Ch 57 ~ A Dog's Life

“Rach…wake up, baby.”

The words dug through her unconscious state through forty-eleven layers of fuzzy fog.  They roused her just enough to alert her to how utterly awful she felt – queasy, achy and all-over miserable.  Her neck had a crick in it from being bent in a funny position and she rubbed at it sleepily.  Where the hell was she and who had left her here for dead after a truck with at least eighteen wheels had flattened her ass? 

“Rach.”

Her eyelids cracked open enough to realize that Jon’s voice was the one tunneling through that fuzzy fog.  The lights whizzing past by in the darkness told her that they were in a moving vehicle and it was late.  Or early.  She wasn’t sure which.  Then again, she wasn’t really sure which direction was up either.

“Is it morning or night?  Where are we?”  She slowly pushed herself into a more upright position and tried to make sense of the scenery around her, but she couldn’t find any identifiable landmarks to lend her a clue.

“London.  We’re almost to the hotel.  You’ll be in bed in no time, but you gotta wake up enough to walk in, babe.  Matt said he isn’t carrying your dead weight ass.”

Soft chuckles wafted through the van from its other occupants, while Matt defended himself.  “Hey.  I’m a bodyguard, not a moving man.”

Rachel wrinkled her nose at the population in general, unconcerned with their joking shenanigans and bullshit at the moment.  It had ceased being funny about the time she stuck a baby squid in her mouth and tasted its ink.  She owed David Bryan for that one.

“Oh.  London.  Thass right,” her fatigue had her slight slurring the words.  “I knew that.” 

They’d done a show in Madrid last night, then the Netherlands tonight and had flown out as soon as the show was over.   She had barely been able to manage stumbling from the plane to the van when they’d landed, and she had no idea – nor cared right now – whether her luggage had accompanied her.  Then again, she could barely remember her name.  Who the hell ever said traveling was fun?

“Please just shoot me,” she whined, flopping her head onto Jon’s shoulder.  “I’m pretty sure jet lag is one of the circles of hell, and if I have to go through eight more circles I’m going to die.” 

The laughter was louder this time, and she saw that none of them were going to be sympathetic to her plight.  These men had no pity for the travel-weak – even the man who claimed to love her.

“It might not seem like it right now, but you’ll live, honey,” Jon chuckled.  “It’s a little like sea sickness.  Once you get your sea legs, you’ll be fine.”

“To hell with sea legs,” she groaned pitifully as the van pulled beneath a lighted portico.  “Just throw me overboard and save yourself.” 

The wheels stopped moving, and the road noise replaced by screeching – a screeching that she’d become intimately familiar with in a short time.  It was a gaggle of Bon Jovi crazy women waving their arms to get the band’s attention inside the vehicle. 

“Geez.  What time is it?” Rachel grumbled.  “Shouldn’t they be home in bed?”

Jon was gathering his bag and hers but took a glance at his watch and told her, “It’s a little after 1:30 in the morning, local time.” 

“Oh my word.  These people choose to be here when they could be all nice and cozy, sound asleep?” she asked incredulously.  “You’re not worth it.  I can tell them from personal experience, you’re just not worth it!”

“Amen, sister!”

She couldn’t be sure over the roaring laughter, but she thought it was David – or Richie – who echoed her sentiment.  She also didn’t particularly care that her traveling bedhead was going to be snapped by a dozen cellphones and cameras as the car door opened.  Sleep was her primary concern, not a bunch of psycho band stalkers.

Jon stepped out of the car, pulling their two bags out behind him with a smile still on his face.  When he reached back in for Rachel’s hand, he murmured for her ears only, “Not worth it, huh?  Wanna make a bet?  You are sooooo gonna eat those words, my love.”

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

The next time Rachel opened her eyes, it was daylight and she was lying in an exceptionally comfortable bed in a bedroom fit for a Queen.    There were billowy valance drapes made of a rich gold fabric and trimmed with tassels, a chandelier hanging overhead and antique nightstands. 

Was this a hotel or Buckingham Palace? 

