tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86170382879420546732024-03-28T20:29:50.191-07:00After All Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-66183053496987114362018-09-14T11:27:00.000-07:002018-09-14T11:27:25.580-07:00Ch 92 ~ After All<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Louisiana heat combined with Jon’s hissy fit during
the show wasn’t a recipe for anyone’s happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Bon Jovi exited the JazzFest stage, the
strain of both was easily identifiable on each man’s face, and they all gave
Jon a wide berth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Habitually, just like she was cautious of voicing opinions on band relationships, she also made it a point to discreetly disappear
when tension spiked within the ranks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, though, it wasn’t about the band.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tonight wasn’t about the unit of men, but the
single man who was struggling to lead them – and Rachel couldn’t stand by and
do nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His torturous thoughts had
already driven him to lash out once, and by all appearances, he was only a
breath away from it happening again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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That’s why, while the rest of the group went to shower
before the flight, she pulled him aside to quietly remind, “Everybody here is
on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your</i></b>
side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re all here to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">support
you.</i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please don’t forget that,
love.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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She left him with that soft plea, an equally soft kiss
and the promise to be waiting for him at the plane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
came next she didn’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She probably
never would, and that was okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
All Rachel could attest to was that, by the time Jon and
the boys walked up the stairs and onto the plane, the tension had taken on a
different feel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t gone, but rather
than being steeped in anger, it now reeked of exhaustion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each man bore the unmistakable signs of being
both physically and emotionally drained, and her heart ached for them as they
settled into their seats.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When Jon scrunched down in his spot beside Rachel, he
draped an arm over her leg and forced the faintest of smiles but said
nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d laid a hand on Phil’s
shoulder and murmured thanks on his way, but after that, somber silence ensued
for the dozen passengers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For hundreds
of miles, the only sound in the cabin was the constant drone of jet engines as
they escaped the unpleasantness of New Orleans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Rachel tried to read a magazine, but her attention kept
drifting to the man whose eyes were either riveted out the window or hidden
behind closed lids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Physically, Jon was
the same arrogant, overconfident Jersey boy with whom she’d fallen in love –
familiar in the curve of his mouth, the cleft of his chin and the restless hand
that would rub over his head from time to time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the air of vulnerability and helplessness arriving along with the news of Richie's visit to rehab that made him different and someone she was still trying to acclimate to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
He didn’t proudly carry his
usual shield of invincibility tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He didn’t have enough hands to hold it aloft while he juggled the blame
for a subpar performance and the ambiguity of how long Richie would be out of
the Bon Jovi equation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With no shield
and both overflowing hands in the air, all he could do was let the clouds pass
him by on his free fall from stability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Jon didn’t have a solid plan for the immediate future,
and it was eating him alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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“Baby,” she finally murmured in his ear, unable to stand
it any longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If Plan A doesn’t work
out, there are 25 other letters in the alphabet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll find something that works, and the
world won’t stop turning before you do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I promise.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“I swear sometimes I think you really can read my mind.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lifting the arm that he had draped over her
lap, Jon angled his hand back to bury fingertips in the hair above her ear and
used the leverage to pull her close enough to kiss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If this real estate gig doesn’t work out for
ya, palm reading might be a good backup plan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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There was a slight sparkle to the blue eyes she knew so
well, and it gave Rachel hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a
little encouragement, his spirits would lift, even if it was just a little. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“That’s not a bad idea… I could set up a little booth in
the concession stand at your shows and just travel the world with you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The soft snort of derision was more amused than
anger-infused as his forehead tenderly butted her temple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Always the tease, aren’t you Rach?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If only you
knew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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“You’d enjoy the teasing if you weren’t so wiped out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“I can enjoy it and still be wiped out.” His tired grin switched
to remorse, complete with an involuntary duck lip as he drew back to meet her
eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m sorry about the last few days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My dick hasn’t been cooperating any better
than the rest of my world, but I’ll make it up to you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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They’d found a spark of light in the dark gloominess, and
Rachel wasn’t going to let it go so that he could wander back into the shadows
of accountability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’d do whatever it
took to cultivate something that even vaguely resembled carefree and happy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Oh <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">really</b>?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hmm…” Rachel pretended to contemplate the
possibilities while stroking the hair from his forehead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Exactly how would <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">you</b> define ‘making it up’ to me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I mean, I want to be sure we’re on the same page here. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been living celibate for nearly a week,
so my perception is that you owe me big.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bigger than big.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Huge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Massive, even.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun, moon and the stars seem a pretty
reasonable exchange for the orgasms I’ve been cheated out of.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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His smile was still weary, but she loved the affection that
managed to come along for the ride and hitch the corners a little higher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Whatever my money can buy is yours, baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All you have to do is name it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The flight crew made the announcement that they were
beginning descent, so Rachel buckled her seatbelt and snuggled into Jon’s
side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Money was an easy fallback for a
man who had it, but his assumption was both lazy and mistaken, compelling her
to nip the thick tendon in his neck as punishment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Silly man,” she chided in his ear after gentle lips
nuzzled away the sting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What I want
can’t be bought with your money.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Rachel’s desire was far too precious for the likes of
money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was late when the driver
navigated the last turn on Navesink River Road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The sun had long-since set and brought a chill to the spring night that
was comparable to the cool façade Jon couldn’t seem to let go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Upon landing, he’d made a point
to hug each one of his band members before they headed their separate ways and
issued promises to call soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It went a
long way toward easing the lines in all their faces, and Phil received another
round of gratitude with the same pledge to be in touch before Jon slid into
the back seat beside Rachel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Since then, he’d tried to be
pleasant and engage in her occasional commentary, but it was obvious that his
thoughts were elsewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jon seemed to
have moved past the events on that hot New Orleans stage, because there was no
self-loathing in the set of his jaw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
thumb that scraped back and forth over his bottom lip was a sign of
deliberation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was the murkier horizon of
the future that he saw instead of the darkened scenery, and she imagined that
he was lining up his alphabet of options. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rachel laid a hand on his thigh and squeezed
lightly, confident that he’d find one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He just needed to stop pressuring himself into doing it right <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">now</b>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As they passed the mansion that
was the “known estate of rock star Jon Bon Jovi”, she nudged him and nodded out
the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a trio of women posing
in front of the gates, with the house lights the only illumination for their
souvenir photos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It really was a
beautiful background for a picture, but Rachel couldn’t help but chuckle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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“You know you have too many
houses when your fans don’t even know which one you actually live in, Jon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it’s time we downsize a little.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I got no problem with them
stalkin’ an empty house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keeps ‘em away
from my real front door.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Touchè,” she conceded as the
driver braked outside the gates to their private kingdom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was going to feel heavenly to climb into
that huge, antique bed with him and put this day behind them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Excuse me, sir,” the driver
intruded upon her blissful anticipation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“There seems to be an issue with the gates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They aren’t opening far enough to drive
through.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anticipation became reflection
as a barrage of memories went flying through Rachel’s mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those temperamental gates were responsible
for… everything. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If they’d worked
properly in the first place, Rachel wouldn’t have been stuck trying to squeeze
a suitcase through their narrow opening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jon wouldn’t have stopped to rescue her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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There were a lot of moments
between then and now that she wished had gone differently – moments that could
have gone so much better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of them <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">should </b>have gone better, but they’d
been finding their way on a path that was overgrown and unfamiliar to them
both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The landscape may not be even, but
the path was now clear, and it led to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">this
</b>moment together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
To their home.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When she turned to see if any
of this was going through his mind or if she was just being hormonal, Rachel
found him grinning tenderly at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
remembered their beginning just as clearly and fondly, and that realization
brought a lump to her throat and a loving grin to her face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It’s time.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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“Don’t worry about it,” Jon
chuckled to the driver, grabbing Rachel’s hand and their carry-ons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The damn things never have worked
right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ll just walk from here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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With the moonlight shining upon
them and their interlaced hands as they strolled up the driveway, Rachel
stroked his left ring finger with her thumb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was still wearing the hundred-and-nineteen-dollar economy ring she
bought him in Paris after his grand marriage proposal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wore it every day, just like she wore “the
Hope Diamond and all her sisters” – as a sign of their commitment.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Hey,” he mused, drawing her to
a halt just before they reached the front steps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You never told me how you managed to clear
your schedule enough to be here this week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What happened to the important meetings that were keeping you in
California?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Something more important came
up.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“So, the loss of a band member
can shift your priorities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good to know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“No, dumbass,” she cooed,
lifting feathery fingertips to the cheek hollowed by a hellish week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“the shift in priorities came when you didn’t
just want me here but <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">needed </i></b>me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That changed everything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jon sloped his shoulder so that
their bags dropped to the steps and then released her hand, draping it over his
shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His hands laced at the small
of her back, tugging her close to kiss her forehead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re the dumbass for not realizing I’ve
always needed you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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He was right, and Rachel knew
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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“Touchè again.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her sigh was as gentle as the breeze that
chilled her, but she couldn’t make herself go inside yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This moment had been too long in coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was too important to risk missing for
something as menial as comfort, and she hugged him closer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“When we first met I was so… sooo broken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it’s no excuse, but pain and fear kept
me from allowing myself to believe I meant as much to you as you do me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, everything that was wrong in my world, you made right – or as close
to right as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I want to give
the same back to you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“What does that mean, exactly?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Lifting her chin deliberately,
she leaned back to meet the moonbeams reflected in his eyes and vowed, “It
means that I’m done with being afraid, done with running, and done with
anything that keeps me from the life I want more than anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A life with you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My meetings didn’t get magically postponed,
Jon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I quit my job.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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His brow shot high above
rounded eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Are you fucking kidding
me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You, Rachel Braden, quit your
JOB?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing that gave you
purpose and independence?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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She didn’t flinch at the brutal
honesty, because Rachel deserved it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That was a mild penance for being stupid enough to make him think he
didn’t matter as much as a job that would be filled by the end of the week.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
“I did.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rachel’s fingers skated along the white
placket of his button-down shirt, and her ring caught the light with a mocking
wink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s been a really long time
since you asked me to marry you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do
you feel about asking again?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
Those rounded eyes narrowed to
slits and he reclaimed the scowl that had been etched into his features for
much of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t fuck with me,
Rach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not today.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
“I’m not, baby,” she
whispered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ask me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
He still wasn’t eager.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reluctance weighed down every breath in the
silence as he shifted his gaze from one of her eyes to the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
She knew she must look a fright
after everything, but she’d looked a fright that first day, too, struggling
with her suitcase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he’d seen
something in her then….<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, after everything
they’d been through, she had no doubt he could see past the flyaway hair and
faded makeup to the heart that wanted nothing other than to be the rock he
leaned on after days like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be
the steadfast presence he’d been for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
“Marry me, Rachel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No more games, no more bullshit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just be my fucking wife already.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
Laughing up into his beautiful
face, she couldn’t keep from shaking her head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What else had she expected?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Really?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all this time and
after all the refusals, this was as “Eiffel Tower” as it got with her Jersey
man – and she was okay with that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
More than okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
“I’d love to be your ‘fucking
wife already’ – as much as I love you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now kiss me.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Well, here we are again<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I guess it must be fate<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We've tried it on our own<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But deep inside we've known<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We'd be back to set things straight<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I still remember when your kiss was so brand
new<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Every memory repeats<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Every step I take retreats<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Every journey always brings me back to you<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">After all the stops and starts<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We keep comin' back to these two hearts<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Two angels who've been rescued from the fall<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">After all that we've been through<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It all comes down to me and you<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 142.5pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I guess it's meant to be, forever you and
me...</i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">...After All.”<o:p></o:p></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>~ T h e E n d ~</b></span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
<br />Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-26627189518717400072018-09-12T08:41:00.000-07:002018-09-12T08:41:32.214-07:00Ch 91 ~ Meltdown<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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Almost from the moment they met, Jon and Rachel had a
gift of communicating without words, and that connection had come in very handy
since since her return to Jersey.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The days leading up to the New Orleans Jazzfest had at
least fifty hours in them that were packed with exhausting rehearsals that
weren’t fun for anyone involved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rachel
watched the men of Bon Jovi trudge through each somber session, working out how
to cover this guitar part and that harmony so that there weren’t any
holes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As well as being physically and emotionally trying, the
endless rehearsals limited the amount of time Jon and Rachel spent alone, which
meant he had no opportunity to disconnect from work and recharge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She saw him staring off into space between
songs, his face set in lined stone as he struggled with the sole responsibility
of filling the hole left by Richie’s stage presence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was something no one else in the band
could do, and from the looks of it, Jon was trying to convince himself he<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></b>could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It had him as stressed as she’d ever seen him, and Rachel
repeatedly tried to absorb the stress as her own – without success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no budging it from his shoulders
because he perceived it to be his cross to bear, and that left her able to do
nothing but stand by and watch him trudge along.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her only solace was that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he </i></b>seemed to take solace
in her mere presence, as surprising as that was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was subtle, but for a woman who knew
everything about the man she loved, the evidence was there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When she would leave the studio to go home and do some
work or fix the guys a meal, he wouldn’t let her out the door without asking
when she’d be back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At night, he collapsed into bed while barely
speaking but pulled her close, holding tight with nothing more than the release
of a long, tension-filled breath against her ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If she happened to scoot away during the
night, it was only moments before he followed, folding her close.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel thought maybe she could distract him from his
thoughts with something more physical, but her one attempt at seduction proved
to be an utter failure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He simply
captured her wandering hands, stilling them to mutter that even his dick had
let him down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
By the time they left for Louisiana, there had been little
or no improvement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The entire flight
found him either holding her hand, curving tight fingers around her thigh or
just leaning close enough to make contact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His touch was constant, as was his clenched jaw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There were moments when Rachel would swear she could hear
his teeth grinding, and all of it together felt like the oppressive heat
preceding a summer storm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t
know if the dark cloud of his mood would result in only a low rumble of thunder
or more destructive lighting, hail and torrential downpour, but she knew
something was coming.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her man was on the verge of losing his carefully
cultivated cool, and she was afraid for him – and everyone around him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Immediately after the plane touched down, they were
herded into a chauffeured vehicle and ferried to the Jazz Fest venue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he always did, Jon wanted to make sure
everything was properly set up and do a sound check, but that wasn’t the way
this gig was structured to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Multiple acts were using this same stage throughout the
day, making the usual soundcheck impossible, but Jon was assured – repeatedly –
that the equipment was working properly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After asking for the third time and receiving the same answer, he had no
choice but to take the technician’s word for it and hope the young guy was right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That left him at loose ends while he waited for Bon
Jovi’s turn, and he filled the time by flexing his hands, cracking and rubbing
his knuckles, rubbing his temple and restlessly tapping a thumb against his leg
until Rachel was as agitated as he was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
couldn't wait to get this thing over with so they could race back to the plane and
home to the peace of the Navesink River.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She was <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i></b>a fan of New Orleans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was hot, sticky and unbearably humid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The air was so oppressively heavy that it was
hard for Rachel to breathe, and even minimal movement had her neck and forehead
damp with perspiration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jon, though,
didn’t seem to notice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In spite of the
sauna-like weather, he dressed for the stage like the quintessential rocker in
leather, blue jeans and a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses that only he
could make sexy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When showtime finally arrived, they walked hand in hand
to the backstage area, which was abuzz with activity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was squeezing her fingers so tightly that
they were numb from lack of circulation, but she didn’t say a word as the rest
of the band took to the stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She only watched on, wiggling her tingling fingers as
Jon’s guitar was slung over his neck, and when he turned to her,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rachel tenderly wiped the sweat from his
forehead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tico counted off the song and
the intro music bled into the thick air when Rachel cupped his cheek to assure
her love, “You’ve got this, baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
just another day at the office, and I’ll be here waiting when you’re done.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He offered nothing beyond the staccato lift of his chin
in acknowledgement before bending to push a hard kiss against her lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With that, Jon walked around the curtain and
took a very different stage than what he was used to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel blew out a breath and moved to the side stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wasn’t conspicuous to the audience, but
there was a clear line of vision between her and Jon and that’s precisely what
she had in mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he could find any
moral support in her at all, she wanted him to have it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Blood on Blood was the show opener and while the guys
seemed perfectly happy performing it, this was one of those songs that Rachel
wasn’t crazy about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Considering the
circumstances, she also found it an odd choice for this particular set list,
but it had gone well in rehearsal and Jon loved it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With that beaming smile as he belted out the lyrics, nobody
but her ever would’ve detected the edge he took to the stage with him.
The fans would notice nothing but their rock star, in all his glory.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If it was possible to fall more in love with this man,
Rachel had just done it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who wouldn’t
fall in love with a man who possessed that kind of work ethic and dedication to
his audience?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no one who took
his job more seriously, even on those occasions where he was smiling and
flirting with half the front row.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
At the launch of the second song, she was relieved to see
him begin to loosen up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was even
more relieved to hear that his recent intimacy with pack after pack of
cigarettes and a week’s worth of lost sleep wasn’t affecting his voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His vocals were rock solid.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That relief wavered a bit when Rachel noticed that there
was some kind of issue going on with his guitar pedals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wasn’t privy as to they operated, so it
was impossible to tell whether they were sticking or not holding, but Obie was
ripping a crew member’s ass during a burst of frantic activity at the
soundboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed to get resolved in
short order, and Jon’s soft smile in direction after the song, eased some of
the tension from Rachel’s shoulders.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He was going to make it through this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They all were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The mirrored sunglasses were tossed aside at the onset of
“It’s My Life” as the crowd roared its approval, and Rachel's smile found her
face for the first time in days. Whereas “Blood on Blood” wasn’t one of
her favorites, this one got her adrenaline pumping, and with her man claiming
full ownership of that stage, she shared the same excitement as his throng of
fans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fist raised high in the muggy air
to beat time right along with Tico, she sang in unison with Jon, “It's my
liiiiiiiife, it's now or never!" <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She was still beaming when David hit the intro to “Runaway”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was one of those songs that always stirred something
in Rachel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The music itself was part of
it, but she loved the associated history, too and couldn’t help but give a
mental "fuck you" to Richie because he hated playing the song that
started their journey. She gave him another when Jon got totally lost in
the guitar solo, because it was the first time in nearly a week that tension didn’t
cut harsh lines in his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The show progressed as naturally as any other, and Rachel
found herself forgetting that this wasn’t a normal show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guitar player filling in for Richie was
holding his own and Jon had found his groove. Even the air felt less
stifling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And then...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jon
stuttered while leading the crowd into the opening of “Bad Medicine”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Both hands came up to press into his ears, and his scowl
of confusion quickly shifted into an ominous display of Stink Eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The monitors in his ears obviously weren’t
doing what was expected, and he became immediately pissy, flipping a middle
finger at the same sound tech who managed not to wither in under the heat of
the infamous Stink Eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
To the casual observer, this was nothing more than a blip
on the radar, but Jon’s easy demeanor was now shadowed with renewed dark clouds
as he stalked the stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rachel was on
edge because he was on edge, and she wished fervently for a Xanax or some
tequila to lower her rising blood pressure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He had to find himself again and get through this show
without crumbling under the pressure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The silent pep talk she gave went unheard because the
Stink Eye hovered just below the surface.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It stayed safely sheathed when looking out at the crowd, but he drew it
like a switchblade to slice the off-stage technicians who weren’t living up to
his standards today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel was close enough to feel the sting, and air that
had become almost breathable was once again oppressive and stagnant, heavy with
the tension of the Bon Jovi crew on and around that stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sweat streamed down Jon’s face, and feeling
the dampness building in her underarms, she would’ve given half a year’s salary
for a fan big enough to blow it all away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
"Lord, God, Jesus,” she whispered as somebody missed
a chord in the guitar solo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Just let them
get through this without embarrassing themselves."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon seemed to be struggling as they went into what Rachel
referred to the “The Jukebox Striptease” in the middle of “Bad Medicine”, but
nobody in the audience seemed to notice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were the lucky ones, because she couldn’t see anything <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but </i></b>her
man’s struggle, and she leaned forward as though her intense concentration was
enough to put him to rights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Maybe that worked, because things seemed to even out a
bit during "Pretty Woman".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
was just about to accuse herself of overreacting to her own anxiety when Tico
missed his cue back into “Bad Medicine”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And that, as they say, was the straw that broke the
camel’s back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
"GOD DAMN!" Jon shouted at Tico under the cover
of the music, so that only those on the business end of Bon Jovi could hear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"DO YOUR FUCKING JOB!" <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With the heartbreaking realization that this week’s
burden was causing her man of steel to rust away in the Louisiana humidity,
Rachel was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her heart raced and she pressed hard
fingertips to her mouth, wondering what was next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The thought had no more crossed her mind when Jon kicked
one of the amps with enough force to knock over the cup that sat atop it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tea splattered everywhere in a ten-foot
radius in a display of his foul mood, and Rachel was torn between wanting to
whisk him back to New Jersey and the desire to slap some sense back into
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In the end, all she could do was stand by and watch as
the love of her life came undone in front of fifty thousand people.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-20126269849089605672018-09-10T09:42:00.000-07:002018-09-10T09:42:49.088-07:0090 ~ Without A Net<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD2w0gPt2R1jTyyQuzRkUdBbn5iX3LnDRHVDlBhRte8aqAzTiKFJMsd3YcjiAL4TKuhTPD4ilAF528msQaErV0ihknMOLgjQ2BAdGEP-tL7nQVIPCZN8sGT1cCUZpnRWslpf7Yj_1oONFN/s1600/jbjstudio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="464" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD2w0gPt2R1jTyyQuzRkUdBbn5iX3LnDRHVDlBhRte8aqAzTiKFJMsd3YcjiAL4TKuhTPD4ilAF528msQaErV0ihknMOLgjQ2BAdGEP-tL7nQVIPCZN8sGT1cCUZpnRWslpf7Yj_1oONFN/s320/jbjstudio.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
What some saw as an enviable existence in the perpetual
California sun was just another day in the life of Rachel Braden. This particular day, like most of those that
surrounded it, was filled with not only sun, but a boatload of work and San
Francisco Bay Area traffic that should’ve made it a pleasure to go home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Instead, the empty house was merely a relief from those
outside forces. It hadn’t been home
since the week she and Jon had managed together after the band’s Vancouver
shows last month. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
After that, he’d returned to the East Coast and his kids
for the remainder of the tour break, with the promise of a mini-vacation to Old
Montreal before the Ottawa and Montreal shows at the beginning of May. A vacation that they’d been forced to scrap
when Rachel’s CEO determined that would be the ideal time to schedule a
mandatory meeting with all department heads.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Needless to say, Jon wasn’t happy that her work was once
again interfering with plans to spend time together. Rachel wasn't thrilled about it either, but
wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying it. Instead, she told him that it would get
easier when he wasn’t touring. They
would have to be patient while they worked the kinks out of their schedules,
but she assured him that it would all eventually come together.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It would’ve been more effective if she’d told him all
that after telling him they’d also need to cancel this weekend’s getaway,
too. She’d originally promised to join
him in New Orleans for his Jazzfest show and some alone time, but now she
needed the time to prepare for the meeting that had cancelled the Montreal
vacation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her lack of foresight made him unhappy a second time and,
honestly, unhappy was a gross understatement for his level of displeasure. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Never before had he completely ignored her efforts at
communication, but today there was no response from New Jersey to any of her
two calls or three text messages. It was
completely out of character and, frankly, troubled Rachel. He was never this petty about their
disagreements, and that’s what prompted her to try another call – via FaceTime.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This one he answered and, Rachel was almost sorry he
did. His cheeks and eyes were sunken,
the lines in his face were deeper than she’d ever seen them and he looked… Weary wasn’t a strong enough word. Drained, exhausted, fatigued and completely
shattered came far closer to describing his condition. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Jon, what’s wrong?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Multiple scenarios were building in her mind even as she
willed herself to remain calm and neutral.
There was no point in working herself into a panic before she knew what
was wrong. That old adage about
borrowing trouble and all that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It turned out that it wouldn’t have matter what she came
up with. No amount of speculation
could’ve prepared her for the bomb he dropped. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Richie’s going into rehab. The day before Jazzfest.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She had always chosen to exercise extreme caution when it
came to voicing her opinion on the band members and their relationship with one
another. The world did not need another
Yoko Ono and she frankly didn’t want that target pinned to her back by Bon
Jovi’s fan base. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel reasoned that these guys had managed just fine for
the better part of three decades without her input. If they’d made it this far, she was sure they
would always find a way to work out their differences, but it was a struggle to
look at Jon’s face and not lash out with the spiteful wish that Richie could
keep his act together. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
"So you'll have to postpone the tour? For how long?" With any luck, her face hadn’t betrayed her
dismay and Jon would accept the casual inquiry as just that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
"No.
Absolutely not. I cannot postpone
shows!" he blustered, and she could see him throwing a hand in the
air. "There are hundreds of people
depending on me to provide their paycheck.
There are hundreds of <b><i>thousands</i></b> of ticketholders depending
on me to deliver a show. And if all that
isn’t enough, there are a bunch of legally binding contracts with my name on
‘em, decreeing that as long as I can sing, the show goes on.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She understood obligation as well – or better than –
anyone else, but Rachel was having a hard time processing how a Bon Jovi
concert could go on without their lead guitarist. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“How does that work?
Can you or Bobby cover his parts?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
"Hell, no!
That's part of the problem!"
His voice vibrated with all the tension and anxiety visible in his
face. "There’s a guy coming from
California in a few hours. We’ve gotta
try and make it work with him."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
"Does he know the songs?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
"No, he doesn’t know the damn songs!” His eyes told that the loud outburst was as
unexpected to him as it was to her, and Jon sighed before dejectedly breathing,
“I just pray to God he's a quick learner."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That’s when Rachel understood the severity of the
situation. Jon wasn’t just having a bad
day at the office. Bon Jovi had just
been diagnosed with an illness that could prove terminal if he didn’t find the
right treatment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Everything was on the line – and on his shoulders. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In five days, he would be taking the stage with a guitar
player that wasn’t Richie. A guy who was
probably fine in his own right, but he didn’t know the songs and all the
familiar cues and – worse than that – he couldn’t be Jon’s safety net the way
Richie had. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The two of them had developed such a rapport over the
years that they instinctively played off one another no matter what Jon felt
like doing that night. He told her more
than once how much the crowd loved it when he’d sling an arm around his
consigliere or work up some kind of shenanigans to mark the show as
unique. Some of them had their cameras
primed for just that moment, and now…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Now it was all on Jon.
He didn’t have a straight man. He
couldn’t be the straight man. He was the
man shouldering full responsibility for… everything.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
While he continued to relay details about the man in
California who was riding in to save the day, Rachel only half-listened. She was absorbed in trying to comprehend how
Jon was going to do it. How would he
weather this immense pressure by himself? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Even if everything went off without a hitch, there would
be ugly speculation from both media and so-called fans alike. Jon wasn’t the same without Richie. The white knight from California could never
be Richie. She couldn’t begin to imagine
what all they would come up with, but she knew enough to recognize how vicious
people could be when hiding behind both media and social media. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
For every negative comment, there would be two positive
ones, but Jon wouldn’t absorb those. He
would take the criticism and feed from it, determined to make them eat their
words, even if he killed himself in the process.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Where was he going to find his peace? Who was going to be a rock for the man who
held everyone else up? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Suddenly, that job seemed a whole lot more important than
the one that had her sitting on the opposite side of the country from her man. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Jon, baby... Get me
a plane. I want to come home."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The hour was late – or early, depending whether one had
been to sleep. Rachel had not, making
four in the morning late, and she fully expected to find their New Jersey home
dark when the driver pulled through the gate.
She wasn’t disappointed. All was
dark and quiet on the property.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Next door, however, was another story.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Lights were blazing from the studio windows at High
Point, and she groaned with dismay.
Knowing him, he was still formulating damage control, but how could he
possibly still be up and functional?
He’d looked like he was about to drop seven hours ago. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Thanking the driver, she slid out of the car and unlocked
the home’s front door, deciding that if he was still up and in the studio,
that’s where she was going to be, too.
After she dropped her small travel bag on the foyer table, she made her
way across the road separating the houses and up the stairs to the musical
sanctuary where so much Bon Jovi history was made.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The cool night air was thankfully making her more alert
than she should be at this hour, and as she reached the upper half of the
staircase, it mingled with the smell of tobacco. A quick survey revealed that there was
smoking curling out of the open window, and that did not bode well. Jon had supposedly quit smoking, but that
wasn’t necessarily written in stone.
She’d known him to indulge in a cigarette once in a great while, either
when he was feeling particularly good or particularly bad. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel couldn’t imagine that this was a celebratory
smoke. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Easing open the squeaky door that led directly into the
control room, she caught sight of Jon through the glass. With his hair completely disheveled and
looking a decade older than usual, he was slouched down in a padded folding
chair. With his knees spread wide and
listening to something one of the half-dozen other men in the room was saying,
he was drawing on the nub of a cigarette when his eyes found her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In the instant he realized she was there, Rachel saw
it. It wasn’t a lot, and maybe nobody
else would have even noticed, but she did because he couldn’t keep it from her.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
For the span of a heartbeat, the strong, confident,
in-control man that everybody knew… showed a crack in his façade. It was miniscule, but through it she caught
sight of a naked vulnerability she’d never known him to have.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her heart cracked in exactly the same way as he blew out
the smoke and rose from the chair murmuring, "Gimme a minute, boys."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Plodding steadily toward the control room, the footsteps
didn’t stop until he was close enough to hook her neck in the crook of his arm
and pull her close. The other arm wound
around her back, crushing their bodies together as he exhaled into the curve of
her neck. When he inhaled again, his
body relaxed and Rachel took the weight. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She couldn’t help hold him up on that stage, but she
could hold him up here – and would for as long as he would let her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It’s nearly four in the morning, Jonny. You need to get some rest,” Rachel quietly
coaxed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“In a minute.”
Arms that had gone lax cinched tight again, and he lifted his head to
press a kiss against the crown of her head.
“I need this more than sleep."<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
blushnscarlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12780956360419518153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-6248542944578571962018-09-08T18:27:00.000-07:002018-09-08T18:27:08.188-07:0089~To Grandmother's House We Go <div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyx26kiv5NuLo0wekJfGzHQ0Xt3YTdUW-X6wVWyPTgRrf1JRBv-fqB5Jha5JtLKxi61BLKLb_l3Gv72jLNn71vQ7mPpPv2qTJHZnCOzXEI6tPBDjX-qfWCQhWvOBxkPtXibBb4NPLCVBll/s1600/JBJ+CH+aa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="638" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyx26kiv5NuLo0wekJfGzHQ0Xt3YTdUW-X6wVWyPTgRrf1JRBv-fqB5Jha5JtLKxi61BLKLb_l3Gv72jLNn71vQ7mPpPv2qTJHZnCOzXEI6tPBDjX-qfWCQhWvOBxkPtXibBb4NPLCVBll/s320/JBJ+CH+aa.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Jon had found there to be very little that compared with
the feeling when he was wrapped around Rachel like a piece of Saran Wrap, but a
hot shower after a long show was a pretty close second. The thought of combining the two after a
spectacularly shitty night had him hustling his sweaty ass out of Raleigh’s RBC
Center and into the cold February night.
The front row fans likely hadn’t even made it to the exit with their
souvenir folding chairs before his car arrived at the private airstrip. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Sonofabitch,” he swore, shivering and cramming his hands
further into his coat pockets and settling into the private jet that would have
him landing at Teterboro within the hour.
Seven weeks and four thousand miles put him a long way from tropical
Hawaii, and Jon hoped like hell not to catch pneumonia before he managed to get
to a seductively sprawled Rachel. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
What he should’ve hoped for was to find Rachel
seductively sprawled, period. Rather
than finding his hot blonde beauty sporting some Victoria’s Secret creation
that kept no secrets whatsoever, he found their Navesink River Road house as dark and cold as the bitter February night.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, shit.” His
halfhearted grumble was carried away by the whistling wind as he pushed into
the foyer. “She’s not here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel had sent him a text that she was leaving California
about the same time he started his show in North Carolina, which meant she
couldn’t be too far behind him. With a
sigh, he tamped down his disappointment, bumped up the thermostat and climbed
the back staircase to the master bedroom.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If he’d been in the old house, he would’ve stopped by the
kitchen for a chilled bottle of wine to pass the time, but his
girlfriend/lover/significant other was a genius.
Jon was confident that her decision to install a full bar and wine
cooler in their massive closet certified her as a genius and, really, his
opinion was the only one that mattered. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With a lazy smirk of arrogance, he briefly surveyed the
contents of the wine cooler before bypassing his customary pinot in favor of
the warm, oak tones of Rachel’s preferred brand of red. It was a good night for warm, and he downed a
healthy swallow before the wine had even had time to breathe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Hot would be even
better.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A flick of his wrist had the flames dancing happily in
the gas fireplace and casting a warm hue into the otherwise dark room. It was just enough to justify leaving the
lights off, and he carried that justification into the adjoining bath by
choosing only to burn the small light above the shower. A twist of the ornate knob had the water
flowing and, as his shirt flew in the general direction of the hamper, the
shower filled with steam. By the time
his pants flew in a lopsided arc, the glass had already fogged and was inviting
Jon into its humid warmth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
After the door clicked shut, the only remaining sound was
that of water battering futilely against marble. Each droplet that pulsed against his naked
flesh was rebuffed with a muted ‘splat’ and left to silently trek toward the
drain. The sound – or lack thereof –
went a long way toward unwinding Jon’s taut muscles. While he loved nothing better than the roar
of an appreciative audience, after the show, the last thing he wanted was noise. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Then you should be
glad her sexy little ass isn’t here. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He loved Rachel.
