When Fangirls Cry Read online

  Oh my God, how could she resist this?

  Staffan cursed, surprising his friends. But he had seen where Saffi’s hand was going and he knew exactly what she was planning. “Saffi,” he growled. “Don’t you dare---”

  She took out her iPhone, pressed the shortcut for camera, and took a snapshot of them. Then she quickly opened the photo using a social media app, the one that was linked to all her accounts. Pinterest, Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook – it made it easy to blast the message to the entire universe with a single click.

  OMG. Staffan Aehrenthal with the two other Pussketeers in the house! #definelucky

  Saffi pressed the SEND button.

  “---post a photo.”

  A clicking sound confirmed her post’s successful upload to the various social media accounts she managed as StarryEyed4SA, mere seconds before someone swiftly retrieved the iPhone from her hand. Saffi looked up and found herself locked in a circle of billionaires.

  Two were grinning, one was scowling.

  “Saffi.” Staffan’s voice was quietly menacing.

  Saffi cringed. “I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry. The world needed to see---”

  “---anything except another goddamn photo of any of us.” Staffan growled the last word out, his fuck-me eyes blazing.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, looking down. She heard Staffan sigh over her head, but no one else spoke. After a moment, Saffi was unable to bear the silence any longer. She cleared her throat. “Umm…what’s…the plan?”

  Staffan nodded.

  Constantijin grinned.

  Rathe sighed before taking off his pinstriped blazer. “Here you go, Saffi.” His voice was clear and dulcet, very duke-like if Saffi said so herself. Not that, she thought, she had met any other duke aside from Rathe.

  Looking inquiringly at Staffan and getting his nod of approval, she gingerly took the blazer from Rathe and put it on. She supposed Staffan didn’t want anyone to catch sight of her bare belly, which wasn’t really sexy at all. But – Saffi had no choice. She had promised Brittany that they’d dress like twins, and Brittany had unfortunately chosen to crop her I’m A Celsius Fan shirt ala Britney Spears during her teen years.

  “Sorry, Saffi, I lost the bet.”

  It was all the warning she had before Rathe bent and swept her up to heft Saffi over one broad shoulder.

  “Aah!”

  Camera bulbs flashed amidst hundreds of clicking sounds as Rathe started to walk towards the limousine, flanked by Constantijin and Staffan at each side. He said apologetically under his breath, “Constantijin cheated. He really should be the one doing this.”

  Constantijin retorted, “I did not cheat, Your Grace. You just suck at poker. You always did.”

  Ignoring that, Rathe told Saffi, “You two should just admit to your relationship.”

  “Not just yet,” Saffi protested. “The other fangirls would be crushed.”

  “Saffi, my dear,” the duke murmured as he bent down to deposit her inside his limousine, “Can’t you see that Staffan’s already crushed every other woman’s heart since he met you?”

  Startled, she looked at Rathe. Then she looked over her shoulder and saw Staffan gazing at her. His eyes burned with a desire that was only for her, and beyond him were his fans, heartbreak written all over their faces. Once upon a time, Staffan Aehrenthal had not just been Sweden’s #1 Sex God. He had also been Mr. Fucktastic, a rock star who had been famous for doing it with a different fangirl, groupie, or just about any hot chick he fancied after every concert. There were rumors that he could even please multiple women all at the same time, and Saffi knew from painful experience that it was true.

  That it had been true.

  Staffan was the last to get inside the limousine, and the moment the door was shut closed, he growled, “Come here.” He was almost rough in his need to get to Saffi, and the moment he had her on his lap, he took a fistful of her beautiful silky hair and pulled her head down to kiss her.

  Saffi’s arms went around his neck, kissing him back just as hungrily. There would never ever be a day she would tire of it, Saffi was sure, not even when she was eighty and unable to scream his name whenever his song would play on the radio.

  When Staffan lifted his head, she smiled up at him dreamily.

  He smiled back. “So, koukla mou, another lie?”

  Diabolical dottyback.

