Eternally Seduced(57)

She grinned. "Love you all."

"Happy nineteenth," Samuel said gruffly.

"Happy birthday again, sweetie," Pearl sniffed out.

"Take care, sis," Silver added.

"Call me if you need help  –  any kind of help," Steel murmured.

Her eyes became wet with tears.

She loved these guys so, so much. They were all so, so perfect she  wished she could be like them and not be  –  literally  –  the odd fish in  the family and a girl too ordinary to be a part of one of America's most  powerful political clans.

~~~

"I see her, boss," Bob, Staffan's personal bodyguard, reported from the  restricted area next to the stage, a section strictly reserved for VIPs.  Basically, that meant a mixture of the rich and famous, groupies with  connections, and fan club members who got lucky.

Staffan had given Bob a copy of Saffi March's photo as well as explicit  instructions of what Bob was supposed to do the moment he saw his  quarry. And now that he had, Bob was quick to act on his instructions.

Staffan held his breath as Bob's phone immediately swung to the left,  the screen shaking up and down a little before steadying, zooming on the  bare bellybutton of a girl.

Staffan raised a brow. There wasn't much written on Saffi's FB page but  her pictures spoke a thousand words. Also, she was a girl who had spent  almost a decade studying fish. She definitely wasn't the kind of girl  who'd wear a cropped top that showed off practically her entire tummy.

"That's not---"

He shut up as the camera of Bob's phone zoomed out, allowing him a glimpse of the upper half of the girl's body. It was her.

And yet, it was not her, too.

Staffan suddenly felt like he had warped into another dimension, one  where everything the opposite of reality had come true. Because what he  was seeing now was exactly that.

Gone was the very prim and almost nun-like Saffi March he had gotten to  know through his daily updates from Facebook, Twitter, and even her  fucking Pinterest account.

Her hair had been transformed into a riot of big wild curls. Dramatic  make-up had turned her eyes bigger and darker while her body, usually  covered in preppy outfits, was now almost naked with her cropped shirt  and the shortest skirt Staffan had ever seen in his life. Goddammit!  That skirt looked more like underwear in denim!

Staffan's temper, which was always easily ignited, burned red hot at the  thought of other men in the area being able to see Saffi March's almost  naked body. Why the hell was his Saffi dressed like this? Was she here  on a date? Was she---

Saffi's head was suddenly turning left and right, drawing his attention  and making Staffan temporarily stop with his mental tirade. Her brows  were puckered as she listened in apparent concentration to the screams  of the other fans next to her. Frowning, Staffan watched her take a deep  breath.

And then she was shouting, "Staffan Aehrenthal! Have sex with me!"

His jaw dropped, and he nearly dropped his phone, too, unable to believe  what he had just heard Saffi scream  –  and was still hearing her scream.

The women that had been screaming next to her gave Saffi high-fives,  which she returned happily, a giddy look on her face. And then they were  all screaming the same thing, laughing afterwards, and the cycle  repeated itself.

An unbidden smile formed on his lips.

His Saffi never failed to surprise him.

He shifted on his feet, aware of how his pants had become suddenly and uncomfortably tight.

And she never failed to make him want to fuck her either.

~~~

Deafening screams rocked the concert venue when all the lights went out  and the first recognizable notes of Poison, Staffan Aehrethenal's first  worldwide hit, played. When the lights blazed back, an uproar of screams  and cries rose from the crowd.

Staffan stood in the middle of the stage, dressed in a tux, his  beautiful face unsmiling but the heat in his fuck-me eyes more than made  up for it.

And then he started to dance.

Saffi swooooooned. The girls around her swooned. Everyone swooned,  including even some of the bouncers lined up next to the stage since  apparently they were batting for the same team.

Staffan moved closer and closer to the edge of the stage, his every step  infinitely sexy with its precision and grace, his hand gestures  wondrously defined and in tune with the music.

Her heart got all choked up at the sight of him performing live, her throat running dry.