He truly, truly did, but the girl couldn’t walk into a room without
turning on the TV, stereo or some other kind of racket. For some reason that totally escaped him, she
always had to have some kind of background noise going and it annoyed the shit
out of him after a show. It was probably
the only thing she did that really got on his nerves.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He chuckled softly as he dropped his head back and let
the water massage his scalp, imagining that it was her fingers scraping through
his hair instead of the shower.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Annoying or not, he knew he’d gladly put up with her <b><i>and </i></b>her
idiosyncrasies for the rest of his life, if she would let him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Yep. He was legitimately
pussy whipped.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
*********************<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel was grateful when the hired car finally drew up in
front of the house, but it didn’t stop a frown from tugging at her mouth. The inviting glow of the family room lights shone
from the back of the house and, while it was a warm and welcoming sight, it
also meant that Jon had beat her home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She hated that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
One of her favorite things in the world was being home to
greet him when he came off the road, preferably naked and with a glass of
wine. Mother Nature and James had joined
forces to make that impossible this time around, with last minute work problems
combining with an unusually heavy fog in the Bay Area. She was a full two hours later getting off
the ground than she’d anticipated. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Shaking off the circumstances she couldn’t change, Rachel
unlocked the front door and flipped on the foyer light. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Right there will be fine.” She directed the driver to stack her boxes on
the dark wood floor just beyond the front door.
After two trips, he had the equipment she’d bought for her future New
Jersey office inside the house and was bidding her a good evening. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The door locked behind him, she darkened the foyer again
and made her way toward the well-lit family room. It only took a couple of steps through the
kitchen doorway before she could see that the adjoining room, where she had
expected to find Jon, was empty. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That frown tugged at her mouth once again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Jonny?” she called out.
“Where are you, babe?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was unlikely that he was already asleep, but he – and maybe
a big bottle of wine? – could be naked and waiting in that massive bed of
theirs. Grinning, Rachel dropped her
purse on the kitchen island and tossed her coat over a bar stool. It didn’t matter that she’d never shown any
psychic tendencies before this very moment.
The potential payoff was worth the risk of following her instincts up
the back staircase. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sweeping into the bedroom, she found it empty except for
the crackling fireplace that prompted shadows to dance on the wall in a most
alluring way. The dance they did was so
seductive to her Jon-deprived body and mind that, despite Jon’s absence in the
room, she couldn’t help but imagining him – them – tangled in the sheets
together. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The scene was so real, that Rachel could even envision
the slick sheen of their skin as they rolled from one edge of the massive bed
to the other. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
”You need to get laid,” she muttered, fanning herself as
she stepped away from the erotic pictorial she’d created and continued her
search for the man who could and <b><i>would </i></b>fix that problem. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A single step into the master bath had Rachel going from
hot to steamy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The real life vision that captured her rapt attention was
the silhouette of Jon through the steam fogged shower doors. It was so unbearably captivating that she
couldn’t even speak. There was something
so deeply intimate and personal about the unclothed form of the man she
loved. Knowing that just beyond those
millimeters of glass, he waited naked and willingly vulnerable to everything
she had to offer. He would deny her no
part of him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Almost without conscious thought, Rachel kicked off her
work heels and let her slacks and panties fall to the floor. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The movement must have caught Jon’s eye through the
shower door because he opened it just as she was unfastening the final two
buttons on her blouse. His wide grin
made her eyes mist with emotion and, when he extended an arm to playfully flick
open the front clasp of her bra, she was sure he’d never looked more
beautiful. As it dropped to the ground
unnoticed and he gently guided her into the shower, pulling her against his
chest, Rachel knew she was more in love with him than at any moment before in
her life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His fingers glided down to the indentation of her waist,
then lifted to curve tightly over her ribcage as his head dipped. Rachel permitted – no begged – him to take
her mouth, inviting his tongue with a seductive swipe of her own while
tunneling her fingers through his wet hair.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So often, she and Jon were prone to have hard and fast
sex, and then have hard and fast sex again.
It was nearly always an aerobic workout disguised as intimacy. This was nothing like that. The pace was slow, the warm spray was as gentle
as their caresses and their passion was a slow, steady burn instead of the
typical inferno. The only sounds to
penetrate the tranquility of their watery cocoon were softly flowing water and
Rachel’s faint mewls. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She couldn’t help it.
His touch… It was so reverential,
with his grasp soft, like a whisper. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Let’s take this to the bed, baby,” he crooned into the
curve of her neck. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Reluctant to sever what felt to her like a physical
connection of their souls, Rachel was slow to tear herself away from his
touch. So reluctant in fact, that she
continued to make love to his mouth while back stepping from the stall. She was extending an arm to reach for a towel
at the same time he slid one leg between hers and cupped her bottom. When he lifted, it was instinct alone that had
Rachel twining her legs around his waist.
She never doubted his strength as he walked them to the bed, where he
threw her towel to the floor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Don’t need that.
I wanna feel your body wet, just like it is now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The fireplace had warmed the room, but when Jon dropped
one knee to the bed to gently place her on the duvet and pressed his body into
hers… It was enough to make Rachel
shiver. Her nipples hardened into
diamond pebbles and the remainder of her skin was peppered with an array of goosebumps. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>This man is the
most potent specimen of pure sexuality ever to walk the earth – and he’s mine.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Limbs intertwined and without a sliver of light between
his body and hers, they devoured one another with the lustful kisses reserved
for lovers who have spent too much time apart.
His hands roved over her naked form, seeming determined to reclaim every
inch of her as his own. With muffled sounds
of pleasure emitting from first one, then the other, they back and forth on the
big matress, with Rachel ultimately landing in the dominant position.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The firelight cast shadows on his beautifully chiseled
features, making them almost harsh in their intensity. It was only the cherishing touch of his hands
floating along her curves and the love in his eyes that belied that
notion. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With that same love shining from her own eyes, Rachel ever-so-slowly
impaled herself on him, reconnecting the puzzle pieces that kept getting
separated by their lives. Her hand
pressed flat against his chest and she was glad he hadn’t waxed it lately. The coarseness tickled the sensitive skin of
her palms and it added another element of erotic sensation in addition to the
age old intimate coupling of man and woman.
Tender tissue was loved by steel velvet, time after time, for either a
moment or an eternity until she took a huge breath and was swept away. That long, single release was so relentlessly
sweet that it continued after he flipped her to her back and gradually picked up
the pace that would take him to the same place with a throaty cry. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Even as she basked in the afterglow of one of the most pleasurable orgasms of her life, Jon continued to rock his hips. It was as though he wasn’t any more anxious
for it be over than she was and he softly kissed her shoulders, neck and
finally… her lips. The moment was so
blissfully surreal that Rachel was sure Celine Dion should be singing their soundtrack
in the background, replete with angelic harps and strings. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
At least until Jon opened his mouth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Jesus fucking Christ, baby,” he finally spoke, flopping
onto his back. "If you were a hooker, you’d be the thousand
dollar a night variety.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When faced with the choice of crying over her ruined
fairytale or laughing at the sexiest Jersey boy to ever grace a stage, Rachel
laughed. Her Jon hadn’t magically
morphed into an uber-sensitive and romantic man, he was still the guy she
fought hard with and loved even harder. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Even though he was as uncouth as hell sometimes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It’s that kinda smooth talking that gets you all the
girls, isn’t it Prince Charming?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Fuck that.” The snort that followed was classic
Jon. “Prince Charming is a pussy. I’d rather be the wolf, ‘cause he gets to eat
the girl.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
blushnscarlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12780956360419518153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-23511016692273042512016-08-19T19:47:00.000-07:002016-08-19T19:47:00.940-07:00Ch 88 ~ Take Me To The Top<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL4cvFZtUT3OXMURsjo1RYbu_4t5feXC7Btxl4f5WKCR3FBk15rEYCSLaylIwaYjLg2kFFXwPWs4G2G5gxo998xvAW_UKWwripmA2YMcNw0kqkDAhS60TwJF_UPxx629qeOMLIb-aEshBz/s1600/DH3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL4cvFZtUT3OXMURsjo1RYbu_4t5feXC7Btxl4f5WKCR3FBk15rEYCSLaylIwaYjLg2kFFXwPWs4G2G5gxo998xvAW_UKWwripmA2YMcNw0kqkDAhS60TwJF_UPxx629qeOMLIb-aEshBz/s400/DH3.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Jon plodded resolutely along behind Rachel as they ascended the gazillion stairs which would put them at the zenith of mighty Diamond Head. His heart wasn’t in it and, in all honesty, he would rather be getting a root canal than scaling the epic Hawaiian landmark this morning.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Last night continued to weigh heavily on his mind, mostly because they’d never really resolved anything. She’d offered up some half-assed intention to do better, they’d gone back to the boat for lackluster sex and when she popped out of bed this morning, it was obvious that she had put the whole restaurant scene behind her. Seeing as he was still stewing, her carefree attitude irritated him a little. Add in that this hike brought back memories of his last visit – when he was a lovesick schmuck pining after Rachel – and he was in a piss poor frame of mind. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nonetheless, he was trying his best to put on a hap-hap-happy face and not be a dick. She had been looking forward to this excursion since almost the moment they met and he wasn’t asshole enough to want to ruin it for her. Hell, he wished he could shake off his mood enough to try and enjoy it himself, but it just wasn’t happening.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As they edged around the tightly spiraled staircase at the top of the old military bunker, Jon pondered how they’d gotten from his lovesick schmuck moment to the point they were now – together, yet not. It confused the hell out of him to be in this predicament. Jon thought he’d done everything right since they’d reunited.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They’d been infamous for doing very little beyond fucking and fighting, so he had been very about not falling back into that pattern. Hell, he’d even read a few – okay, one – of those couples’ communication books in hopes of finding a way to make his point without becoming vicious or insulting. Some of it must have even sunk in, because he could honestly say that they hardly ever fought anymore. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">While it was great that they weren’t trying to slice one another to ribbons with their insults and harsh words, he wondered if it really made a difference. They still didn’t work through their problems, if you asked him. It was more a case of avoiding the hot spots in order to keep the peace and, even if he was guilty of it at this very moment, he didn’t think it was a good solution.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After one final wiggle through a narrow opening in the bunker, they finally arrived at their destination – the pinnacle of Diamond Head. While his chest heaved a little more deeply than usual, a smile as wide as the horizon lit Rachel’s face just before she threw her arms around Jon’s neck, chirping something about how beautiful it was and some other platitudes that he didn’t quite catch. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Inhaling deeply of the warm sea air, Jon pulled his lips into some semblance of a smile. Still of the intention to not be a dick, he kissed the top of her forehead, patted her bottom and mumbled semi-agreeably, “Yeah, Rach. Beautiful.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Seemingly encapsulated in her own euphoric bliss, Rachel didn’t take notice of his marked lack of enthusiasm. She merely twisted in his arms so that his hands were clasped across her stomach and snuggled into him, dropping her head back against his chest. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy in my life as I am right this minute. Well…maybe when the kids were born, but this is a definitely close second, Jonny.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What was he supposed to say to that? He might not want to be a dick, but he wasn’t going to pretend he was happy as a pig in shit either. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So he said nothing.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His lack of enthusiasm might not have dented her Diamond Head exhilaration, but his silence evidently did. Rachel swiveled around within the loop of his arms, tipping her grinning face up to his and teasing, “What’s the matter old man? Did the hike wear you out?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Nah.” He sighed and settled his hands into the small of her back, deciding that he could try being honest without being a dick. “I was just thinkin’ about the last time I was here.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You mean when you sent me that text out of nowhere trying to get me to fly over here and meet you for dinner?” she asked with a happy-go-lucky chuckle. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I wanted a lot more than dinner, little girl.” His somber eyes met her merrily dancing ones. “I wanted you back where you belong – with me.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“And you always get what you won’t, don’t you, Jon?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Not always,” he countered with a shake of his head. “I just keep chasing my tail where you’re concerned.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rachel plainly didn’t understand that he wasn’t just engaging in lighthearted banter and witty repartee, because she grinned up into his face with a lopsided smile. “You used to chase my tail, not your own. What happened there, baby?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You got me all pussy whipped tryin’ to get you back and I’ve still not found my balls,” he grumbled, with maybe just a touch of acrimony. It was true. He’d been walking on eggshells for months, doing everything he knew in order to make sure he didn’t lose her again, trying to make her happy despite the fact he wasn’t.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This time, Rachel caught the tone in Jon’s voice and her infatuation with the paradise surrounding them dropped to the back burner. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked defensively, unhappy lines furrowing their way into her forehead and cheeks. “I’ve been dying to bring you here and now you want to pick a fight? Here of all places?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Okay, so despite his best intentions, he’d managed to be a dick anyway. He didn’t want to pick a fight, he just wanted things to be the way he wanted things to be. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I’m sorry, Rach,” Jon sighed and tried to channel a technique from the communication book by dialing back the bitterness in his voice and speaking more conversationally. “Being back here just makes me realize not much has changed since the last time I was here.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“What do you mean?” </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Score one for the book. Now she at least didn’t sound like she was ready to pounce on him and tear him to shreds for ruining her moment. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I stood here in this very spot, more miserable and lonely than I’d been in any far corner of the world, because all this…” He waved his hand in a vague gesture toward their surroundings. “…was supposed to make me feel closer to you, but it only made me miss you more. Made me remember how much I fucked it all up.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“<b><i>We</i></b> fucked it up, babe,” she corrected quietly, laying a hand alongside his jaw. “And <i><b>we </b></i>fought to get it back. Look at us, Jon…we’re stronger than ever. We share a beautiful home, a beautiful life. I’d say quite a lot has changed since the last time you were here.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Jon frowned over her head out at the vast ocean and tamped down the urge to call bullshit. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“We <i><b>have</b></i> a beautiful home,” he agreed carefully. “But we don’t really share it. If I’m there, I’m there alone because you’re in California climbing the corporate ladder.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You know that I’m dedicated to my job.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I know that you didn’t used to give a shit about being a business tycoon. You told me yourself when you started in real estate it was to make enough money to pay for fertility treatments. The only thing I can figure is, now that you don’t want to have more children, the corporate world must be more appealing to you.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I’m not interested in being a business tycoon,” she reaffirmed with a frown. “Why else would I have taken on that new project with Habitat for Humanity? I’m not profiting from that and it’s one of your pet organizations.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He closed his eyes for a moment. In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposed. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Yeah, there’s that now, too,” he sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. What you’re doing is admirable, but it’s just one more commitment that keeps us apart. It’s hard enough working around my crazy schedule, but when you have meetings here and there every day of the week. Well, dammit, Rach.” Jon scraped a frustrated hand through his hair. “I called you from this fucking hill because I wanted to be with you, and now it’s to the point where we aren’t any more together now than we were when I made the goddamn phone call.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Jonny!” Rachel protested, taking a small step backward, as though he had just grown a second head.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“It’s true,” he continued doggedly, knowing that if he didn’t find his balls now, he never would. “You blow me off whenever I bring it up. Oh, occasionally you make an extra trip to put a Band-Aid on it and pacify me for a while, but we never resolve anything. Maybe we don’t scream and fight, but we still aren’t dealing problems like normal people and we have to if this – we – are going to last. It’s time to make some changes, Rach. Right here and now.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now his second head had apparently developed a serious case of leprosy, if the look of disbelief on her face was anything to go by. “You’re serious,” she remarked with the same incredulity in her voice.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“As a fuckin’ heart attack,” Jon affirmed with a sharp nod, his balls gaining momentum. “I’ve walked a tightrope since we got back together, knowing that I was an asshole before, but I’ve had enough now. When I’m home with my kids, I want you home with us instead of asking how high when cocksucker James says ‘jump’.” </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her disbelief was slowly gaining ground and morphing into something that had her eyes snapping with attitude, but he didn’t give her the chance to unleash on him. Jon just very quietly and calmly informed her, “I’m not interested in fighting or drama, and I’m not making empty threats here, Rachel. I’m not even mad, but I am done with things the way they are.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maybe he had been a dick – with balls – by unloading all that on her at once, but at least it was out in the open now. They would finally be forced to deal with their problems, anyway. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“We either come up with a plan that has us together more than apart or…” Jon shrugged. He hadn’t planned on issuing any ultimatums when he climbed up here, but this is where they were and he wanted her to know he was damned serious. “I’ll go back down this god awful mountain – and home – by myself. What’s it gonna be, Rach?” </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rachel stayed quiet, eyes still snapping, though not quite as sharply as before. Either she was actually considering what he had to say or devising the most efficient way to throw his ass over the edge. Either was realistically possible. She never had appreciated his ‘high-handed’ and ‘dictatorial’ personality traits all that much. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, he felt pretty sure he wasn’t going for an unscheduled dive and swim.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rachel was dumbfounded. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She hadn’t expected this conversation at all, much less here. She’d thought last night was just Jon being overdramatic because he’d had too much to drink and that the issue had waned along with his blood alcohol content. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Clearly, she’d been mistaken, because those weren’t the words of man talking off the cuff. He’d obviously put a lot of thought into this… situation, and she couldn’t say that she completely disagreed with his assessment. They still hadn’t figured out how to work out their problems, only how to ignore them more civilly. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She was proud of Jon for presenting his thoughts in a way that wasn’t making her feel defensive – much – and he wasn’t doing his usual thing by insisting they get married or even that she give up her job and let him support her. Those were all major steps in the right direction, so she figured the least she could do was take a step or two of her own. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After all, he was just insisting that some changes be made and, she had to concede, his reasons for doing so might be valid. They had been spending more time apart than together lately and she wasn’t necessarily thrilled by it, either.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I miss the days when we were together more often than not,” she finally concurred with a slow nod. “When I was working from the New York office we had a more normal life together and I kind of miss that. So I think you’re right about making changes so that we have that life again.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The rigid set of his shoulders relaxed, filling Rachel with further assurance that she’d done the right thing in choosing to talk instead of be angry. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I’m sorry that I’ve been blind to how you’ve been feeling about this,” she continued, confidence blooming. “And I will absolutely make arrangements so that we’re apart less often.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I’ve heard the empty promises before,” he reminded her. “Specifics, please.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I, uh…” What <b><i>could</i></b> she do? Something concrete. “Well, for starters, I can work more from Jersey when you’re home.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Okay,” He nodded and she realized that, for the first time that morning, there was a genuine smile on his face. “That’s a start. Anything else?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When his arms settled back around her waist, it was something akin to Superman putting on her cape. With him by her side, she could do anything. All she had to do was decide what she wanted to do. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“My responsibilities will still be based on the west coast, and I’ll have to spend a lot of time on an airplane, but I can work in the air and try to maneuver around your tour schedule.” Yes. She could make this compromise without giving up her entire world. This was totally doable and she smiled up at him with the knowledge of it. “Crawling in bed with you at night justifies the extra wear and tear on my luggage.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Those beautiful blue eyes sparkled brighter than she’d seen them shine in a long time when he returned her smile. “I’ll buy you new luggage, baby. Hell, for such a huge compromise, I’ll buy you a luggage manufacturing company.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arms twined around one another, they turned at an angle which allowed them both to survey the renewed beauty around them. The sea swam around the base of Diamond Head, a mixture of dazzling turquoise and aquamarine. The sky was a turquoise several hues lighter, but none the less brilliant. The mountain on which they stood, and the surrounding flora was a shade of green so lush that it almost looked like velvet. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was, in a clichéd word, paradise.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Yanno somethin', Rach,” he murmured into her hair as the breeze ruffled them both. “You're right. This place is pretty special."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now all she had to do was hope that karma - and James - cooperated.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-87083721762221494502016-05-28T20:09:00.001-07:002016-05-28T20:09:50.907-07:00Ch 87 ~ Turn the Tables<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDZHv8YZ2Ovn8G2hCi1mLYYbZ2m6K0W9YAR8cStsySpGxaQmhTvwz_OIjf-VCeVOR7k9hOE53rbsFPff8lTn1OFIrFx2nKJxHg5hg0Ve9ePL32C7qq6111qe00sI4VvBjq8DUDdLkox9Ae/s1600/Cocktail1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDZHv8YZ2Ovn8G2hCi1mLYYbZ2m6K0W9YAR8cStsySpGxaQmhTvwz_OIjf-VCeVOR7k9hOE53rbsFPff8lTn1OFIrFx2nKJxHg5hg0Ve9ePL32C7qq6111qe00sI4VvBjq8DUDdLkox9Ae/s1600/Cocktail1.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>“Maybe you should,
Rach,” he suggested quietly. “Because I
gotta tell ya… I’m done playing house.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon’s words hung in the air like the smothering cloud of
extravagant perfume that pervaded Macy’s while Rachel was timelessly trapped in
a stunned fog. ‘Playing house’ had
wounded her to the core, because it was an utter insult to how she perceived
their relationship. She couldn’t
disagree that it was bi-coastal, but – in Rachel’s mind – it was simply an
extension of those times when Jon was on tour.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Of course, now that she took a moment to think back, she
recalled that he didn’t like the separation then either.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Maybe it’s time to
decide whether your marriage ‘principles’ are really worth all this, Rachel.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Beautiful blue eyes stayed pinned on her face, teeming
with an odd yin-yang of sadness and antagonism that was no doubt the product of
too much alcohol combined with a sensitive topic. It set Rachel on edge, making her the tiniest
bit defensive since she was unsure which way this tête-à-tête was going to
swing. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Regardless, she wasn’t particularly inclined to embark on
a conversation of this magnitude in a public place. Wisdom dictated that it
would be best kept on ice until they were safely cocooned in the boat’s
relative privacy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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To that end, she scooted her chair back and began to
stand, reaching for her purse as she did so.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Sit down.” Jon’s
soft words were infused with titanium steel, with no room for negotiation. The balance of the yin-yang had obviously
shifted in favor of antagonism, and it didn’t sit well with Rachel’s own
alcohol soaked attitude. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She froze mid-rise and met Jon’s gaze with an icy-steel
one of her own. “You really think I’m
going to have this conversation here?’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah. I do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She stood fully erect and squared her shoulders, looking
down at the top of his tousled head.
After delivering his directive, it seemed Jon was more interested in the
dregs of his cocktail than looking at her.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That was fine. She
didn’t have to see his face to make her point.
“Well, I don’t. We’ve both been
drinking and I don’t want to have a scene that could end up on the Enquirer’s
next cover. Let’s go back to the boat
where we’ve got some privacy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It was then that Jon lifted his eyes to Rachel’s and
glared at her. “No. We’re gonna have this talk right here, right fucking
now. You don’t get another chance to
avoid the topic, so sit yourself down before I <b><i>sit </i></b>you down.” He gave her a smug, close-lipped smile. “And if I do it, you can guaran-damn-tee
there will be a tabloid cover.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel hated being told what to do, and her first
inclination was to tell him to go fuck himself and find her way back to the
boat. The only problem with that
scenario was that he <b><i>knew </i></b>she hated being told what to
do. He was trying to exert his dominance
in this relationship and, if she wasn’t careful, he’d follow through on that
stupid threat, landing them both in an embarrassingly awkward situation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So she exercised her only viable option. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She slipped back into her seat with the hope that, if
nothing else, her man would behave reasonably to protect the sanctity of his
public image. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Alright, Jon.”
She dipped her chin in acquiescence and folded her hands on the
tabletop. “Have it your way. As usual.”
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“As usual?” He
quirked one eyebrow and cocked his head ever so slightly to the side. “Are you actually implying I get MY way in
this relationship?” A rude snort ripped
through the tropical hair. “You’ve lost
your mind, woman, because I’ve not had anything my way since the damn day I MET
you!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Flattening her lips into a tight line, she just barely
kept from calling bullshit.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“I have panted after you from the minute I saw you with
your skirt hiked up, trying to push those suitcases through the gates of the
house.” Jon leaned forward on his elbows
so that he was in her personal space. “You
know the house, I’m talking about right, Rach?
The one I paid a stupid amount of money for – ten percent OVER the
asking price – just because I was too pussy whipped to stand the thought of somebody
else living there…?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The server chose that opportune moment to approach the
table, both inquiring about drink refills and unknowingly keeping her
customers’ conversation from deteriorating into a shouting match. Thankful for the interruption, yet uninterested
in dulling her faculties any further, Rachel smiled with a declining shake of
her head. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon, however, propped his elbows on the table and offered
the waitress his very practiced ‘panty melting’ smile. He was clearly determined to take the
opportunity to get his own way in something, and firmly disagreed with Rachel’s
decision. “Your timing couldn’t be more
perfect! We’re on vacation so bring
another round and give my girl here a little extra something in hers.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Oh for God’s sake.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel suddenly found herself drained. Whether he believed it or not, her sole
purpose in life wasn’t to thwart his wishes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Come on, Jon,” she breathed wearily, as the waitress
sashayed away to do his bidding. “Enough
is enough. Can we finish this
conversation on the boat? Please?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Maybe he took pity on her. Maybe common sense finally came into
play. She may never know, but something
in him softened, Rachel thought. His
body relaxed. Rigid shoulders and spine
lost some of their stiffness and the eyes that had been brimming with anger
moments ago were now softer. The love he
had for her had found its way to the surface again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He loved her. She
never doubted that, even in times like this, when he was being
argumentative. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Then again, was he really being argumentative just
because he was half-drunk and in a mood?
Or did he have a valid question? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>“Gimme the bottom
line here, Rach. Do you ever intend to
move back to Jersey with me? I mean, I
understood in the beginning you were a little gun shy, but are you planning to
just live apart the rest of our lives?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
God knew her reasons behind shirking marriage had made
complete sense to her at some point, but when it was shot back her in stark,
simple terms it made her question what in the hell she was doing. <i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Rach?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His voice summoned her from her own thoughts, and she
found concern swimming in those beautiful blue eyes. It was enough to drain any remaining fight
right out of her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What?” She
reached her hand across the table and knotted their hands together. “I’m sorry honey, I didn’t hear you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I was just sayin’ that I’d like to finish this sooner
rather than later. Don’t you think it’s about time?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His strong fingers flexed around hers, silently suffusing
her with his strength. The strength to
put his wants before hers. What
difference did it make, anyway? It was
just a piece of paper, right?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yes, it is.” She
inhaled deeply through her nose. “So
that’s what you want? To get married?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yes.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It gave her a measure of comfort that he didn’t have to
think before responding. A small
measure, since he asked her to marry him every night before they went to sleep,
but she’d take it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>He asks you every
night, Rachel. Every. Single. Night. Who are you to say his reasons for wanting to
get married aren’t the right ones? Who
made you the authority on marriage, anyway?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Okay.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sandy eyebrows winged up on his forehead. “What the…?
Did you just agree to marry me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A melancholy smile curled her lips upward. “I did.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What’s the catch?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She gave a slow shake of her head. “No catch.
You want to get married, so we’ll get married.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Just like that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Just like that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
One of her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Because you want to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“And you still don’t.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He was something close to adorable when he was confused,
but, as cute as she found him. It wasn’t
her intent to confuse him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Funny thing about relationships is that it’s not all
about one person or the other,” she explained with a gentle squeeze of his
hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize I was
making it all about me, Jon. If you want
to get married, then we will.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His mouth turned down into a petulant frown. “I hate you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What?” she laughed, knowing he didn’t mean the
words. There simply wasn’t enough venom
in them to warrant a three-hundred-sixty degree turnaround from love to hate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I said I hate you,” he repeated with annoyance, shaking
his head. “Because, even though you said
the right words, you don’t really mean them.
That made me feel like shit because I don’t want to marry you if you
don’t really want to, because it would make <b><i>you </i></b>feel like shit.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’m not going to feel like shit, you silly man.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Whatever,” he sighed.
“For the first time, I think I actually understand why you’ve refused so
long.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel’s eyes went wide.
“You do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Don’t look so fuckin’ happy about it,” he grumbled. “Because all that means is that we’re back to
goddamn, mother fuckin’ square one. You
don’t wanna marry me because you don’t think I need you or what the fuck ever,
and now I don’t want to marry you because I don’t want you feeling like you
were forced into it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She chuckled, not having any idea that this would be the
turn of events to take place. “I said
I’d marry you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah, well, maybe when you can say it with a smile on
your face, then I’ll believe you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Really? This was
what it had taken to get him to see her point of view? If she’d known that, Rachel would’ve done
this months ago. She didn’t necessarily
think it would’ve solved all of his discontent, but at least it would’ve been a
mutual decision instead of her fault. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I love you, yanno,” she murmured, leaning in to touch
her lips to his.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You goddamn well better.
I wouldn’t put up with this shit from anybody else.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She giggled against his lips. How many women would find him amusing even
when he was sulky? Not many, she’d
wager. Good thing he had her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hey Jon?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her ankle hooked around his and Rachel rubbed up the back
of his calf. “This doesn’t mean you’re
going to stop proposing every night in bed, does it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Damn straight it does!
I’m not a masochist.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was Rachel’s turn to sulk. “But, Jon…
I can’t sleep unless you ask me to marry you. It’s part of my night time routine, just like
putting on my lotion.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His scowl was meant to be dark and menacing, but the
light in his eyes belied the crabby shell.
“Depending on how well you put on the lotion, we’ll see.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That meant it was a done deal, as far as Rachel was
concerned. Because, a modesty aside, she
could put on lotion better than a professional stripper could work a greased
pole in a room full of the world’s wealthiest men. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She could also work a different kind of greased pole….and,
that night, she worked it well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-36814226847386986512016-03-21T16:06:00.002-07:002016-03-21T16:06:59.545-07:00Ch 86 ~ Cannibals in Paradise<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtPr48x8Y0-lyVIO6TR1CVe46tV40Roq6FuCU_KuD0mc_m48UfJ0mJeu5s7EgzxumhQFF1lQ6rdIxHlSE8zuuUFqB0i-nTsMW1bg7VGqLxwpMJOl_at6dpi2wnXwRGtj0xftnZhTwJiv5/s1600/Beach+Bar+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtPr48x8Y0-lyVIO6TR1CVe46tV40Roq6FuCU_KuD0mc_m48UfJ0mJeu5s7EgzxumhQFF1lQ6rdIxHlSE8zuuUFqB0i-nTsMW1bg7VGqLxwpMJOl_at6dpi2wnXwRGtj0xftnZhTwJiv5/s320/Beach+Bar+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The man People Magazine had named Sexiest Rock Star was used
to getting his own way, in his own time,
and certainly on his own terms. The fact that he’d been left sitting alone in
some local Hawaiian bar after his stellar buzz had been brutally assassinated by the
ringing of Rachel’s phone did not thrill Jon.
The fact that the lady in his life continued to assert her independence
by working – on the other side of the country, to boot – thrilled him even less. <b><i>Then </i></b>she told him it was James
calling and proceeded to step away from the table in order to take the
call… <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon was almost grateful for the ice that ran through his
veins and numbed both him and his emotions.
If not for that numbness, he would be heavily inclined to raise all
kinds of hell. Loudly. Without regard to the effect it might have on
his public image.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He wasn’t the least bit concerned about the fact that
she’d slipped away to have her phone conversation, because he knew without a
doubt that she’d been escaping the loud house band instead of scurrying off to
have some secret rendezvous with her former lover. There wasn’t any question in Jon’s mind that
Rachel was completely in love and totally committed to spending her life with
him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When she could manage to fit him in, that is.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Yeah. The reason
he found himself as agitated as a flea infested camel was because her work –
and douchebag boss, James – was intruding upon <b><i>his </i></b>vacation. His very short, very much needed vacation, which
was just about the only time he ever got to be with Rachel, since they were
still living in different time zones.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was his first instinct to say that it wasn’t <b><i>his</i></b>
fault there was three hours’ difference between the time on his nightstand
clock and hers, but he wondered if maybe it was. Sure, he had proposed forty-eleven times and
ways, but she always dismissed the matter with a flirty little laugh and a
quick change of the subject – and he let her.
In fact, beyond her initial insistence that she knew Jon didn’t need
marriage and it didn’t mean the same things to him as it did to her, they’d
really had very little further conversation on the matter. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That was unlike him.
He was normally the one who got something in his head and refused to let
go of it until it came to fruition, but, quite honestly, he’d gotten tired of
slamming his head against the brick wall that was Rachel. He had as healthy an ego as the next guy, but
he’d quickly gotten tired of offering Cinderella her ‘happily ever after’ and
being rejected time and time again – just like he was tired of this work
bullshit of hers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Particularly that manipulative sonofabitch, James. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Most people probably wouldn’t believe it, but Jon’s
biggest problem with James had nothing to do with jealousy or insecurity. Rachel had made her choice, and Jon knew
she’d never leave him to rekindle her relationship with James. No, Jon’s biggest problem with the
manipulative douchebag was never knowing whether the guy’s constant work
demands were legitimate or mere fabrications designed to create a wedge between
Rachel and Jon by constantly pulling her away.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel refused to join in Jon’s belief that her boss’s
intentions were anything but honorable and Jon typically didn’t consider the
difference of opinion worth squabbling over.