  “Err---”

  “Was sick Aunt Brittany’s dying wish to watch Celsius and wear a shirt that could pass as underwear?” He suddenly looked like he wanted to strangle her. “Did you fucking forget one of your beloved fangirls almost got away with throwing acid on your face? Did you fucking forget that the last time you held a mini fan convention, those fucking Celsius fans went on attack like rabid dogs and almost beat you up? Did you FUCKING forget any of those?”

  Her normally agile mind failed to come up with an answer that would appease Staffan’s temper. “Umm, I fucking didn’t?” She whispered the words, hoping to make Staffan smile.

  A muscle started ticking near Staffan’s tightly clenched jaw.

  Constantijin and Rathe were coughing.

  She said in a weaker voice, “Super oh-my-god I-can’t-believe-I-lied I’m sorry?”

  This time, the two weren’t able to hold their laughter back. Staffan looked murderous, but before he could speak, the limousine had slowed down.

  “Good night, Saffi,” Rathe said just as his chauffeur opened the door.

  Constantijin murmured something laughingly but Saffi wasn’t been able to catch it because Staffan had already lifted her out of the limousine.

  “Wh-why did we get out?” Saffi did her best to catch her breath and catch up with Staffan.

  “I have my car parked around the other block.”

  “Oh. So we’re not going out with them for din---aah!”

  Staffan suddenly pulled her into a dark alley, dragging her further into the shadows. And then she was facing the brick wall, Staffan behind her, his hot breath fanning her ear.

  “A fucking Celsius concert, Saffi?” he growled.

  She shivered, borne of desire rather than fear.

  “You lied to me to go to their concert?”

  She flushed. “I’m sorry---”

  “You think they’re hotter now?”

  “No!”

  Staffan’s hands crept under her miniscule shirt, cupping her breasts as Saffi moaned. Licking her ear to make Saffi whimper, Staffan purred, “Did you want to make your dreams about being their groupie come true?”

  “No.” She sobbed the word out, her entire body tensing as Staffan pushed her bra out of the way with one hand while the other went inside her shorts, past her panties, and right into her, his fingers sliding into her already throbbing sex.

  “I don’t fucking believe you.”

  “I promise!” Saffi couldn’t help pushing her sex against his fingers, wanting more of his touch. Her breasts jiggled, and Staffan squeezed hard in response.

  He took a step towards Saffi, pressing her completely against the wall. He pulled his fingers out and she shook her head in protest. “Make me believe you, Saffi. Tell me what you want. Everything – your secret desires, your fantasies. Tell me how much you want me.”

  She tried to turn her head, but he didn’t let her. Sobbing, she whispered, “I want you.” She tried to grab his hand, but instead Staffan captured both her hands and locked them behind her back. Saffi moaned. “Staffan, please!”

  “Tell me,” he gritted.

  She could hear him freeing himself, and just the sound of it was enough to have her sob, “I want you! I want your dick inside me! I want you fucking me hard now! I love you fucking----“

  It happened so fast, Staffan pushing her shorts down, ripping her panties off, and then he was inside her.

  She started to moan, but Staffan’s hand clamped over her mouth. “Someone’s coming.” Staffan hissed the words in warning even as he was pulling out and then driving his throbbing dick back inside
her.

  The footsteps became audible, and her body stiffened.

  Staffan thrust harder.

  Saffi moaned into his hand, shaking with each thrust. Just a short distance away, a group of teenagers came to a stop within the circle of light under a street lamp.

  “Anybody want one?” One of the boys held out a box of cigarettes.

  As the boy passed the box to his friends, Staffan pinched Saffi’s nipple, exerting enough pressure to make Saffi release a mindless scream. Anticipating her response, Staffan had already turned her head to face him, and he caught the scream with a kiss.

  Staffan. She wanted to moan his name out loud, needed Staffan to hear how much she needed him, wanted him, and loved him.

  Staffan lifted his head. He released her breast, his hands drifting down before his fingers tightened around her hips.

  “Lighter?” a girl asked.

  Staffan suddenly lifted Saffi’s hips, which made her feel like she was floating---

  Aaah. Staffan’s thrust drove deeper into Saffi in this new position. As Staffan pumped into her harder and faster without making one damn sound, Saffi clawed helplessly at the wall, feeling like her whole world hung on the balance of Staffan’s cock.