There was nothing as beautiful as seeing Staffan Aehrenthal dance. It  was sheer poetry in motion, and he never failed to seduce his faithful  audience with every little move he made. There were just no words to  describe the heart-thumping excitement he evoked from his fans no matter  how fast or slow he danced. And when he started to sing, too, oh God,  how it made Saffi's body tremble with desire!

Staffan's eyes suddenly locked with hers.

She gasped.

She knew she must be imagining it. She must be. He couldn't be---

The line of bouncers suddenly split into two from the center, just in  time to let Staffan jump down from the stage. And then he was walking  towards Saffi, his eyes never leaving hers.

Saffi's gasp came out strangled, and it became harder and harder to  breathe as Staffan came closer, a six-foot-five silver-haired man whose  face was literally the first and last thing she saw before she slept and  when she woke up. He was the subject of her laptop, tablet, and phone's  screensaver, the pin-up in her high school locker, and she even had  limited edition collectible photo in her wallet.

Before she knew it, Staffan was already standing right in front of her, too gorgeous to be true but too close not to be real.         

     



 

God, he was tall. God, he was sexy. And oh! Galloping groupers! Those  hazel eyes. Surely she had to be mistaken. Surely those eyes didn't  say---

Staffan Aehrenthal held his hand out.

She took it without even a moment's hesitation.

As he pulled her close, the screams all around them became louder. But  even so, she heard Staffan very well as he whispered to his ear, "I'm  going to fuck you now."

And the next thing she knew, he was taking her up the stage.

Staffan Aehrenthal taking a girl from the crowd and dancing with her on  stage was nothing unusual. He did it in every single one of his  concerts. She had been aware of that, and she had envied all the girls  who had the privilege of dancing with him. But what she didn't know was  that dancing with Staffan meant something entirely unexpected.

Staffan held her close, singing, not saying a word to her even if it was  his backup vocals' turn to sing. But with every chance he got, his  hands would graze her breasts, pinching her nipples to life. Every time  he would twirl her around, his hands would be brushing against her most  private part, the one that had started to throb just because he was  near.

Saffi was on fire, in heat, and out of her mind with desire. She was  utterly mesmerized, and all she could do was follow Staffan's lead as he  continued to arouse her in front of thousands of people.

A part of her was completely shocked. He was seducing her … not just in  public but on stage. At a concert that thousands of mobile phones were  presently recording, a concert that could be televised---

She should be running away from him now, but she couldn't. All Saffi  could do was look and feel Staffan Aehrenthal touch her. All she could  think was him. Staffan. Staffan. Staffan.

The look on Saffi March's face almost made Staffan lose his  concentration. Dammit. She looked so fucking sweet, so ripe for fucking,  that only his sense of professionalism, honed in the years he had  worked in the music business, kept him from losing control and taking  her then and there.

He had always done this. Always. But only Saffi threatened his control.

Saffi gasped when Staffan suddenly turned her around to face him, her  back to the crowd. He pulled her close, their bodies touching, and she  gasped as she felt his erection press against her.

She whimpered. Oh, but how could she not when his fingers were dipping  into her skirt and panties until he was touching her very wetness?

Staffan's body shook at how warm and tight Saffi was, the images of  Saffi's body welcoming his cock similarly lending an added roughness to  his voice that made the crowd go even wilder.

Without missing a beat, he sang and danced a sexy slow dance with her,  his hips pushing against hers, which caused his fingers to thrust inside  her more deeply.

She whimpered again, and the sound almost forced him to the edge.

The electrifying beats of his music echoed the way her heart pounded,  and combined with his thrusting and conquering fingers, Saffi knew she  was just seconds away from coming.

The backstage dancers suddenly converged around them, the last notes of  his song playing, and Staffan shoved his fingers in and out of her  faster and harder. When the lights turned out, Saffi felt Staffan  abruptly go down, tossing her skirt up and biting her lace-covered clit  as his fingers pushed all the way in.

She screamed, the sound of it lost in the crowd's riotous noise.

As her eyes closed, all Saffi could think was, so this was what being hand-selected meant.