Lately, though, Jon was starting to think that maybe he needed to stop
being so pussy whipped and make her see what was really going on here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He’d no more had that thought when two things happened
simultaneously; one, the restaurant went blissfully quiet as the house band
removed their instruments to take a break and, two, Rachel re-entered the
dining room with a wide smile. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Oddly enough, Jon was envious of that smile. Right now, the only thing that could make him
smile that wide would be her proclamation that the FDIC had just shut down her
bank, and she was now out of a job. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon grumbled under his breath. Then again, she probably wouldn’t be smiling
if that were the case. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>You’re on
vacation. Don’t ruin it. Smile, have another drink, go back to the
boat and have hot monkey sex until you pass out.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With that self-lecture, Jon forcefully shoved all the
negative bullshit out of his universe and signaled the server for another round
of lethal cocktails. He determinedly
sought to find his happy place as Rachel gracefully settled back into the chair
beside him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yanno…” His eyes
were drawn to the ultra-feminine cleavage created by two of the most perfect
breasts he’d ever seen, and his fingertips couldn’t resist snaking up to take their
own look. His happy place had now been
located. “That big ole smile makes you so
irresistible that I might have to do you after all. Especially if it means that you didn’t let
James convince you to cut our trip short.”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If anything her grin got bigger, and she leaned into his
touch when she said, “Then you’re definitely doing me. I’m not about to miss hiking Diamond Head
with you tomorrow. But…” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In Jon’s half-buzzed state, his overactive mind equated
that simple three-letter word to an imminent invasion by a tribe of boob eating
cannibals. His happy place was about to
be devoured.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“But?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She reclined in her chair, taking her breasts with her
while looking like the cat that ate the canary.
“James had some exciting news to share with me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The cannibals tied bibs around their necks, preparing for
the feast, and Jon wondered where the hell that server was with their drinks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Really?” He tried to share in her obvious excitement by
giving her an encouraging smile. She was
happy, so he should be happy. “Tell me
more.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well.” She leaned
back in, resting her forearms on the table and propping up her chest. “Back when you suggested the bank donate that
vacant parcel to Habitat for Humanity, I started looking into other assets the
bank was holding. I won’t bore you with
all the details, but I will tell you that the bank was so excited by the idea
that they have a brand new division created solely to partner with Habitat. We’ll be going through our inventory on a
national level and utilizing bank assets to benefit homeless and low-income
families!”” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hey, that’s great!”
The cannibals took a step back, looking disappointed that Jon was going
to be keeping his happy place. “That’s
going to make a huge difference to some very deserving people. You did good, Rach!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah, well I’m not finished doing good, because they
made me the PRESIDENT of the division!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her grin was nothing short of euphoric, and it matched
those of the imaginary cannibals who prepared to renew their attack
efforts. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon had a fine line to walk on this one. On the one hand, Rachel was excited about her
accomplishment and promotion, as she should be.
Hell, he was proud of her, too.
She had many business traits he admired and occasionally mirrored, not
to mention that their workaholic selves could be twins.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That was why, on the other hand, Jon couldn’t help but
wonder how this was going to impact their relationship. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The physical distance between their primary addresses was
already a pain in his ass, and she was already borderline obsessed with her
work. Okay, maybe that was a slight
exaggeration, but now that she was president of a division… He did his best not to be a total dick about
the fact that her life was almost completely separate from the man she’d
committed herself to, but this part-time lover shit was a ticking time bomb if
you asked him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
No good could come of this, as far as Jon was concerned,
and he would swear that one of those cannibals was now snacking on Rachel’s
left nipple. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A show of divine intervention had the server arriving at
that precise moment, setting their drinks on the table with a clueless
smile. It was probably the only thing
that kept Jon from shooting off at the mouth and showing his ass, and he was
actually grateful for her timing. That
gratitude would be reflected in her tip.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The cool drink slid down easily, chilling not only his
throat, but his Italian hot-headedness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Yes, there was a possibility he wasn’t going to like what
this promotion entailed – at all – but for the time being, that was pure
supposition. It was a hard, cold fact
that no good would come of trumping Rachel’s achievements with his own selfish agenda. At least for now, it would be in everyone’s
best interest if he respected her success and pretended to be happy about this
thing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Congratulations, Madame President.” He lifted his glass to hers with a <i>‘clink’.
</i>“I’m very proud of you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Thanks, baby. I
knew you’d be excited about my becoming more involved with Habitat since it’s
such a soft spot for you. It kinda makes
me feel like we’re working on something in common, and I like that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon had never been a great actor, even when he was
inclined to try. He was no longer
inclined. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“We shouldn’t need work to feel like we’re working on
something in common, Rach. That should
be a given.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Honey, I just meant Habitat is one of your pet projects
and, well….I thought you’d be exited that we were ‘playing for the same team’,
so to speak.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
For as much as she understood <b><i>him</i></b>, he could not fathom
how Rachel was completely clueless when it came to <b><i>them</i></b>. Maybe he’d had too many drinks. Maybe he was fed up with living life with her
as a glorified mistress. Maybe he was
simply a prick. At that point, he
couldn’t tell you. All he knew was that
a switch had just been flipped, transforming him from his typical
happy-go-lucky drunk self into Asshole Man.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“NO, Rachel,” he informed her tersely, keeping his voice
low only by sheer willpower. “Having
Habitat for Humanity in common most definitely does not mean we’re playing for
the same fuckin’ team! What it means is
that our relationship has disintegrated to the point that you think we need a
project in common. What we NEED in
common is a goddamn ADDRESS. Enough is
enough. When are you gonna quit being so
motherfuckin’ stubborn and just come home?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Green eyes blinked at him with utter confusion, making
him realize he should’ve dealt with this months ago. She really had no idea, and her next words
only cemented that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Where is this coming from, Jon?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It’s coming from the same fucking place I am – always
half a world away from you – and I’m over it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Really? You’re
always half a world away from me?” She
lifted her brow with derisive surprise.
“Because I’ve sure seen an awful lot of airports to always be half a
world away. I’ve sure spent a lot of
time juggling priorities, obligations and commitments so that I can jet off and
be with you. I’m the one who’s always
working to make that happen. Even when
you’re home, all you do wait for me to show up or bitch that I’m not there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“If I’m home, I need to spend some time with my
kids. I can’t do that from California.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I understand that, Jon,” she sighed. “And I’m not complaining about having to do
most of the traveling. Just give me
credit for the effort once in a while, instead of criticizing. That’s all.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon took a slow swallow of his drink before setting the
empty glass down and pushing it away so that he could hunker down in his
chair. “Gimme the bottom line here,
Rach. Do you ever intend to move back to
Jersey with me? I mean, I understood in
the beginning you were a little gun shy, but are you planning to just live
apart the rest of our lives?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Bingo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The shit had just gotten real for her. He could read it in her eyes as clearly as
New York Times headline, and Jon couldn’t say he was unhappy to finally cut to the chase.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I…I… well….I guess I haven’t really thought about it,”
Rachel stammered, and he would swear that the cannibals were licking their
fingers. His happy place was now nothing
but a memory. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Ha. A mammary memory. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon shook his head, realizing that last drink might not
have been the best idea. It was making
him stupid and just a little bit sad.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Maybe you should, Rach,” he suggested quietly. “Because I gotta tell ya… I’m done playing house.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-11245426805529076152016-02-08T09:22:00.001-08:002016-02-08T09:22:28.048-08:00Ch 85 ~ Island Fever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZJlI9e1-bTs1mIU6ejHtDdT2_McpkT5cTMotOrZzagVtpkXKDiMdu9047yhroP858KLixzTQziW2GDZWdfPwwou1TvrcfStcHpPa8NoCkfivWSGcUkEyhQvcc0PsCK1b1RHc1WPx5O7C/s1600/Cat+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZJlI9e1-bTs1mIU6ejHtDdT2_McpkT5cTMotOrZzagVtpkXKDiMdu9047yhroP858KLixzTQziW2GDZWdfPwwou1TvrcfStcHpPa8NoCkfivWSGcUkEyhQvcc0PsCK1b1RHc1WPx5O7C/s320/Cat+collage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“<i>This</i> is the
catamaran we’re spending our vacation on?” Rachel chuckled, propping her fists
on her hips and turning to face Jon on the marina dock. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Sure is,” he agreed, shaggy head nodding unrepentantly
as he grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “How
d’ya like it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon had intentionally misled Rachel into believing they’d
be scaling back on accommodation quality during their Hawaiian Islands
cruise. When Rachel had teased him for
his love of luxury yachts, he’d carefully avoided telling her their vessel was
the largest catamaran yacht on any ocean in the world. At 142 feet, it was hardly ‘roughing’
it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Considering I was expecting something along the lines of
the S.S. Minnow and the whole ‘three hour tour’ bit, I’m pleasantly relieved,”
she snorted and tried to pass Jon on the gangway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He, however, had other ideas and cuffed her wrist before
she could get past. Locking his fingers
firmly, for emphasis, Jon pulled her close enough that his lips grazed the
shell of her ear when provoking, “You’d love to be stranded on Gilligan’s
Island with me. You could fuck me
senseless without a soul to hear you scream.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Thanks for playing, baby.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With a tap to her backside as she moved on, Jon laughed
at the obvious coloring of her cheeks. “Well,
hell. If I’d known playing along was all
it took to pacify you, I’d have done that months ago. Now that I know, I’ll play.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh, please.” She
smirked at him over her shoulder.
“You’ve always been a player.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon grinned at her with pleasure. It didn’t matter how many hours, weeks or
months they spent together. He found
himself delighted by her in some way, each and every day and it made him look
forward to not only the rest of this trip, but the rest of their lives.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
By day four of their trip, Rachel and Jon had snorkeled
off the coast of Maui, toured the volcanoes of the Big Island during the day and
watched their lava flow at night from the privacy of their vessel. Day five was spent deep sea fishing for
marlin and, by day six, they’d finally made it to Kauai where they hiked the
lush jungle and took in the breathtaking views along the way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Day seven was a blessing.
One of the crew aboard their chartered yacht told them of a secluded
beach on Kauai, suggesting that it may be the perfect place to recoup from the
first active days of their ‘vacation’.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel agreed.
While the beach wasn’t technically private, it was in a small cove
surrounded by dark, craggy mountains and accessible only by water. That made the hundred foot stretch of
paradise the perfect hideaway in which to recharge by simply enjoying the sun,
sand and sound of the surf. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Whoever said money can’t buy you happiness has never had
the privilege of hired crew to set up the perfect day on the beach,” Jon
murmured when he retrieved an icy bottle of water from the cooler that also
housed an array of exotic fruit kabobs, cold shrimp and a stash of cookies big
enough to sate an entire kindergarten class.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Mmm,” she agreed with a contented purr from her side of
the gargantuan towel they shared. “It’s
a good thing you had somebody to do it, because there’s no way I could
have. My arms are still sore from all
that fishing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Bullshit. Your
arms are sore from being on your hands and knees half the night last night,” he
corrected, screwing the cap back on the bottle and setting it aside so that he could resume his sun basking position.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel responded with a giggle that Betty Rubble would
have envied. “Yeah. That probably didn’t help matters.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Lucky for you I plan on being too drunk to get it up
tonight, and you’re off duty.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Excuse me?” Rachel
rolled from her back to her side, one hip burrowing into the plush terrycloth
while her elbow dug in the sand so that she could prop her head up on one hand
and squint at him from behind her sunglasses. “You’re <i>planning</i> to be too drunk to do me tonight?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yep,” Jon grunted and flipped toward her in a mirror
image pose before dropping a hand to the indentation at her waist. “I heard
about this little place on the other side of the island, right on the
beach. Great food and music – and rumor
has it they make a Mai Tai that’ll leave you with a limp dick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“And you’re <i>choosing
</i>to go there for this toxic Mai Tai, thereby leaving yourself incapable of
performing your manly duties?” she questioned dryly, wondering how she
continued to be amazed at what men considered to be badges of honor. In her book, a limp dick wasn’t something you
actively sought, it was an unfortunate and unplanned embarrassment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Mm-hmm,” he hummed without a care. Apparently, he felt he’d been thorough enough
in his manly duties so far that he could justify a night off. “All this sea air and healthy island living
is wreaking havoc on me. It’s been far
too long since I’ve had a decent hangover.
Too much fresh fruit and shit ain’t good for a man.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“And the impotency?
How does that factor in?” Oddly
enough, she wasn’t annoyed, but merely curious as to the ways of man logic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon leaned in to kiss her while giving her backside a
playful squeeze. “I’m doing you a favor,
baby. You must need a break, because you
can’t seem to keep up with this ol’ man.
Complaining about your arms being sore today after bitchin’ about a
crick in your neck day before yesterday.
You’re fallin’ apart on me, Rach.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She couldn’t resist giving his nipple a little twist and
laughed when he pulled away in such a way that she’d swear he was mortally
wounded. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I had a crick in my neck because you were doing me on
the floor, and I was pinned between said floor and the bathroom cabinet. I was twisted up like a pretzel!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“And yet,” he raised his finger to prove his point. “When I wanted to move to the bed you refused
because it felt too good to change positions.
Am I right???”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She wasn’t sure if it was the sun making her face feel
suddenly hot or if she was still capable of blushing when verbally reliving the
memories of their sexual exploits. One
thing was for sure – the whole-body orgasm she’d had on the floor of the
catamaran had been <i>well</i> worth the
nasty crick in her neck. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She’d repeat that exercise today, tomorrow and every day
next week if given half a chance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The sunset from the sandy, beachfront bar Jon had chosen
for their evening meal was spectacular.
It reminded Rachel a bit of the joint they’d gone to in Turks and Caicos
– casual, local and as low key as they came.
The food was fabulous and the Mai Tais every bit as lethal as they had
been billed. Complementing her
rum-induced buzz was the colorful cover band giving rocking performances of everything
from Rick Springfield to .38 Special to Van Halen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She was having a blast and, by her third Mai Tai, Rachel
took notice that her cricked neck had loosened up considerably, leaving her
quite free to sway her head to the music.
Then, when the bluesy guitar intro to Eric Clapton’s ‘Layla’ started,
Rachel’s whole body followed suit and she found herself as relaxed as anyone
could possibly be. She lifted the glass
and sipped the final drops of her cocktail, looking over the rim as Jon’s
knowing eyes met hers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
‘Layla’ was a song that had good memories attached to it,
and hearing it always transported her back to the summer evening at Jon’s river
house in New Jersey – the evening those memories had been made.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He’d valiantly attempted to make her a meal that would
charm her out of her panties, but when the lasagna came she hadn’t and was, in
fact, still fully dressed. Fortunately
for both of them, his playlist had coughed up Clapton’s ‘Layla’, triggering
some inexplicable force that stuffed her common sense into a locked cellar and
flipped her libido switch to turbo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“That was some night, huh, Rach?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon hadn’t interrupted her thoughts so much as he read
them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It sure was, baby.
As long as I live, I’ll never figure out what possessed me to be such a
little trollop that night. You put your
hands on me and all reason just disappeared.”
She smiled dotingly at him. “That
sure hasn’t changed. You get near me and
I’m a mindless hussy who can’t think of anything other than your body on, in
and around mine.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Whaddaya complainin’ about?” he asked with an
intoxicated – and intoxicating – wink.
“I like you as a mindless hussy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The ringing of Rachel’s phone mixed with her
laughter. She wasn’t interested in
talking to anyone, but she flipped the phone over from where it lay face-down
on the table anyway. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Upon reading the name and number on the screen, her smile
melted away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>No, no, no. Not now.
Don’t ruin my vacation. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Because there was no doubt in her mind that, when Jon
realized the caller’s identity…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>He’s going to be
beyond pissed. </i> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-44658530496378137232016-01-26T08:08:00.001-08:002016-01-26T08:08:45.256-08:00Ch 84~Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQVS7uMWibECi-lFhxJU3kXL2hPi9GcOJBFAK8d37vehlknNnzzObErVLOwHpVri3-BTGmwNxGI6WDO331VeGr8kp-0NNQbZ9-_1YnLLAgQPG2MipOM_DSTWYlua0xehkOlyhn_odLva6/s1600/Diamond+Head+Windo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQVS7uMWibECi-lFhxJU3kXL2hPi9GcOJBFAK8d37vehlknNnzzObErVLOwHpVri3-BTGmwNxGI6WDO331VeGr8kp-0NNQbZ9-_1YnLLAgQPG2MipOM_DSTWYlua0xehkOlyhn_odLva6/s320/Diamond+Head+Windo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The landmark Rachel saw out the plane window was sacred
ground as far as she was concerned. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Diamond Head.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If there was a single place on Earth that could be more
sentimental for her, she couldn’t think what it would be. Diamond Head meant so much to her in so many
different ways. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It had been a favorite haunt for her and Nick’s family. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It had been the place she went to heal after her breakup
with Jon, and she’d hiked the volcano more times than she could count. Each and every time she pushed herself up the
trail in the hopes that she could sweat out just a little of the pain of losing
him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was also the place from which Jon had reached out to
her, taking the first small step that would bring him back to her life – this
time for good. Though they’d never been
there together, that mountain was the one place that she knew without a doubt
that they’d both been standing while longing for the other. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When she finally was able to drag her eyes from the
Hawaiian landmark and to his face, it wasn’t colored with the smug gloating
that she’d expected. Rather, their
affection filled eyes connected and it became but one more moment when the two
of them spoke volumes without ever saying a word. There was no doubt that he knew her every
thought and feeling in this moment, and Rachel had no trouble deciphering the soft
stroke of the back of his hand against her cheek. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She had to admit that he’d been right on the money when
predicting that she wouldn’t care about his morning breath after a look out the
window. He was even right that she’d
kiss the life right out of him without a second thought. Morning breath, the stubble on his face, the
messy bed head, the coffee in his hand…
They were all just details that would forever encompass this beautiful
memory in the making. Rachel lovingly ran
her fingers over the disheveled mop of hair and bent to press her lips against
his.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You…” she breathed, still close enough to feel the
warmth of his lips against hers. “…have
given me amazing, beautiful gifts. Some
were worth millions of dollars and some worth only the pennies it cost for the
paper you wrote some silly note on. But
this…? This is priceless, Jonny –
absolutely, positively priceless. The
U.S. Mint couldn’t print enough money to pay for everything this moment
represents.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He didn’t even try to put any more space between them,
and his morning-gruff voice soft when telling her, “One of the most miserable
times I’ve ever spent in my life was at the top of that fucking volcano. I’d
plotted this grand scheme to show up in Hawaii and get you back, thinking there
wasn’t a chance you could turn me away – and then found out you weren’t even
here.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon chuckled quietly and gave a slight shake of his
head. “I planned an entire tour around this
damn place and you weren’t even fucking here.
Well this time around I’ve got you – even though I’ve spent most of the
tour trying to keep you with me – and I’m going to enjoy Hawaii like everybody
else does.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He finally leaned back and chucked his knuckle under her
chin so that he could look her squarely in the eyes. “And you know what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“This time when I drag my old bones up that mother
fuckin’ hill, you’re gonna be right by my side. Period.
So I hope you brought tennis shoes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I can’t remember but, if not, I’ll buy some,” she
assured him agreeably. “It’s going to be
wonderful, baby. You couldn’t have
chosen a more perfect spot for this trip.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’m glad you’re happy with it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I am. Now which
hotel are we at?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hotel?” He
flopped over onto his back, grinning up at her.
“I dunno if you remember this or not, but when we first started going
out you told me you had always wanted to go to Kauai while Nick and your kids
only wanted to hang at Waikiki.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel
nodded. It wasn’t a crystal clear
memory, but she remembered. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“So that got me thinking,” he continued. “Why not see <i>all</i> of the Hawaiian islands?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Giddiness and excitement swelled up inside her. Honolulu and Diamond Head would’ve been
enough to make her happy, but actually getting to visit all of the
islands? That was the stuff dreams were
made of.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I figure the easiest way to see a bunch of islands is
from a boat, right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This just kept getting better and better. Sipping tequila from the deck of the
obscenely lavish ship he would’ve chosen, taking a dip in the Pacific when it
got too warm, and ferrying off to the tropical beauty of the islands when the
time came all sounded heavenly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Good call, handsome,” she commended, patting his chest. “I know how you love those big fancy yachts.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Ha.” His grin
adopted the smugness she’d expected from him earlier. “You think I’m so predictable, don’t you,
Rach? You assume that I have to have
some 200 foot ship to be comfortable, don’t you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, kind of.
Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He blew a raspberry at her, making her laugh in
surprise. “I’ll have you know that we
are, in fact, spending our vacation on a catamaran.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>A catamaran? One of those ‘barely a boat’ things? Seriously?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel was convinced that she knew Jon better than just
about anybody and, while she wouldn’t describe him as high maintenance, he had
definitely grown used to the good life – and had gotten <b><i>her </i></b>used to the good
life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In her world the good life wasn’t a catamaran. A catamaran was… Well, it was to the sea what a pup tent was
to the forest – it got the job done, but that was all it did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Oh boy. </i><b>This</b><i> is going to be an interesting vacation.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-28989543503931753392016-01-04T15:45:00.000-08:002016-01-04T15:45:12.222-08:00Ch 83 ~ Destination Anywhere<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZUYfb_TlZcw_NezkgFu4oBjiGWC9ycMWyzBW6X04Y8hCBibpevaXvzryEvskYneptWKCl994dI_pFtR8w1y908INBwzmWJexwAjU4sUSxGU0bCwV1Cg8NbQiqMXW985mJ6SmchmX_YsS/s1600/Plane+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZUYfb_TlZcw_NezkgFu4oBjiGWC9ycMWyzBW6X04Y8hCBibpevaXvzryEvskYneptWKCl994dI_pFtR8w1y908INBwzmWJexwAjU4sUSxGU0bCwV1Cg8NbQiqMXW985mJ6SmchmX_YsS/s320/Plane+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>New Year’s Eve, 2011</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel was surprised at just how much she had enjoyed the New
Year’s Eve party with Jon’s family, ringing in 2011 with everyone at Matt and
Desiree’s house. Even Dorothea and her
new husband, Ted, had been there, which was much less awkward than Rachel would
have thought, because she and the former Mrs. Bongiovi had become
friendly. They weren’t necessarily
close, but she genuinely enjoyed Jon’s ex-wife and tonight was just one more
example of that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The echo of party horns was virtually still hanging in
the air, and the clock was barely past midnight when Jon had made their excuses
and whisked Rachel away to the airport to bestow his Christmas gift upon
her. Not that her gift was at the
airport. On Christmas morning, he’d
presented her with an envelope that promised a trip that she would never
forget, but he had refused to tell her the destination. It didn’t matter how much she’d badgered,
wheedled and prodded in the week that followed, he still wouldn’t give up the
secret location. The only hint that he gave
was that it was both warm and tropical. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Typically this type of surprise would annoy the life out
of her, but she was actually quite excited when they climbed aboard the huge
jet with its engines revving. The crew
had immediately loaded their bags outside the VIP terminal at Teterboro
Airfield and they had lifted off within minutes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It seemed like they had just fastened their seatbelts
when Jon released his and reached over to do the same to hers. With an impatient tug, he had her on her feet
and stumbling after him toward the back of the plane. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Jon!” she giggled. “Slow down will ya? A steep take off, these stilettos and healthy
champagne buzz could be a dangerous combination!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He gave her a lecherous smile over his shoulder as he
opened a door and his chuckle was positively wicked when he pulled her through
it. The same door closed with an
incendiary finality just a breath before he threw her down on a bed and loomed
above her. Properly reflecting the
wolfish grin he wore, Jon was purely animalistic when he growled, “It’s been a
week of kids, friends, family, more kids and more family. The only thing that’s gonna be slow tonight
is the way I fuck your beautiful brains out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well,” Rachel gulped, undeniably aroused by his
urgency. “I guess that rules out Bermuda,
because we wouldn’t have a long enough flight for you to slowly fuck my brains
out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Not Bermuda.” His
reply was short and to the point because, Rachel presumed, he was more
interested in hiking one of her legs up to slip off one of the potentially
dangerous stilettos. It hit the floor
with a muffled clatter before the mate joined in with the same oddly arousing
ruckus. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Perhaps in her current state of mind, anything would seem
arousing. Even the graze of her little
black dress against the bedding was doing unspeakable things to her
libido. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her feet bared to his satisfaction, Jon pressed a thumb
into each arch while his fingers curled over the tops, working the muscles
there in a way that was <b><i>intentionally </i></b>arousing. She had no trouble interpreting the maneuver
and purred with appreciation when hard masculine palms scraped licentiously up
the backs of her calves. His touch
dwindled to a mere tickle when reaching the backsides of her knees, and she
bent her legs to divert him from the sensitive area. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He didn’t mind. That
in itself was an engraved invitation to move higher, and he issued his RSVP by
massaging slow sensual circles into her thighs.
The way he used his palms, then his fingertips, then his nails had
Rachel panting before he got within striking distance of her panties. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh, baby,” she murmured appreciatively, fingers dancing
a salsa through his hair. “I may just
tell the pilot to keep flying in circles until I’ve had my fill of you.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’m gonna fill you alright.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His lips picked up the slack when his hands found more
pressing matters to tend to – such as removing the panties that had become
entirely too cumbersome. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“So is this going to be one of those ‘if you have an
erection that lasts longer than four hours, seek medical attention’ kind of
nights?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon nipped the inside of her thigh with unexpectedly
sharp teeth, apparently not finding her champagne fueled humor as amusing as
she did. “You think I need Viagra?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No, I just- shit!”
She inhaled sharply when those teeth moved north into an especially
sensitive area. “I just think you’ve
forgotten that you’re the horny drunk and I’m the sleepy drunk.” Not only did his teeth find that sensitive
area, but his tongue had begun its own exploration. “Oh God…
If… If you’re determined to take your time I thought I might ask for a
double espresso,” she teased, not quite sure whether or not she was stringing a
fully coherent thought together – and not caring.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Bullshit,” he mumbled around her clit and surfaced,
licking his lips and crawling up her body.
“Your drunken libido will match mine any day.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel giggled and nipped at his bottom lip, pulling him
closer with the crook of her arm and murmuring, “Let’s just put that theory to
the test, shall we?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And test they did – exhaustively. She awoke some time later with still-vivid
images of the night’s activities in her mind and sunlight peeking through the
bedchamber window. A slow turn of her head found Jon sprawled
face down on his side of the bed, with one arm possessively thrown over
her. The weight of that arm felt
exceptionally good, she thought, and the weight of it gave her an excuse to
stay put and enjoy an unsupervised inventory of her snoring lover. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The road was hard on him, but this morning she was happy
to find that the customary tired lines around his eyes were barely visible. He looked a good ten years younger, which was
saying a lot considering he looked incredible on any given day. That must mean that their time together
agreed with him as much as it did her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Being with Jon night and day for the past ten days was
Rachel’s idea of true paradise. It
didn’t matter where they were, just being with him made her happier than she’d
ever been in her life. She still wanted
him in the same old way, still wanted to share her life with him and missed the
time in their life when they were living in the same zip code. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The bottom line was that she wanted to be his wife. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
More than he could ever realize, she wanted to accept one
of the million proposals he had offered her, but she needed more than that
piece of paper from him – she wanted him to need her. Not like he needed his assistant, the
housekeeper or any of the hundreds of Bon Jovi minions, but truly <b><i>need</i></b>
her like he needed his next breath of air to be complete. Sappy, perhaps, but that was how she needed
him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There was no doubt in her mind that Rachel would always
love Jon and devote her life to him, but she wouldn’t wed him knowing that his sole
interest in marriage was its importance to her.
He’d originally offered matrimony and children to win her back and,
while she loved him for the sacrifice he was willing to make, it wasn’t how she
wanted to take that step. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel knew from the bottom of her heart that Jon would
be truly happy living the rest of his life with her by his side <b><i>without</i></b>
the legal trappings of matrimony. It was
as simple as that, and she was willing to accommodate him because, without Jon
in her life, she had no life in her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She wasn’t sure how long she was lost in thought, watching
her beautiful man sleep. It could have
been minutes or it could have been hours.
Although it was stunning, the view out the window was of no assistance
in measuring time, as there was nothing but water in sight. Since she first awakened there had been
nothing but vibrant, bluer-than-blue water as far as the eye could see.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That particular shade of ocean was a clue as to their
final destination, as it tended to rule out Europe or eastern
destinations. Jon had just come home
from Australia, so she didn’t really think he would want to head west. That meant they were likely headed somewhere
south of New Jersey. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Central America
would be warm and would probably fit the flight time.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The buzz of the airplane phone startled Jon awake. He reached above his head and answered with a
grunt which was quickly followed by a wide grin. “Thanks for the update. We’d love some coffee back here when you
can.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He twisted around to kiss Rachel’s bare breast and then
pushed his naked body across her to look out the window. As though he could read the thoughts she’d
just been having he asked, “You’re DYING to know where we’re headed, aren’t you
Rach?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Not even a little bit, Jonny,” she lied. Dying was a ridiculous exaggeration, and it
really didn’t matter where they were going, anyway. “It would impossible for me to care any less
where you’re taking me. I could spend
the next ten days at the city dump with you and be happy.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“C’mon!” She could
almost swear he was disappointed at her lack of eagerness. “You know you want to beg me for hints. You always beg for hints about presents. It’s half the fun of giving you something!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel tried to smooth the messy bed head he woke with,
laughing at his puppy dog eyes. Jon was
almost beside himself with excitement.
The guy who had traveled the entire world dozens of times over was
behaving like a kid on Christmas morning!
It was enough to make her go all ferklumpt inside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It honestly doesn’t matter, my sweet man,” she assured
him tenderly. “I’m just so happy to wake
up with you the first morning of this new year.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon puckered his lips mere centimeters from hers and breathed,
“Gimme a kiss.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Eww!” She exclaimed with an exaggerated wrinkle of her
nose as she struggled to wiggle away. “Champagne doesn’t do any favors for your
morning breath, Bongiovi!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hmpf.” Jon
smacked her playfully on the backside.
“Poke your nose out that window, Miss Morningbreath. I bet you see something out there that’s
gonna change your tune. In fact, I bet
you’ll be dying to cram your tongue as far down my throat as you can get
it.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“We’ll just see about that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Propping herself up with her back against the headboard
of the bed, Rachel peered out the window to see what would magically neutralize
Dom Perignon doggie breath. The water
seemed closer to the plane, so she assumed they were dropping altitude but
there still was nothing but blue water and the occasional boat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel was still puzzling out the landscape when the flight
attendant delivered steaming hot coffee, fruit, cheese, croissants, and muffins. Even with her nose practically pressed
against the glass, she was still no closer to solving the mystery when Jon
poured them both coffee and chomped on a muffin and some fruit. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Land came into view, dotted with lush
greenery. That was followed by more
water, then more of the same scenery. It
was tropical foliage that could be found any one of a dozen places. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She scanned the horizon to see if there was something
else – something she was missing that might give her a revelation. Something… distinctive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel sucked in a breath.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There it was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
An unmistakable landmark that indisputably announced
their destination and filled her eyes with joyful tears. There was absolutely nowhere on earth that
she’d rather be going with this man and, fulfilling his prediction, she
completely forgot about his morning breath to cover him with endless happy,
wet, grateful, and loving kisses. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-76415434834223600312015-12-22T17:54:00.002-08:002017-10-18T18:22:34.001-07:00Ch 82 ~ A Bongiovi Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwoAr1k9dx5nRoViIU0qDaYaMd4z6fvhexnhUqWApMkOQN0kz65cmykBP0Qfz6Skf3_3jE_mpNNzu3qz0n-ZwFbDTlzmrMf7jXAEOqdNw0LxmPZPU6BXNvWAbcEol5qgjfakHVPaZgXlE/s1600/Xmas+Dinner1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwoAr1k9dx5nRoViIU0qDaYaMd4z6fvhexnhUqWApMkOQN0kz65cmykBP0Qfz6Skf3_3jE_mpNNzu3qz0n-ZwFbDTlzmrMf7jXAEOqdNw0LxmPZPU6BXNvWAbcEol5qgjfakHVPaZgXlE/s320/Xmas+Dinner1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Jesus Christ I need a drink.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel looked up to find Santa Claus – aka Jon’s brother
Tony – as the person in need of alcohol-infused reinforcements, and she
laughed. Pointing toward the counter,
she revealed in a low voice. “There’s the grownup egg nog. I think both of your brothers have spiked it
at different times.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He pulled down the white curly beard and wrinkled his
nose distastefully. “Santa don’t like
nothin’ in his Jack but Jack. Where’s
the real booze?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Despite his obvious state of distress, Rachel couldn’t be
any happier as she closed the door on her nearly-cooked prime rib. Christmas was her favorite holiday, by far,
and there was nothing quite like having a house full of family on Christmas day
while she busied herself in the kitchen preparing a feast. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Especially the
Bongiovi family.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She’d never had the experience of a big Italian family, and
it was…. Interesting to say the least.
Jon’s children, brothers, sister-in-law, niece, nephew and parents were
in various nooks and corners of the New Jersey house, filling it with the
warmth and love that should accompany the Christmas holiday. Along with a little loud “discussion” now and
then.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Which brought her back to one cranky Santa, currently
foraging through her cabinets in search of something with the word “proof” on
the label.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She turned to him, smirking, one hand propped on a hip. “Surely it isn’t that bad? Jon said you do this every year for the
kids.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He snorted rudely.
“Yeah, well I’m thinkin’ this may be the last one. Matty’s kids and Romeo are still little
enough to appreciate it, but the others… not so much.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He kicked up a sardonic eyebrow at her. “Jake is at the age where he’s now suspicious
of Santa, so he’s givin’ me the hairy eye trying to determine if I was the real
deal or not, and Jesse decides to help him out by being a little shit and
saying Santa was going to go back up the chimney when he left. That it didn’t matter there was a fire going,
because Santa was fireproof.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Covering her mouth with one hand, Rachel barely stifled
the giggle that wanted to escape. “Oh my
word. What did you say?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What the fuck am I gonna say?” he grumbled, finally
resorting to the eggnog when a quick search of the cabinets didn’t produce a
bottle of undiluted whiskey. “That Jon
has the house under a no-fly zone so I had to park the reindeer out back and
leave through the garage.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Ha! I bet Jon
loved that.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hey. Better he
ruin Christmas for his kids than me.”
