Ch 85 ~ Island Fever

“This 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. 

“Sure is,” he agreed, shaggy head nodding unrepentantly as he grinned like the Cheshire Cat.  “How d’ya like it?”

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. 

“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.

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.”

“Thanks for playing, baby.”

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.”

“Oh, please.”  She smirked at him over her shoulder.  “You’ve always been a player.” 

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.

                                                                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.

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’.

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.  

“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. 

“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.”

“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.

Rachel responded with a giggle that Betty Rubble would have envied.  “Yeah.  That probably didn’t help matters.”

“Lucky for you I plan on being too drunk to get it up tonight, and you’re off duty.”

“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 planning to be too drunk to do me tonight?”

“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.”

“And you’re choosing 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. 

“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.”

“And the impotency?  How does that factor in?”  Oddly enough, she wasn’t annoyed, but merely curious as to the ways of man logic.

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.”

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. 

“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!”

“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???”

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 well worth the nasty crick in her neck. 

She’d repeat that exercise today, tomorrow and every day next week if given half a chance.

                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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. 

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.

‘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.

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. 

“That was some night, huh, Rach?”

Jon hadn’t interrupted her thoughts so much as he read them. 

“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.”

“Whaddaya complainin’ about?” he asked with an intoxicated – and intoxicating – wink.  “I like you as a mindless hussy.”

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. 

Upon reading the name and number on the screen, her smile melted away.

No, no, no.  Not now.  Don’t ruin my vacation. 

Because there was no doubt in her mind that, when Jon realized the caller’s identity…

He’s going to be beyond pissed.  

Ch 84~Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend

The landmark Rachel saw out the plane window was sacred ground as far as she was concerned.

Diamond Head.

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. 

It had been a favorite haunt for her and Nick’s family. 

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.

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. 

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.    

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.

“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.”

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.” 

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.”

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?”

“What?”

“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.”

“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.”

“I’m glad you’re happy with it.”

“I am.  Now which hotel are we at?”

“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.”

Rachel  nodded.  It wasn’t a crystal clear memory, but she remembered. 

“So that got me thinking,” he continued.  “Why not see all of the Hawaiian islands?”

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.

“I figure the easiest way to see a bunch of islands is from a boat, right?”

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. 

“Good call, handsome,” she commended, patting his chest.  “I know how you love those big fancy yachts.”

“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?”

“Well, kind of.  Yeah.”

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.”

A catamaran?  One of those ‘barely a boat’ things?  Seriously?

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 her used to the good life. 

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.

Oh boy.  This is going to be an interesting vacation.

Ch 83 ~ Destination Anywhere

New Year’s Eve, 2011

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.

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. 

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. 

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. 

“Jon!” she giggled. “Slow down will ya?  A steep take off, these stilettos and healthy champagne buzz could be a dangerous combination!”

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.”

“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.”

“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. 

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. 

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 intentionally 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. 

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.  

“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.” 

“I’m gonna fill you alright.”

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.

“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?”

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?” 

“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.

“Bullshit,” he mumbled around her clit and surfaced, licking his lips and crawling up her body.  “Your drunken libido will match mine any day.”

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?”

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. 

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.

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. 

The bottom line was that she wanted to be his wife.

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 need her like he needed his next breath of air to be complete.  Sappy, perhaps, but that was how she needed him. 

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. 

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 without 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. 

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.

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. 

Central America would be warm and would probably fit the flight time.

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.”

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?” 

“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.” 

“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!”

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.

“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.”

Jon puckered his lips mere centimeters from hers and breathed, “Gimme a kiss.”

“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!” 

“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.” 

“We’ll just see about that.”

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.

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. 

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. 

She scanned the horizon to see if there was something else – something she was missing that might give her a revelation.  Something… distinctive.

Rachel sucked in a breath.

There. 

There it was.

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. 

Ch 82 ~ A Bongiovi Christmas

“Jesus Christ I need a drink.”

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.”

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?”

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. 

Especially the Bongiovi family.

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.

Which brought her back to one cranky Santa, currently foraging through her cabinets in search of something with the word “proof” on the label.

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.”

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.”

“Oh?”

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.”

Covering her mouth with one hand, Rachel barely stifled the giggle that wanted to escape.  “Oh my word.  What did you say?”

“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.”

“Ha!  I bet Jon loved that.” 

“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.”

“I told you both of them spiked it,” Rachel reminded him amusedly at the same time Jon came through the kitchen door. 

“You better get outta that suit,” he warned Tony.  “Kids are headed this way.”

“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.

Jon barked out a laugh before dropping a kiss on Rachel’s expectantly upturned face.  “When’s dinner?  I’m hungry.”

“Mm.  The meat comes in in ten minutes, then it needs to rest for a bit.  Half an hour?”

“Christ, woman,” he whined.  “You’re starvin’ me.”