  Oh God, he was killing her with so much pleasure.

  A few feet away, the teenagers were joking around, still standing there, an unknowing audience to Staffan completely taking over Saffi’s body. In, out, punishing her ever so sweetly with his unceasing thrusts---

  “How do you feel,” Staffan whispered roughly into her ear, making Saffi shiver, “about coming while they’re within earshot?”

  She shook her head desperately even though her body trembled with excitement at the thought.

  His low chuckle only heightened her desire. “Don’t lie, baby. I want to give you everything you want.” He pulled his cock out, withdrawing completely, leaving Saffi aching so badly she started to cry, tears running silently down her cheeks.

  She needed his cock.

  And he knew it.

  “Tell me you want it.” His words played over her body, making her breasts throb, her belly cramp, and her sex quiver.

  “Tell me, Saffi.”

  Her words came out a strangled whisper. “Make me come. Make them hear me---” Staffan took in her silent scream as he thrust his cock inside her, his dick ramming into her again and again. There was no respite, no chance to breathe. All she could do was feel, letting Staffan absorb her moans and gasps because she just couldn’t think anymore.

  Harder, harder, his thrusts hammering into her until she was shaking so badly she was limp against the wall.

  Aaaaah!

  Saffi’s nails scraped the bricks as Staffan’s fingers found her clit, pulling at it so hard there was no way for her to avoid falling into a sensual abyss. Her orgasm was cataclysmic, so dazzlingly beautiful that it left Saffi dazed and openmouthed.

  Staffan…Staffan…Staffan…

  It was all she could think of.

  Behind her, Staffan tensed, and then he was biting her shoulder hard, his cock pumping his seed into her, a furious rush of hot sticky cum that she wanted to taste because it was his.

  The teenagers walked away.

  They stayed there, breathing roughly.

  Staffan twisted her around. They faced each other, her back resting against the wall as she raised her bare legs and locked them around his waist, his cock sliding into her as their bodies came into contact once again.

  Her head fell against the wall at the penetration, and she squeezed her eyes shut because the sensation was just too much.

  Staffan’s head dipped, and he sucked on her nipple leisurely, sweetly.

  Her hands found his hair, luxuriating in its softness. “Staffan,” she whispered.

  He raised his head. “I know, baby.” His fuck-me eyes burned so brightly it made Saffi catch her breath.

  Staffan cupped her breast possessively. “Mine, Saffi, all mine.” He pushed hard against her, and his semi-hard cock pushed into her just as deeply, possessing her as well. “Like I’m all yours.”

  His words stayed with Saffi throughout the night as she and Staffan went home to his pad, where they had spent the last two weekends.

  Staffan stirred beside Saffi, pulling her towards him possessively. She obediently moved closer, loving the weight of his leg over hers, his cock nestled against her bottom. “What are you thinking about?” he murmured sleepily.

  “Nothing,” she whispered, moving her head up so he could slide his arm underneath. She settled back against the pillow of his arms, and it felt like she was home.

  “Hopefully, not another lie.” Staffan was only half-joking.

  She nodded.

  He sighed even as his lips pressed against the back of her head. “Why don’t I believe you?”

  Saffi closed her eyes. “I have no idea.”

  She felt Staffan smile behind her. “Another lie,” he told her. “When will they be over, baby?”

  Her stomach cramped, the answer to his question something that Saffi herself did not want to face.

  Never.

  As Staffan’s breathing eased, her phone beeped. Making sure that only her hand moved so as not to disturb Staffan in his sleep, Saffi checked her phone.

  It was Steel.

  We need to talk.

  Her phone beeped again.

  It was Jeremy.

  We must talk.

  She deleted their messages.

  Just another day, she thought to herself. Just another day to make Staffan love her more.

  Chapter Two

  Miss you, baby.

  Twitter: Crazy_4StarryEyed

  Performance at this year’s VMA – check.