She turned toward the other side of the bed and, as the sheet slid over her body, she found out that she was as bare naked as the pillow beside her.  The clock on Jon’s nightstand read 11:07, which explained his absence.   He would have been up and out at least an hour ago, even given the late night they’d had.  She had quickly discovered that he was religious about getting up and maintaining a normal routine, no matter what the time zone.

Rachel had also discovered that her religion – by necessity – centered around a cup.

Coffee.  I need coffee.  And a toothbrush. 

Rolling back over with a lethargic groan, she pushed back the down comforter and dropped her feet to the lushly carpeted floor.   A single glance told her that last night’s clothes, which she didn’t remember removing, were lying in a messy pile next to the bed.   Either Jon had graciously undressed her, or she had been too far gone to remember taking them off.  She was betting on Jon.  Even dead tired, she would’ve folded them. 

Scooping them up, she did that now and dropped them on the settee at the foot of the bed.  A moment to take a quick peek out the window at all the promise London had to offer, and then Rachel padded toward the bathroom.  It only furthered the Buckingham Palace theory when, outside the bathroom door, she found a  walk-in closet that would make any real estate agent’s heart beat a little faster. 

Holy crap.

Stepping inside the storage space that would rival the closet in her New Jersey house for size, she found their luggage parked in the near corner.  Rachel shook her head in awe at the hotel closet and bypassed all of the luggage other than the small carryon that held her toiletries and, more importantly, her toothbrush.  She shrugged it onto her shoulder and went to see what unexpected treasures the bathroom held.

Her morning needs taken care of in the palatial bathroom with its Olympic-sized whirlpool tub and gold-gilded dual sinks, she made her way back to the cavernous closet and grabbed the hotel robe that she’d seen hanging there.  It took only a moment to slip it on and tie the belt in a loose knot, and then she ventured to the bedroom door.  If she wasn’t mistaken…

“Oh my word,” she moaned in ecstasy as soon as she stepped foot into the living area whose décor exactly matched that of the bedroom.  Jon was perched on one of two loveseats that faced one another with a coffee table in between, sipping the beverage that the table had been made for as he scrolled through his phone.  “I don’t know which is more appealing to me – the smell of that coffee or the sight of your beautiful bed head.”

He looked up from his phone with a grin and patted the spot on the cushion next to him.  “Well, well, well… I see that Sleeping Beauty has arisen from her coma,” he teased.

Rachel ignored the empty spot and instead plopped down in his lap, looping her arms around his neck and kissing him.  It took no more than the first touch of his tongue against hers before she was consumed by a voracious sexual hunger that was almost more powerful than her need for caffeine.   

“Mhm,” she groaned as she freed his mouth to nip at his neck. “And finding Prince Charming awaiting me with coffee…  I feel almost human this morning.”

His snort rattled in his throat, tickling her lips.  “I ain’t no Prince Charming, that’s for damn sure, but I do have coffee.  Although, after the way you passed out on me last night, I’m not sure I should give it to you.” 

“Watch it, buddy.  I’m getting a little tired of waking up alone,” she pouted.  “Just once I’d like to turn over and find your bare ass waiting to be molested.”

Jon grabbed the back of her thighs with one hand and rolled her under him, a deliciously wicked glint in his eye as he leered at her from above.  The hand he wasn’t propping himself up with slid under the thick, fluffy fabric of her robe, palming the fullness of her bottom.

“Honey, if you want molesting, all you gotta do is flash me a little of your bare ass.  You would’ve been molested beyond your wildest dreams last night, but you threatened to chew my balls off if I didn’t let you sleep.  You know what that means, right?”

“Mmm.”  She wiggled into the fingers that were dancing from her bottom to someplace a little more…  fun.  “You’re smarter than Dorothea thinks you are?”

Those dancing fingers abandoned the funhouse between her legs to give her a sharp pinch on the ass.  “No, smartass.  It means you’re the only reason you woke up alone.  I’d still be in a post-orgasmic coma if you hadn’t been such a cranky bitch.” 

Rachel slipped her hand under the “Been There. Rocked That.” t-shirt that she’d given him for his birthday, reveling in the softness of the fur below his belly button that she loved so much.  Her other hand crept around his lean waist to snake beneath the waistband of his running shorts, burrowing inside to seek out the perfect backside that she’d been missing this morning. 