She shook her head and offered a condescending pat to his cheek.  “You’ll live for another half hour.”

“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. 

“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?”

“Yeah!  Where are the cookies?” Romeo echoed from right behind him.  “I’m dyin’ here!”

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.

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.”

“Well, then you’re gonna have to make dinner earlier next year,” Jon declared, arms folded across his chest. 

Next year.  It was nice to have the comfort of expectations for next year – and beyond. 

Rachel smiled.

“What?  My imminent starvation is humorous?”

“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.”

His face wrinkled with annoyance.  “You’re bossy.”

“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 be bossy.” 

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.”

“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.”

He propped his hip against the counter, and grinned.  “Does that mean I can take yours back?”

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.”

When he didn’t pop off with some wise crack, Rachel glanced over her shoulder while opening the oven door.  “What?”

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.

He still hadn’t said anything and she turned to fully face him.  “Jon.  What?”

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.”

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.

“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.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he groused good-naturedly.  “But I thought you wanted Mom or Des?”

“Changed my mind.  It’ll be easier for me to order her around than your mother,” she admitted. 

His laugh warmed her insides even further.  “I love you, yanno.”

With that and a kiss on her nose, he set off to do her bidding. 

Precisely twenty minutes later, the family was seated around the table oohing and aaahing appreciatively over the display of food before them. 

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.

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. 

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. 

“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.

“Hear, hear!” Matt echoed along with his mother and wife, his glass raised in the air as Jon winked at her.  

“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.” 

There was clinking of glasses, murmurs of appreciation and squeezing of hands and shoulders among the tight-knit clan.

“That was so sweet of you, John,” Rachel spoke over the rumblings. 

“You may as well call me Dad,” he instructed, taking his seat.  “You’re as good as my daughter-in-law.”

She dipped her chin with obedience and dutifully repeated, “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.”

Laughter erupted around the table and serving dishes were passed as plates were filled and wine flowed. 

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. 

Because that’s what family was.

Rachel would always love Christmas...especially a Bongiovi Christmas.

Merry Christmas to you all!

Love,

Blush & Audra

Ch 81 ~ Home For Christmas

It really is the most wonderful time of the year, 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.

There was something undeniably appealing to her about that.

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”. 

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. 

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. 

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.

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.

“Earth to Rachel,” Jon’s voice came like a fabric softener commercial, interrupting her Hallmark Channel special.

“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. 

“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.”

“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.”

“We have cookies at home.  I got no interest in cupcakes.” 

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. 

“Rachel…?  Where’d you go?  I feel like I’ve been talkin’ to myself since we left the restaurant.”

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.

The guy whose arm she clutched tighter was more playful, more sexy, more….Jon.

“Christmas Past,” she finally answered.  “I went to Christmas past for just a minute.  Sorry about that.”

“You thinkin’ about Lauren and Tyler?  And Nick, of course?”

“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 last Christmas, and how miserable it was without you.  Or, more accurately, how miserable I 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.”

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.”

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.

“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.”

“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.”

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. 

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.”

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?”

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. 

Her eyes filled almost to the point of overflowing before she reminded herself to breathe. 

“I do.”

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.”

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.

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

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 –“

“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?”

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. 

I guess that wasn’t an earthquake I felt earlier.  It must’ve been somebody shaking the snowglobe.

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. 

“Rach?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“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.”

“Good to know you appreciate what you have.”

“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’.  Capisce?”

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. 

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.

She had to at least entertain the notion.  Right?

“Capisce.”

Moral of the Story

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.

They must have had a label party or something that ran late.

“Hey you,” she answered lightly.  “I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten drunk and passed-“

“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.”

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.

“Wait, what?  Why?  What’s wrong?”

“I want you here.”

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.

All she got was, “Are you on your way?”

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.

“Nooo…  I’m waiting for you tell me what’s happened.”

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!”

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.

You know how he is when he’s upset.  He becomes irrational and pious.  Ignore the insults and stay calm.

“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.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a goddamn toddler throwing a temper tantrum!”

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.”

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.

“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?”

His snort was probably an indication that he found her Monopoly reference amusing, but he didn’t want to.

“I’m going to fuck this up if you don’t get over here.”

“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?”

The pent up breath he released this time wasn’t so much harsh as it was… weary?

“Us.  I’m going to fuck us up.”

And they say women are confusing...

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, baby.  I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

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.”

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.

“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.

But she couldn’t make herself. 

All she could do was silently wait for the other shoe to drop, and drop it did.

“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.”

Naturally the other shoe is a mother-fucking stiletto heel.

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.

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.

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?

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.”

“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!”

Because his response was 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?  

If you'd been soooo in tune with him, you'd have known he was chasing someone else's skirt.

“If you didn't fuck her, then explain to me why we are having this conversation.”