  “We fucking rocked it!” Staffan’s head choreographer yelled, and the entire crew cheered, Staffan clapping along with the rest of them. He missed Saffi like crazy, but at this moment, the emptiness felt a little less bad. He and his crew had worked their butts off to get ready for tonight, and it had paid off, if the continuing screams from outside were any indication.

  Beep, beep, beep.

  A cacophony of sounds resonated in the room, their phones ringing at the same time, including Staffan’s. He smiled, knowing it was Saffi, probably sending them a congratulatory message. He checked his phone, and it was Saffi, sending them a video link titled ‘Congratulations’.

  In seconds, screams, curses, and the sound of phones crashing to the ground filled the room.

  “WHAT. THE. FUUUUUUCK?”

  “OH MY GOOOOD!”

  Staffan speed-dialed Saffi with fingers shaking from shock rather than fury, even though he would never admit to it.

  Saffi answered right away, her soft giggles a sound that would normally have him smiling. Now it just made him grit his teeth, snarling, “What the fuck, Saffi?”

  Saffi’s giggles turned into peals of laughter. “Did you guys like it? Congratulations! You were all awesome!” She had sent Staffan and the entire crew a link to a video, one that started with a cute scene of children bowing as if in gratitude, which then quickly segued into a terrifying in-your-face look of the witch from The Conjuring, followed by a dimly shot view of Annabelle – the real haunted doll, sitting on a blue-silver seat, one that looked distinctly like the ones in Staffan’s own private jet.

  LET’S PLAY HIDE AND CLAP.

  Saffi was still laughing.

  Staffan switched the phone to loudspeaker. “Saffi,” he drawled in a clear ringing voice, making the room fall silent, “---wants to know what you guys think of the video.”

  Saffi shut up.

  There was a moment of silence before the entire crew exploded.

  “You really had to make us see that! After forcing us all to watch The Conjuring with you---”

  “And you had the boss rent out that entire cinema, so we had rows and rows of empty seats behind us---“

  “I couldn’t pee on my own for fuck’s sake---”

  He switched the loudspeaker off while h
is crew continued to rage. “Want to hear what else they have to say, koukla mou?” Staffan asked silkily.

  “It was just a joke,” Saffi said weakly.

  Static noise answered her. She heard a door closing in the background before Staffan’s voice came through the line, low and velvety. “Now I can hear your beautiful voice clearly.”

  Saffi blushed. “Staffan.”

  He chuckled. “How’s your family?”

  “They’re…the usual.”

  “Sure you don’t want me to join you after I wrap things up here?” With him away for the weekend, Saffi had told him it would be a good time to join her family in the Hamptons. Staffan knew now that she was the youngest child and only daughter of Senator Samuel March as well as being the much-loved sister of Steel March, whom his own stepfather did business with. The knowledge had unsettled him a bit, making Staffan feel like Saffi was someone he didn’t deserve. It didn’t matter that he was a famous rock star or that he had a billionaire for a stepfather. Saffi had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Staffan had come from the streets, and there would be no changing that.

  Staffan frowned when Saffi didn’t reply. Unused to Saffi’s reticence, he demanded, “Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

  “Nothing---” But her voice caught at the end.

  “Saffi, no more fucking lies, remember? Tell me what’s wrong so I can do something about it.”

  “I just…miss you.”

  He closed his eyes, his chest easing with relief at the words. He pictured Saffi lying on what was probably a four-poster bed, surrounded by all things pink and lacy. No doubt her childhood bedroom would be everything sweet and girlish, just like Saffi was.

  The image made his heart constrict. That innocent girl in his mind was now his, and no fucking way would he ever let go of her again. Staffan said gruffly, “I fucking miss you, too, koukla mou.”

  She giggled, but it was a shaky sound. “Do you have to add fuck to everything you say?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  Her giggle sounded genuine this time, and she said teasingly, “I just don’t fuh-uh-ucking get it.”

  The way Saffi stumbled all over the word made him laugh, but it also made Staffan wish he was back at his apartment, with a naked Saffi in his bed. “Why the fuck does everything you do or say make me so goddamn horny?” he demanded, but he was only half-joking.