Authors: Holly Bargo
Finally, the restaurant closed for the night. She and sour-faced Glynnis scrubbed down the pastry station. Then they trudged to the break room to dispose of their soiled jackets and retrieve their belongings.
“God, my feet hurt,” Sonia complained.
Glynnis arched her back and rolled her shoulders, commiserating: “My back and shoulders are killing me.”
There was a loud, feminine squeal as a sous chef shouted, “You wouldn’t believe who’s sitting in the dining area!”
“That must be what all that commotion was about,” Glynnis commented acidly.
“Um, Rod Stewart?”
“Who?”
“He’s a rock star,” Sonia explained patiently.
“No, not him. The whole band is here! Iron Falcon!”
“Mick,” Sonia breathed, eyes shining.
“Oh, yeah, he is so dreamy,” Glynnis sighed as she smoothed her hands over her curvy hips. “I wonder if he’d ever go for a girl like me?”
“He better not,” Sonia muttered under her breath.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Glynnis demanded, stung by the perceived offense.
“He’s married,” Sonia answered tersely as she slung her purse strap over her shoulder.
Glynnis pouted. “Probably to some starlet or model.”
“Nope,” Sonia grinned as she walked out the door. “To a chef.”
Glynnis hurried after her, screeching, “Wait! What do you know?”
But Sonia ignored her as she rushed through the swinging doors that led to the dining area.
“Mick!” she exclaimed, her joy evident.
The tall, muscular rock star rose from his seat and crossed the floor to gather her up in his arms and plaster a passionate kiss on her mouth. Chairs scooted back and the other four men of Iron Falcon rose to greet her, although somewhat less affectionately. Kitchen and wait staff watched, their expressions showing a mixture of bemusement, awe, excitement, and desire. Antonin merely looked annoyed. The few remaining diners watched with avid curiosity, a couple gathering the courage to approach and ask for autographs.
Antonin approached and cleared his throat.
“Sonia, this is most unseemly,” he chided in a cold tone, his volume kept low and discreet.
Mick drew himself up to his full height, an inch shorter than Antonin, but obviously more muscular. “And who are you to tell me how to greet my wife?” he asked, his voice pitched low and throbbing with burgeoning violence.
Sonia placed her hand on his upper arm and said gently, “Mick, this is Antonin, my supervisor.”
Antonin looked down his nose at the young, aggressively postured man and said in his supercilious tone, “This is a respectable establishment, Mr. Hendriksen. We’ll thank you to avoid such public displays of affection here.”
Mick narrowed his eyes as he wrapped an arm around Sonia’s waist and drew her close to his side. “The restaurant is closed for the night and Sonia’s shift is over. She’s off the clock and what she does is none of your business.”
“She is an employee and, as such, represents the business at all times.”
Mick glowered at the other man and opened his mouth to reply, probably something profane and inflammatory. Sonia squeezed his arm and said, “Mick, please don’t.”
He leveled a fulminating glare at the other man, but subsided. A gleam of triumph lit Antonin’s eyes and Mick could practically hear him think “pussy whipped.” But the executive chef simply said, “Please conduct yourself appropriately, Mrs. Hendriksen. Mr. Hendriksen, see what you can do to dissuade the paparazzi. They block the entrance to the restaurant and disturb our customers.”
He turned on his heel and walked away.
“Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?” Glynnis demanded from behind Sonia.
Sonia sighed and graciously made the introductions. Glynnis smiled charmingly and flirted outrageously. When she left, Jack followed her home.
“That is not going to end well,” Sonia predicted sourly.
“What do you mean?”
“Glynnis will assume that her proximity to me means a relationship with Jack and we both know that Jack only does one night stands.” She sighed, knowing that Jack’s love-em-and-leave-em practice could turn ugly for her.
“They’re adults, Sonia. Let them make their own choices.”
“I know,” she agreed and leaned against him.
He walked her to the truck, averting their faces from the disorienting camera flashes. The paparazzi followed them to the condo. Once inside their home, Mick yanked blinds and curtains shut while Sonia pulled out the deliciously tender roast and dumped a package of noodles into the crock pot. The noodles quickly came to a boil and cooked as she shredded the meat, which was then returned to the crock pot and stirred in. She dipped a ladle into the simmering, richly fragrant stew and served up two bowls. She spooned some sour cream over the steaming meal.
“This is good,” Mick complimented as he added salt and pepper.
She smiled at him. “Thanks. It’s definitely easy enough.”
They ate in companionable quiet for a few minutes, then Sonia spoke.
“Thanks for not going after Antonin, Mick,” she said.
“I hate not being there to protect you,” he said.
She gave him a little smile and said, “I’m a big girl. I have to stand up for myself.”
“Sometimes,” he admitted with a nod. “But not always. And you will let me know if that skinny prick harasses you.”
“Yes, dear,” she sighed.
They finished their late supper. Mick tidied the kitchen while Sonia took a shower. She slipped into bed and was asleep before Mick finished his shower and joined her. He wanted to do more than just hold her in his arms, but contented himself with her body cuddling next to his. She was tired. He saw it in her face, in the way she held herself and moved.
Mick woke to the delicious sensation of wet warmth surrounding the top half of his penis. A groan gurgled from his throat as he opened his eyes and looked down to see Sonia’s tawny, sleep-mussed head bob up and down. Barely before he could focus on the blowjob, he felt that telltale tingle at the base of his spine, his balls drew up tightly against his body, and he hissed as release blasted through him. He wanted to whimper when Sonia let him slide from her mouth, but she merely began kissing a slow, zigzag path up his body. She traced the ridges of his abdominal muscles with her fingers and tongue. She lingered over each small, brick colored nipple. She caressed the strong sweep of his collarbones and bit down on his deltoids as she rubbed her body against him.
