Ch 42 ~ Nobody Here But Us Chickens

When Rachel landed in Connecticut on Friday night it was just before midnight, local time.  She tightened the belt on her trench coat and realized that her lack of fatigue was due, in part, to the fact that her body thought it was only nine o’clock – and her anxiousness to see Jon – but her trip had been ridiculously easy.

There had been no pressure to finish work in time to make a flight.  Instead, she was able to wrap up business and leave on her own schedule, which had turned out to be about three o’clock.  Once she boarded the plane, there hadn’t been any delays waiting for other passengers or sprinting across the terminal to catch a connecting plane.  Nope.  She didn’t have to deal with any of the stuff that the common folk did.

Traveling like a rock star had some SERIOUS advantages. 

Those advantages continued to spring up left and right as she disembarked the plane, as a car and driver were waiting to whisk her away like some VIP or Hollywood celebrity.  When she’d arrived at the hotel, there was another cheery staffer to greet her and escort her into the elevator that zipped her up to Jon’s floor.  There, the doors slid open to reveal Matt’s fatigued smile, and she was passed along yet again. 

He looked tired, and a little wave of guilt washed into Rachel’s sea of excitement. 

“Hi, Matt,” she greeted, tipping her cheek to accept his welcome kiss. 

“Rachel.  Thank God you’re finally here,” he chuckled with a weary eye roll as he took her suitcase and rolled it toward one of the few doors on this floor. 

“I’m sorry to keep you up so late,” she apologized.  “But I really appreciate your help.”

“Pfft.  This is still early in the world of rock star vampires, babe.  Don’t worry about it.  I’d get up at five in the morning for ya if it will improve Mr. Cranky Pants’s mood.”  He stopped in front of the last door at the end of the hall and knocked before stepping aside. 

“I’ll do my best to improve his mood,” she promised, with a wink and a comforting pat on his muscular arm. 

He gave her his own wink and laughed again.  “No doubt in my mind, but I’m in the room next door.  If you could do it without screaming all night, that’d be even better.  But I’ll take what I can get.” 

A wide smile stole across her lips and her cheeks flushed.  “I’m not making any promises.”

The door in front of them flew open and the skimpy panties Rachel was wearing became drenched. His strong jaw was covered in stubble that should be classified as a lethal weapon, because it made him look so good that it nearly killed her.  His v-neck tee was rumpled over a pair of equally rumpled jeans and his bare feet sticking out was nearly as sexy as the stubble and his rumpled head of golden hair. 

Jon conducted his own survey, raking his eyes up and down her body with a grin which was as equally delighted as it was wolfish.  His hot gaze made her shiver, and she had an irrational moment of imagining he had Superman’s x-ray vision and could see how very little she was wearing beneath the black trench coat that cloaked her from shoulder to knee.

“Well, well, well… I knew a knock on my door at this time of night was gonna be trouble.  Just didn’t know it would come wrapped in such a tempting package.”  His arm snaked out to wrap around her neck, and she stumbled on her impractical high heels as he virtually dragged her into the room and into his arms. 

His lips hit hers with the intensity of a heat-seeking missile, the target sure and desperately sought after.  The world around her melted away as he delved his tongue into her mouth and tugged lightly on the hair at the back of her neck, gently forcing her to drink his passion.  It was a passion so well-preserved and pent-up that he very nearly devoured and, when he slowed and scraped his teeth over her kiss-swollen bottom lip, her knees quivered like jelly.

It’s going to be a wild night tonight, she thought vaguely when he allowed her to come up for air. 

Jon lifted his chin, finally acknowledging the younger brother who had resorted to clearing his throat to remind them of his presence.  “You did good on this one, Matty.  I owe you big time.” 

Matt pushed Rachel’s suitcase through the door and gave the couple a knowing look.  “Rachel can do whatever she needs to do, but you keep the screamin’ to a minimum, Jonny.  Show tomorrow night.”

Rachel’s face flushed again, but the door was closed in Matt’s face before she had to look at him, and the solid ‘thunk’ of it sealing shut… Well, it might as well have been a starting gun as far as she was concerned. 

Jon had scarcely had a chance to turn around before Rachel pounced on him, throwing her arms around his neck and tiptoeing up to kiss the lips she’d been thinking about since… forever.  She pushed her breasts into his chest, moaning when his hands clamped onto her buttocks. 