His face distorted in displeasure at the first sip of eggnog, but the
aftertaste must have been okay because he crooked his head to the side and
shrugged. “Not bad. More booze than nog.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I told you both of them spiked it,” Rachel reminded him
amusedly at the same time Jon came through the kitchen door. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You better get outta that suit,” he warned Tony. “Kids are headed this way.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Ehhh, fuck.” Tony
dropped the glass eggnog mug and beat feet for the garage, with a hearty “Ho,
ho, ho!” over his shoulder – along with a Jersey salute for his naughty brother.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon barked out a laugh before dropping a kiss on Rachel’s
expectantly upturned face. “When’s
dinner? I’m hungry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Mm. The meat
comes in in ten minutes, then it needs to rest for a bit. Half an hour?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Christ, woman,” he whined. “You’re starvin’ me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She shook her head and offered a condescending pat to his
cheek. “You’ll live for another half
hour.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I don’t see why we can’t have some kinda appetizers or
somethin’ around here,” was his grumpy reply.
Clearly Tony wasn’t the only one who was cranky. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“I’m hunnnngry!” Jacob declared dramatically on the heels
of his father’s complaint, entering the kitchen with a doleful face. “What happened to the cookies?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah! Where are
the cookies?” Romeo echoed from right behind him. “I’m dyin’ here!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It took everything Rachel had not to laugh at the three
pitiful Bongiovis who were clearly about to waste away to nothingness in the
next thirty minutes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
To the boys and their cousins who had just trailed in,
she said, “I hid the cookies because they’ll ruin your dinner.” She pinned Jon with a look. “Just like appetizers would.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, then you’re gonna have to make dinner earlier next
year,” Jon declared, arms folded across his chest. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Next year. It was
nice to have the comfort of expectations for next year – and beyond. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel smiled.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What? My imminent
starvation is humorous?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Actually, yes, it is.”
She made a motion that gathered up all the famine-struck orphans and
shooed them back through the kitchen door.
“Take the kids and entertain them while I make sure the rolls have risen
enough. And if your mother or Desiree
happen to ask if they can help, send them this direction, would you? Don’t ask.
Just if they offer.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His face wrinkled with annoyance. “You’re bossy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“No shit. I’m
trying to get Christmas dinner on the table for a dozen people, and you’re
trying to ruin everyone’s appetite. Stop
screwing with my plans and I won’t have to <b><i>be </i></b>bossy.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Wrinkles smoothed out and the handsome man she loved
kicked up the corner of his mouth in a half smile. “We seriously could’ve catered, yanno.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Are you crazy?”
Lifting back the plastic wrap on the rolls, she pinned him with a look
that she only hoped could convey how stupid she thought he was. “There’s nothing in this world that I’d
rather do than cook Christmas dinner.
Family and food is really what Christmas is all about. Gifts are…”
She waved a careless hand in the air.
“Just a pain.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He propped his hip against the counter, and grinned. “Does that mean I can take yours back?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She pitched the cellophane in the trash and wiped her
hands on her apron as she snickered.
“You hate the effort of going out to shop in the first place. You expect me to believe you’re going to take
the time to return it? Yeah, right.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When he didn’t pop off with some wise crack, Rachel
glanced over her shoulder while opening the oven door. “What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The prime rib was perfect. Perfectly seasoned, perfectly cooked… It could’ve been the centerfold in a holiday
cooking magazine, she thought proudly.
Now it only had to rest for a few minutes to let the juices seal. She parked the main dish on the potholders
she’d placed on the center island for just this purpose and picked up the pan
of rolls, which she promptly popped in the oven and dialed up the thermostat.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He still hadn’t said anything and she turned to fully
face him. “Jon. What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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One lazy shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I dunno.
I guess it fascinates me to see you doing the Suzy homemaker thing. You’re such a capable businesswoman, that I
find it hard to believe you’re so good at this, too.” He stepped forward to loop his arms around
her in a loose hug, careful in not allowing her apron to transfer anything to
his black sweater. “You’re pretty damned
impressive.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel would be lying if she said the words didn’t warm a
spot inside her that she didn’t know could use a little warming. Yes, she loved all things Christmas and
delighted in making a nice holiday meal for everyone and would do it without a
word of gratitude, but to have her efforts appreciated was… nice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, thank you,” she told him before leaning in for a
kiss. “I think you’re pretty impressive
yourself. And I intend to show you just
how much after everyone goes home.
Now…” She took a backward step
and reached around to pat him on the backside.
“Go entertain the kids and ask Stephanie if she’ll come help me for a
minute.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah, yeah,” he groused good-naturedly. “But I thought you wanted Mom or Des?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Changed my mind.
It’ll be easier for me to order her around than your mother,” she
admitted. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His laugh warmed her insides even further. “I love you, yanno.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With that and a kiss on her nose, he set off to do her
bidding. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Precisely twenty minutes later, the family was seated
around the table oohing and aaahing appreciatively over the display of food
before them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Prime rib, mashed potatoes, homemade yeast rolls, Brussels sprouts, broccoli salad and – in deference to the children – macaroni and
cheese. The burgundy tablecloth was the
perfect background for the gold-edged chargers that sat beneath the simple
white china and the stemware sparkled beneath the light of the chandelier as
wine, lemonade and tea were poured. The
centerpiece blended everything together with its sleigh full of burgundy poinsettias
and artificially frost-tipped branches.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel couldn’t possibly be any more pleased with what
she considered the perfect holiday scene.
Norman Rockwell had nothing on the Bongiovis this Christmas. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She had just settled into her seat when a gentle,
repetitive striking of silver against crystal brought everyone’s attention to
the end of the table where Jon’s father stood.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Before we dig into this fabulous looking meal,” he
declared in the quietly authoritative way that he had. “I’d like to take a moment to express my
gratitude for being here today. Rachel
has gone out of her way to not only open this home to us, but prepare a feast
on top of it. For that, we thank you
from the very bottoms of our hearts.” He
dipped his chin to Rachel.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hear, hear!” Matt echoed along with his mother and wife,
his glass raised in the air as Jon winked at her. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’d also like to tell everyone how very proud I am to be
the patriarch of this family,” the elder Bongiovi continued. “Each and every one of you – that means you,
too, Rachel – are good, decent human beings that do their best to make this
world a better place while looking out for one another. You are the best family that a man could hope
to have, and I’m blessed this holiday season to call you mine. God bless us all.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There was clinking of glasses, murmurs of appreciation
and squeezing of hands and shoulders among the tight-knit clan.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“That was so sweet of you, John,” Rachel spoke over the
rumblings. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You may as well call me Dad,” he instructed, taking his
seat. “You’re as good as my
daughter-in-law.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She dipped her chin with obedience and dutifully repeated,
<span style="color: red;">“</span>Dad. Jon and I are beyond ecstatic that
you all agreed to spend the day with us here and I would love to do nothing
more than tell you individually how much you’ve all come to mean to me, but…” She pointed to the prime rib with a
smile. “If we don’t eat that before it
gets cold, I’m going to feel like my entire day was a bust.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Laughter erupted around the table and serving dishes were
passed as plates were filled and wine flowed.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was her first real Bongiovi family Christmas, but Rachel
knew it wouldn’t be her last. This was
merely the first stepping stone in a long future of family traditions with the
people seated around this table. People
who had accepted her as whole-heartedly as anyone could dream of being absorbed
into a family unit. They made her belong
and she hoped that they felt as though they belonged here – in her and Jon’s
home. Not just today, but any day. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Because that’s what family was.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Rachel would always love Christmas...especially a Bongiovi Christmas.</div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>Merry Christmas to you all!</b></i></span></div>
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Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-53060025658864212792015-12-10T18:22:00.003-08:002015-12-10T18:22:54.787-08:00Ch 81 ~ Home For Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMbPFT2HiPyVZe3wzcOCm69j5otNQgsP_goi8G6nSxHlwIrLZKMvASLVM1KOWP3tIV_ol6LX0-qScBC3eNidcfUKG-NgsfDqDECSOJyOzrKGaB3PVM2Mwl8mNsGv3ebg6fE_iMkCb3pMY/s1600/red+bank+xmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMbPFT2HiPyVZe3wzcOCm69j5otNQgsP_goi8G6nSxHlwIrLZKMvASLVM1KOWP3tIV_ol6LX0-qScBC3eNidcfUKG-NgsfDqDECSOJyOzrKGaB3PVM2Mwl8mNsGv3ebg6fE_iMkCb3pMY/s320/red+bank+xmas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>It really<b> is</b> the most wonderful time of the year</i>,
Rachel marveled as the crisp December air chilled her nose. Having Jon’s hand wrapped snugly around hers
as they strolled Main Street in Red Bank felt better than anything had in the
weeks they’d been apart. Call her crazy
– or stupid – but ever since the reporter incident, she actually felt closer to
him. Odd to think that a
near-indiscretion could do that for a relationship, but the way she chose to
look at it, a man who would come to you admitting that he desired another woman
could – and would – come to you with anything. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There was something undeniably appealing to her about
that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That’s why, from the moment they’d reunited in New Jersey
three days ago, everything just… clicked.
Possibly tighter than it ever had before. There was no awkwardness or adjustment period
before they got comfortable again, and being together was more natural than
breathing for both of them. Jon had even
remarked about how good it felt not to have to think or try to be on when they
were together, but to have the comfort just to “be”<b>.</b> <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She loved that, and she was going to revel in the “being”
for the few short weeks they had before life once again forced another
challenging separation upon them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And “being”, in this moment, involved blithely pretending
that she was in one of those Hallmark Channel Christmas specials as she
strolled down the picturesque street with her lover after a quiet Christmas Eve
dinner. Downtown Red Bank was packed
with last minute shoppers, and they’d had to park further away than expected,
but she didn’t mind the walk in the least. The scene was beyond charming as the
twinkling holiday lights danced along the old-fashioned streets, seeming as
excited as she was to usher in her very favorite holiday. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She didn’t know if the lights were particularly bright
here in Jon’s part of the world, or if the world just seemed brighter in
general this year. It was the first
Christmas in recent memory that hadn’t had a dark cloud of sadness hanging over
it, and she was easily happier than she’d been on this holiday since Nick and
the children had died.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The only thing that could make her Christmas better would
be snow. The weather here was cold and
crisp, a sharp contrast to Christmas in California where temperatures in the
60’s or even 70’s were common during December, but the skies so far had been
clear and cloudless with no sign of snow in sight. As a California girl who had been hoping for
a white Christmas, Rachel was disappointed beyond words. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Earth to Rachel,” Jon’s voice came like a fabric
softener commercial, interrupting her Hallmark Channel special.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What, baby?” she answered, smiling up into his face. It didn’t matter. He was the hotter than any of those Christmas
movie actors, anyway. That’s probably
why there wasn’t any snow – he radiated too much heat. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I was asking if you wanted to stop in a get a cupcake at
that shop you like so well? It’s just a
block up.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh,” she murmured, twisting her eyebrows
thoughtfully. She was still awfully full
from dinner, but those cupcakes were to die for. Should she….?
“No. Unless you want to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“We have cookies at home.
I got no interest in cupcakes.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The man loved his cookies, and this was one of the very
few times of the year that he cut loose enough to enjoy them. The day after Christmas, he would be back on
the treadmill banishing the extra calories away until next year. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Rachel…? Where’d
you go? I feel like I’ve been talkin’ to
myself since we left the restaurant.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon’s nose was red from the cold and as Rachel tucked her
hand into the crook of his arm she thought he was the most beautiful man she’d
ever laid eyes on. The pressure of
touring was temporarily at bay and he was relaxed, thrilled to be home for the
holidays. It was rare that he didn’t
have his mind on something, and when he was completely unwound, Jon was a
different man. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The guy whose arm she clutched tighter was more playful,
more sexy, more….Jon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Christmas Past,” she finally answered. “I went to Christmas past for just a
minute. Sorry about that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You thinkin’ about Lauren and Tyler? And Nick, of course?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“They’re a little more on my mind than they might
normally be, but that’s not what I meant.
Just now I was thinking about <b>last</b>
Christmas, and how miserable it was without you. Or, more accurately, how miserable<b><i> I</i></b>
was without you. That emptiness was
almost unbearable,” she confessed. “I
met you and you swept me off my feet, making me feel alive again, only to find
myself back down that rabbit hole of despair when we went our separate
ways. It seemed unspeakably cruel to
find happiness again and have it snuffed out again so quickly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon nodded and blew out a breath, “Yeah, it wasn’t a
banner year back here, either. I had
dinner with the kids and then came back to your house, where I drank myself to
sleep on your couch.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
No matter how miserable she had been, the visual he’d
just painted was enough to make her feel sorrier for him than she had for
herself. It was heartbreaking, really.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh, my poor baby,” Rachel stopped on the sidewalk and twined
her arms around his scarf-wrapped neck, looking up into his eyes at just the
same instant that a single snowflake appeared from nowhere and landed on his
eyelash. “But because of your unwavering
belief in us, look where we are now, Jonny.
Last year at this time, I couldn’t have even dreamed that I was only
weeks away from you walking back into my life and kicking down my door.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Literally,” he laughed, clasping his hands together at
the small of her back. “Well, actually,
I did have a key. I think your subconscious
knew I’d be back and you better not have changed those locks.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Whatever her subconscious thought then, right now it
commanded Rachel to lever up on tip-toe just far enough to capture his lips,
the warmth from her heart spilling into the kiss that couldn’t possibly get her
close enough to him, even as her bare fingers stroked the hair over his ears
and his tongue slipped into her mouth.
Time stood still even as the world shook just a little bit on its axis,
as it did every time he kissed her. If
she didn’t know better, she’d think she was back in California and this was a
2.3 shimmy on the Richter scale. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When the Richter settled back down to zero, and their
lips gradually drifted apart, Rachel sought the depth of his eyes and spoke as
earnestly from the heart as she ever had.
“My beautiful, stubborn man…. I
am grateful every single day that you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You’ve made me happier than I could ever have
dared dream, and I’m so proud to be yours.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon tenderly swept a new snowflake off of her cheek and dusted
her lips with a kiss that was lighter than his whisper. “You sound like you might really love me,
huh, Rach?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He didn’t do romantic.
They didn’t constantly do ‘I love you’ until it had no more meaning than
a fortune cookie. When they said the
words, they counted and he was telling her now that this counted. Big time.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her eyes filled almost to the point of overflowing before
she reminded herself to breathe. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And in the millisecond it took him to snort like a hyena,
the romance bubble popped audibly and was followed by Jon’s eyes lifting to the
now snow-littered sky. The intensity was broken when Jon pulled back with
eyes raised to the sky. “Lord, God,
Jesus! Am I dreamin’?? Because I sure as hell thought I’d
never hear you say those two little words to me. Now that I know you can do it, whaddaya say
we go and say ‘em in front of somebody official? A Christmas Eve wedding would guarantee I’d
never forget our anniversary – or New Year’s Eve. That’d be a fun way to wrap up the year.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel laughed when his man-ness would’ve hurt most
women’s feelings, and that was part of the reason they worked so well
together. She may not exactly speak his
language, but she could read his mind well enough to compensate. For him – and her – love wasn’t about hearts,
roses and diamonds. Okay, maybe it was a
little bit about diamonds, but still… It
was more about who was still standing after hearts had been broken and roses
had pierced you with their thorns.
That’s who they were. They were
the ones still standing, side by side.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You’re not fooling me, Mr. Businessman,” she informed
him with a twinkle in her eye that easily matched his. You don’t want a wife, you want to rack up
another write-off for your taxes. You’re
looking for a tax write off, aren’t you, lover.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I can honestly say that never crossed my mind,” he
chuckled, tucking her in close to his side and moving once again toward the
car. “But now that you mention it, a guy
can never have too many write-offs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Asshole,” Rachel scolded him affectionately, smiling as
the snow began to fall in earnest. “You’re
only after me for my brain and the deduction I bring to the party.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As they approached the SUV, Jon unlocked the doors and boldly
cupped her denim clad backside as she stepped up and into the vehicle. “I won’t deny your brain is one of the things
I love about you, Rach, but if I had to pick one part to ‘only’ be after… Well, it’s really your boobs. Have I ever mentioned –“<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah, yeah. I
know. You love my boobs. Same song, different key. Close the door and get the car started so we
can have a little heat, will ya?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As Jon made his way around the back of the SUV and
climbed in the driver’s side, he wore a contented smile and a liberal dusting
of snow on his hair and shoulders. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>I guess that wasn’t
an earthquake I felt earlier. It must’ve
been somebody shaking the snowglobe.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The realization was enough to place a smile on Rachel’s
face that matched the contentment in Jon’s.
She snuggled back into the seat as he revved the engine and flipped the
switch for the seat warmers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Rach?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah, baby?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’m a happy guy.”
A flick of his wrist had the wiper blades swishing away the layer of
moisture on the windshield. “Home for
the holidays with the people I cherish most.
Lucky enough to find true love for a second time in my life. Lotsa guys don’t have it this good.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Good to know you appreciate what you have.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I do.” He nodded,
then slanted his eyes in her direction with that one eyebrow kicking up
knowingly. “And knowing that I have so
much when other guys aren’t so fortunate…
Well, that’s the only reason I’m lettin’ your ass slide on this marriage
thing. Again. But don’t think I’m gonna do it forever,
‘cause that ain’t happenin’. <i>Capisce</i>?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Okay, so there may be a little – big – part of Rachel
that found his persistence and determination a huge turn on. On an idyllically shared evening that fell on
what was arguably one of the most magical nights of the year, she even briefly
entertained the notion of becoming Mrs. Bongiovi by imagining a diamond band
snugged up next to her obscene ‘commitment’ ring. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She may have changed the subject when he brought up
marriage again, but she simply didn’t have it in her to tell him he was wasting
his time by continuing to do so. After
all, hadn’t she just told him how his stubborn persistence was responsible for
her happiness today? Maybe the man knew
what he was doing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She had to at least entertain the notion. Right?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“<i>Capisce.</i>”</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-9420102139038416492015-11-09T14:04:00.000-08:002015-11-09T14:04:08.473-08:00Moral of the Story<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfB0NIestNUCkAo8KNySU1hQ0K0ycNZEdF1Zbe45nFFESFVJtWe_-ktCo7aiWFVw1w0pdt93wRQFBBPVFcbykEmhy3rOvGcwQFIhD1SbeJlyB-mfmh5c6R8Ly2hNKS5V7zLfvcOe6RgEw/s1600/JBJ+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfB0NIestNUCkAo8KNySU1hQ0K0ycNZEdF1Zbe45nFFESFVJtWe_-ktCo7aiWFVw1w0pdt93wRQFBBPVFcbykEmhy3rOvGcwQFIhD1SbeJlyB-mfmh5c6R8Ly2hNKS5V7zLfvcOe6RgEw/s320/JBJ+pic.jpg" width="297" /></a></div>
<br />
When her phone pealed out a familiar tune, Rachel looked up
from the listing she was putting together with a smile. She couldn’t keep track of the time
difference between California and Australia, but she knew that – up until today
– Jon had been calling well before her clock read its current eleven in the
morning. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>They must have had a label party or something that ran late.
</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey you,” she answered lightly. “I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten
drunk and passed-“<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I have a plane waiting for you to bring you to
Australia. I don’t want a big discussion
– I just want you on it.” <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her eyebrows immediately knit together, but not as tightly
as her stomach knotted. Even if his
snapped orders hadn’t grabbed her attention, the underlying tension in his
voice had set off all kind of alarm bells inside of her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Wait, what?
Why? What’s wrong?”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I want you here.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sitting on the edge of her seat, she waited for something
more. Something that would clarify the
emergency so dire that she had to drop her entire life and come running to
Australia during the busiest weeks of the year in the real estate world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All she got was, “Are you on your way?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes in
concentration, as though that would help her more quickly puzzle out what was
going on here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Nooo… I’m waiting
for you tell me what’s happened.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And if she thought he’d snapped at her before, it was
nothing compared to his barked, “I’m sick of you being on one continent and me
on another. And beyond that – I’m sick
of pretending I’m not fucking sick of it.
I want you where I can get to you, not all the way on the other side of
the fucking globe playing Monopoly with other people’s money!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It took every iota of self-restraint she possessed for
Rachel not to hang up on him – after telling him to go fuck his pompous,
arrogant self – but she managed.
Barely. However, her molars were now missing a layer of enamel thanks to the grinding that they were currently
being subjected to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>You know how he is when he’s upset. He becomes irrational and pious. Ignore the insults and stay calm.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m going to ignore that, since you’re obviously really
upset about something that has nothing to do with my career choice. Talk to me, Jon. Use your words, not your attitude.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a goddamn toddler throwing a
temper tantrum!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She inhaled through her nose, pushing back the growing
annoyance with behavior that pretty well mirrored a toddler temper
tantrum. “Then stop acting like one,”
she suggested reasonably. “And tell me
what has your non-existent panties in a twist.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a harsh exhalation on the other end of the line,
and she would almost bet there was a cloud of smoke around his head as a
result. Since she’d known him, Jon had
been very conscientious about not smoking, but there were times when he
remarked that he was hovering between smoking a cigarette or killing
somebody. This morning – tonight,
whatever – it sounded like maybe the cigarette had won. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Jon…” she prompted.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or should I roll my dice and
collect two hundred dollars for passing Go?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His snort was probably an indication that he found her
Monopoly reference amusing, but he didn’t want to. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m going to fuck this up if you don’t get over here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Excuse me?” His
words had been so quiet that she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “What exactly is it that you’re going to
fuck up?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The pent up breath he released this time wasn’t so much
harsh as it was… weary? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Us. I’m going to
fuck us up.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>And they say women are confusing...</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re gonna have to be more specific, baby. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a prolonged pause before he said, “I love you,
Rachel. I know I don’t say it very much,
but I do. As much or more than I’ve ever
loved anybody. I need you to know that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The knots in her stomach grew thorns. If he had to preface this with a declaration of
love, then whatever he had to say wasn't good. And if it wasn't good, she wasn’t sure was ready
to hear it even though she'd die if he didn't say something and put her out of her misery already.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I do know,” she responded evenly, with no outward evidence
of her inner turmoil seeping through.
This should be the point where she reiterated that she loved him,
too, or assured him that whatever it was would be just fine. <br />
<br />
But she couldn’t make herself. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All she could do was silently wait for the other shoe to
drop, and drop it did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Rach, there was this reporter before the show. Then she came to the show. And, after the show, I invited her back to my
room.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>Naturally</b> the other shoe is a mother-fucking stiletto heel.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A million thoughts and emotions fought for attention in
Rachel’s mind, but all she could catch were snippets of each. Anger, hurt, nausea, indignation and insult
all clawed at one another, trying to be dominant, even as reason tried to poke
at the pile of negativity with a pitchfork.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>He doesn’t have to tell you this. He has more clandestine skeletons in his
closet than half the free world combined.
He could have fucked her night after night and you never would’ve known.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Okay, then. So why was he telling her? To ease his own guilty
conscience by making her feel like yesterday’s news? If so, she hoped he choked on his guilty, immature conscience. Was he ever going to grow
up, or did he plan to always perpetuate the
rockstar dream of fucking the most beautiful girl in the crowd - just because he
could?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The logical thing would’ve been to ask one of those
questions, but she wasn't feeling all that logical so she launched a semi-sarcastic, "I hope you wore a rubber.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, no!" he jumped in with both feet, anxious to vindicate himself. "That’s not
what happened - I didn’t fuck her! I
swear to God, Rach, I didn’t!”<br />
<br />
Because his response <b><i>was</i></b> so immediate and vehement that Rachel's first instinct was to believe him. Did that make her naïve and gullible or simply in tune with her man? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>If you'd been soooo in tune with him, you'd have known he was chasing someone else's skirt.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If you didn't fuck her, then explain to me why we are having this conversation.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another sigh echoed across the oceans, and she hoped it was one with disgust at himself. God knew she was pretty well disgusted. Her hope was affirmed with the tone of self-loathing when he quietly admitted, “Because I wanted to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Great. Not only did
she hate every word he was uttering, she had to drag it out of him in sentences
that were as short and stubby as his fingers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh for God’s sake, just tell me already,” she demanded,
this time letting the tiniest bit of annoyance to creep into her words. She was
trying to be the 'cool' girlfriend here and not blow a gasket or - God forbid -
have a crying jag, but he was pushing the boundaries of her patience.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I wanted to fuck her,” he expounded. “I got caught up in
the euphoria of the stage and there was just something that kept drawing me to
her. I swear nothing like this has ever
happened when we’re apart, but tonight
- I just lost it somehow. I can claim Richie’s drinking is stressing me
to the breaking point or I can tell you I’m so horny I can’t see straight or
that I just miss you like crazy, but I know none of that makes any difference. I was wrong.
And I don’t want to screw this up between you and me. I love you…and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rach.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Relief seeped into her bloodstream and her stiffened back and shoulders relaxed. She was still annoyed, but his groveling monologue gave her hope that maybe - just maybe - he wasn't going to be a rockstar Lothario his whole life. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Are you telling me that nothing at all happened with
her?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"No! God, I don't know.
Maybe. I mean…I kissed her."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She swallowed a lump of what she presumed was bile lodged in
her throat. The lips that she was so intimately familiar with - that had been so intimate with her - had been plastered against those of a woman he'd wanted to have sex with.<br />
<br />
"I assume I don't have
to tell you how shitty that makes me feel?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"No shittier than I feel! Jesus, Rach, do you see why I want you with
me? I don't wanna be all pussy about it,
but I'm not sure I can do this monogamy thing without you."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Okay, now she was just pissed. Seriously? The man
was almost fifty years old and just now experiencing the ramifications of
monogamy? That was just pathetic. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Well, you're going to have to figure it out, buddy,
because I can't - won't - shame you into being faithful. You either want to or you don't."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"This would be a hell of a lot easier if you'd just
marry me,"he groused.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Did that make any difference with Dorothea? You said it yourself – a marriage certificate is just
a piece of paper. All the rings and ceremonies in the world aren't going to
stop you from screwing around if you want to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Well, I don't want to! I want you for the rest of my life, but this is all kinda new to me. I know I destroyed my family and marriage with Dorothea because I wasn’t
faithful. I get that and acknowledge women are my Achilles heel, but I'd like to get a steel-heeled boot or something, because I don’t want to do that anymore. That's not who I wanna be anymore."<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
And he meant it. The sincerity in his voice was completely unmistakable. This was NFL franchise serious to him. Yeah, he was confused by the fact that he felt like a piece of dog crap about wanting a woman, but he was adamant that he didn't want to feel that way again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The hurt, anger and disgust Rachel had felt with Jon’s
admission he’d desired another woman began to dissipate and was replaced with love. This was huge for him, and took them to a whole new level of trust and commitment. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
One which mandated she put her hurt aside, be thankful he was able to talk to her about this, and reassure him that he was on the right track.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You aren’t that man anymore, baby. If you were, you’d be rolling around between
the sheets with Lois Lane. Instead, you
called <i>me</i>."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re the one, Rach.
Without any doubt, you’re the only one.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Yes. A skanky Australian reporter was a milestone in their relationship. A good milestone. Who would've thought?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Good answer.
Now.... The moral of this story
is….?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That your ass should be on tour with me, so that when I’m
horny I can fuck you blind and go to sleep instead of being up half the night
arranging flights to get you here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rachel laughed, knowing in her heart that she'd made the
right decision in not freaking out. He
may not be perfect, but he was hers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, honey, the moral of the story is that Superman has morals. Enough sexual morals not to fuck Lois Lane. I understand that’s something new and
different for you, so it may take a while before you get used to not whipping
out the Rod of Steel on a whim, but I’m confident you’ll master it. Eventually.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a little overwhelming, Rachel thought, the whole love
thing. When you let yourself give into
it and allowed another human being to hold your heart so completely and fully,
you also gave that person permission to drag you from the highest heavenly
cloud to the depths of hell while trusting that they’d lift you up again when
it was all over. So far Jon hadn’t
violated that trust. He may have made
some questionable choices, but he’d ultimately done the right thing and, no
matter if they were in heaven or hell, Rachel was right there beside him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-10343998402774243822015-10-25T21:48:00.000-07:002015-10-25T21:48:20.419-07:00Chapter 79 ~ Old Habits Die Hard<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QDpNAPOA-N_xHJjA4MN7ZLLDj5O55ldCYqq8xDITDjXLK6fWWPIUWGxxnx9QEOJ3gntKUCwqvVVQxRE4CvqjqG016YVLyKgygsnGz1oTyGwW-Iysd2cSiDbCHiVtS2-GvaMZg_WewPyQ/s1600/20101208BSW-Perth26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QDpNAPOA-N_xHJjA4MN7ZLLDj5O55ldCYqq8xDITDjXLK6fWWPIUWGxxnx9QEOJ3gntKUCwqvVVQxRE4CvqjqG016YVLyKgygsnGz1oTyGwW-Iysd2cSiDbCHiVtS2-GvaMZg_WewPyQ/s320/20101208BSW-Perth26.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
“Well, thank you for the interview, gentlemen.” The impeccably shaped reporter pushed her
sky-high heels to the floor, and her equally impeccable breasts nearly spilled
from the cups of a strapless blouse when she leaned over for her bag.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Fuck.Me. <b>Please</b>.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon loved Australia, and Perth might have just become his
new favorite city, thanks to the journalistic jewel that was just adjusting the
leather trim on her flowing, Grecian-style top, thereby ensuring her
modesty. Of course, even if it had slipped,
the rich honey mane of waves cascading from her crown was long and thick enough
to make her a Lady Godiva stunt double.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>But there’s not
enough to go all the way down. Damn
jeans.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon cleared his throat and flashed a smile that was
several shades brighter than the one he typically gave reporters. “It was our
pleasure, Jessica.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It had been <b><i>his </i></b>pleasure, anyway. He couldn’t recall the last time that he’d
enjoyed one of these pre-show drivel sessions so much. Not only was the Ms. Godiva clone hot as
hell, she was intelligent and well-spoken.
She didn’t ask the usual inane questions, but they weren’t the crazy,
off-the-wall kind either. God help the
last chick who had asked him if he had a colon cleansing routine. He’d cut that interview off faster than you
could say “exit only”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
No, the fair-haired Jessica was more like a friend he’d
invited over for a cup of coffee or a glass of wine instead of a reporter. But maybe that was just him. He couldn’t technically speak for his three
counter-parts, who were seated beside him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Richie, David and Tico looked as bored as they usually
did during these things – until the lovely Aussie jewel had bent to retrieve
her bag. Then Sambora’s Boobage Alert
System had gone into overdrive, and he leaned forward like the letch that he
was. The other two had been more subtle,
but their eyes had definitely been riveted on two of Perth’s loveliest
mountains. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You gonna stay and catch the show?” Jon asked, standing
along with the buxom beauty.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her grin was enough to spread sunshine into every
wallaby’s ass across the nation. “Oh,
yeah. I had my ticket long before I got
the interview assignment.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“We do appreciate our loyal fans,” Sambora schmoozed from
right behind him before nudging Jon with an elbow. “Isn’t that right, Jon?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Of course,” Jon stepped in seamlessly. “Jessica, do you have any particular favorite
that you’d like to hear tonight in appreciation of your loyalty?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her grin dimmed more to that of a Mona Lisa smile. “I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t want
to muck about with the infamous setlist.
You’re rumoured to be quite territorial about it, Mr. Bon Jovi.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
David’s snort rolled over him from behind. “Sounds like somebody’s got your number, boss
man.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Nah,” Jon denied, refusing to turn and acknowledge the
Jew who was making him look bad. He
smiled the boyishly charming smile at Jessica.
“Somebody’s gotta do it, so it may as well be me. The only limitations are my vocal cords and
my ability to remember the song.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well…” she pondered in what he chose to interpret as a
come-hither purr, even though reality would peg it as no more than a thoughtful
introduction to her to her next statement. Regardless, he knew that if she named the most
obscure song they’d ever done, the guys were going to be pissed about the last
minute rehearsal he would call to get it down before show time. He was <b><i>that </i></b>intrigued with this woman. “I have been particularly enjoying your
performances of Bad Medicine this tour.
In fact, I quite love them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He breathed a silent sigh of relief. That one he could do in his fucking sleep,
and probably had on more than one occasion.
He could sass it up a little and make it all about her. Depending on how that went….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Bad Medicine it is,” he pronounced as the timed knock on
the door came, signaling that her interview time was over. “If you need a better ticket for the show,
let Paul know, okay?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Amusement and sparked in the depths of cocoa eyes, one of
which gave him a slow, knowing wink.
“Again, I appreciate the consideration, but I’m in the Diamond
Circle. It doesn’t get much better than
that, unless you’d like to let me sit on stage with you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hehe,” he chuckled, wondering at the feasibility and simultaneously
knowing that would be a PR nightmare. “Sorry. No can do on that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Then I’ll see you from the crowd” she demurred, knowing
good and damn well there was no way he would have ever agreed to it. She turned her attention to the other men in
the room at the same time as she sauntered out the door in her perfectly
fitted, ass-hugging jeans and high wedge heels.
“You blokes have a good show, now.
Buh-bye.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Buh-bye,” Richie parroted shrilly, before whirling on
his heel toward Jon with a laugh. “Liked
that one did you, JB? Yanno, we could’ve
gone in the hall while you fucked her.
All you hadda do was give the high sign, like old times.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Shut up. She was
a good journalist for a change, that’s all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
David lifted one eyebrow at him while concurrently
squinting the opposite eye.
“Suuuuure. Her insight at asking
the meaning of the album name was genius.
Nobody’s done that before.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Fuck you, Bryan.
