collapsed over her and they both panted from the overwhelming pleasure and exertion. The pungent scent of sex filled their nostrils and Mick went hard again.

“I need you again,” he rasped as he reared back.

Sonia moaned and raised her hips. He focused on the swollen opening of her body. Milky white semen dripped from her vagina. Her inner thighs were shiny with their mingled fluids, as were his penis and balls. He bent down to lick her and she mewled.

“Do that again,” he rasped and licked her again.

She mewled helplessly. He rose up and slid into her, covering her with his body as he rocked his hips against her. He kissed the nape of her neck, the back and tops of her shoulders. She quaked beneath him. He wanted her mouth so he pulled out and rolled her over. She whimpered, bereft of his cock filling her. But he quickly put it back, gliding between her spread thighs. He rocked his hips again, making sure to press against the hooded clitoris and rub against the g-spot. She writhed beneath him and plunged into yet another orgasm that left her limp and gasping for air as he thrust rapidly into her and found his own release.

He collapsed. Sonia’s hands languidly ran up and down his back, feeling the welts from where her fingernails had dug into the skin. He was heavy, but his weight resting upon her felt comforting. She sighed and her belly rumbled.

“I’m hungry.”

Reluctantly, Mick rolled off her soft, warm body. His limp dick twitched as he could not bear to part from her without a kiss.

“I’m about ready to go another round,” he murmured.

“Feed me, Mick. My belly thinks my throat’s been cut,” she said as she pushed herself upright. She glanced down at her shiny, sticky groin and thighs, the reddened spots where he had sucked at her skin a bit more forcefully than usual.

He laughed, not having heard the particular expression before. “Take a shower. I’ll fix breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, by the way, Antonin called last night while you were taking a bath. The restaurant’s bumped you up to full time. You’re due in at two o’clock.”

“Wow, that was fast,” she responded as she rummaged in a drawer for undergarments.

“Since you’re working the supper shift, I’ll drop you off on my way to Caesar’s. I can pick you up after the show. We’ll go out for a late dinner.”

“All right,” she agreed.

Mick watched her rounded bottom sway enticingly as she walked into the bathroom and his damned insatiable dick swelled again. “Fuck,” he muttered and took himself in hand. Minutes later he ejaculated to the mental image of Sonia all wet and soapy and slick in the shower. He needed to clean up, too, especially now with his jizz spattered all over his stomach. He grabbed a pair of jeans and headed for the other bathroom.

Sonia bit her lip as she soaped her body. Her sensitive tissues responded to her own casual touch as though Mick were in the shower with her. She shuddered and forced herself to continue to wash and rinse and then, after toweling dry, smooth lotion all over. The dry desert air was already taking its toll on his skin.

She combed her wet hair and confined it in a simple braid. Once dressed, she decided that the sheets really needed to be changed. Well, she had time to wash a few loads of laundry, so she might as well get on with it. Five minutes later clean sheets covered the bed and soiled sheets smelling pungently of sex and sweat had been stuffed into the washer.

The warm, homey smells of pancakes and bacon drew her to the kitchen just as Mick served up a plate for each of them. She took a seat and stuffed a forkful of fluffy pancake in her mouth.

“Mm, if you keep cooking for me like this, I’ll have to marry you,” she complimented.

“My wife might object,” he teased as he sat down opposite her at the table.

“Nah. I know your wife. She won’t mind.”

“So, she wouldn’t mind sharing?”

Sonia’s eyes glinted and she answered in a suddenly steely tone, “She doesn’t share.”

“Good to know,” he replied lightly. “Now, do you have anything in mind to do before we head off to work?”

“Laundry,” she answered with a shrug. “I’m getting low on underwear.”

“So don’t wear any.”

She couldn’t repress a smile and shook her head. “You may not mind going commando, but I certainly do.”

She couldn’t help but squirm a little as she spoke. Mick’s eyes gleamed, knowing that she was extra-sensitive and why. The knowledge made him want to drag her back to bed. Or the sofa. The kitchen counter would do just as well, too. But he relented. He liked the idea of her sensitivity, but sensitivity could easily turn to soreness and he did not wish to hurt her.

Without complaint, he pitched in to help with the day’s housework. After all, he lived there, too, so the mess wasn’t all hers. His mother had ensured his education in shared domestic responsibility.