It hadn’t seemed possible, but she was actually more desperate for his touch now than when they’d been apart.  Now she was a starving woman who had been granted access to the most succulent buffet in existence, and she feasted upon it as though it were her last meal.

“Are you surprised?” she breathed, when the taste of him filled every corner of her mouth and took the edge off of her starvation.

“You coulda knocked me over with a feather,” he replied with kiss-ravaged lips, his hands moving from her backside to work at the knot of her coat belt.  “Hey. You like feathers?  They’re kinda like you, yanno.  Classy kinky.”

A sultry chuckle bubbled from the back of her throat.  “Funny you should ask…” she teased as he muttered about “damn Boy Scout knots”.

His hands stopped their clumsy pawing and Jon’s left eyebrow arched into a question mark.  “You didn’t bring a chicken or some freaky shit like that, did you?”

She struck his shoulder with the heel of her palm.  “No, dumbass,” Rachel laughed, shooing his hands away to undo the belt herself.  It came untwined and she curled her fingers over the lapels of the coat and pulled them apart.  “I brought this…”

Once again, Jon’s eyes traveled her body, this time lingering primarily on her torso.  Or rather, the sheer black babydoll nightie whose cups and hem were trimmed in fluffy black marabou feathers.

“Fuck.  Me.” 

“That was the plan.”

Impatient paws shoved at the bulky trench coat until it hit the floor, unnoticed and leaving her in nothing but the lingerie. 

“That’s all you wore to get from your house to here?” he hissed, letting the marabou fill his palms along with her breasts.  “I can't decide if that totally turns me on or totally pisses me off.”

Rachel leaned into his touch and reached down to do some touching of her own.  “Let’s go with turned on, shall we?” she coerced, squeezing the stiffening bulge in his pants.  “Because I need an orgasm.  Delivered by you.  Immediately, if not sooner.”

His reaction was somewhere between another hiss and a growl as she slid her hands from his arousal and pushed them under the front of his t-shirt.  Her greedy fingers immediately found the soft fur that sprouted from the waistband of his jeans, and it tickled her skin as she aimed to run her hand all the way to his neck, lifting his shirt in the process. 

She only managed to get the shirt about halfway up his torso before he crashed his mouth against hers her with such force that she thought it a miracle he didn’t chip those famous pearly whites.  He didn’t seem to be worried about the possibility and continued to consume her, his fingers digging into cheeks left bare by her sheer thong. 

Moans wrapped around one another as tongues fought for dominant supremacy.  Feminine and masculine noises of appreciation melded together in a needy, desperate cry.  It had been too long.  Too, too long since they’d shared this wild style of passionate aggression. 

Since they’d reunited, sex had been good, but it had lacked the tiniest something.  Rachel had assumed that their commitment, informal as it was, had tempered the unrefined fire they’d shared back in New Jersey.

But she was wrong.

Up until now, they’d been considerate.  Enjoying each other to the fullest while gleaning some pleasure in the process.  Like normal couples did.

They weren’t normal in the bedroom.  They never had been and Rachel was quickly discovering that she didn’t want to be. 

What they had been was fortunate.  What they were was fortunate.  They didn’t need to worry about the other’s pleasure.  They were both so sexually charged and incited that nothing mattered but their own pleasure.

And that’s what worked for them. 

Rachel got wetter with each passing breath, just knowing that he needed her that badly.  That his pleasure was going to be found deep inside of her and he was going to take that pleasure and milk it – and her – for all it was worth. 

By the time he backed her legs against the mattress, the skimpy thong was nothing more than a saturated scrap of cloth that he ripped away from her throbbing clit.  The cool air swept over her exposed flesh as he pushed the nightie up and away, an aggressive gleam lighting his eyes.

Her own eyes were glazed over with lust, but she required only a sense of touch and urgency to find the button at the top of his jeans.  It flicked open at the same time he dipped his head to her left nipple, grating it roughly with his front teeth.  Her hands leapt to the thick mounds of hair behind both of his ears, hissing Jon’s name as she held him close to her bosom.

“Yes, baby.  That’s so good.”

“Oh yeah?”  His eyes were glassy now, his lips glinting nearly as brightly when his tongue slipped through them to lap at her now-throbbing nipple again.  “I dreamed of this.  I dreamed of burying my face between your boobs and suffocating in your smell.  Christ, you smell so good.”