At least she didn’t ask about my hair or my pre-show rituals.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Holding up an invisible cigar a la Groucho Marx, David
leaned into Richie with an accompanying impersonation of the late comedian,
“It’s too bad she didn’t ask about post-show rituals. You could’ve invited her to <b><i>cum </i></b>and
see.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There were days when Jon wished he was a solo act, if for
no other reason than for some privacy.
Seriously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
~~~~~<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Richie Sambora on the guitar, ladies and gentlemen!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon was sweating like a pig on a spit, but he was in the
groove and he knew it. Halfway through
tonight’s extra special rendition of Bad Medicine and he’d seen that the lovely
Jessica was enjoying herself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Now it’s time to
enjoy MY-self…</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He pulled the mic from the stand and punched his fist
into the air at the same time Tico hit the drums.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“That’s what I gotta say,” he spoke into the mic walking
to the opposite side of the stage from where the buxom reporter was stationed,
before choreographing another punch/drum hit with Tico. He whirled around, bringing the mic back to
his mouth and addressing his band. “They're payin’ attention tonight. I see nothin’ but snap-“ Punch.
“Crackle…” Arm in the air. “And pop.”
Throw the elbow. All expertly
coordinated with his drummer. “Allll
night.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He dropped back and thrust his hips lightly to the next
loud drum beat, casually, yet purposefully making his way to Jessica’s side of
the stage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Laughing, he strode to the point in the stage that would
have him looking right down at her and bent forward to give her his infamous
duck lips. He held that pose, waiting to
see what she would do and, when she blew him a kiss, he brought his left hand
to his own mouth and blew her a big one right back. Nothing like a little flirting under the
guise of being a rock star. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You love me, huh?” he asked as though she’d screamed the
words instead of the hyperactive girl bouncing up and down next to her. “That’s because you don’t know me.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He bent forward once again to stare into the sparkling
depths of the lovely Australian who had occupied his mind and attention for a
good portion of the show. “No, you don’t
know me.” He shook his head, continuing the banter that made sense to no one
but him. But he didn’t care, as long as
it got her attention, which it had. Her
eyes were firmly locked into his.
“There’s a dark side to this man.
It could be hazardous to your health.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>And mine, God
willing. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was her turn to shake her head, that bow-like mouth of
hers curled into a Cheshire grin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You don’t think so?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Again, she shook her head and wiggled her fingers in a
come-hither gesture as she mouthed, “Bring it on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It’s what you need, is it?” Jon laughed while turning and walking away
from her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Oh Lord
a’mighty. When was the last time being
on stage felt good enough to worry about sporting a boner into the next song?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“As usual,” he addressed his guitarist, pointing back
toward Jessica. “It’s all about the girl.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He laughed again and continued his trek toward the
opposite side of the stage in an effort to get himself under control. “People ask me why I still do this,” he
conversationally told the audience.
“That…” He pointed behind him in
the general direction of Jessica. “<b><i>That’s
</i></b>why.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Because, occasionally, even after all these years of
women upon women upon women, there was one who piqued his interest. One in a crowd of thousands. Hell, collectively, millions. One girl – no, woman – who made him think
very bad thoughts. Someone so different
that she had him completely forgetting that he was a grown man because she made
him feel like a randy schoolboy looking to get laid for the first time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>You’re in a
relationship.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Yes. He was aware
of that. Acutely. But still….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It’s startin’ to get a little bit crazy up here
tonight,” he observed to his band and did his best to put Jessica out of his
mind as he continued the song. He even
refused to let himself look in her direction when he belted out a couple of hip
tosses that had the crowd screaming with approval. But it didn’t matter that he didn’t make eye
contact. Hers was the face he saw when
he was thrusting his hips at the crowd. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>And this goddamn
stage is not where I want to be thrusting my hips. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But that’s where he was and he had a job to do. And a girlfriend-slash-fiancee-slash-would
be-wife. He pulled Richie into his
circle of hell, dragging him alongside as the song went on, and they picked up
the back half while Jon argued with himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I neeeeed a respirator….”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>You need your
fucking head examined. Didn’t you fight
tooth and nail to get Rachel back? </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It didn’t help that there were 50 foot high naked legs
writhing behind him on the screen. In
fact, it made it worse. Considerably
worse, because now he was already horny and now felt like he had fucking ants
in his pants. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>This is a bad idea. Whatever it is you think you’re gonna do…
it’s bad.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Monumentally bad.
There was no doubt in his mind, but he couldn’t help himself. He screeched out the last note and, when the
stage went black, he ducked into his quick change room beneath the stage. There, his wardrobe mistress was awaiting him
with a towel and a fresh shirt for him to change into while Richie was doing
his solo song. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Dawn, tell Matt I need to meet that reporter after the
show. In my room.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at him while disposing
of his sweat drenched stage gear. “And
what reporter would that be?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“The blonde.
Jessica something-or-other.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Again, she gave him the eyebrow, but she’d worked for him
long enough to know when it was better to bite her tongue than call him out. He damn well paid her well enough to
know. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’ll pass along the message,” she agreed blithely.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
~~~~~<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon was hot, tired and sweaty when he pushed open the
door to his suite. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Logically, he knew that Jessica couldn’t possibly beat
him to the hotel, but he hadn’t wanted to linger at the stadium on the off
chance she did. He’d chosen to jump into
his hired car with a towel covering his soaked hair to avoid the chill of the
night air and had instructed the driver to take any shortcuts possible. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Now, he shucked out of his stage gear and shoved it in
the closet as he strode toward the shower.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Bad idea. Bad idea.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The two word litany had been incessantly repeating itself
in his head ever since he’d received confirmation from Matt that Jessica had
agreed to come to the hotel and… clear up some final details.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He put his face into the warm spray of water in an effort
to drown out the words. Worse than that,
he started humming – something he almost never did – in hopes that his physical
voice would override his mental one. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Scrubbing his hair and running soap over all the
necessary cracks and crevices should’ve also been a distraction, but his libido
was in overdrive. It had been bad enough
being on edge about the reporter, but when another pair of beautiful
Australians had flashed him their beautiful pairs of breasts, adorned with
“Fuck Me Jon” in Sharpie. With their
shirts covering their faces, and nothing in view but tits and blonde hair…
Well, his mind had gone all kinds of crazy with that, wondering if Jessica’s
tits were that nice and having an insane, uncontrollable urge to find out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Bad idea. Bad idea.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“If she wanted a ball and chain on me, she shoulda
married me like I fuckin’ asked her to,” he muttered to the voices. “Repeatedly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Because, really, if he were married to Rachel, this would
be a non-issue.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Bullshit.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Okay, so he had screwed around on Dorothea. He’d been young, and she’d known it hadn’t
meant anything. Things would’ve been
different with Rachel – if she’d married him.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>What about that
ring of yours she’s wearing, asshole?
What’s that mean?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It meant she wouldn’t marry him. End of conversation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Pretty convenient,
isn’t it?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He snapped off the water and reached for his towel,
pushing the damnable voice to the side so he could dry himself and pull on some
jeans and a t-shirt. The button had just
popped into place, when a knock came at the door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Last chance….</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Stubbornly ignoring himself, he ran a hand over
still-damp hair and padded barefoot to the door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hi,” he offered to the woman who looked every bit as
good as she had when he first met her six hours ago. “Thanks for coming.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Thank you for the invitation – I think.” She entered the room, walking just past him
as he nodded a curt dismissal to Matt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Uh, Jon…” his brother began.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Unless somebody is bleeding or dying, it can wait.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A silent nod was all the reply he got from his gargantuan
bodyguard baby brother before the door was closed in his face. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“So…” Jessica took
a casual step toward the spot where Jon remained rooted, just inside the
entryway of the suite. “Was there
something you wanted to follow up on for the article?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He cleared his throat, oddly uneasy. Jon hadn’t been awkward with a beautiful
woman since he was fifteen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No, not exactly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The buxom blonde put her bag on the foyer table and
turned toward him, not stopping until she stood toe-to-toe with him. In her platform shoes, she stood about an
inch or so taller than him, so Jon had an excellent view of her soft, welcoming
smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When her hand slipped up the front of his t-shirt, it was
clear to him that she didn’t particularly care <b><i>why </i></b>he’d asked her here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Then is this an invitation to get to know your dark
side?” she asked softly, her breath tickling his ear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He couldn’t form words, or maybe he just didn’t want
to. Maybe it was just easier to put one
palm on each side of her face, tilting it at just the right angle for him to
taste the lips that had been taunting and teasing him during the entire
show. Once his mouth touched hers, God
knew it sure as hell felt better than any amount of talking could.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her mouth was like a warm pool of fine wine, ripe for
sipping. Her flavor coated his tongue
and his dick immediately stood at attention, excited by the exotic taste. When her hands fisted in his hair and her
breathy moan filled his lungs, arousal robbed him of any breath he had
left. He ate at her mouth, devouring the
succulence like a carnivore deprived too long of meat. The plump flesh of her lips seared against
his with a hiss that he would swear was audible and his mind became pleasantly,
numbly vacant. There was no
thought. There was no voice. There was nothing but the Nirvana of
Jessica’s mouth and her flesh pressing against his with a heat that would sear
asbestos.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He wanted her. God
he wanted her. He wanted to perform
many, many vile and wicked carnalities with the beautiful woman whose
fingernails had just grazed his painfully rigid cock and almost made him cream
his jeans with that simple touch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Mmm,” she purred against him, her hands moving away from
his dick and to seemingly explore the rest of his body all at once. “Just tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what you like...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
blushnscarlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12780956360419518153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-25172243521573670082015-09-01T14:40:00.000-07:002015-09-01T14:40:16.112-07:00Ch 78 ~ One Step Closer<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vCgtIPTbmC8jE1Sg1kVW8oc5NlGSsTVjuc16nuYr5Ucu0HsWRrYA1OwDiAUS8_h0W6DmF8xPk2YlsmxLrkOOiuHLti4AAR2zY7rWHdhDKfdUEelYtQQNqVH-14yOwZES2EtK__mQDBRO/s1600/cq5dam.web.400.400.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vCgtIPTbmC8jE1Sg1kVW8oc5NlGSsTVjuc16nuYr5Ucu0HsWRrYA1OwDiAUS8_h0W6DmF8xPk2YlsmxLrkOOiuHLti4AAR2zY7rWHdhDKfdUEelYtQQNqVH-14yOwZES2EtK__mQDBRO/s320/cq5dam.web.400.400.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Despite the late hour at which he crawled between the
sheets, Jon’s eyes cracked open at very nearly the same time dawn cracked. That was unusual for him the morning after a
show, but he’d tossed and turned to the point where he decided it would be better
to get up and catch a workout in before Rachel arrived. God knew that, once she was there, he didn’t
want to waste the ambiance of the secluded Costa Rican resort by sweating in a way that
didn’t involve orgasm. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So Jon found his way to the workout room that was
blissfully secluded at this hour of the morning. His feet pounded the treadmill in a hypnotically
rhythmic pattern, summoning the mental clarity that only came with physical
exertion, while adrenaline pumped through his veins and sweat coursed down his torso.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Adrenaline was a good thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Part of it came from the purely physical reaction of
exertion, but he knew the anticipation of Rachel’s unexpected visit was another
contributor. Whatever adrenaline remained
was simply cleansing away his frustration.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And that was a <b><i>very </i></b>good thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
What Jon typically found a semi-comforting routine of
travel, soundcheck, show, hotel and travel again had become… stressful.
The well-oiled Bon Jovi machine wasn’t moving quite as smoothly as of
late, and it was nagging at Jon like an amputee’s phantom itch, meaning that
the problem might not really exist, but it sure felt like it did. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Was it his exacting perfectionism that made Richie’s
on-stage goofiness seem sloppy instead of the choreographed antics they
generally gave the fans? Or was Richie’s
drinking getting out of hand? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It wasn’t like Jon had a problem with drinking, but not
before a show and not to the point where it interfered with work. He could not afford to have his livelihood
screwed with, so he’d been making an extra effort to detract attention from his
guitarist’s questionable behavior and it was starting to take a toll on
him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Maybe that’s why that, as excited as he was about
Rachel’s visit, it irked the hell out of him that she hadn’t been here since
the start of the leg. James and his
so-called “work obligations” were a crock of shit. Jon would bet his left nut on it, but she had
taken the cocksucker’s word as the living gospel and had refused to even
consider accompanying the band.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Let it go. She’ll be here soon, and there’s no point in
wasting sex time by being pissed.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He wiped a towel over his face and decided he’d punished
himself enough for one morning. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Arriving back at the suite, he found that housekeeping
had already come and everything was in pristine shape for Rachel’s arrival,
except for him. Jon glugged down the last of his water and tossed the empty
bottle in the trash can with a clatter that sounded especially loud in the
quiet room. Ignoring it, he toed his shoes
off and made toward the huge marble bathroom, where he stripped out of sweat-drenched
workout clothes and stepped into a spray of cool water. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His contented sigh bounced off of the glass shower
walls. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>The only thing
better than hot sex is a cold shower after a workout.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Of course his opinion would probably change when Rachel
arrived…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel’s step was light and her heart even lighter when
she approached the room number that Jon had texted her when the flight
landed. She needed this. She needed him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Somehow, when she hadn’t been paying close attention, he
had become something that strongly resembled the center of her world. As a modern, independent woman, she had
enough self-awareness to see that he wasn’t the biggest piece of her
world. She had plenty of world besides
him, but he was was most definitely planted smack dab in the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And she liked him there.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Honey,” she sing-songed after the keycard she’d obtained
from the driver allowed her to ease open the door. “I’m home!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His damp, tousled head snapped up and the grin that she’d
walk a thousand miles for – okay, at least five – shone radiant in the stubbled
lower-half of his face. As he pushed his
bare feet against the floor to rise, her eyes simply devoured every… single…
delectable detail of his half-naked body.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The partially damp tendrils that framed his face, telling
of a recent shower. The broad expanse of
bared chest that still made her thighs quiver.
The unfastened button at the waist of his only clothing – wrinkled jeans
that he’d likely left on the floor all night.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Surveying the way those jeans hung just a little loose,
instead of snug against his thighs and ass had Rachel’s eyes zipping back up to
his face. Whereas she had initially been
blinded by the smile that told of his obvious delight in seeing her, now she
saw deeper than usual creases hiding under that stubble. Cheekbones that were a bit more prominent
than usual. Eyes that sparkled, but bore
the weight of the little bags that often materialized after a night of
unrest. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What’s wrong?” She asked as his strong arms circled her
in a tight bear hug. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Chuckling, he pushed his hands down to the seat of the
track pants that were her favorite travel-wear and pulled her hips in full contact
with a part of him that obviously wasn’t as tired as the rest of him
looked. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What’s wrong…” He
bent to nuzzle under the fall of hair until he found the crook of her
neck. “Is that your ass hasn’t been in
my bed for entirely too long.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Agreed, but-“ His lips swallowed the rest of her
inquisition, and his tongue took up all room for words as it sought to possess hers. The minty tang of toothpaste that he carried
was refreshing, but it didn’t hold a candle to the rejuvenating powers of this
man’s hungry, soul-seeking kiss. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In her quickly addling mind, she thought it no wonder
that he was aging so well. The man had
restorative powers matched only by the Fountain of Youth. He filled her with a flood of invigoration
that had her floating with a buoyancy that she hadn’t experienced since the
last time they were together. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Damn, he’s
good. Maybe I </i><b>should </b><i>fasten that ball and
chain around his ankle and marry him.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Fuck, baby,” he sighed against her lips as his hands
pushed their way under her top. “If you
knew how many times I’d thought about puttin’ my dick in you…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel grinned. So
he wasn’t longing to ply her with champagne and roses. She still thought he was the perfect romantic
– for her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“If you knew how many times your dick was plastic and
battery operated…” she returned with a teasing lilt, while savoring the
tickling softness of his hair sliding through her fingers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He pulled back with a scowl. “Do not ever call me a Robo Dick. Got it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She giggled as he swung her around, marching her backward
toward the bed. “I don’t know… Your dick being perpetually hard and ready
doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It’s plenty hard and ready when you’re around,” he
growled, pushing her down on the mattress and planting his knees on either side
of her hips. “Next thing I know you’ll
be telling People Magazine that I take those goddamn little blue pills.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hmmm…” She batted
her eyes up into his face. “Is that why
you wanted me to call from the airport?
So your chemical sidekick had time to do its thing?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The next thing she knew, a resounding <i>‘smack’</i> filled the room and her left
butt cheek was stinging. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What the hell?” she squealed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“There will be <b><i>no </i></b>doubt cast on my fuck ability.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The wicked gleam in his eye completely discounted her
‘punishment’, and had Rachel snorted in amusement. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Baby, ninety-five percent of women in the world consider
you fuckable. I don’t think that’s a
problem.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“That’s not what I meant, and you-“<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His scolding of her purposeful misinterpretation was
interrupted by a loud knock at the door, and the wicked gleam was replaced by
an unmistakable air of annoyance. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Who the fuck is that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Probably my luggage.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He cocked an eyebrow upward as he rolled off of her. “You and Sambora. Neither one of you can pack light enough to
carry your own bags.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’m a woman, not a pack mule. Your dick should be grateful.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He laughed as he opened the door and waved the bellman
in, digging in his pocket as he told her, “It is, baby. It definitely is.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With a tip in his hand, the bellman was quickly ushered
back out the door and Jon turned to find Rachel studying him with a slight
frown on her face. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Dammit,” he sighed, propping his fists on his hips. “I just wanna get naked with you. Is that too much to ask? You gotta come in and give me that look that
says you’re thinking about starting some bullshit with me that ain’t even close
to naked? Christ, Rach.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Stop being so dramatic,” she commanded dryly. “It won’t take two seconds for you to tell me
why you look like you haven’t slept or eaten since the last time I saw you. Naked will immediately follow.” She smiled and used an index finger to make
an ‘x’ over her left breast. “Cross my
heart.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He groaned softly and took one long step toward her,
clearly planning to make that two second delay as literal as possible. “Probably because I haven’t slept or eaten,”
he offered flatly before extending an arm and curling it around her waist to
drag her closer. “Now lose the clothes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel couldn’t help it.
Irritation coursed through her in a sharp flash and she pushed at his
shoulders, scowling. He was so bad to
try and carry the problems of the world – or at least his own – without any
help. It just reaffirmed her decision
not to marry him when he proved over and over again that he didn’t need
her. He could, and would continue to, conquer
the world without anyone’s help – even the woman he swore he wanted to marry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She sighed quietly, a little frustrated that she’d let
her guard down. It wasn’t the first time
she’d let herself believe he missed her the same way she missed him, but it
wasn’t any less disappointing than it had been the first time. <br />
<br />
All <b>he</b> missed was the sex.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Can we not play this game, please?” she requested
neutrally, because there was no anger inside of her. There was no hurt. Only a purposeful lack of emotion at the
blatant reminder of her relationship reality.
“I understand that you’re completely and totally invincible, but could
you maybe <i>pretend</i> that you consider
me woman enough to share the load you’re carrying? Just for a minute?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Now it was Jon’s turn to scowl, but his tone didn’t
convey the same tone that darkened his handsome features. “Is that what you think?” he demanded,
clearly confused. “That I don’t consider
you… What did you say? <b><i>Woman </i></b>enough?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Oh my word,
no. We are so not going down this road.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Baby, do us both favor and don’t make this into something
it isn’t. Because I’m not having some
type of inferiority complex, I’m just annoyed that you refuse to let me in to
help you. Particularly when you could
plainly use some help.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hey.” An
unrelenting thumb pushed at her chin until she had no choice but to look into
his eyes. “I’m the kinda guy that takes
care of my own shit. It’s just the
Jersey in me, and has not a fuckin’ thing to do with your woman-ness.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed, unsuccessfully trying
to withdraw, but he held firm. “New
Jersey has nothing to do with the fact that you refuse to need anybody but
yourself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When his eyes narrowed to nothing more than a slit, Rachel
thought she’d pushed him from confused into being royally pissed. To her eternal surprise, his head didn’t
explode, it merely cocked thoughtfully to one side and held that way while she
stood tall under his silent perusal. One
soundless moment stretched into two, then three before he finally spoke.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You’re right,” Jon quietly admitted. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel was so stunned that you could’ve knocked her over
with a feather. She blinked twice to
make sure she wasn’t hallucinating and that this was still Jon Bon Jovi
standing in front of her. The man who
didn’t admit to… Much of anything,
really. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Uh. I’m right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His smile was affectionate as his thumb softened enough
to stroke her jaw instead of hold it prisoner.
“Partly right, anyway. Jersey,
and my being raised there, has everything to do with it, but you’re right about
the other part. I do refuse to need
anybody.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Okay, this was good.
Wasn’t it? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Why?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
One shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “The last person I needed told me that I
wasn’t what <b><i>she </i></b>needed. It left a
big ass dent in my ego, and…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She gently poked him in the ribs, prompting, “And…?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“And…” His eyes
locked into hers for the second time in as many minutes, before he glanced
away. “I don’t guess I’m over it yet.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Dorothea. Naturally.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It had taken Rachel a long time to find peace with the
whole ex-wife thing, and she didn’t relish the thought of backsliding into that
decidedly un-peaceful state of mind. So,
Rachel decided it was best for all involved parties to simply not address the
matter. It was a moot point, anyway, and
opening old wounds – especially hers – held no appeal. Bygones and all that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Do you know what you need?” She very deliberately curled her lips into a
smile and reset her sails. A change of
course would serve them both well. “You
need wine. And art.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What… the fuck?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The poor guy could clearly not keep up with this
conversation, and it had Rachel laughing.
At least now her smile was nothing short of authentic. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Wine and art,” she repeated, resting a gentle palm
against his cheek. It didn’t matter that
Dorothea had fucked up Rachel’s opportunity for a real marriage with Jon. Rachel would still love this man until the
day she died. “I saw a poster in the elevator for one of those classes where you drink wine while you
paint.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No.” There was no
justification or other softening of his refusal, just the one flat syllable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No? Why not? You’re a Pisces.” She waved her hand in the air. “Aren’t you supposed to be all artistically
angsty or something? This should be
right up your alley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I said no. And if
that’s not clear enough for you, let me add HELL no.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She snorted out loud.
Yes, this was infinitely better than working up a useless rage against
his ex-wife.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“But-“<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No buts,” he declared, pulling her toward him. “I’ve got my own wine and the ability to draw
stick figures. Deal with it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Okay, fine. I’m
nothing if not a woman of compromise. We
can do tequila and body paint, then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His head dropped back and the guttural groan of despair
delighted her to no end. “What we can <b><i>do </i></b>is
fuck like jackrabbits. Sober. Without art supplies.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hmm… I do have
that jackrabbit vibrator that I like to call Jonny…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And the next thing she knew, her top had been whipped
over her head while her bra fluttered to the floor and her back hit the
mattress. Quick, crude motions made
short work of her remaining wardrobe along with his clothes. He was naked, hard and ready, kneeling
between her open thighs and heat made his eyes glow cobalt blue.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’ll show you a fuckin’ jackrabbit,” he promised as he
pushed abruptly into the crevice that had ached for him and was wet enough to
prove it. “You’ll think you’re doin’ the
goddamn Energizer bunny by the time I’m done with ya.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She gasped as he hit the spot – <b><i>that</i> </b>spot – the one that
he always found without effort. The one
that made her arch her back and flow like Niagara Falls. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh fuckkkk....” she gasped, and any banter she might’ve
offered left her mind. There was no room
in her head for thought. No room in her
body. Only feeling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Christ you feel good, Rach. It’s been too long since that pussy greased
my dick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You…” She grunted
as he slammed into her again, digging her heels into those perfect
buttocks. “You fuck better than you
pillow talk.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A wide, wet tongue painted her right breast and left
behind a glistening trail before he bit down on her nipple. The quick rush of pain forced her clutching
fingers to his scalp, where she pulled at his hair. She couldn’t have said whether it was to get
him to stop or to get him to do it again, but he didn’t need direction from
her. He never did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The shiny saliva trail hadn’t dried yet before he dragged
that gloriously furred chest up her torso.
It simultaneously dried and abraded the rock-hard tip, once again
creating the painful sensation that was more aphrodisiacal than she could’ve
ever dreamed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her lip was the next victim of his harsh nip before he
dove in to possess the tender flesh of her mouth. Their teeth clacked together under the
connecting motion below their waists. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“So good,” she purred from the back of her throat. “Bite me, fuck me, do whatever you want to
me. Just make me come, baby.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Nnnggh,” was the grunting response she received as his
chest and hips planted her deep into the mattress. “Fuck you… so hard.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Harder. Make me
come, baby. Make me come.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She must’ve scooted up on the bed at least six inches
with his next plunge. There was no doubt
that the heated flesh slapping together would leave an indelible impression on
them both. A memory that their minds may
not keep, but their bodies would know forever.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The scraping of skin, the slickness of arousal, the
rasping gasps for air, the sweat that dripped from the end of his nose, the
humidity of his breath against her ear.
It all came together to build a hothouse of passion, where he forcefully
coaxed her into blooming like the most erotic orchid. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yes…
yesss….” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If she could open herself to him any more, she
would. She’d open up every pore, every
cell and let him crawl inside to take possession. He already lived in her soul, he might as
well stay in her body, too.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Goddammit, Rachel, you’d better come right goddamn now!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Ohhh Goddd!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She secretly loved that ridiculous God-like complex of
his. As though a woman could orgasm on
his command. And would, just because he
ordered it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I said come, Rachel!
Come!!!”<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her lungs collapsed, convulsing as violently as the rest
of her. Every muscle seized to the point
of pain, including her jaw. Rachel
clamped down on his shoulder with her teeth until he swore like a bawdy sailor
and locked into position, completely overtaken with his own release.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When he crumpled into a sweaty heap of rock star on her
chest, she curled her arms around him.
She pressed him close until their sternums touched, her subconscious
thought being to ease the agonizing thumping behind hers while simultaneously
keeping the physical bond between them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Rach.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She loved that deep post-sex throatiness in his
voice. Loved. It.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah, baby?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Unhhh...” He
groaned quietly, pushing onto his elbows to peer down at her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There was a funny look on his face. One Rachel almost didn’t recognize. It held a soft, sleepiness that she
identified as his version of ‘afterglow’, but it was accompanied by something
that resembled… determination? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She brushed the floppy lock of hair away from his
forehead as a shiver of trepidation stole her own afterglow. “What is it, Jon?” she asked softly, not sure
she wanted to know the answer. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He turned his face into her hand, closing his eyes
placing a kiss in the palm before returning his gaze to hers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I think maybe Richie’s drinking is gettin’ outta
hand. That’s what’s been on my mind.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And just like that, the trepidation was washed away in a
flood of misty-eyed warmth. He hadn’t exactly given her the moon, but she now had
reason to hope that he might. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
Some day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
blushnscarlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12780956360419518153noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-2775116437859571892015-07-23T10:05:00.000-07:002015-07-23T10:05:36.271-07:00Chapter 77 ~ Textual Relations<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5OBWwamB7E6Z8OFtDVnPBy8voO2kmKIi9W5D_Pu_AvccW3guJaGKBlGcRCrvLVKbLfuA6vjY1ftyy5RLBrMo1MCki09rfPNPR9SjyEjjoQogWi6yS7O5uXMsUil_tmCSQWiVzTlIKWf7/s1600/8594185423_21b778ac60_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5OBWwamB7E6Z8OFtDVnPBy8voO2kmKIi9W5D_Pu_AvccW3guJaGKBlGcRCrvLVKbLfuA6vjY1ftyy5RLBrMo1MCki09rfPNPR9SjyEjjoQogWi6yS7O5uXMsUil_tmCSQWiVzTlIKWf7/s320/8594185423_21b778ac60_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span id="goog_309001945"></span><span id="goog_309001946"></span>The month of August passed in such a flurry of sand, sun
and social obligations that Rachel had been astounded when she found it Labor
Day and she was on a plane bound for California, and away from Jon. Meetings in that week had demanded her
presenc on the West Coast, while Jon’s non-music obligations, along with the
last minute details Bon Jovi’s Greatest Hits album release, had kept him on the
East Coast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Which meant now, three weeks later, Rachel was suffering
a carpal tunnel flare-up from servicing herself during phone sex, when she
should’ve been on tour with him in…
Well, she wasn’t quite sure where he was at the moment, but she definitely
knew that it hadn’t been her bed. If it
had, she would’ve been sleeping better – in post-orgasmic bliss.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Despite her lack of quality sleep, bat-shit-crazy clients
who were never satisfied, and her aching wrist, Rachel found herself spending
this Sunday afternoon poolside, feeling unusually relaxed. The peace and quiet of her yard, where the
California sun was still as blazing in late September as it had been in July,
allowed her knotted muscles to ease into a rubbery state as she spent some time
putting a little extra glow in her fading tan.
Of course, the twenty laps she done in the pool hadn’t hurt, either. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That feeling of physical exhaustion was a good one, but
it wasn’t doing much to ease her mental and emotional restlessness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Used to being on her own, and even being independent when
she wasn’t, Rachel was more surprised than anyone could be that her thoughts
continually turned to Jon. She wanted to
read him a blurb from the morning paper.
She wanted him to make her the coffee that she couldn’t ever quite get
right. She wanted to fall asleep next to
him after mind blowing sex and wake up to the same thing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In plain, simple English, Rachel missed him. Big time.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her physical state of relaxation gave way to her mind’s
restlessness and she swung her legs over the edge of the chaise until her feet
touched warm concrete, thinking that maybe the mundane act of rinsing the
chlorine from her swimsuit would ease the ache her heart and body felt. Or at least provide a distraction.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But she was wrong.
Even standing over the laundry room sink, she couldn’t escape the
‘ghost’ of Jon. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>If he was here, he’d probably be screwing my brains out
on the washing machine. And then he’d
turn on the spin cycle. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The thought brought a smile to her face at the same time
it pierced her heart. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>My job is becoming
a pain in the ass. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
For the first time, Rachel wondered if she truly needed
the sense of independence and fulfillment that she’d always vehemently sworn
that her career provided. If it wasn’t
for her job, she would be straddling her man in some random hotel and being
fulfilled in a whole other way – a way that she missed like she’d never missed
her work. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>You are not
quitting your job</i>, she ordered herself as she pulled a Lean Cuisine dinner
from the microwave and took it to the family room, sitting in Jon’s favorite
chair. Damn if his very distinctive and
sexy scent didn’t puff up around her when she sank into the cushions, making
her tingle with anticipation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i> You’re just horny.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was funny how your body got used to another body. Where she once, not so long ago, had gone to
sleep by herself without a second thought, now Rachel would lie in the
darkness, looking at the ceiling while she ached. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Yes, ached.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Like a damned Harlequin romance novel heroine, Rachel
actually <b><i>ached </i></b>to feel Jon’s skin against hers, to the point where the
softness of the sheets became uncomfortable.
She physically craved those callused fingertips skimming over her
ribcage, and his breath warming her cheek as he snored.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Ugh! I’m pathetic!</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her shower and lotion didn’t help matters, because she
would never again be able to put moisturizer on her body without thinking of
Jon – and sex. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>I have got to get
my mind on something else!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Hoping to ease the restlessness she was feeling, Rachel
locked up the house and plopped into her big (lonely) king-sized bed to
read. People Magazine was always a good
distraction – or it had been once upon a time.
Until she’d caught herself reading about celebrities she’d actually
met. Now it was sometimes felt a little creepy and
intrusive. Better than the tabloids, but
still…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Demi Moore’s crumbling marriage was the cover story in
this issue. She’d never met Demi Moore,
and Jon didn’t know her well as far as Rachel was aware, but her crumbling marriage
just didn’t interest Rachel in the least.
She tossed it to the nightstand in frustration. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There was nothing that was going to come close to easing
that restlessness, other than Jon himself.
Granted, a text message wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do until she
could find out whether he was awake somewhere in the world and up for a little
visit. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>And with any luck,
he’ll talk dirty to me.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[7:32
PM]RACHEL: Whatcha doin?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She impatiently tapped the side of the phone with her
fingernail, willing him to hurry up and answer.
When no response came after ten minutes, the only logical assumption to
be made was that the man was sound asleep.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel screwed up her face in deliberation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She could call always call him, she reasoned. Agreeing that, if one of them really needed
to talk at any time of day or night, they both had their phones set to always
ring through for one another. It didn’t
matter if he had the rest of the world silenced, his phone would ring if she
called, but her sexual agitation wasn’t exactly earth shattering – for him,
anyway. If he’d actually managed to get
to sleep, Rachel wouldn’t wake him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With a sigh that was deeper than the others she’d been emitting,
she resigned herself to channel surfing the bedroom TV until she could find
sleep for herself. She was just
contemplating buying a new set of luggage from QVC when a text message chime
interrupted her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oooh!” She
snatched up the phone and swiped across the screen with a sense of excitement
and anticipation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[8:09 PM]JOHN
BONGIOVI: workin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><span style="font-family: ""Courier New"","serif";">Working? At this hour?
</span></i><span style="font-family: ""Courier New"","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Of
course she really had no idea what ‘this hour’ was where he currently stood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
[<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">8:10 PM]RACHEL:
Are you in the middle of a show?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[8:10 PM]JOHN
BONGIOVI: ya u ok?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Dammit! So much for dirty talking. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He couldn’t very well get her off in the middle of a
show. Could he? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It wouldn’t hurt to throw that out there, just in case.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[8:11
PM]RACHEL: I’m horny! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When his response time hit forty-eleven seconds, Rachel
flipped from the messaging app to her email.