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.”

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.

“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.

“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.”

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.  

"Are you telling me that nothing at all happened with her?"

"No! God, I don't know.  Maybe.   I mean…I kissed her."

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.

"I assume I don't have to tell you how shitty that makes me feel?"

"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."

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.  

"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."

"This would be a hell of a lot easier if you'd just marry me,"he groused.

"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.”

"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."

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.  

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.   

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.

“You aren’t that man anymore, baby.  If you were, you’d be rolling around between the sheets with Lois Lane.  Instead, you called me."

“You’re the one, Rach.  Without any doubt, you’re the only one.”

Yes.  A skanky Australian reporter was a milestone in their relationship.  A good milestone.  Who would've thought?

“Good answer.  Now....  The moral of this story is….?”

“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.”

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.

“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.”

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.

Chapter 79 ~ Old Habits Die Hard

“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.

Fuck.Me.  Please.

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.

But there’s not enough to go all the way down.  Damn jeans.

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.”

It had been his 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”.

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.

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. 

“You gonna stay and catch the show?” Jon asked, standing along with the buxom beauty.

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.”

“We do appreciate our loyal fans,” Sambora schmoozed from right behind him before nudging Jon with an elbow.  “Isn’t that right, Jon?”

“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?”

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.”

David’s snort rolled over him from behind.  “Sounds like somebody’s got your number, boss man.”

“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.”

“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 that intrigued with this woman.  “I have been particularly enjoying your performances of Bad Medicine this tour.  In fact, I quite love them.”

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….

“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?”

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.”

“Hehe,” he chuckled, wondering at the feasibility and simultaneously knowing that would be a PR nightmare.  “Sorry.  No can do on that.”

“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.”

“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.”

“Shut up.  She was a good journalist for a change, that’s all.”

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.”

“Fuck you, Bryan.  At least she didn’t ask about my hair or my pre-show rituals.”

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 cum and see.”

There were days when Jon wished he was a solo act, if for no other reason than for some privacy.  Seriously.

~~~~~

“Richie Sambora on the guitar, ladies and gentlemen!”

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.

Now it’s time to enjoy MY-self…

He pulled the mic from the stand and punched his fist into the air at the same time Tico hit the drums.

“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.”

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.

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. 

“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.” 

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.”

And mine, God willing.  

It was her turn to shake her head, that bow-like mouth of hers curled into a Cheshire grin.

“You don’t think so?”

Again, she shook her head and wiggled her fingers in a come-hither gesture as she mouthed, “Bring it on.”

“It’s what you need, is it?”  Jon laughed while turning and walking away from her. 

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?

“As usual,” he addressed his guitarist, pointing back toward Jessica.  “It’s all about the girl.”

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.  “That’s why.”

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. 

You’re in a relationship.

Yes.  He was aware of that.  Acutely.  But still….

“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. 

And this goddamn stage is not where I want to be thrusting my hips.

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.

“I neeeeed a respirator….”

You need your fucking head examined.  Didn’t you fight tooth and nail to get Rachel back? 

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. 

This is a bad idea.  Whatever it is you think you’re gonna do… it’s bad.

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. 

“Dawn, tell Matt I need to meet that reporter after the show.  In my room.”

She quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at him while disposing of his sweat drenched stage gear.  “And what reporter would that be?”

“The blonde.  Jessica something-or-other.”

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. 

“I’ll pass along the message,” she agreed blithely.

~~~~~

Jon was hot, tired and sweaty when he pushed open the door to his suite. 

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. 

Now, he shucked out of his stage gear and shoved it in the closet as he strode toward the shower. 

Bad idea.  Bad idea.

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.

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. 

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.

Bad idea.  Bad idea.

“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.”

Because, really, if he were married to Rachel, this would be a non-issue.

Bullshit.

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. 

What about that ring of yours she’s wearing, asshole?  What’s that mean?

It meant she wouldn’t marry him.  End of conversation.

Pretty convenient, isn’t it?

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.

Last chance….

Stubbornly ignoring himself, he ran a hand over still-damp hair and padded barefoot to the door.

“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.” 

“Thank you for the invitation – I think.”  She entered the room, walking just past him as he nodded a curt dismissal to Matt.

“Uh, Jon…” his brother began.

“Unless somebody is bleeding or dying, it can wait.”

A silent nod was all the reply he got from his gargantuan bodyguard baby brother before the door was closed in his face. 

“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?”

He cleared his throat, oddly uneasy.  Jon hadn’t been awkward with a beautiful woman since he was fifteen.

“No, not exactly.”

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.

When her hand slipped up the front of his t-shirt, it was clear to him that she didn’t particularly care why he’d asked her here.

“Then is this an invitation to get to know your dark side?” she asked softly, her breath tickling his ear.

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.

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.

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.

“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...”