With a growl, he flipped her onto her back and gave back as good as he got. He elicited three orgasms from her with hands and mouth before his erection had recovered sufficiently to drive into her body and thrust until she exploded in a fourth orgasm. But she didn’t lay there and submit; her hands roamed his body, she undulated against him, she mewled and gasped and made other incoherent sounds that spurred him to even greater effort until they both lay gasping, sweaty, and spent.
“I think we missed breakfast,” she said finally.
“Nah, I had you for breakfast,” he quipped, referring to the latest round of eating her out until she damned near wept for him to let her cum.
Her flushed cheeks glowed more brightly with a tinge of embarrassment.
“Baby, what with all we do to each other, there is nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said, stroking the back of one finger down her rosy cheek.
She caught his hand and pulled it to her mouth and softly kissed the knuckles.
“Is there anything you’d like to do today before you go into work?” he asked, watching her as she tenderly showered affections upon his hand. His exhausted dick twitched valiantly.
“I need to get back in the habit of exercising,” she answered. One hand patted her flat belly. “I’m gaining weight.”
“You’re beautiful. Perfect.”
She smiled gratefully at his compliments. “I love you, too, but I still need to burn all those calories I’ve been eating.”
Mick crawled over her and ran a finger down her perspiration-slick sternum. “This didn’t result from doing not burning calories, babe.”
Her gaze flickered over him, taking in the ripple of hard muscle. “It’s harder for a woman to keep off the weight.”
“This weight doesn’t want to be kept off,” he taunted as he slowly pushed his hardening penis into her still wet, warm, yielding pussy. He moved languidly, slowly, savoring the intimate slide of flesh against flesh, the heated melding of mouths, the heady vibrations of low moans. The pleasure that rolled over them was almost soft, almost gentle, and definitely bone deep.
“This is absolutely my favorite place to be,” he murmured as his penis pulsed inside her.
“I like you there,” she said with a satisfied smile as she stroked him from shoulder blade to buttock. She wriggled beneath him. “One of these days you’ll let me have control.”
He grinned at her and replied, “Maybe for a little bit, but I like you spread beneath me like my own private banquet.”
Her cheeks flamed.
He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. “I actually do have some errands to run today and a meeting to attend.”
She nodded and yawned.
“Get some more rest. Take a nap. I’ll be back in time to take you to work.”
“You don’t have to take me in,” she protested sleepily.
“I know. But I want to.”
“Okay.”
He kissed her forehead and left the yielding warmth of her body. After drawing the covers back over her, he took a shower. She was sound asleep when he returned to the bedroom, so he dressed and left her in peace. After a quick breakfast, he left to run his errands.
When Sonia woke again—alone in the big bed—she sighed at the delicious achiness of her body and the memory of how it happened. With a sigh, she finally heaved her body from the bed and headed for the bathroom. Fresh and clean twenty minutes later, she quickly ate a couple slices of toast and headed out. The lime green Beetle zipped along, its driver paying no attention to the cars following.
Shouts and camera flashes accompanied her into the drug store.
“Are you getting a pregnancy test?” came one shouted question.
“Are you pregnant? Sick?” came another.
“How often do you and Mick have sex?”
“What size condom does he wear?”
“Does he even wear a condom?”
“Are you having sex with all five men of Iron Falcon?”
Her cheeks blazed with mortification as she picked up birth control pills at the pharmacy counter and then feminine hygiene items, toothpaste, and other general items. The rude, intrusive questions continued as she went through checkout and then to her car. The next stop at the supermarket elicited questions as to her diet, Mick’s diet, her career, her relationship with the other band members. By the time she unloaded the grocery cart and sat in the driver’s seat, she was pale and trembling.
She picked up her cell phone and called Mick, but the call went to voicemail. So she called Kris. He picked up on the first ring.
“Sonia?”
“Kris, get Mick. Please.”
He heard the distress in her voice. Frowning, he said, “Mick and Jack are in a meeting with our agent and the record label. They can’t be interrupted right now. How can I help you, Sonia?”
“I—I need someone to … to …” She gulped on a sob.
“Where are you, Sonia?”
“Supermarket.”
“Go home, Sonia. I’ll be there.”
She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see the gesture. “Okay. Thanks, Kris.”
“No side trips,” he warned, then terminated the call. He looked up at Davis and Angelo and said, “Tell Mick that Sonia’s having some trouble. I’m going to the condo to help her out.”
“What’s up?” Davis asked.
“It’s probably the paparazzi,” he surmised accurately. “Mick said they’ve been pestering her.”
“We should all go,” Angelo said, rising from his chair.
“One of us has to stay here to inform Mick,” Kris pointed out.
“I’ll let him know,” Davis volunteered. “You two save our girl.”
Kris and Angelo nodded and rushed out.
They were waiting in the short drive when she pulled in. They followed her into the garage, shoving aside some of the pushier journalists out of the garage.
“Get the hell out of here,” Angelo shouted.
“Leave her alone,” Kris growled.
The garage door finally closed. Sonia lurched from the car straight into Kris’ arms. She clung to him as she broke into wracking sobs. With less awkwardness than one might have expected, he gathered her close and rubbed her back and murmured soothing nonsense.
Resembling a stereotypical Viking, Kris scooped Sonia off her feet and carried her into the house. He lowered himself onto the sofa, cuddling her in his lap and holding her snugly in his embrace while he continued to murmur gentle nonsense and press kisses to her hair.
Angelo carried in the groceries and drugstore purchases, putting away what he could, especially items requiring refrigerator or freezer storage. The rest he left on the kitchen table. He walked out, eyeing Kris and Sonia, who had lapsed into sniffling. She still trembled.