She may as find out where he was at, so she could figure out how much
longer he wasn’t going to be any help to her sexual appetite. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her heart jumped when she saw “San Jose”, but quickly
plummeted back to its usual spot when realizing it was followed up by “Costa
Rica” instead of “California”. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“That would’ve been entirely too convenient,” she
muttered to herself. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A quick Google search had his venue pegged in a time zone
that was only an hour ahead of her. That
meant he’d be on stage quite a while yet, and likely not interested in
indulging her newfound fetish for phone sex.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Crap.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Nonetheless, he did continue to text her between songs,
which was a miracle in and of itself. He
normally stayed very focused and didn’t like distractions during his shows, so
it made her feel just a little bit smug that he was voluntarily allowing her to
be a distraction. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[8:24PM]JOHN
BONGIOVI: u & every woman here<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She grinned at the phone.
They may be horny, too, but he kept coming back to her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">{8:25PM}RACHEL:
Oh yeah? Any favorites in the front row?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This time, as she waited, she decided to search for a
live stream of the show. Surely some
techno-geek would be working illegal magic with their cell phone, right? She’d yet to be at a show where there weren’t
thousands of phones up in the air for the majority of the night. Who knew what they were doing?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She sighed.
Again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If a stream of the show was out there in cyberspace,
Rachel wasn’t geek-savvy enough to find it.
She was just about to go take another shower and make use of the
hand-held showerhead when her phone finally chimed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[8:40PM]JOHN
BONGIOVI: brunette in a see thru mini<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
See-through mini?
That actually might be useful.
Maybe if she could get his mind on sex, he’d be more likely to help her
ease the pain of Jon-induced nymphomania.
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[8:40PM]RACHEL: Nice
boobs?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[8:41PM]JOHN
BONGIOVI: maybe better than urs<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
For the first time today, Rachel found herself actually
laughing. Out loud. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[8:41PM]RACHEL: Oh
come ON! Nobody that’s going to PAY to
see your show has better boobs than me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her heart sang a happy little diddy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Because for a millisecond it didn’t feel as if they were a
gazillion miles apart. He wasn’t on a
stage in another country earning his keep by soaking women’s panties with a
single glance while she was alone with her own wet panties. However briefly, in this comfortably
bantering moment, they were connected.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Funny. It only makes me miss him more. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[9:24PM] JOHN
BONGIOVI: ha! cocky much?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[9:25PM]RACHEL: It’s
why you like me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[9:25PM]JOHN
BONGIOVI: like u better on ur knees<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel smirked. And why wouldn’t he? She was good at that, but it wasn’t the only
thing she was good at.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[9:25 PM]RACHEL: I’d
fuck you senseless tonight, that’s for sure! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And…. silence. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>This damn show is interfering
with my powers of seduction!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[10:11 PM]JOHN
BONGIOVI: could a guy finish his show without all this sexual harassment?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel giggled.
Sometimes the responses were worth the wait.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[10:11 PM]RACHEL:
You love it and you know it!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[10:11 PM]JOHN
BONGIOVI: more than my next bottle of wine. Encore. Call u later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Well, dammit. Just when it was starting to get fun.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Nonetheless, Rachel couldn’t resist sending one last text
– and accompanying it with a provocative selfie. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Okay, maybe provocative was too tame a word. Pornographic.
That might be more appropriate.
But not hard core porn. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[10:13PM]RACHEL:
Looking forward to it, baby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You sadistic little minx,” Jon scolded the instant
Rachel answered her phone. “You can’t send me naked pictures of yourself
when I haven’t had sex in weeks! Jesus, c’mon!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’ve gone without sex for the same amount of time,” she
volleyed right back at him, with a laugh that made him smile. He actually loved to hear her laugh, even
when she was being a cock tease. “So you’re not the only one deprived around
here, mister!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That sure as hell wasn’t his fault, but he didn’t think
that pointing out would get him anywhere he wanted to be, so he went with
something a little less acidic. “Yeah,
well…neither one of us would be in this mess if you didn’t have to be in
meetings all day Tuesday. You’d be here with me and I’d let you follow
through on that promise to fuck me senseless.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh! Get this…”
She let out an unladylike snort that belied her usual behavior. “James cancelled Tuesday’s meeting. So,
as it turns out, I actually<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></span><i>could</i><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></span>have
gone with you this week.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>No good, cock
suckin’, pink sweater wearin’, troublemakin’, gonorrhea-ridden sonofabitch.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Just for one fuckin’ day, I’d like to go without hearing
that cocksucker’s name,” Jon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Knowing what he thinks of me, the sumbitch probably
never had meetings scheduled in the first place.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Have you always had such a suspicious nature, or is this
new since you met me?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Since I met James, actually, and I don’t wanna talk
about that piece of fuck anymore.” He
pushed a tired hand through his hair and leaned back against the headboard of
his hotel bed, scratching his bare chest.
“So if you don’t have meetings that require your presence, why isn’t your
sexy little ass on a plane headed for Costa Rica?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I… Well…” Jon smiled at her hesitation. Evidently, she hadn’t thought to ask herself
that question. “Well, I honestly don’t know why I’m not.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His smile turned to a wide grin. He loved it when he was right and she didn’t
even want to argue with him about it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Fucking <b><i>loved </i></b>it!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Good answer,” he approved. “Now pack your goddamn bag, because I’m
sending a plane.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her giggle made him want to do dirty things to her. Very dirty things.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“And don’t wear panties,” he ordered gruffly. “I’m gonna want breakfast as soon as you get here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br /></div>
blushnscarlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12780956360419518153noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-22557453987202267032015-07-13T16:39:00.000-07:002015-07-13T16:39:14.574-07:00Ch 76 ~ Splinters and Softails<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnP6e_y5D8CnPLbz4gM-5GzWY6LVOB7NJ6C-GCUjZGHmutNTnLbiToObI-gecyoqRYD4U-0czjt4cRhoD9Gqpg9D_Ym-FHRXriVeI4ParvWohwsWtZvrP7KLu6-QiVIJocvZ05BG7bpqm6/s1600/1282330580463_f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnP6e_y5D8CnPLbz4gM-5GzWY6LVOB7NJ6C-GCUjZGHmutNTnLbiToObI-gecyoqRYD4U-0czjt4cRhoD9Gqpg9D_Ym-FHRXriVeI4ParvWohwsWtZvrP7KLu6-QiVIJocvZ05BG7bpqm6/s320/1282330580463_f.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Oh my word, James
didn’t just say that!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel was pissed.
Beyond pissed. She didn’t care if
James was her immediate boss or the Pope, no one was going to insult Jon that
way as long as she had a breath left in her body, and she was going to take
great pleasure in extracting a pound of flesh from the man she’d thought was
her friend. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“James! Don’t you
dare speak to him that way! What in the
world is wrong with you?” Her palm
itched to slap him, but she restrained herself.
Barely. “That has to be the
rudest, crudest thing I’ve–”<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Just as she was getting a good head of steam built up,
Charles interrupted by cupping her elbow – firmly – and turning her in the
direction of the bar. “Come along,
Rachel. I see Joe McLemore over by the
bar. Do you remember meeting him? No?
Then I shall introduce you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It took every ounce of willpower that she possessed for
Rachel not to shake out of the older man’s grip and tell him get his fucking
hands off of her, but she managed to do it.
Only because her livelihood depended on him – her boss’s boss, as it
were.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“But...” Her eyes
flicked back and forth between her current lover and her former one, both of
whom were locked into a silent stare-down.
Jon’s jaw muscle was jumping with barely repressed anger, and telling
the full tale of how James’s socially unacceptable comment had affected him, while
James wore an aura of condescension as ugly as his pink sweater. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She couldn’t walk away until she was sure this had been
properly taken care of.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Now, now, my dear,” Charles murmured under his breath as
he very nearly dragged her away from the awkward scene, unconcerned about her
wishes. “No man wants a woman defending
him as though he’s tied to her apron strings.
I’m sure your partner can take care of himself quite ably.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>What? I would never
do that! </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
However, in essence, that’s exactly what Rachel had
done. She hadn’t even hesitated to see
what Jon might say, just jumping in with both feet, intent upon avenging his
good name. Like he was inept and
incapable of taking care of himself, when that’s absolutely the last thing in
the world she would ever consider him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>He didn’t get where
he is in this world by having someone fight his battles for him, and he
certainly doesn’t need to start now. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So it was with a resigned nod and a lingering glance over
her shoulder that Rachel accompanied Charles to the bar, leaving Jon to deal
with James in whatever way he saw fit. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As he stared into the eyes of the cocksucker he’d like to
sucker punch until he writhed on the ground and cried like a little girl, Jon
made a mental note to thank Charles later.
It was time that Jon and James had it out once and for all, and having
Rachel there would present a distraction.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Listen, you jealous sonofabitch,” he growled through one
of his fake press smiles. It wouldn’t do
anyone any favors if the other partygoers realized what was about to go down
here. “My fiancée has to work for you,
so – out of respect for her – I’m gonna do my best to be civil as long as you
do the same. You cross the line like
that again, though, and you’ll be looking for a way to get grass stains outta
that stupid pink sweater, because I’m gonna put you flat on your back. Do we have an understanding?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No, we clearly do not,” James scoffed. “Because you might have the rest of the world
fooled with that gaudy ring she’s wearing, but I know it doesn’t mean shit.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh really?” The
other man’s eyes narrowed and he leaned in, lowering his voice in a taunting
manner. “Has she actually said she’d
marry you, Rock Star?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
No, but she would.
However, Jon didn’t feel the need to justify himself to this
asshole. “Fuck you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
James’s laugh was as derisive as his next words. “Let me help you out there, high school
graduate… No. She hasn’t said she’d marry you. And do you know why? Because she doesn’t trust you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I said it once and I’ll say it again: You don’t know your ass from a hole in the
ground.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon sincerely believed that the egotistical cocksucker
was pulling shit out of his ass and throwing it, in hopes that something would
stick, but his statement still stung Jon just a little bit. There were a lot of things he could blow off,
but not having Rachel’s trust was a big deal in his book. If there was just a sliver of truth in
James’s accusation…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I mean, can you blame her?” The dark-haired man’s shoulders lifted in a
sympathetic shrug. “Your sexual exploits
have been well documented, and it’s not like they’re <b><i>old </i></b>news. Two women in your bed is enviable from<b><i> my</i></b>
point of view, but I’m sure Rachel doesn’t quite feel that way.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon’s fist clenched at his side. It had been a long time since he’d gotten
into a fist fight, but his next one was getting steadily closer. If there weren’t a hundred Hamptonites– all
connected to Rachel’s livelihood in some way or another – milling about, he
would’ve flattened the smack-talking son of a bitch already. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So, instead, he just smiled that press smile a little
bigger, dropping his head back for a canned laugh. “Grasp at straws, James old buddy, because
that’s all ya got. You don’t know shit
about my relationship with Rachel.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
James adopted the same wide smile and phony laugh,
clapping Jon on the shoulder with a “friendly” thump and a wink. “I know more than you think I do, Mr. Pinky
Swear.” With that, he turned to meander
off toward the bar, repeating over his shoulder, “I know more than you think I
do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
~~~~~~~~~~~~~<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
After rejoining her at the bar with a murmured, “Later,”
when she opened her mouth to ask what had happened with James, Jon had been
pensive for the remainder of their time at the party. He had smiled and laughed at the right times
and made the appropriate responses when spoken to, but there was an underlying
tension that Rachel was likely the only one to notice. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The car doors had barely closed and Jon was just putting
the key in the ignition when Rachel reached the limit of her patience. “Well?
Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Nothing happened,” he told her blandly as he pulled the
vehicle onto the road. “He waved his
dick around, said what he wanted to say to put me in my place and that was the
end of it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel’s forehead furrowed and she turned in the seat to
frown at his profile. There was no way
in the world the man sitting beside her would take a verbal tongue lashing from
James, of all people, without some kind of retaliation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I don’t believe you.
There has to be more to it than that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He shook his head and made the turn that would bring them
into the driveway, ending their short commute from Charles’s home. “Nope.
That’s it.” He was out of the
Chevelle and in the process of closing the door when he realized she was still
sitting inside, just staring after him.
“You comin’?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief,
crossing her arms and settling back into the seat. “I’ll just stay right here until I get back
from the alternate universe I’ve apparently drifted away to. Because nowhere in <b><i>this </i></b>universe would Jon
Bon Jovi allow himself to be bested by the likes of James.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Suit your fuckin’ self,” Jon muttered and slammed the
Chevelle’s door. He stalked toward the
house, leaving a flabbergasted Rachel behind.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>I don’t need this
shit. What I need is a bottle of wine
and a blow job. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Inside the front door of the place that he’d called his
summer home for many years, he strode to the bar, choosing to pursue the one
thing on that short list that was a sure thing.
May as well go for the wine because, the way it was looking, he wasn’t
going to get the blow tonight. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The front door banged shut about the same time he worked
the cork loose from the bottle and, when he lifted his chin to take the first
drink of the night that he might actually enjoy, his eyes found Rachel. Her French-manicured feet were belligerently
planted on the opposite side of the bar, and she had that look about her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The one where she was looking inside his head as though
his skull was made of glass. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Absently, as the sweetness of his beloved Pinot Grigio
slid down his throat, Jon wondered why he’d thought it such a good thing that
she knew him so well. It was times like
this, when he didn’t particularly want to admit his thoughts out loud, he
wished she would just chalk his behavior up to a rampant bout of dickdom and
move on with her night while he quietly got drunk and sulked inside his head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It wouldn’t be unusual for him to have an outbreak of
dickdom – and he should’ve had a major outbreak with that cocksucker James – but the
truth of the matter was that he’d gotten distracted by the sharp point of the
stupid sonofabitch’s words. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Not sharp like a dagger that could bleed him out, mind
you. More like a splinter. Just a quick prick and then a lingering
irritation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Kind of like James
himself.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You can tell me now,” said the blonde pit bull he called
his. “Or you can tell me at three in the
morning when you’re tired of me keeping you awake.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
One corner of his mouth slid upward, and he swirled his
wine in the glass while he tried to play this off. “Depends on how you’re keeping me awake. If you do it right, then I ain’t gonna mind a
bit.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Jon…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Great. Now she was
even starting to resemble a pit bull with the set of her jaw and the low
growl. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yanno, Rach… this shit isn’t worth the trouble. Stop making a dramatic production out of
everything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I beg your pardon,” she snorted, stepping forward to
prop her hands on the edge of the bar and leaning toward him. “From where I’m standing, you’re the one
being a drama queen. If you had just
told me what happened the first time I asked, we’d be tearing the sheets off
the bed by now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Yeah. That makes it better</i>, he thought
sarcastically. <i>Knowing I could be gettin’ laid instead of doing this Oprah moment.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I don’t want to do this, Rachel,” he sighed. “Because I can already tell you what’s gonna
happen. You’re going to accuse me of not
trusting you, which isn’t the case at all, and blowing something completely out
of proportion. Although, God knows,
that’s already covered.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her hands flew up into the air. “What?
Are we in junior high here? When
did you lose the ability to have an adult conversation? Just.
Tell. Me!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon had backed himself into a corner. There was no way out other than straight up
the middle, because she wasn’t going to let this go until she had the complete
blow-by-blow account, and he knew it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>All I wanted was a
bottle of wine and a blow….</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Jesus H. Christ!
Fine! He said you don’t wanna
marry me because you can’t trust me, and he implied that he knows more about
your feelings and our relationship than I do.
Can we fuck now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh, Jon.” There
it was. That look of pity. The one he hadn’t realized he’d been dreading
until it settled over her perfect features in a display of sympathy that made
him want to punch something. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Don’t,” he cautioned her, holding up a distance-saving
hand when she reached for him across the bar.
“Just fucking… don’t.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Don’t what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Don’t treat me like some goddamn stupid kicked
puppy.” He slugged back another belt of
his wine. “I’m not insecure and I’m very
aware that he was just tryin’ to push my buttons. So don’t.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
One artistically shaped brow slid up on her forehead as
she straightened her shoulders, folding her arms on the edge of the bar. “Then get over yourself and stop being an
asshole.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I wasn’t being an asshole until you nagged me to death!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She shrugged, completely unconcerned with the accusation
he flung out in frustration. “I wouldn’t
have had to nag you to death if you’d just told me in the first place.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon closed his eyes.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>One… two… three…</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It honestly wasn’t her fault. He was irritated with that cocksucker, not
her, but she was jumping up and down on buttons that had already been
repeatedly pushed tonight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Four… five… six…<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He knew what he should do is just tell her why he was so
damn annoyed, but he felt like that was pretty much equivalent to revoking his
Man Card. What red-blooded guy was going
to admit that a dumbass like James had managed to get under his skin – even if
it was just a little bit? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Seven… eight… nine…<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
No. He was not
going to go crying to his woman because some wormy, pink sweater wearing
cocksucker had made him – just for a second – the tiniest bit insecure. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Ten.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon plopped his wine glass on the bar and took three long
strides around it, not stopping until he reached Rachel. Firm fingers gripped her upper arm and he
pulled her close, and he crashed his lips down on hers in a kiss meant to both
vent his frustration and punish her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Punish her for what, he really wasn’t sure. For making him love her too much? For making him vulnerable to James’s
bullshit? He wasn’t at a point where he
could make that determination. Rational
thought was just beyond his grasp, but Jon just knew he wouldn’t be feeling
this way if it wasn’t for Rachel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He plundered her mouth with a vengeance, bruising her
lips in a mindless effort to rid himself of the unwanted feeling. His tongue pushed inside her mouth, seeking
out hers until it slicked against his in the way that always made his gut
tighten with anticipation. One hard suck
on it had it had her whimpering with pain, and Jon’s conscience was
pierced. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He was being too rough.
She didn’t deserve to be brutalized because he had his thoughts in a
twist. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon was just about to break the kiss and step away when
her fingers tunneled into his hair, holding him close so that she could return
the favor and sucked on his tongue.
However, he didn’t whimper with pain.
He groaned with desire. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sex. Sex would put
his psyche back on track. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Does James know
about our sex life?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That thought wasn’t a splinter, it was a dagger. Or a
machete, maybe, because it stopped him in his tracks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That was the one thing he hadn’t mentioned to her
yet. James’s insinuation that he knew
things about Jon’s relationship with Rachel.
Not just things, but <b><i>private </i></b>things.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Pinky swear.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon’s lips wrenched free of Rachel’s and he sucked air
like a runner who had just completed his first marathon as her glazed eyes
registered confusion. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Are you telling James about our private life?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What?” The
glassiness faded and emerald irises became focused with a razor precision on
his. “Like our <b><i>private, </i></b>private
life? Of course not!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He dragged his thumb along her cheekbone, really wanting
to believe her. It wasn’t that he
didn’t, in fact. His head understood
quite logically that Rachel wasn’t a woman to kiss and tell, but his heart… His heart was being a dumb fuck and wanted
more. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Is this why you thought I’d accuse you of not trusting
me?” she went on, when he didn’t speak.
“Because James claims to know things I’ve supposedly told him?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her eyes were conflicted.
He could see anger snapping in them, along with shades of that fucking
pity again. The pity was for him, Jon
knew. The anger, however, he wasn’t so
sure about. Was it for him – or for
James?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Pinky swear. He
said that to me, Rach. Why does he know
that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Anger simmered brighter, but the pity was replaced by
exasperation. “Because, last time I saw
him, I was wearing the necklace and earrings you got me. He said it looked interesting and I told him
what it was. I didn’t consider it
classified information, Jon.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It wasn’t. Of
course it wasn’t. It wouldn’t have made
two shits if James hadn’t presented it in the worst possible light. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“But,” Rachel took her index finger and pushed his chin
until they were eye to eye. “I have
never told him – or anyone – the details of our<b><i> private</i></b> life. Your skeletons and my skeletons are still
locked safely in the closet together, where they’ll always stay.” Her mouth curled into a wry smile. “Nobody knows that you use sex like truth
serum on me. Or how you dig your fingers
into me when you’re about to come. Or
how my nipples harden when you suck my clit.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her nipples hardened when he sucked her clit? Hell, <b><i>he </i></b>didn’t even know that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh yeah?”
Settling his hands at her waist, he pushed the hem of her blouse up so
that he could drag his thumbnails over the smooth flesh there. “What else does nobody else know?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Nimble fingers unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and
moved steadily downward, until his shirt was parted to each side. “Nobody knows how bossy you can be in bed. Or how much I like it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon grinned down into her face, his own fingers getting
busy on her blouse. “Oh, I know,
baby. I know exactly how much you like
it, just like I know how much you’re gonna love me bending you over this bar
and smacking your ass while I ride you like a custom Softail Harley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A soft moan confirmed it.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Do you trust me, Rachel?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her answer was instantaneous, with no thought given to
the bra he stripped from her. “Yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“How much?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Authoritative hands pushed her capris down to the floor
and Jon immediately pushed his hand into the crevice between her thighs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She was wet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So wet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Ohhh,” Rachel purred, arching into his touch as she
pulled at his belt. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon jammed a single finger up into the hot channel that
immediately clutched at him, eager to be filled with anything he had to give
her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“How much, Rachel?
How much do you trust me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“With my life,” she squeaked when he hit her g-spot and
applied firm pressure. “I swear to God, with my life!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His pants hit the floor, and he kicked off his shoes to
shed them before pushing Rachel back against the bar. He was still giving her g-spot hell, and his
hand was sopping wet as payment for his work.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Then you’ll let me put your hot little ass up on my bar
and let me take pictures of you spread-eagle?
You’ll let me fill my phone camera with shots of your drippin’ pussy?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She stiffened for a millisecond before reaching down to
cup his balls and squeeze. “Sure,
baby. As long as you let me take
pictures of you on your hands and knees eating that pussy while you stroke that
big dick of yours.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon grinned. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Tit for tat. That
was his Rachel, and that was her way of telling him she trusted him every bit
as much as he trusted her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With his life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He spun her around and propped her hands on the padded
edge of the bar. “Who the fuck has time
for pictures? I got a Softail to
mount….”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
blushnscarlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12780956360419518153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-37870278019103770972015-06-26T20:23:00.001-07:002015-06-26T20:23:12.454-07:00Ch 75 ~ Fireworks in the Hamptons<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDPvNHcC4n-qd9reVff8jMEdmfXr7A-Xvm62aCeFBmAYerxYyck7qfQ_qMzVVQvZDfljAaldexoYCdA_2VFDxDJ2zlAj0We1Kf3FiyQwmcVPZ-qtNsSapq9D_3lZC7ohJqIAX2Ug5HZDhY/s1600/J3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDPvNHcC4n-qd9reVff8jMEdmfXr7A-Xvm62aCeFBmAYerxYyck7qfQ_qMzVVQvZDfljAaldexoYCdA_2VFDxDJ2zlAj0We1Kf3FiyQwmcVPZ-qtNsSapq9D_3lZC7ohJqIAX2Ug5HZDhY/s320/J3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Sitting on an elevated two-acre site with over two
hundred feet of direct frontage on Georgica Pond, and adjacent to a
seventeen-acre meadow preserve, Charles Hardcastle had one of the most admired
estates in all of East Hampton. He
wasn’t only known for owning the one-hundred-year-old mansion designed by noted
architected Stanford White, either. As
CEO of First American Bank, he was a prominent figurehead among the Wall Street
types who frequented these infamous beaches to which the rich and famous of the
East Coast flocked every summer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He was also Rachel’s boss.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Which is why she and Jon were currently milling beside
the pool, and he wore an expression that was perfectly amicable to the
untrained eye. Rachel, however, was
professionally trained in reading Jon’s facial expressions, and this one was
pissy. He was not thrilled to be here
and was convinced that there was some kind of evil subterfuge afoot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Objectively, she could see how he might think that, but
she was convinced that he was overreacting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Just because James had arrived on the Hamptons scene
shortly – the day after – she and Jon had arrived with the kids at the
beginning of August was no reason to be suspicious. James had bought a home here years before and
had often spent weekends there, Rachel recalled, while she was living in New
Jersey the last time. He’d even invited
her to join him a time or two, explaining that the business contacts she could
make in the Hamptons would be invaluable to her career.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So it wasn’t like he’d purchased a house for the sole
purpose of stalking Rachel and Jon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In fact, when they’d been enjoying some beach time with
the kids earlier that day, it hadn’t even fazed Rachel when James had casually
sauntered up to them and invited them to Mr. Hardcastle’s party this evening. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Repeat: It hadn’t
fazed <b><i>her</i></b>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon, however….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What?!?!” he had hissed the instant James was out of
earshot, clearly unhappy that she had accepted the invitation. “Why the fuck did you tell that cocksucker
that we’d go?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel was grateful for Jacob and Romeo playing in
the surf a couple dozen feet away. She
was convinced that it was only their presence that kept Jon from completely –
and loudly – blowing a gasket. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I know we were planning on making the most of our alone
time, after Dorothea picks up the kids this afternoon,” she sympathized
evenly. Intimacy had definitely taken a
back seat to family time for the last few days, and they’d both been counting
on this time to raise a little sexual ruckus.
“But I can’t count on my fingers and toes the number of your events I’ve
had endure with a smile. It won’t kill
you to endure one for me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rationale and reason had derailed his meltdown, for once,
and he only grumbled and cursed under his breath – a couple of times an hour –
until he intententionally parked on the street at the end of Charles
Hardcastle’s ridiculously long driveway.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I don’t wanna wait for some goddamn valet once you give
me the green light to go,” he explained, smoothing a hand over his hair and began
the hike toward the front door. “You
realize it takes less time to hike Diamond Head than this?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She had smiled up into his face and winked. “Maybe next time we’ll use the valet service
then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His scowl had magically disappeared when the door was opened
by a party staffer – and had remained so until now. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“How long do we have to stay?” he fussed, waiting for the
bartender to fill his order.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh honey,” she laughed quietly, patting the small of his
back while kissing his cheek. “You know the drill. We’ll see and be seen, make our appearance,
smile with the boss and leave. In
theory, we could be home and writhing around on the bed within the hour.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’m holding you to that.” He turned to lean against the
bar and peruse the well-heeled crowd. “I
bet he sucks a mean dick,” Jon observed after his first swallow of wine,
dipping his head toward the other side of the pool.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What? Who?” She pivoted with her own glass, trying to see
who he would make such a comment about when she spotted Mr. Harcastle – with
James at his right hip. James, who was
dressed in navy linen trousers, a white button down shirt and a pink cardigan
draped across his shoulders. “Oh my
word. If you ever put on anything that
even resembles what James is wearing, I swear I’ll never have sex with you
again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No worries, baby,” he snorted as she latched onto his
hand and dragged him along toward the two men.
“You’ll never find anything other than pussy on my lips.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“JON! Please
behave yourself tonight.” She was aghast
that he’d say something like that out loud in the middle of a crowd. Well…
She was and she wasn’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You don’t want a well-behaved man, Rachel. No woman does.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well put those acting classes to good use and pretend
you’re one,” she ordered amusedly, under her breath, before stepping into her
boss’s space and extending her hand.
“Charles, it’s so nice to see you again, thank you for having us. This is my better half, Jon Bon Jovi.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With the introductions made, small talk ensued. Rachel was pleased to note that, for the most
part, Jon and James were civil. In fact,
if she didn’t know better, they almost seemed <b><i>friendly </i></b>with one
another. She had no idea that Jon really
<b><i>could
</i></b>act.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Rachel, your idea to donate the plot of land in
California was excellent,” Charles interrupted her profound revelation with
shop talk. “I’d like to talk to you more
about that and how we might utilize the concept company-wide in the future.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, as much as I’d love to take credit for the idea,
that little brainstorm belongs to my man here.
Jon is very involved with Habitat for Humanity and, when I mentioned I
was struggling to sell that parcel, he immediately suggested we donate it and
take the tax credit.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“We know you’re beautiful, Rachel,” James was quick to
compliment, “But I’m sure Jon doesn’t want you to imply he’s the brains and
you’re just the beauty.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon had reached his fill of this bullshit. He had played nice with this asshole as long
as he wanted to, and silently willed Rachel to wrap this up with her boss so that
they could get the fuck out of Dodge before he nut punched James for the fun of
it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Clenching his fist unobtrusively at his side, Jon flashed
his press smile and casually popped of, “Nah, James. She’s the brains. I’m the pretty one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I see,” James
responded politely before muttering, “I suppose rock stars don’t have to be
humble.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh, bein’ a rock star has nothing to do with it,” Jon
denied, clapping the man whom he considered his adversary on the shoulder with
a hearty thump. “It’s all about Rachel. My head swelled to the size of a hot air
balloon the minute she let me slip that rock on her finger.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Take that,
motherfucker!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’d like to hear more about how you became involved with
Habitat, Jon,” Charles chimed in, and Jon’s irritation was replaced with an
easy calm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This was something he could engage in. This was something relevant. This <b><i>wasn’t </i></b>stupid-ass James trying to
make himself look good in front of Jon’s woman.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, sir…” He
angled himself so that he was directly facing Charles and putting James out of
his line of sight. “One night in
Philadelphia, I looked out my hotel window and saw a homeless man sleeping in
front of City Hall. There I was,
surrounded by all the history of our great nation and I thought ‘I don’t think
this is what our forefathers had in mind.’
I dug deeper, met up with people in the know and that led me to
Habitat. Habitat for Humanity’s work
speaks for itself – you’ve seen it. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina and the
Tsunami, for example, Habitat was there – rebuilding lives. And that’s just in
response to disaster. In Habitat’s 30 year history, they’ve built more than
200,000 home. And dreams, by offering
families a chance to be first-time homeowners.
It’s a great opportunity for your company to give back. And, let’s face it, the tax benefits and good
press will more than offset any net financial loss.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel beamed with pride and slipped an arm around Jon’s
waist. His enthusiasm for his passions
was contagious, making him an insurmountable ambassador for any cause he chose
to take under his wing, and he spoke with such clear insight. One need only spend mere seconds with him to
see he was more than a pretty face. Much
more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Charles opened his mouth – to agree in Rachel’s mind –
but before the CEO could do so, James guffawed rudely. “That’s a lovely sentiment, Jon, but rock
stars don’t have a Board of Directors to account to. We’re in the business of making money, a
profit center, and that’s not conducive to donating our nonperforming assets to
the homeless!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel was ready to jump in with both feet to defend
Jon’s position, but before she could get the first word out, Charles took it
upon himself to counter James’s opinion.
“I don’t know about your take on this James. I’m
sure Jon is intimately familiar with the profit center concept, and he has an
excellent point about the tax and PR benefits.
I’m surprised you don’t see this in the same light.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Jon is an excellent businessman, James,” Rachel informed
her former lover. “He’s turned the Bon
Jovi brand into a worldwide billion dollar company. Trust me… he’s forgotten more about making
money than you and I combined will ever know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rather than being deterred and moving on to another
subject, James didn’t respond to her, choosing instead to continue his
conversation with Jon as though she and Charles hadn’t interjected. “I know you had to have covered profit in
college. It’s in every basic business
course.” He cocked his head to the side
inquisitively. “Where is you went to
college again, Jon?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There was little doubt that the question was pointedly
intended to be a dig at Jon’s lack of formal education, and the muscle in his
jaw very nearly ached from clenching it until he could pull off a fake casual
smile and tone of voice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Actually, man, I didn’t go to college. I was too busy gettin’ rich in the real
world. The sweat on this old collar is
my PhD and all that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh, well that explains it then…”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
blushnscarlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12780956360419518153noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-60820572041590333282015-06-11T08:02:00.002-07:002015-06-11T08:02:31.606-07:00Ch 74 ~ The Mistress<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNscq_XGJeVSMFOu2I8xXdR6HTLApGlegA9QKYaard7Y7LOuj5pcIPE0B30ZTCzv4yD04bfRHX2MWDER03JQ5bUXddjOmW_5Kwvj52Cbf28-Nteu-L1eBwdG8vKjIDojT07DgLO6XEdbg/s1600/aan74pic2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNscq_XGJeVSMFOu2I8xXdR6HTLApGlegA9QKYaard7Y7LOuj5pcIPE0B30ZTCzv4yD04bfRHX2MWDER03JQ5bUXddjOmW_5Kwvj52Cbf28-Nteu-L1eBwdG8vKjIDojT07DgLO6XEdbg/s400/aan74pic2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Two nights later, Bon Jovi took the stage for the second
of their two Toronto shows, after which they were scheduled to immediately
depart for Louisville, Kentucky for one day off, a show, and then another quick
exit to Boston. Beyond that, Rachel
couldn’t remember – or didn’t care to remember, because it didn’t make much
difference. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It didn’t matter much where they were, Rachel thought to
herself as the band started the music to “Damned”. The hotels were basically all the same, as
were the food, gym and bar. It all ran
together as far as she was concerned, and she wondered how Jon could keep it
all straight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She fanned herself, mentally correcting that statement, because
there was no way she would forget the Toronto shows. Kid Rock’s fire effects had made Rogers
Centre as hot as the edges of Hell last night.
Why they hadn’t opened the dome on the ‘convertible’ arena/stadium she
would never know, but tonight hadn’t been as bad. It was less Hell, more purgatory since they’d
toned back the flames in the opening act, yet a droplet of sweat still crept
down the valley between her breasts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Inconspicuously flapping her blouse to generate a breeze,
she checked her watch and calculated how long before she could get a cool
shower and crawl into bed. She had just
looked up to the stage, figuring she had at least another hour, when Jon
unintentionally caught Rachel’s eye. He
was interacting with someone near the front row, and she squinted to get a
better look and what was going on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Kid Rock’s flames
have nothing on Jon Bon Jovi.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was only a moment, but she caught a glimpse of Jonny
at his rock star best. He was sweaty,
sexy and cocky, with a glint in his eye that made even <i>her</i> panties melt. And damned
if he didn’t look like he was enjoying himself.
Was that what kept him on the road?