Their combined efforts made quick work of cleaning, although laundry took its own sweet time as always. Sonia put together a quick lunch after which Mick picked up his guitar and reviewed the night’s set list and worked on the new song he hadn’t quite finished. Sonia tidied the kitchen and set out the crock pot. She dumped in a quartered onion, three tablespoons of paprika, and a small chuck roast, then poured in beef stock. She set the temperature on low, placed the lid on top, and nodded to herself. There’d be just enough time to add pasta and thicken the broth for a hearty plate of comfort food that night when they arrived home.

She looked at the time. The washer and dry had at least another half hour to go before she needed to tend to laundry. With a shrug, she curled up on the sofa with a book she hadn’t yet cracked open. After a few pages, she drifted off to sleep.

Mick glanced at the clock and realized that it was time to go. Walking into the living room, he saw Sonia napping and smiled with lazy satisfaction. He’d worn her out and she’d loved every second of it. But she had to go work, so he gently woke her.

“Oh, shit,” she exclaimed and rushed to the bathroom. She quickly changed into more appropriate clothing and, grabbing her purse, met Mick at the door as he was tying the laces on his boots. He’s already carried his instruments to the truck.

“Damn, I’m going to be late,” she muttered.

“No, you won’t,” he promised as he backed out of the garage, ignored the paparazzi hovering outside their home in the hopes of catching something newsworthy, and proceeded to break the speed limits.

Phone calls traveled faster than the truck, however, and more tabloid journalists and cameras met them at the restaurant. Mick pulled as close to the entrance as he could.

“Can you run?” he asked gently.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

“Good girl,” he praised. With a quick kiss, he bade her go.

“I’ll be here at eleven o’clock to pick you up,” he said as she opened the passenger side door.

Clutching her purse, Sonia nodded, hopped down from the cab, and ran.

How did they even know her work schedule, she wondered? And why were they so interested in her? She was a chef, not a celebrity! Her coworkers welcomed her with varying degrees of warmth and curiosity as she walked through the bustling kitchen to the employee break room to deposit her purse and pick up a jacket.

Antonin entered the room and said, “You’re cutting it fine.”

She flushed and stammered an apology for being almost late.

“I’m putting you on a different station to start your shift. We’ll begin rotating you among the stations, find where you’re strongest.”

She nodded and followed him back to the kitchen.

“Juan’s shift ends at four o’clock,” Antonin said. “He’ll serve as your assistant until then.”

Juan moved to stand beside her and gave her his usual cheery smile. She smiled back, glad to have the friendly young man helping out rather than sour-faced Glynnis.

“Feel free to jump in and tell me whenever I do something that doesn’t seem right or confuses you,” she invited as the first order was shouted.

She pulled out a skillet and drizzled oil onto its steel surface and set it on the burner. The oil heated quickly and Juan delicately placed two thick fish fillets into the pan. She seasoned the delicate flesh as it cooked, telling him what she used and why. When she was ready to plate the fish, Antonin nodded and directed her to make one more fillet. He called everyone over to watch her cook. A little surprised by the attention, Sonia shoved any uneasiness away and deftly cooked and seasoned another fillet.

“Everyone taste,” Antonin ordered as he himself took a taste. “This is exactly how this fish should be cooked. The flesh is moist, yet thoroughly cooked. The seasoning is delicate and does not overpower the fish. Very good, Sonia.”

The others retrieved forks and each took a taste of the fish.

She worked the fish station for two hours, then Juan finished his shift and she was transferred to vegetable preparation. She spent two hours there and then was moved to meats where she again performed to good credit and Antonin’s mild praise. Two hours later he moved her to the dessert station where she found herself floundering. Antonin frowned at her.

“Desserts really aren’t my thing,” she said weakly.

“If you are a chef, then you learn to cook
everything
and
masterfully
,” he said haughtily as he demonstrated how to make a bombolone.

Sonia wiped her forehead with her sleeve and watched and learned.

“Now you do it,” he ordered.

She meticulously repeated his every step. The resulting pastry was somewhat clumsy, but edible. Unfortunately, edible wasn’t good enough. He ordered her to make another and another until she got it right. As she concentrated, she did not notice the mild uproar that rose in the dining room, but the other cooks did.