“You like me bitchy,” she purred as she nibbled along his stubbled jawline.  “And if you’ll give me a royal ‘welcome to London’ consummation, I promise not to chew anything you don’t want me to.” 

“Chew anything and everything that luscious little mouth can find, babe.  Just leave it attached when you’re done.” 

“Rawr,” she murmured with an easy bite to his Adam’s apple.  Parting her legs, she pushed against his buttocks so that his hips settled between her thighs.  “Now I see why dogs like their chew toys.” 

His hips rolled forward, bringing his hardness into forceful contact with her softness and drawing a soft gasp from her.  “Bitches.  Dogs.  I’m starting to sense a theme here.”

“Oh yeah?”  She gave a reciprocal roll of her hips, grinding a little when she found a particularly pleasant spot. 

Jon withdrew, rising on his knees and gripping her firmly around the waist.  With one forceful twist from his arms, Rachel’s knees were sunk into the sofa cushion, while her hands scrambled to find the armrest for balance.  

“Mhm.”

“Only you could interpret ‘royal consummation’ as doing me doggie on the couch instead of in that regal bed,” she murmured, not really all that upset.  Who would complain about a man who wanted her so intensely that he couldn’t be bothered to waste time going to the bedroom? 

Not her. 

“We’ll do the bed later.  Right now, I wanna do you right here.”

No complaints whatsoever.

Rachel glanced over her shoulder just as he flung those pesky shorts across the room and tugged up the t-shirt, dropping it on the back of the couch.  He was so strikingly handsome in the morning, she thought.  Unshaven, bed head – not quite the photogenic rock star his fans knew and loved.  No, Rachel’s man was just a man and she loved it and him.

One yank of the belt at her waist, dissolved her romantic musings, and Rachel’s arms were being tugged free from the robe so that it could join the shorts.  Before the soft ‘plop’ of terrycloth could be registered, Jon was covering her back with his soft mat of chest hair and sweeping her blonde tresses aside to kiss the back of her neck.

She absolutely loved the feel of his morning stubble against her neck and shoulders, and that was only intensified when one of his hands snuck around and simultaneously plucked at her sensitive nipples. Her head reared back with ecstasy at the exact moment he pushed inside with muted grunt of pleasure, and Rachel groaned her body’s acceptance of him.

There was nothing that compared to this.  To him.  Her.  Them.  In the same way that they’d used their bodies to push away the hurt of their arguments so long ago, now they used those same bodies to push themselves closer together.  Both physically and mentally they became a single, cohesive unit that thrived on the love that ran deep in their veins. 

It was so good to know that she’d go to bed with him tonight, and every night for the next month or so, while seeing a part of the world that she had always wondered about. 

Once again, her romantic musings burst like a bubble as he began to claim her more fervently than before.  The desperation to be fulfilled surrounded them like a cocoon and his hands, his skin, his breath transformed her as surely as the caterpillar morphed into a butterfly. 

“Oh God, Jon,” she panted, fingernails digging deep into the upholstery as he indelibly owned her time and time again.  The kissing of their flesh filled her ears and pushed her higher… harder… further.

Her eyes fluttered with the heaviness of lust, shutting out the outside world.  Shutting out anything beyond the primal coupling that had perspiration beading on her forehead and the back of her neck. 

“Gettin’ close.”  The breathy warning was accompanied by a hiss of imminent explosion.  “Now, baby,” he urged.

Rachel took a deep, cleansing breath and joined him, letting the orgasm roll through her entire body.  The butterfly reveled in its release, stretching itself like never before and making her feel bigger – freer – than she had before, and her chest fluttered with a unique kind of bliss.  It wasn’t the kind of release that had her shouting his name or some obscenity, but a complete and total body release that gave her the relaxation, energy and clarity of a two hour massage.

She slumped against the arm of the sofa with a contented smile and relished the boneless rubberiness that permeated her arms and legs

Life.  Is.  Good.

“Welcome to London, baby,”  Jon chuckled with an affectionate pat to her rump.  “Welcome to London.”

She sighed happily and mused,  “I think I’m gonna like it here.”