As much as she loved his mouth where it was, she wanted more.  And more required that he be naked.

“Lose the jeans,” she rasped, pushing at the fabric until the most fabulous ass in all the music world was exposed to her touch.  The rock-hard muscles rippled under her palms as he kicked the offensive denim away. 

This was what Rachel had been aching for in their weeks apart.  Naked skin on naked skin.  Nothing between them except of a layer of perspiration as the fire stoked higher and higher. 

She didn’t want to talk to him, didn’t want to ask about his day – she certainly didn’t want to talk about hers – she just wanted to feel his body against hers.  The ultimate source of pleasure. 

When she took him in her mouth, her motives were purely selfish. She wanted to watch his head list slightly to the side while his eyes fluttered closed and his lip curled up almost into a snarl.  He loved to have her go down on him and she loved the transformation in his face as she snaked her tongue around  his granite-hard dick. 

Passive, handsome features were contorted in the agony of pleasure as his head fell back with a low growl.  That transformation turned her on at such a basic, primal level.  She wanted to be the one responsible for his satisfaction and, as she pursued that satisfaction, his hands buried in her hair while he rose to meet her with a rough thrust of his hips. 

Jon whispered her name over and over as she brought him up the slippery slope.  Closer to the pinnacle.  Reveling in his unrestrained sensuality while, she, clenching her thighs tight, squirmed to escalate her own pleasure. 

“Good.  So good baby, but I wanna get inside you,” he groaned, pushing himself up and reversing their positions.  “Damn,” he purred into her face when he slid his engorged head through her wet heat and across her clit.  “You’re ready for it, aren’t ya?”

She flipped her head from one side to the other with a muffled yowl.  It was a move that drove her wild.  The feel of him gliding through her, yet not in her, and then across her sensitive nub while their eyes locked on each other’s…  It was an intimacy like no other, and it spiked her need to an unprecedented level. 

“Now.  Now, Jon.  Now!” 

Her hips wriggled on the mattress in an effort to capture what she most desired.  Fingernails dug into his shoulders with a silent plea of encouragement.  She craved an act so purely physical that it was almost brutal, but when he finally entered her, it was with a slow, sensual movement rather than the possessive pounding she’d wished for. 

But she didn’t find it disappointing for long.

The intensity of the slow, rhythmic penetration was akin to a soothing massage.  Gentle, yet firm. 

So good.  So blissful. 

However, unlike with a massage, each glide and stroke made her more tense instead of less.  Her desperation climbed as she sought a release that only he could bring.  Every time he withdrew and plunged back into her, it took her a step closer to the threshold without crossing over. 

“Please.  Pleeeeease….”

“Just a little more,” he promised, his strokes becoming stronger and more focused.  “Just a little more and I’ll give you want you want.”

“Can’t…  Can’t wait anymore.  P-please!”

He bent and put his mouth close to her ear.  She could feel the hot condensation of his breath against the shell of her ear when he whispered, “Thrash for me, baby.”

Her head immediately whipped from side to side, desperately – frantically – seeking the point just beyond her reach.  Jon, for his part, pistoned his hips faster.  Harder.  Giving Rachel exactly what she needed.  Exactly what she wanted.  Exactly what she…

“Fuuck!” she yowled, digging her heels into the small of his back as she slid into home plate and bowed into an arch.  “Yesssss, baby!  Yes!” 

Jon nipped her shoulder to mute his own guttural growl as he gradually slowed his pace until it was nothing but a gentle rocking inside her.  What had been the means to release was still a pleasant sensation and a connection she was glad he didn’t sever right away. 

Rachel blew out a breath as he rolled them both to their sides, chuckling under his breath.

“Wha’?” she inquired with a half-hearted curiosity.  Rachel was nearly paralyzed with a glorious, idyllic, heavenly gratification. 

“I always know I’ve done my job well when you drop an “F” bomb in bed,” he laughed. 

“Mm.”  Who was she to disagree?  He made her lose her mind and her refined vocabulary.  “You did such a good job that I might be able to give you a raise.” 

“You could probably ‘raise’ me from the dead,” he concurred amiably, sounding just as content as she as he kissed her temple.  “You sure as hell make me feel alive, anyway.”