The flirting? The adulation? The applause? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She meandered through the crowd, as she had taken to
doing during the shows lately, so engrossed in assessing the idol-worshipping
gazes of the women around her and trying to see them from Jon’s point of
view, that she missed her cue. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There was a certain spot in the set that she had to get
back under the stage if she was going to be in Jon’s quick change room when he
ducked in there during his mid-show break.
If she didn’t make her way back to the main stage by that point in the
show, she couldn’t get there without accessing the tunnel beneath the circle –
and <b><i>that
</i></b>mean interfering with Matt’s security detail. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Soooo not a good
idea.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So, instead of being in position to give her man a quick
kiss and “go get ‘em” pat on the ass, Rachel found herself effectively trapped
inside the railing that surrounded the control boards in the middle of the
arena floor. Mentally shrugging, she perched
a hip against the steel barrier and resigned herself to being in the perfect
spot to enjoy Richie’s solo version of “Lay Your Hands on Me”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The Richie girls, as always, were vocal in their
appreciation of his bluesy-gospel version of the song. They loved it almost as much as Jon loved the
five minute breather the song gave him in the middle of the set. For her part, Rachel was more partial the
stained-glass backdrop they used for Richie’s solo than anything. While she could see the appeal of his
alternative interpretation, she still liked the original version better, she
decided as the last notes reverberated and the lights went black. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This was typically one of the points in the show that she
didn’t get to see from a good vantage point.
Granted, Jon’s ass wasn’t a view she would ever complain about having,
but it would be nice to see his face when he did the mid-show stint out on the
circle in the middle of the audience. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Wonder what he’s
chosen to sing out here tonight…</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It would assuredly be one of the ballads, because this
was always the time in any show that Jon’s energy seemed to run a little
low. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When the spotlight flared to life, putting a bright halo
around Jon, who was practically right in front of her, at the same time the low
wail of a saxophone filled the air. The
first thing Rachel noticed was the intensity and fatigue lining her man’s
face. It, in equal parts, frustrated and
baffled her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Why do you do this
to yourself night after night, baby?
Why? What’s worth doing this to
yourself?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As the saxophone finished its intro, amazingly enough, Jon
saw fit to try and explain. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>You can listen to the engine’s moanin' out their one note song<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>You can think about the woman, or the girl you had the night before<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>When you're riding sixteen hours and there's nothing much to do<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>You don't feel much like riding, you just wish the trip was through<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Here I am, on the road again<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>There I am, up on the stage<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Here I go, I’m playin’ the star again<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>There I go, turn the page<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He often startled her with the things he revealed about
himself when he sang – things he could never put into words without a melody to
go with them. He would tell her a story
that would allow her into the deepest parts of him, if she paid close enough
attention…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>When you walk into a restaurant strung out from the road<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>And you feel the eyes upon you as you're shaking off the cold<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>You pretend it does not bother you, you just want to explode<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Most times you can't hear 'em talk, other times you can<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>It’s that same old cliché, is it woman or a man?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>You always seem outnumbered, you don't dare make a stand<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Here I am, on the road again<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>There I am, up on the stage<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Here I go, playin’ the star again<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>There I go, turn the page</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A pained expression streaked across his face so quickly
that it almost hadn’t happened. If she
was pressed to put a name to it… Well,
Rachel could only describe it as… hurt, maybe?
With a touch of underlying bitterness.
It was enough to let her know that the memories of those times – the times
he’d had to endure the ‘cliches’, the times <i>he</i>
wanted to explode – it hadn’t been all glamour and fame for Jon Bon Jovi. Sometimes, the whole lifestyle was just a
huge pain in the ass. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Out here in the spotlight it’s a million miles away<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Every ounce of energy, you try to give away<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>As the sweat pours out your body like the music that you play<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Later in the evening as you lie awake in bed<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>With the echoes from those amplifiers ringin' in your head<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>You smoke the day’s last cigarette, remember what she said<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A tightness knotted her chest and tears gathered in the
corners of Rachel’s eyes as understanding dawned. He didn’t stay on the road because he needed
the money. It wasn’t the the applause,
the adulation, or any of the other perks that came with the rockstar
lifestyle. In fact, she marveled, it wasn’t
even a choice he made.<br />
<br />
Jon toured
because he <i>had </i>to. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His mistress demanded it.
All the hours spent on planes, in hotels, meeting with the press were
the price he paid to be with her, because she lured him out time and
again. She seduced him, speaking to his
soul in a way that no one or nothing else did, and he was powerless to deny
her. How could he? She was as vital to his existence as
oxygen. Without her, he was just a guy
from Jersey trying to make it through the day.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So that’s why he did it all. For the music. His <i>true</i>
first love. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Here I am, I’m on the road again<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>There I go, up on the stage<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Here I go, I'll be playin’ the star again<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>There I go… turn the page.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His knee ached from being on it two nights in a row. His face ached from smiling. His ass even ached from shaking it. Tonight’s show had drained Jon, and the
mildly recuperative flight from Toronto to Louisville had been rendered
completely useless as soon as the plane door had swung open. Jersey was humid in the summertime, but it
didn’t hold a candle to stickiness hanging in the Kentucky air at one in the
morning – and that was exactly why he avoided scheduling summertime shows in
the South. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He’d heard Rachel muttering, “Holy mother of pearl,” when
she came down the jet’s stairs right behind him. “Isn’t it supposed to get cool when the sun
goes down?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His California girl wasn’t much of a summertime South fan
either, it seemed, but she offered no more complaint than that. In fact, he mused as he lay in bed flexing
his knee while waiting for her to join him, she hadn’t said much at all after
tonight’s show.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You’ve been unusually quiet tonight,” he murmured when
she finally finished her shower and lotion thing, and pulled the sheet back to
slide in beside him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Humidity,” she murmured listlessly, curling into his
side and resting a cheek against his chest.
“It sucked away the only iota of energy I had left.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He looped a loose arm around her, trying to maintain the
coolness the sheets had provided without forsaking the comfort of her nakedness
against his. “You were quiet before
that. Are you pissed at me over
something again?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She slid a hand across his stomach, twirling the hair
there before squeezing tighter into him, and his cock stirred, instantly erasing
the awareness of how his Humpty Dumpty body felt and replacing it with how good
<b><i>she
</i></b>felt. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No,” she denied, the simple word blowing an erotic puff
of air over his nipple. “In fact, I’m
more in love with you now than I’ve ever been.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh yeah?” he asked, now legitimately hopeful for an
explosive orgasm to help him sleep. Or
any orgasm that he didn’t have to flex his wrist for. He wasn’t picky. “Does
that mean I might get a little tonight?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Anything you want, baby,” she purred amusedly, stifling
a yawn. “Just cover me up when you’re done.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “You’ll adjust to the travel schedule, babe,
just give it a little time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Mm.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The softly agreeable grunt didn’t bode well for his
orgasm, but he took pity on her by closing his eyes and trying to sleep – for
all of five seconds.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Rach?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What made you decide you love me more now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, hell.
Naturally.” He rolled his eyes
toward the ceiling. “But there are so
many things about me to love… Why don’t
you humor me and narrow it down a little?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She inhaled deeply through her nose and propped up on her
elbow to regard him with one squinted eye.
The other remained firmly closed.
“I love you more now because I finally get it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“That makes one of us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Tonight.
On the circle. When you sang
‘Turn the Page’, I finally understood why you willingly deal with this hellacious
travel schedule night after night, week after week.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This should be good.
God knew he’d never been able to put it into words, so he was curious to
hear about the epiphany she thought she’d had.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“And why’s that?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Because,” she explained patiently. “Playing music in a studio isn’t the same as
playing to a sold out crowd. It doesn’t
feed your soul the same way, and your soul needs to be fed. You need <b><i>this</i>.</b>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Holy shit.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She was right. He
couldn’t say that he’d ever bothered to sit down and think of it that way, but
she was right. There was an undeniable
pull that kept him going, despite the fact that he hated hotel rooms and
abhorred the cold of the north and the humidity of the south and the jet lag from
zipping from one time zone to another. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>It feeds my soul.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Damn if that wasn’t the truth, but he wasn’t sure how
comfortable he felt admitting that out loud, even to Rachel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Maybe.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No.” She shook
her head in vehement denial. “Definitely. When you sang that song tonight, it was like
a window into your soul that I’d never been privy to before. It was weird, but I saw it, Jon. Surrounded by thousands of people, it felt
like one of the most intimate moments I’d ever had with you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Was that why he’d chosen that song tonight? Sometimes he didn’t know why an idea came to
him. Sure, they had a sax player on hand
tonight, but maybe he’d subconsciously picked the Seger song because – lately
more than ever – he could personally relate to the story it told. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And Rachel knew that, because she could read him that
well. When was the last time somebody
had been able to do that? Or cared
enough to?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It also made me feel horrible about being a whiny burden
on you lately,” she sighed. “I want you
to know I’m sorry, and I’ll try harder to adjust without being a drama queen.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon flipped to his side and stroked her hip with the hand
she wasn’t lying on, completely humbled and amazed that this woman had seen
something in him that he hadn’t ever put into words and she <b><i>got </i></b>it. That was…
priceless. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Hell, he’d buy her a diamond-crusted drama queen tiara if
she wanted, because, whiny or not, he was stupid in love with her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Rachel… You’ve
never been a burden to me, in any way, shape or form.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
One delicate shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. “Okay, so I’m sorry for being whiny.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“That I’ll take,” he conceded, leaning in for sweet,
lingering kiss before doing something he’d sworn to himself – and her – that he
would never do again. “Marry me,
Rachel. Please?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She chuckled quietly as she pushed him onto his back and
straddled his hips. The silky golden
curtain of her hair enclosed them in a private cocoon when she bent forward to
kiss him, and he inhaled the scent that he would forever associate with Rachel. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I love you, John Bongiovi,” she breathed against his
lips.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Is that a yes?” he breathed back, tongue darting out to
savor the taste of her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No.” One corner
of her mouth kicked up in a wicked smile as her hips rolled forward. His cock immediately jumped at the heated
friction, eager for attention. “It’s
more like a ‘let me show you just how <b><i>much </i></b>I love you’.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He was so starved for the feel of her body rippling
around him that he wasn’t even pissed she’d turned him down. Again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon curled hard fingers around perfectly curved hips and
lifted her from his body just long enough to get in position before he dropped
her, the impalement good enough to pull a gut-deep groan from him. At this particular moment, there was nothing
that mattered beyond the feel of his body inside of hers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Nothing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
At. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
All.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
</div>
blushnscarlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12780956360419518153noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-406477337478357292015-06-04T09:52:00.000-07:002015-06-04T09:52:04.429-07:00Ch 73 ~ Road Warrior<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_F2V0WRMVWQY0QU-J_AGu4XZj0QiRWsBB8eyQLm6h9pgj7cHkRsB-l6SQmoNOGEmLBC9BCoVOGbovEnyqd56QecQIMHckn8UGaDFdlMB5qDrcY3VsQcsO-2tc0bXIVOnZQ0PFPwgVKZE/s1600/pelangi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_F2V0WRMVWQY0QU-J_AGu4XZj0QiRWsBB8eyQLm6h9pgj7cHkRsB-l6SQmoNOGEmLBC9BCoVOGbovEnyqd56QecQIMHckn8UGaDFdlMB5qDrcY3VsQcsO-2tc0bXIVOnZQ0PFPwgVKZE/s320/pelangi.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Tour life sucked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And that was the nicest thing Rachel could say about it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There wasn’t a single day that had gone by in the past
week that she hadn’t longed for the blissful days they’d spent together fucking
and frolicking in the house on Navesink River Road. Hell, she even longed for the times they
hadn’t been frolic-ally fucking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She’d gladly host a thousand Fourth of July barbecues
with family and friends. She’d be
thrilled beyond measure to host his parents for months on end in the new
house. She would boat with the kids
until she turned green at the gills and had to ingest an entire bottle of
Dramamine. Each and every one of those
things, she had genuinely enjoyed and wished to be doing any one of them now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Instead she was in travel hell.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel flung a zip-loc back full of toiletries onto the
bathroom counter, where it landed amongst the other half a dozen bags that were
supposed to keep her organized while she traveled. They had always been her saving grace, but
when she’d traveled before, there had always been time to do more than throw
her stuff in them and move onto the next city.
Saratoga, Cleveland, Calgary, Edmonton, Winnipeg and now… Where the hell were they anyway? Still in Canada. That much she knew. Toronto, maybe?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>So much for being
prepared.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Apparently, she had been delusional in thinking that
living in a London hotel suite for a couple of weeks qualified her to travel
with this band of gypsies. Traveling,
was… She had a whole list of adjectives
built up at this point, but it was mostly exhausting. At the third hotel in four nights, she’d
given up trying to unpack. Now that
they were on the sixth hotel room in eight days, she’d come to the conclusion
that living out of a suitcase completely sucked,, which was why she was
currently venting her frustrations on plastic bags. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And they weren’t even halfway through this leg of the
tour. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Even the shows, which should’ve been a bright spot in the
travel Underworld, were excruciating.
Summertime heat combined with humidity levels that belonged in the
jungles of South America made each and every show seem twice as long as the two
and a half hours Jon was customarily on stage.
She dragged around like some kind of exhausted zombie, not knowing if
she was coming or going. And it was starting to take a toll on her typically
sunshiny demeanor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Not A toll. Multiple tolls. More than the New Jersey Turnpike and the
Garden State fucking Parkway combined.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Between her foul mood and Jon’s foul mood, courtesy of
the calf injury he sustained during the first New Meadowlands show and the
accompanying rehab while he was still trying to get through the shows… Well, to put it bluntly, their sex life even
sucked. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
To be fair, he was trying to be patient with Rachel’s
floundering attempts to adapt to life on the road, but she could sense he wished
she’d just suck it up and deal already. The more stressed he became over his physical situation – including his
struggle with the high notes as of late – the shorter his patience grew. Only an hour ago he’d snapped at her, barking
that he had all he could handle trying to get healthy and she’d have to deal
with her PMS on her own.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She’d flipped him the bird, annoyed at the PMS remark,
and griped that the only people getting the best from him were the fans each
night when he took the stage “playing rock star”. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
His reply? “I hope
you get your shit together before we have dinner with Richie tonight. I’m tired of making excuses for your candy
ass bitchiness.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
How could she be expected to do something as Herculean as
containing her “candy ass bitchiness” when she couldn’t even find her fucking
hairspray?? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Why did he willingly chose this lifestyle? He couldn’t possibly need the money, and he
hated virtually everything about touring except those few hours on stage, yet
he continued with the insanity of it all.
. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
For the first time, Rachel wondered if <b>she </b>was insane, thinking she could keep
up with him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Meanwhile, in the living room of their suite, Jon and
Richie were enjoying a pre-dinner cocktail while listening to the sounds of
Rachel’s frustration coming from the bathroom.
The rustle of bags and the zing of zippers could be heard along with a
repetitive chorus of <i>“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”</i>
and the slamming of the bathroom door as Jon’s lady love stomped from there to
the bedroom and swore some more. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Sounds like your girl needs a drink, Jonny.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“She needs more than that,” Jon groaned, feeling a
headache looming behind his eyes. It was
definitely gonna be an Advil kind of evening.
“I guarantee that whatever the fuck she’s looking for is probably in
plain sight. Mark my words, though, in
the next two minutes she’ll ask if I have the missing nail file, bra, tampon or
whatever. You name it, and she’ll accuse
me of having it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Richie retrieved another couple of beers from the
refrigerator, handed one off to Jon and opened one for himself. “Trouble in paradise, my man?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Nah, not really,” he sighed, yet he didn’t hesitate to
gratefully accept the beer and flip the tab.
“She’s just acclimating to the traveling circus lifestyle, but it’s no
wonder she can’t find her shit. I swear,
she’s got more luggage than you do. I
dunno know why you two can’t get by with a single bag and simplify my life.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Because we have incredible fashion sense,” his guitarist
retorted with a cheery lift of his can.
“Something you’d know nothing about, Jonny Bravo. How many days you been wearin’ those jeans
now?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Only a couple, but before Jon could verbalize his
response, an agitated Rachel appeared in the doorway, eyes wild with
frustration. “Did you use all my
hairspray, Jon? I can’t find it
anywhere!!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It’s in my bag,” he reminded her in quiet tone,
unsurprised that his prophesy to Richie has been fulfilled. It was his way of life now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Why is it in YOUR bag?” she asked incredulously, as
though she didn’t remember stuffing it in there personally, because all of her
damn zip-loc bags were crammed to the gills with the rest of her woman shit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Because you didn’t have room in yours and you asked me
to carry it for you. Remember, honey?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Why don’t you ever unpack? It would be so much simpler than digging
through suitcases every day! How do you
live like this??!!??!!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And…. she was off again.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon closed his eyes and sighed, wondering if it was
always going to be this way. If so, he
was going to need to buy stock in his favorite wine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I get that you’re frustrated, but you know what? If you didn’t have four suitcases and two garment
bags you wouldn’t be so fuckin’ frustrated.
You’re gonna have to learn to pack lighter if you’re gonna keep
traveling with me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel’s eyes rolled to the ceiling, and Jon’s fingers
curled more tightly around his beer can.
“Says the man with forty-eleven trucks filled to the gills with <b><i>his</i></b>
crap.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“If I had a forty-twelfth one for your hair shit, you
still wouldn’t be happy because you can’t unpack the fuckin’ thing every day,” he
observed blandly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Fuck you, and worry about your own hair,” she tossed
off, and he somehow knew she was arguing because it gave her some semblance of
control in a world where she felt like she had none. It was why he didn’t even flinch when she flung
out, “And from the look of those gray roots, you should get on that, like,
yesterday.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Children, Children,” Richie interrupted, rising from the
sofa and stepping between them as though he thought they would come to
blows. “Don’t make me send you to bed
without your dinner.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Wouldn’t be the only thing I’ve gone to bed without in
the last week,” she muttered, fixing Jon with a pointed look. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The way she’d been lately, he’d probably get his dick
ripped off if he got it close enough. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sambora, because he knew it to be in his best interest to
steer completely away from all-topics sexual with Jon’s woman, took a stride
closer to Rachel and put a light hand on her shoulder. “Rachel, Your hair looks great even without
the hairspray. Let’s make tracks and get
a big, stiff drink in you before dinner.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She ran her fingers through the unsprayed hair, clearly
still frustrated, but she grabbed her purse and headed toward the door anyway,
eyeing Jon as she walked by. “Might as
well. God knows that’ll be the only big,
stiff thing in me tonight.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Jesus Christ…<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon sucked in a deep breath and prayed for patience like
he hadn’t prayed since Catholic school.
God must’ve known he was in dire need tonight, because a sick blanket of
humor settled over Jon. It was either
laugh or he was going to put his hands around her throat and choke the living
shit out of her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Chalk one up for
the nuns.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hey, hey, hey!” Jon replied with a chuckled attempt at
levity as he parked his empty beer can on the table and stood. “Don’t be dissing the size of my dick. It may not be as big as Sambora’s, but it can
stiff you all night long.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The loud snort found its way over her shoulder and back
to him, along with her sarcastic, “I’ve been stiffed, alright…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<i>Yea though I walk
through the valley of evil…..</i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><br /></i></div>
blushnscarlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12780956360419518153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-12673465009026945452015-05-28T11:37:00.000-07:002015-05-28T11:37:30.642-07:00Ch 72 ~ Resist This<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFwIs1Y_PtFc2dOvyFwXX19Fh04murwHAFPNQP5KePPGBJJ05d9pZTcF1QZrYnYDeqYmaf_Rxh4N4WJRKF8Z-jtLKjPXrSG5PAddua7CGJ45T920V8ac9r20B9KRxcIILniYf8XcXM3_m/s1600/preview+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFwIs1Y_PtFc2dOvyFwXX19Fh04murwHAFPNQP5KePPGBJJ05d9pZTcF1QZrYnYDeqYmaf_Rxh4N4WJRKF8Z-jtLKjPXrSG5PAddua7CGJ45T920V8ac9r20B9KRxcIILniYf8XcXM3_m/s320/preview+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The water sluiced from her hair down the center of her
spine, and Rachel found the tepid water to be a welcome relief. Her swim in the pool had been refreshing, but
Jon’s seduction subterfuge had all but caused the chlorinated droplets to
evaporate from the heated sizzle of her skin.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Rat bastard.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She was reluctantly impressed that he’d been able to
resist her own poolside attempts at seduction and now second-guessed her
ability to drop him to his knees with the crook of one pinky finger. Yes, he was as tenacious as the day was long,
but still... He was a man. He had a dick, which ruled him with
significant regularity, and she knew it had been hard when she was sidled up
beside him on that chaise. Victory had
already started to leave its distinctive sweetness on her tongue by the time he
agreed that sleep sounded better than sex.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>If he’s tenacious,
I’ll have to be... Well, whatever is
more stubborn, obstinate, and determined than tenacious.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Reaching above her, she adjusted the spray to a massage
setting and turned her back, allowing the pulsing stream to pelt her shoulders
as she mentally scoured her arsenal of feminine wiles in an effort to raise the
bar on their little game. The
maneuvers she’d already put to use had been good ones – ones that she had fully
expected to secure her victory considering how long it had been since they’d
had sex – but they hadn’t been enough.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So what now? Stay
here until he appeared and ‘caught’ her playing with herself? It was a possibility, but she’d never done
that for him, so his reaction wasn’t a guarantee beyond the fact that – again –
he was a man. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
No, she would have to do better than that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her mind trolled over the annals of their sexual exploits
in search of that one thing fired him up.
What was always guaranteed to make his jaw drop and his dick rise,
without fail? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Bingo!</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The idea hit her like the most obvious bolt of lightning
that had ever zoomed its way from heaven to earth. How could she have overlooked the one thing
that always piqued his interest <b><i>and</i></b> libido? The simple, mundane act that unfailingly
darkened his eyes with lust while they simultaneously filled with a passionate
fire that she was always ‘recruited’ to help him extinguish. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel smiled smugly.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Yes, it was going to be just that easy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her objective in round three of what she thought of as
“Mission: Beg For It Baby” would be to linger in the shower until she heard him
enter the bedroom. At that point, she
would ever so ‘coincidentally’ turn off the water and step out into one of the
luxurious bath sheets with which he’d outfitted the bathroom. That soft and downy bath sheet would absorb
water left behind by the shower and she, of course, would want to retain the
water’s moisture, leaving her to reach for her trusty lotion – and slather it
all over her body in a show so erotic that he couldn’t – even better, <b><i>wouldn’t
– </i></b>resist. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Hearing a rustling in the bedroom, she immediately snapped
off the faucet and geared herself for action.
A brisk rubdown had both her body and hair dry within seconds and she
was just turning to drape the damp towel on the rack when a movement in the
doorway caught her eye. It wasn’t a
heartbeat later until that movement caught her breath, as well, for the sexiest
man in rock and roll – and the world, in her opinion – was standing on the threshold
as naked as the day he was born.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Oh my word.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her eyes raked upward from the dragon tattoo on his
ankle, over the perfectly formed calves and the thick thighs that always made
her mouth water before sticking on the partially-erect portion of his anatomy
that made other parts of her water. That
didn’t even count the furred trail that ran north from there, billowing out
into the sexy coating of chest hair that made her fingertips itch at a
glance. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And then there was that deliciously evil, wolfish grin
that he was wearing… <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Get your shit
together, Rachel, or you’re going to lose this deal.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Thought you’d join me in a little summertime cocktail,”
he murmured, holding aloft one of the two gargantuan margaritas that she had
managed to overlook in her perusal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Sounds heavenly,” she pushed through a throat that
wanted to do nothing but moan in appreciation of the fine male specimen posing
for her pleasure alone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That form stepped forward, lifting the drink in his right
hand and ‘accidentally’ brushing her nipple with the cold, salted rim as he
offered it to her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel, for her part, managed not to scream with pleasure
and merely smiled demurely as she accepted the glass. “Cheers, baby.” She swallowed a healthy sip of the premium
tequila blend along with any acknowledgement of his passive/aggressive attempt
at seduction by cocktail. “Mmmm… For a self-proclaimed wino, you make a mean
margarita.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But she lotioned a mean body.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel parked her beverage on the counter and casually began
a ramped-up version of the her nightly ritual.
Slicking the light moisturizer over her palms, she perched the ball of
her foot right next to the hip he had propped against the counter as he
silently sipped his own enormous margarita.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If she knew her man, he would be fine as she meticulously
moisturized one leg and then the other.
He would remain patient as she slathered her arms, elbows and
shoulders. When she smoothed slippery palms
over her hips and tummy, his eyes would transform to that familiar lustful
blue. And when the lotion slid over her
breasts… it would drive him beyond the
edge of reason.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She was confident in his reaction and taunted him, paying
extra attention to each fleshy globe by carefully massaging the
lightly-fragranced lotion across every millimeter of skin. Feeling
sassy, Rachel even threw in a slow-motion porno tug, moaning slightly for a
little more oomph. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And the son of a bitch <b><i>yawned.</i></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He covered his mouth with one hand and shook his head
with the force of it, before smacking his lips and remarking, “I’m so tired I
could be dreaming in about thirty seconds, but remind me to get a TV in the
bedroom. Watching the news in bed helps
me unwind when I need it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With that and another jaw-popping yawn, he strolled out
of the bathroom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The rat bastard had been completely unfazed by her
stripper-slash-porn star application of creamy white… cream! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Son. Of a.
Bitch.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If that hadn’t done the trick, she was at a loss – and a
bit tired of playing this game, if the truth be told. Waving the white flag of surrender was only
going to get her laid, which was the whole point of this escapade anyway. Why prolong the physical satisfaction that
she knew would come when she did?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sighing and making her peace with the ‘defeat’, she
grabbed her margarita and followed him into the bedroom, prepared to cry uncle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Uncle, however, was the furthest thing from her mind when
she found him propped up in bed, legs crossed and looking… like a rock
star. Truly. He was wearing the same smug, cocky smile
that he gave to those fans in the front row.
The one that all but screamed, “Yeah, baby. I’ll let you suck my dick, if you ask real
nice.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Oh hell no.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel’s resolve found new backbone. No way was she going to be lumped into that
category. It was going to take more than
a little chest hair and a set of rock hard abs to dissolve her into a puddle of
goo, like she’d seen multiple front-row fans do. She wasn’t some randy fan, she was his… Well, she was <b>his. And</b> he was <b><i>hers</i></b>, dammit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Carefully climbing in bed with her drink, she leaned on
her hip so that she was facing him and took a quenching gulp of the heavily
tequila-laden margarita. It was made to
her exact taste, and she gave him points for that, but… “You
seriously think all it takes is to fill me with Mexico’s finest tequila so
that I drop to my knees at the sight of your bare naked body?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You know you want to, baby,” he responded while tracing
a finger around her breast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Maybe, but I can still resist you and your little friend
Jose Cuervo,” she replied, setting her drink on the nightstand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He responded with only a negligent shrug before Jon
mirrored her movements, setting his glass on the nightstand at his side of the
bed and then reaching to tug open its drawer.
A mysterious flick of his wrist and he turned back with a prettily
wrapped package that he plopped on the mattress between them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What’s this?” she asked suspiciously. A gift certainly didn’t fit into this game of
cat and mouse. Or did it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“A Maserati,” he drawled.
“What the fuck does it look like?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It looks like
you’re trying to buy a victory in our little game.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He snorted rudely and laughed. “I get you a present in London and this is
the thanks I get? Christ on a crutch,
you’re a hard woman. Open the damn thing
already.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
London? Really? That long ago?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel slid an assessing gaze over the white, PopTart-sized
box as her mind raced over the possibilities.
It was too big for jewelry, but too small for clothing. Paperweight?
Scarf? Frowning in concentration as
she tugged one end of the simple blue ribbon the kept the box sealed, she
reviewed and discarded a dozen ideas in the space of mere seconds. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When she finally lifted the lid and pushed back the
tissue paper, she found a beautiful antique silver jewelry box. The lion-clawed little container was a
uniquely scalloped oval, ornately edged with scrolls. Each edge and side bore the same distinctive
pattern – in fact, the only part of the box that could be considered remotely
‘plain’ was the lid, which bore just a single engraved phrase. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
W<span style="font-family: "Lucida Calligraphy";">hat’s meant to be will always find a
way</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel’s brow furrowed in concentration, silently
repeating the phrase to herself. The
words were familiar, but she couldn’t quite place them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What’s meant to be…” she murmured slowly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And that’s when it hit her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In the early days of her relationship with Jon, he’d
taken her to his interior designer’s studio in Manhattan on an exorcism mission
of sorts. They’d gone to choose a new
bed for his Navesink house that didn’t carry the ghosts of relationships
past. While he’d been finalizing details
with the designer, Colette, Rachel had picked up a pillow with this exact
phrase embroidered on it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And Jon had stood over her shoulder before they left the
shop – reading it in a thoughtful voice before returning it to its display and
escorting Rachel outside. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It’s beautiful,” she , enthused, lightly fingering the engraving
before locking eyes with his. “I can’t
believe you remembered that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek and
smiled. “Open it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She frowned once again, slightly confused, but she didn’t
hesitate to comply. When the cool metal
lid and been pushed completely open, a familiar melody filled the room. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">And after all that we've been through<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It all comes down to me and you<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I guess it's meant to be<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Forever you and me…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">After all<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Eyes blindly transfixed on the blue-velvet interior of
the box, Rachel’s mind immediately went back to Las Vegas. To the Cher concert. To the very moment this song had been
playing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Jon grinned at her
tears and swiped at an errant one that tried to trek down her cheek.
There were no ministers, rings or flowers, but there were thousands of
witnesses to a moment in Rachel’s life that was as solemn and meaningful as the
day she had actually gotten married or given birth to her children. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>With a simple, “I
love you, Rach,” Jon puckered his lips and leaned into her for a kiss that
sealed their future.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her heart swelled with emotion that was simply…
uncontainable. She was moved beyond
anything words could express, and hoped beyond hope that, when she lifted her
head and looked into his eyes, he could see everything that she couldn’t say.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was the ultimate romantic moment of all time. This was going to be one of those Harlequin
moments that would be unbelievable in the living, because people just didn’t
have these kind of moments. They just
didn’t.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
But she did. They did. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Bluebirds of sappy happiness fluttered crazily in her
chest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel’s eyes lifted from the jewelry box to Jon and
those damn bluebirds flipped her the bird.
The finger. The official New
Jersey state salute.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Because, when her eyes connected with Jon’s, he was
arrogantly reared back against the headboard with his arms behind his head and
wearing the cockiest grin of all time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I win, baby.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Ah, what the hell?
</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She straddled his lap and ran loving fingers over his
face, neck, shoulders and chest and gracefully conceded, “Yes, baby. You win.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
blushnscarlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12780956360419518153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-80559790329439938292015-04-30T07:37:00.000-07:002015-04-30T07:37:26.778-07:00Ch 71 ~ Dirty Pool<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjufSSZjA32gQwwEx_8IrhrAGB9YK9VzmtlEnpb8bMJx-piCHeZXGFdZ6iXRHroT5ozaEoA97NacNezOFb2cs3ryPBB6czmxTOmdKZkdBP3dn4DrbmN_ZaV0tFe-JCLjAu0CGnTPCzgukpP/s1600/IMG_7661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjufSSZjA32gQwwEx_8IrhrAGB9YK9VzmtlEnpb8bMJx-piCHeZXGFdZ6iXRHroT5ozaEoA97NacNezOFb2cs3ryPBB6czmxTOmdKZkdBP3dn4DrbmN_ZaV0tFe-JCLjAu0CGnTPCzgukpP/s1600/IMG_7661.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon was frustrated in every sense of the word. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Not only was he sexually frustrated, he was emotionally
frustrated with the stubborn woman responsible for his sexual frustration. If she would just give up and admit he
was... Well, more <b><i>stubborn </i></b>than she was,
they would both be rolling around and suffering from some kind of orgasmic
bliss in that motherfucking bed by now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But noooooo....
Rachel had spent the last three – count ‘em... <b><i>three! – </i></b>hours prancing
herself through each room of the massive house and making a point of floating
by him so closely that her scent filled his nostrils to the exclusion of
everything else. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And that was the least of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
First she’d bent over in front of him under the guise of
checking the contents of the bottom kitchen cabinet, when she really just
wanted to wiggle her high-and-tight ass in his face. Then, while he was standing in the doorway
“inspecting” the squeaky door hinge and making the most of his shirtlessness by
subtly flexing his muscles, she simply brushed by with her breasts
tantalizingly brushing his tricep – with their rigid nipples.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
They were both clearly aroused, yet neither one of them
budged an inch on their dogged stance to outlast the other. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>God forbid she
actually be submissive for once in her life.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Submissive was not Rachel’s forte, and she made that
known when she strolled outside where he lay by the pool – once again flexing
his now sweaty chest - and dived into the pool.
That was all well and good, but the little minx mercilessly flaunted
that near-perfect body of hers by not bothering with a swimsuit. When she pulled herself from the pool with
pornographic droplets of water trekking over the flesh that he wanted to brand
with his own, the air hit her nipples and beaded them as hard and tight as he’d
ever seen them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon was proud of the fact that he didn’t throw her onto
the nearest lounge chair and pound into her with the ruthless fury that he
managed to contain. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Barely.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He also barely managed to contain his raging hard-on by crossing
his legs so that his trunks tented up in the front. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The way he saw it, Rachel had no intention of crying
uncle anytime soon, so that left him with two choices. One, he could give up and drop to his knees,
begging for mercy, a blow job and an orgasm from the woman who was seductively
dabbing at her damp skin while keeping tabs on him from beneath her
eyelashes. Two, he could play dirty.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Anyone who had ever met Jon wouldn’t have to think twice
about what his choice was going to be, and he wasn’t going to hesitate in
summoning necessary reinforcements.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Tequila might be
too late to make her clothes fall off, but it’s still her kryptonite.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It’s awful hot out this evening. I’m getting a little thirsty. How ‘bout you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Mm.” She slid him
a look that was as sultry as the July air.
“What did you have in mind?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Only one thing that’s going to quench a mouth as dry as
the Sonoran Desert.” He grinned at her,
feeling quite smug. “Margaritas, of
course.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She tossed her towel onto one of the chaises and
sauntered provocatively toward him, one condescending eyebrow forming a perfect
arch two inches above the other. He
swore she gave a little extra wiggle to her ass when she perched on the edge of
his lounge chair, bumping her naked hip against his thigh to scoot him aside
and make room for herself. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I can hardly believe my ears,” she drawled, the natural
heaviness of her breasts swaying in a move that was effective as a red flag
before a bull. His eyes were momentarily
riveted to the droplet that still clung to her right nipple, finally giving up
its fight and falling free at the same moment her flow of sultry disbelief
resumed. “My self-proclaimed wino is
forgoing his perfectly fermented Santa Margherita for a plain old tequila
margarita?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>She is the devil
with a pussy, and damned if I don’t love it.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But Jon had become a millionaire because he had a
steadfast vision for the future and, if he kept his eye on the prize, his
future held sexual exploits that would rival no others. He <b><i>would not </i></b>be swayed by a beautiful
set of swaying tits.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He slowly cocked his head and swept an open palm over
that pushy thigh, his thumb just barely dusting the crease where it met her torso
and rapidly retreating. “Guess I’m
feelin’ like wine may be a little too… civilized tonight. Tequila’s got more of a raunchy little edge
to it. That appeals to me, how ‘bout
you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel’s nostrils flared and her pupils dilated in the
dimness of the poolside lights, proving that he’d just about reached his
goal. He’d bet if he slipped that same
thumb into the slit sitting prettily between her thighs, that he’d find it hot,
wet and ready to beg. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon, however, wouldn’t get the chance to test his theory,
because she tipped her chin defiantly and picked up his still-wandering hand. Separating the thumb from the rest of his
fingers, she popped it in her mouth and swirled her tongue around it before
sucking it so hard that he was amazed he still had a fingernail attached. It slid from her wet lips with a loud ‘pop’,
and she dropped his hand nonchalantly onto his stomach. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Honey, if you wanted raunchy, you could’ve had that <i>hours</i> ago. But now,” she yawned, those damn breasts
hiking up and daring him to touch them as she stretched her arms above her
head. “Now I’m feeling a little sleepy.
I think I’ll just head up to that big, fluffy bed you bought me and
snuggle in for the night. Did you put my
vibrator in the nightstand for me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>You little
cocktease…</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If it wasn’t so painful, this whole thing would be the
funniest thing he could recall in recent history. Hell, if it was happening to <b><i>Sambora</i></b>,
Jon would get a million laughs from now until the day he died.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But it wasn’t happening to Sambora, it was happening to
him, and he had to keep the upper hand here.
If he conceded that she was just about to kill him, then… Well, then he’d be conceding defeat. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>No, and HELL
no! <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She was every bit as horny as he was and, if he pushed
the matter, he could have her coming unglued on this damn chaise inside of two
minutes. No doubt about it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Pushing the matter didn’t suit his purposes though. So he played along.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Sorry, babe. The
bedroom wiring won’t handle the voltage of the plug on your vibrator. Contractor said he could be here sometime
next week to look at it, but you’re outta luck until then. A cocktail in bed sounds
good, though. I’ll fix a drink and meet you up there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel didn’t say a word before she spun on her heel and
headed into the house, but Jon saw her jaw drop for a split second before she
got control over it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He grinned into the dusk.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It wasn’t the same satisfaction as an orgasm, but it
would do. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>For the
moment. </i> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-68864011180366418812015-04-28T16:22:00.000-07:002015-04-28T16:22:15.164-07:00Ch 70 ~ Bed, Better, Best<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNYPdlOgPRYrivtwMV6gspuBvN5YLDCML64ps08z58pzAAHtAk5Q1PttYaQoi4jkJgC79aI6_p0iTVUL1R12tV8rLVkJNTNqEuNxZwiuvq2sqzaSSgD3qtTRnji4L8RSXx6q8YAPBRLfi/s1600/bdrm1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNYPdlOgPRYrivtwMV6gspuBvN5YLDCML64ps08z58pzAAHtAk5Q1PttYaQoi4jkJgC79aI6_p0iTVUL1R12tV8rLVkJNTNqEuNxZwiuvq2sqzaSSgD3qtTRnji4L8RSXx6q8YAPBRLfi/s1600/bdrm1.jpg" height="206" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel came to an abrupt stop in the doorway of the
master suite, the unexpectedness of her action causing Jon to bump into her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Oh my word.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She released Jon’s hand as he chuckled quietly, taking
one slow step and then another into the room.
From the moment they had stumbled across the bed in that Paris antique
shop, she’d known it was destined to become a playground for building memories
in their new house, but she hadn’t realized exactly how perfect it was going to
look occupying the biggest wall in the bedroom.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The Old World style fit perfectly with the hardwood
floors and the other décor in the house, and pleased Rachel with its
understated opulence. Elaborate and
luxurious, but still timeless and classic, just the way she adored.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>I almost hate to
mess it up by having sex in it.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She felt Jon step in closer behind her and snake his hand
up the outside of her thigh, obviously sharing no such qualms. He was as ready and raring to go as she had
been before her attention was captivated by furnishings. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Which piece of furniture do you want to consummate
first, my love?” he purred in her ear.
“Bed? Chair? Maybe the table…? Your call, but I seem to recall that bed is
the perfect height to bend you over.
Pick your poison and we’ll make a little whoopee.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah, you’re right, but do you think the lamp shades on
each side of the bed should match?” she quizzed, chewing on the tip of a
fingernail. “And that rug… Something about that feels off.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A huff of hot air blew over her neck, wordlessly relaying
the message that he didn’t currently give a fat rat’s ass about lampshades and
rugs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’ll throw out the damn rug if it will help you decide
on a spot for me to nail your ass. You
know… the ass that’s supposedly as high and firm as it was when you were
twenty?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Really? You want
to get rid of the rug? I was thinking
maybe just re-positioning it a little.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Jesus,” he grumbled, defeated. “I see we aren’t going to be making anything
in here but interior decorating decisions.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Mm. Just give me
a minute to decide what’s off here and I’m all yours, baby.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With a sigh, he settled his arms around her waist and
burrowed his chin into the crook of her shoulder. “I wondered why you didn’t want a
professional decorator in the first place.
You want me to call Colette to come in and help you tweak things? <b>Then </b>can
we have sex?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I was never opposed to a professional decorator, I just
don’t care all that much for Colette’s way of doing things,” Rachel corrected. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The rug needed moved to the foot of the bed, and she
wanted two new matching lampshades – for starters. Once that was done, she’d see how it struck
her. Mental tasklist complete, she
turned in Jon’s arms to snuggle into the muscularity of his chest. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>What’s a bed for,
if not hot tawdry ‘welcome home’ nakedness?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Whaddaya mean?
Colette did my house here, the SoHo place, and even did some work on the
Hamptons house.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Why was it now that she was thinking like a man, he
wanted to think like a woman? Or at the
very least a gay man? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She focused her interest on the sexy stubble growing over
the chiseled angle of his jawline. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I know she did, but I wanted a different look.” That stubble was deliciously lethal against
the softer parts of her and, oh, how she loved that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Yes. That bed’s definitely right for deliciously lethal.
<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon pulled back from Rachel’s wandering hands and looked
her square in the eye, one eyebrow quirked up.
“I thought you just wanted to do this all yourself, and you’re telling
me you didn’t want to use Colette, specifically?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel managed to get the hem of his shirt between her
fingers and lifted one edge to allow the other hand to roam freely along the
vee of his waist, remembering how sexy he looked sprawled out beneath her while
she tortured all the secret parts of him that no photographer had ever captured.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>He reminds me of
Lucky Charms cereal. Only, instead of
‘magically delicious’, he’s ‘carnally delicious’.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Mm,” she responded absently, amused with her own private
joke. “Colette and your ex-wife created
a nightmare of epic proportions in the décor of High Point.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What the fuck?”
He drew back with a scowl. “I’ll
have you know all that cost a small fortune.
Some of those pieces are hundreds of years old!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel was too distracted by the soft fur of his rock
hard abs to notice Jon’s disapproval of her take on the design of his Navesink
River home. “Yeah, I know. But it’s atrocious, Jon – hideous in fact –
and the SoHo place is every bit as bad. It’s as stark and cold as a… gynecologist’s
exam room, only darker. It’s absolutely
criminal to take a prime piece of New York City property and treat it that
way.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“She matched the furnishings to the style of the homes,
Rach. And besides, I have excellent taste.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You keep on telling yourself that, baby,” she snorted
while lowering the zipper of his shorts and reaching in to find him not nearly
as hard as she would have liked. “You
wanna keep talking about your inner gay-boy decorating prowess or do you wanna
get naked and sweaty with me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon leaned back even further and looked down his nose and
propped that quirky eyebrow up even higher on his forehead. “Seriously?
You just insulted me, my homes and my masculinity, and now you expect me
to service you like a stud? I…” He shook his head slowly, screwing his face
into a mask of contrived regret. “Dunno
if I can do that, baby.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>As if you’re really
insulted.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel couldn’t have stopped the rolling of her eyes if
she tried, but given that her mouth was buried in the fur of his chest, Jon
couldn’t have seen it, anyway. “Oh. Please.
You know as well as I do that you want me so badly that you can
practically taste my nipple, so spare us both the little moral dance and just
do what you’ve been itching to do since I stepped off that plane.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Nah,” he replied, feigning disinterest. He planted his hands on her hips and
purposely took a full step backward as he pushed her in the opposite direction,
“You’ve gone and hurt my feelings, so I’m gonna need you to show a little
remorse before I’ll feel right about satisfying your needs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel snorted out loud.
If she put her mind to it, she could have him on his knees in front of
her with his hand wrapped around his dick while he begged for mercy. Did he really think he could play that little
game and win? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She decided it was worth putting off her pleasure to show
him just how wrong he was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Her hand dropped his quickly stiffening dick like a hot
potato and Rachel shrugged carelessly.
“If that’s the way you feel about it, I understand, but it’s not really
my place to apologize for the train wreck of fabric and color Colette created.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh you little, minx,” he growled. “I am sooo going to make you pay for that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Ya think?” Rachel lifted her chin with a challenge
lighting her eyes, secretly elated by this little battle of sexual wills. The release would be all the sweeter once she
had shown Mr. Rockstar who held the sexual power in this house. “I’m more inclined to believe you’ll be on
your knees, begging for me within the hour.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon dropped his head back and barked out a laugh that
resonated from deep within from the core of his soul, shaking her confidence
just the tiniest bit when reminding her, “You know what a disciplined man I am,
honey – an absolute rock when it comes to resisting the temptations of
beautiful women.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh yeah?” her ego bludgeoned that sliver of trepidation
his self-assurance had summoned. “You
actually resist?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“More than you can possibly imagine,” he informed her, crossing
his arms smugly. “And that means the
only one of us down on their knees is gonna be you – showing me just how sorry
you are by paying me a little lip service.
And Rach…? It will happen in well
under an hour.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Oh, he’s feeling
exceptionally cocky…</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She crossed her arms in a mimicking pose, giving him an
arrogant grin. “I can <b><i>so </i></b>hold out longer than you,
Bongiovi.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon offered one slight shrug of a careless shoulder and
stripped his shirt off, flinging it onto the bed before turning to leave the
room and prophesying calmly, “Guess we’ll see.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-19971901867291770222015-04-23T07:26:00.000-07:002015-04-23T07:26:10.794-07:00Ch 69 ~ Home Sweet Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuC0zU7g4OK-B5c-36TRTq3bKOV35Hf4z49J2G5hP5lrpovlSTSHDsiBg7nzkm-17uxPFpA0awWnwpBtixVLllK3QrtmtvHNvsH57V0quTiSLiqDEY8ILvB4VBWy405x9QA6HYSVNPXZCJ/s1600/Rachel+NJ+LR+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuC0zU7g4OK-B5c-36TRTq3bKOV35Hf4z49J2G5hP5lrpovlSTSHDsiBg7nzkm-17uxPFpA0awWnwpBtixVLllK3QrtmtvHNvsH57V0quTiSLiqDEY8ILvB4VBWy405x9QA6HYSVNPXZCJ/s1600/Rachel+NJ+LR+1.jpg" height="206" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You hungry, babe?” Jon asked over the roar of the car’s
engine and the wind that was wreaking havoc on her ponytail. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She blinked behind her over-sized sunglasses and turned
to him with a smile. Honestly, between
the anticipation of seeing him, the apprehension over resolving the James
drama, mentally arranging the <br />
Europe-purchased furniture in the new house and a rampant case of horny, food
hadn’t crossed her mind. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No,” she answered at the same moment her stomach growled
and made her laugh. “Well, damn. My stomach seems to have different
ideas. I might actually have to eat
before collecting the reward you promised me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A flash of pearly white teeth glinted through the wolfish
grin he slanted her way. “Smart
stomach. It knows as well as I do that
we aren’t gonna leave that big-ass bed of ours until it's been good and defiled. No matter how long it takes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She giggled, knowing that they possessed enough talent to
‘good and defile’ the monstrous beauty in five minutes flat, but she wasn’t
opposed to repeating the process. Ten or
twelve times. Or more, if
necessary. Her knees got a little shaky
just remembering the day they bought it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Is the bed as sexy as I remember it being?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“The bed… sexy?
Fuck me,” he snorted, blatantly offended. “You’re supposed to think I’m sexy, not a
piece of furniture.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh honey…” She
slipped a hand over the center console, dragging her French manicured nails
through the masculine hair dusting his knee, all the way up to and under the
hem of his shorts. She was rewarded with
a guttural growl and a shiver. “<b><i>You’re
</i></b>what makes that bed sexy. Your
hot, hard body sprawled across it – and me sprawled across you – is all I’ve
thought of since we got it. It might not
be a four-poster bed, but I’m sure there’ll be something in it that’s hard as a
post.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With that little observation, she clamped a hand over his
now twitching crotch, making him jump. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I think we’re going to have to stop talking about the
bed,” she purred delightedly, “Or we won’t be going anyplace but home.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He cleared his throat and adjusted his position in the
seat, grinning at her unrepentantly. “I
don’t mind a little foreplay, but we’re definitely stopping to eat first. I gotta do some hydrating and carb-loading
for the sex marathon we’re gonna have. I
suggest you do the same, because you’re gonna be losing a lot of fluid.” He clamped his own hand over her crotch, much as
hers was attached to his. “A lot.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She had just been trumped by the master. And she liked it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I… I’m not
responding to that, or we’ll crash your precious Chevelle,” she decreed,
pushing his hand away as his belly laugh filled the air. “Moving on to more neutral furniture… I can’t wait to see those living room pieces
we bought in London. The armoires just
screamed for a place on each side of the fireplace and the coffee table was a
great find. I hope they look as good in
reality as they did in my mind.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Baby, there’s no neutral furniture, because I’m gonna
fuck you on every single one of them,” he informed her a smug grin. He showed zero remorse at dragging their
conversation back to sex.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Somebody’s mind was happily entrenched between the sheets,
with no desire to leave. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Okay, if that’s how he wanted it. That was fine. If he wanted to toy with her, stoking the
passion that sizzled in the open air, she’d be happy to throw another ‘log’ on
the fire.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She reached for the waistband of his shorts with her own
devilish smile. “It hardly seems fair to
christen the new furniture when your car hasn’t been given the same
consideration. You just sit still and
let me take care of this. Keep your eyes
on the road though. You don’t want to
get us in an accident.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Ho, ho, ho, huh-uh!
You win!” He batted her away,
jerking the wheel to bring it back into the correct lane. “I’m all for a good road blow, but not in the
Chevelle. If it was any car but this one,
I’d forsake it, but not my baby.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel happily slumped back into her own seat, bearing a
triumphant grin. “I love winning, and
I’ll take an extra orgasm as my prize, please.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You’re a cheeky broad, you know that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Mm.” She was
because he made her that way. The
comfort they had together was like nothing else in this world. She loved him, he loved her and they could
and would work through anything together.
It was a very liberating feeling to know she didn’t ever have to censor
herself with him. “You like me that
way.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Eventually, they got around to the business of food and
decided on burgers and beer at Dublin House, which they quickly inhaled before
eagerly making their way to house they’d both begun to think of as “home”. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And the bed within.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Passing through the front gates, however, had Rachel’s
heart swelling to the point where it overshadowed her libido. Adoration and appreciation for the man who
had made all of this possible consumed her every time they drove through those
gates, it seemed, and allowed her to love him for the first time all over
again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was a simply fabulous piece of real estate, but that
didn’t impress her much. She viewed,
bought and sold far grander and majestic homes on a regular basis and, yet, she
wouldn’t trade a single one of them for this plot and parcel on the banks of
the Navesink River.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Because Jon had bought this place for her, and kept it
for her in faith that she would be back and that the two of them would be back
together. That was what made it so
special. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“C’mon. This way,”
Jon insisted, guiding her toward the house’s main front door rather than the
side door they typically favored. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Slightly surprised and a bit bewildered, she nonetheless
followed obediently along as he guided her to the oversized door that
represented the entryway into the home.
He turned the handle and, as soon as they stepped into the foyer, Rachel
understood quite clearly why he’d chosen this entrance. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She’d been expecting to find furniture sitting in
clusters around the house, perhaps in the correct room, but certainly no more
than that. It was to be her job to fix
up the house, not Jon’s, but he hadn’t stuck to that game plan. Instead, everything was… perfect. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The formal living room, which had always been bare and
empty, was now filled and arranged – exactly as she would have done it – with the
pieces they’d purchased in Europe. They’d specifically shopped for and chosen
these items. Together, as a couple. This
was their furniture. <b><i>Their</i></b>
living room. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A tidal wave of sentimentality threatened to overwhelm
her, and Rachel brought a hand up to cover her mouth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>It’s the first
place we’ve ever had that’s just ours.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Is it everything you wanted it to be, Rach?” he asked
from behind her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“It’s… beyond amazing.
It’s beautiful and I love it more than I ever imagined,” she responded,
sitting down on one of the pale green sofas.
“The wood in this house is so gorgeous. I can’t believe how all these pieces
just fit so perfectly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon sat down next to her, slid his feet out of his flip
flops and plopped them on the coffee table with a satisfied grin. At this
moment, it wouldn’t matter if it were zebra prints and polka dots, because it
was theirs, but something else mattered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“John Francis Bongiovi!
I know you didn’t just put your grubby feet on our new furniture,” she
chastised with a wide eyed blink.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Rachel Leanne Braden!” he mimicked without a care. “I’ll probably put your bare ass on our new
furniture before the night is over, so my feet are the least of your worries.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She staunchly ignored the warm tingling that his ribald
words incited. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Sweetheart…” The
endearment practically dripped with saccharine sweetness. Rachel couldn’t help it. They weren’t going to have sex on this
furniture before anyone besides them had even seen it. That was just tacky. “I hardly think we need to tarnish the sofas
before we’ve even had a chance for a family gathering.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Jon rubbed the scruffy jaw on his chin and dropped his
arm across Rachel’s leg. “Seems like a
good time to tell you we’re getting a new member of the family.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Rachel tucked her legs under her and tickled the top of
Jon’s messy hair, glad he hadn’t pursued sex on the couch. Because, ultimately, he probably would’ve
won, and it really was tacky. Really
tacky. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She made a mental note to get it all Scotchgarded, just
in case.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>New family,
Rachel. Focus. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hmmmm…” She
tapped her chin thoughtfully, re-directing and trying to imagine what new
family member he could possibly be referring to. It certainly wasn’t their forthcoming child,
because Rachel was absolutely, positively <b><i>not </i></b>pregnant. But another kind of baby wasn’t out of the
question, she supposed, and with a new house, it might even be logical. “You got a puppy, didn’t you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You want a dog?”
He seemed surprised, so Rachel was going to assume that their new family
member wasn’t a little ball of canine fur.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I do if you got me one.
Did you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No. But if you want
one I’ll get you a dog, horse, ostrich…whatever. Right now I’m referring to Dorothea.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Dorothea? New
member of the family? What?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Ummm… Jon, I like
Dorothea and all, but I don’t know how I feel about her living with us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He threw his head
back with a boisterous guffaw. “No and
hell no, but thanks for the laugh, babe.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, that’s a relief,” she returned with a smile. “So what new family member?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sobering a bit, he relayed, “When I dropped the kids off
this morning, Dorothea told me she and Ted are getting married.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Okay. This could be very bad or it could be no big
deal. I’m hoping for no big deal.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“How do you feel about that? You can tell me if it bothers you, you know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Actually, yes, I do know that. I don’t have to worry about censoring
anything for you, and I consider that one of the greatest blessings in our
relationship. I know you’d support me no
matter what my feelings, and that means more than anything in the world to
me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He turned his head and puckered his lips inviting Rachel
for the kiss she never failed to return.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Dorothea and I made each other happy for a lot of
years. And then we didn’t. I think that finding a great love is a pretty
rare thing in life. I’ve been lucky
enough to find it twice and, apparently, so has she. So I’m as happy for her as I hope she is for me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>And ‘no big deal’
it is! Thank you Hay-Zeus!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well. That’s
quite a grown up way of thinking, baby and I’m glad you’re approaching it with
that attitude. Ted’s a nice guy and the
kids are comfortable with him, so I think it’s great.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah. It still
bothers me that I wasn’t able to give my kids an intact family, and that now
some new guy will be living with ‘em.” He shrugged. “But whaddaya gonna do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>Okay, so maybe just
a bit bigger deal than I hoped. Let’s
try and fix this…<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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“I understand where you’re coming from, but you might try
to see that, in spite of you and their mother divorcing, you’re both setting a
remarkable example for them. Even though
you no longer live together, you’re still a family who loves and respects each
other. As a mother, I’m really proud of
you – of all of us – for the way we always put the kids first.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Thank you, baby.”
He leaned in for a gentle kiss. “You
sure you don’t want to add our kids to the list?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Very sure,” she chuckled. No, that was one decision she definitely had
made peace with. “I can’t imagine trying to keep up with you, all these
addresses of ours, plus your spawn running all over the place. Insanity may find me all on its own, but I’m
certainly not going to chase it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“So no regrets then?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rachel laid a soft palm against his cheek and wiggled her
eyebrows suggestively. “Honey, the only
thing I regret is not going straight to the bedroom when we first got here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The dirty little growl he immediately issued never failed
to make her twitch, and this time was no exception. “You only interested in my body, Rach?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Until it begins to sag.
Then I’ll see about enjoying your mind.”
Rachel teased before she stood and extended a hand to pull Jon up with her. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“My body won’t ever sag, baby,” he disputed as she did
her best to drag him up the stairs. His ego was far too chatty, and she had
waited too long to feel his hot, hard body naked against hers. “But your once-tight little ass looks like it
might be drooping a little.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>He did not just say
that!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Rachel stopped dead in her tracks and looked over her
shoulder and pinned him with a withering glare.
He was teasing, but he should know better than to even tease a woman
about those kinds of things <o:p></o:p></div>
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“My ass is as high and firm as it was when I was twenty,
mister. You should probably take a look
and re-evaluate your opinion if you want to get laid, don’t you think?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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He snorted, and those beautiful blue eyes twinkled like
the summer sky when he countered, “I’m gonna need to do more than look,
honey. I’m thinkin’ a hands-on
evaluation is in order here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8617038287942054673.post-44896905108844286872015-04-16T09:30:00.000-07:002015-04-16T09:30:00.008-07:00Ch 68 ~ The More Things Change<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The tension and irritability that Rachel been harboring
for the last twelve days simply melted away in his arms. The heavy, familiar weight of them cradling
her body close was… idyllic. She’d
walked away once, fearing that she’d never be here again and she would be
damned if she was going to risk it again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I missed you,” she whispered into his shoulder. “And I’m sorry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The strong sinewy ropes of flesh eased their grip so that
he could draw back and peer into her eyes.
“I’m sorry, too – sorry that we let this shit go on as long as it did.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Her ponytail bounced as she nodded and lifted her hands
to frame his face, marveling that the vacation stubble he was sporting scraped
her palms in a way that was both uncomfortable and reassuring. He was here, live and in the flesh – and she
was grateful. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Something about the distance between us just made
me… I don’t know. Revert to bitchy and argumentative Rachel,
when it would’ve been easier to deal with this and let it go.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Leaning in, Jon tickled the corner of her mouth with a
butterfly kiss. “I’m as guilty as you
are. We both went old school on this
one. Guess that means we’re still in
relationship recovery, huh?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Yeah.” Her eyes reconnected
with his. “We <b>are</b> going to recover from this, right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“You mean the setback or what happened when you left
London?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rachel’s hands fell away from his face to rest upon his
shoulders. “You can’t really have one
and not the other.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Good point.” His
chin dipped to his chest in a brief nod. Taking a step back, he laced his
fingers through hers and bent to scoop up her bag with the other hand. “Let’s
find someplace to talk and we’ll figure that out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Verbal proof of his uncertainty caused a razor-sharp pain
to pierce her sternum. There was
really a chance that this could be the end?
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>No. Hell no.
We’ve come too far to end it here.
Over… </i><b>this.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Now all she had to do was convince him of it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The summer trees rustled in a late afternoon breeze, much
like Rachel’s hair swished in the open air of the convertible. Both occupants were quiet as Rachel
deliberated the most effective approach to resolving this situation in as short
a time as possible, but the silent moments were few before he swung his classic
vehicle into a large parking lot. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“What’s this?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Meadowlands,” he succinctly informed her, pushing the
gearshift into park and turning in his seat until he could look at her. “I don’t want to be driving when we talk and
I ain’t waitin’ an hour to get back to the house.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Agreed.” She,
too, turned in her seat, tucking her leg beneath her so that they could be face
to face. “I really am sorry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I know that and I don’t want another apology. One was enough. All I want is for you to listen to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rachel nodded, tired of being bitchy and argumentative
with him. It fit their old life, but it
didn’t fit them now and she hated that they’d reverted to their old ways. Right now, she’d do whatever suited him, as
long as she got a chance to say her piece, too.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Quit your job.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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That was it? That
was what he’d been chomping at the bit to say?<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I think we’ve been through this,” she observed
cautiously, hoping that there was a follow-up coming. If not, this might not go any better than
their past week. “That’s not something I
want to do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Rachel, I don’t give a shit if you work. It annoys the hell out of me that you refuse
to be a kept woman, but that’s not what this is about.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“So what <b><i>is </i></b>it about?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“That cock-” He
took a deep breath, censoring himself, and shook his head once. “James is manipulating you, Rach. He has an authoritative position in your life
and he’s using it to fuck around in our relationship.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rachel tipped her head to the side with a slight smile,
kind of amused at this jealous side of him.
She never would’ve guessed him to be the overtly jealous type. “Funny, I don’t remember any threesomes
during our relationship. Did you slip me
a roofie?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The dark scowl let her know that he didn’t share her
point of view. “I’m not kidding.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Seriously?
Seriously.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Look…” She
reached for his hand, still intent upon not allowing this to become
unpleasant. “It’s understandable that
you might be a little jealous, given my history with James.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Your history doesn’t make <b>me</b> jealous, it makes <b>you</b> blind
to his faults. He’s playing you. He came up with some bullshit before you left
for Europe, using the work card to try and keep you in California, and when
that didn’t work, he came after you with a bigger ‘crisis’.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rachel frowned.
“No. Those were legitimate
problems.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“You’re telling me that nobody else in the friggin’ world
could’ve cleaned up those problems but you?
I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re
good at what you do, but I call bullshit on that one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jon was being silly.
James had no reason to manipulate her.
He was well aware that his position in her life didn’t involve anything
more than work and friendship. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Honey, James knows that you and I are together. He’s seen the ring. Oh!”
She held up a single finger to interrupt that immediate train of
thought. “Speaking of which, I may have
figured out why Richie told you James proposed to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Other than the words ‘marry me’ coming out of his
mouth?” he sighed, clearly frustrated that she wasn’t having the come-to-Jesus
moment he’d intended. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Do not be a
bitch. Do not say “I guess everything
Richie says is automatically gospel.”
Rather, don’t say it again.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Because she’d spewed that at him at least twice from the
other side of the country.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rachel smiled tightly.
She loved this man with every breath in her body. She respected him. She would make great effort to show him that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“James didn’t propose to me, baby. You did.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“About a hundred times now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Shaking her head, she withdrew her hand from
his and slid the ‘commitment’ ring free from her left hand and she angled it so
that he could see the inside. “The
inscription, Jon.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rachel had replayed that day in the tearoom over and over
in her mind, trying to figure out why Richie had come up with the madness that
he’d relayed to Jon. Finally – finally!
– it had come to her on the trip out here.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“James’s grandfather was a jeweler, and James helped him
in the shop during his teens. He knows
diamonds, and asked to see my ring.
That’s when he saw the inscription – and read it out loud, in English.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Épouse Moi.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Because Jon had gotten tired of asking her to marry him,
he’d had it inscribed in the ring – in French.
She knew he was aware of it, but was grateful to see a glimmer of
understanding light those infamous blue eyes of his. Grateful and relieved.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Okay.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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She laughed lightly, innately knowing that was going to
be about as good as it got. He wasn’t
going to swoon and gush with relief and love, yet she was still compelled to
press for something a bit more… satisfying?<o:p></o:p></div>
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“That’s it?
Okay?” She brushed light
fingertips over his jawline and teased, “Surely you can come up with something
more significant than that for my epiphany?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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His mouth twisted into a small, wry grin. “I might not feel compelled to pop a cap in
his ass the next time our paths cross.
Happy dear?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rachel threw back her head and laughed out loud. “You’re pushing the Italian heritage there,
aren’t you Don Corleone?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Don’t ask questions you don’t really wanna know the
answers to,” he countered with a wink.
“And, while I’m glad that there’s an explanation for the proposal thing,
it doesn’t change the fact that the sonofabitch is manipulating you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rachel’s smile faded a bit, and she sighed. How, exactly, was she supposed to convince
Jon that he was mistaken? That James
wouldn’t do that to her, especially to ruin the happiness she’d finally
found. The two of them may not have
found their future in a committed relationship, but they were still friends who
cared about one another. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Jon, I’m trying to see your side of things, but I just
don’t think I can make myself believe that.
James and I have been through too much together.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“And he wants to make <b><i>me</i></b> one more thing the two
of you go through so that he can make you his wife. You’re gonna have to trust me on this.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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She trusted Jon.
She did. That wasn’t the point
here, though, and she gently tried to make that point once again. “Don’t you think I might know him a little
better than you do, honey?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Now it was his turn to sigh, and Jon’s chin dipped to his
chest as he did so. He, quite obviously,
was also attempting to keep things even-keeled.
When he lifted his chin, he also lifted his sunglasses so that she could
see his eyes in the late afternoon sunshine, and they brimmed with
seriousness. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Yeah, I’m sure you do, but familiarity allows people to
overlook a lot of shit. Your history
doesn’t give you the same objectivity about him that I have, Rach.” He reached down, slipping his fingers under
her left hand, lifting it so that the sun’s rays played brilliantly against the
stones. “This ring says you’re mine.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I know that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Good. Then you
should also know that I will fight the goddamn devil himself to protect what
and who is mine – even if you don’t think you’re in danger.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Jon-“<o:p></o:p></div>
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“No, Rachel.” His
fingers tightened around hers and his gaze grew more intent, developing a
laser-like focus. “What’s mine is mine,
and nobody’s going to damn-well fuck with it as long as I have a breath in my
body. Do you understand me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Okay. She had to
be honest. This…. Overt possessiveness
of his had her heart racing just a little bit.
And her skin tingling, and her… more intimate parts sizzling. Maybe it wasn’t politically correct in
today’s society, but when a man truly acted like a man and staked his claim in
no uncertain caveman-ish terms. Well, it
stirred a very primal reaction in her.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Yes,” she breathed quietly.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Then help me out here, and be a little aware of what the
fuck is going on? Don’t bury your head
blindly in the sand. Please?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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She swallowed slowly, suddenly hyper-aware of how the sun
had colored his sculpted cheekbones and how the shadows cast by the bill of his
cap made him a bit fierce. Tantalizingly
so. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Summer looked good on her man.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>The only thing that
would look better on him is me.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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“If we can be naked, hot and sweaty in the next five minutes,
I’ll do anything you want.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Those eyes that had been so intent lit with a different
type of fire and, in turn, she went up in an internal blaze. It had been too long since their bodies and
souls had meshed. She needed him. She needed to be wrapped up so tightly in
him, that they couldn’t decide where one of them ended and the other began. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Beautiful woman,” he growled, stroking his thumb along
the inside of her wrist. “I want to fuck
you more than I want my next breath, but I’m not kidding about this. Promise me you’ll try and be more objective
when it comes to him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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She was about to spontaneously combust from the innocent
touch of skin on skin and he was rambling on about nonsense. “I’m tired of talking about his.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I don’t care.”
His fingers curled around her forearm in a possessive grip. “Promise me, and I’ll reward you for being
such a good girl.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Holy…… Holy……</i> <i>Everything that is holy!</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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“I promise. Oh,
God, I promise!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Audra Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06859461764832833993noreply@blogger.com6