Ch 64 ~ Put A Ring On It

The ring he had so confidently slid upon her finger had Rachel held rapt.  The center, cushion-cut diamond must have been at least six carats, and the row of emerald-cut diamonds that cascaded down each side of the band weren’t anything to sneeze at either, likely weighing in at a half-carat apiece.  If it hadn’t been so tastefully designed, it would have been obscene.

Instead, it was... stunning. 

She’d never seen a piece of jewelry more beautiful, and if anything could compete with the sparkle of the nighttime Eiffel Tower, it would surely be this ring.

Oh Jon.

There was no doubt in her mind that she loved him.  She needed him in her life every bit as much as she needed water or air, there was no denying that. 

She also had no doubt that Jon loved her.  He’d gone out of his way to show her time and again that he was crazy about her and would do anything she wanted.  It was obvious to anyone with half of a brain that he wanted her to feel safe and secure – to the point that he was willing to ‘put on a ring on it’, as it were.

But he still didn’t need her. Not the way she needed him.

And, call her stupid or silly or romantic, but she couldn’t – wouldn’t – marry him unless he did. 

That didn’t mean she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life with him, but she had made her peace with the fact that it would be without the benefit of a marriage certificate.  They were genuinely in love and that was enough for her.   

She tugged at his hand, encouraging him to stand so that they were on the same level, and she looped her arm around his neck. 

“I would be honored to spend the rest of my life with you,” she affirmed with a gentle smile.  “But I don’t require a marriage license or a wedding ring to do that.  The way we are right now, on this magical night in this magical city, will make me happier than anyone has a right to be.”

Jon’s hands slid down her sides and clasped at the small of her back, a small crinkle forming between his brows and mimicking the frown on his face.  “Is that code for you don’t like the ring?”

“Are you crazy?” Laughing, she rested her left hand on his chest and admired the glittering diamonds again.   “I love it to the moon, but it’s not necessary.   I just don’t need a wedding ring or a wedding as long as I have you.” 

He sighed and pulled back to look her square in the eyes.  “After I go to all the trouble of setting up the perfect proposal, in the perfect place and time, are you saying you’ll never marry me?”

“Never is a long time, baby, and any woman in her right mind would give a nipple to get this kind of proposal, but…  Well, for the foreseeable future, my answer is no.”

He huffed lightly, trying to take a backward step away from her, but she held onto his shirt, keeping him close.  “I’ve done every goddamn thing I can think of to get you to marry me, Rachel.  I’m gettin’ pretty fuckin’ tired of asking.“

“Then stop,” she advised gently, cupping his jaw and stroking her thumb over the stubble there.  “Because what we have works for me.  It works for us.”

“Good,” he grumbled, even though the rigidity left his shoulders and he slid his hands around her waist to settle at the small of her back.  “Because if you ever change your mind, you’re gonna have to be the one who does the proposing – and hope like hell I say yes.”

“That’s okay,” she giggled, grateful that their trip wouldn’t be marred by unpleasantness.  “I kinda like the girlfriend treatment.  All the houses, cars and credit cards with endless limits you’ve showered me with might become scarce if I let you take me off the market.”

His arms tightened, and she was held firmly against his body.  “Oh, make no mistake about it, Ms. Braden.  You are definitely off the market.”

“I am, huh?”

“You are.”  There was no room for argument in his tone.  “If you don’t wanna call it an engagement ring, then find something else that suits you – a commitment ring, or what the hell ever – but it’s staying on your pretty little finger so that the whole world knows that you belong to me.  Got it?”

Rachel held her hand out for another peek of the sparkly bauble that had just been declared her permanent accessory.  It certainly wasn’t going to hurt her feelings to wear it.  Not even a little bit.  But in the interest of fairness…

“I’ll wear it if you wear one, too,” she countered, returning her attention to Jon.  “I mean, if I’m off market I think it’s only fair the world knows you’re off market, too.”

“I don’t wear rings when I perform.  I’ve lost too many to grabby fans latching onto my sweaty hands.”

She wondered what lucky girls could say they had Jon Bon Jovi’s wedding ring for a moment, before deciding that she didn’t want any of them having the ring she gave him.

“Fair enough, but I get to choose it.”

His eyebrow kicked up speculatively.   “But I pay for it, courtesy of one of those limitless credit cards you were talking about?”

“I don’t care what David says,” she cooed.  “You’re much smarter than a brick.”

“Fuckin’ Lemma…”

Rachel laughed delightedly, thinking that her world couldn’t possibly be any brighter, even in what many would consider to be the middle of the night. 

“I have a better idea.  How about you try fuckin’ me instead?”

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

Despite the fact that they didn’t get to sleep until much later, Rachel was up early the next morning and raring to go.  She couldn’t possibly sleep in now that she’d made it to Paris, but Jon didn’t suffer quite the same problem.  He was more than a little grumbly when she urged him awake for their customary morning run, anxious to free their schedule so that they could enjoy the day, but once she showed him how very much it would mean to her…  Well, let’s just say he was in a much better mood.

By the time he’d had his wake up enticement, run, shower and coffee, his disposition was almost stellar.  She caught him smiling at the ring on her hand more than once and that, in turn, made her smile.  It was going to be a fabulous day in “gay Paree”!

Proof positive was the perfect breakfast café only two blocks from their hotel.  Its decadent croissant and equally scrumptious – and totally French, café crème – set the pace for a gastrological smorgasbord of debauchery, soon to be followed by La Maison du Chocolat.  At her first bite of their richly famed candy, Jon said the noises she made were more lewd than those when she orgasmed, causing Rachel to blush.

“You’ll pay for that,” she teased, sticking out a chocolaty tongue at him. 

His whispered reply was nothing short of sinful.  “I’ll pay whatever it costs if you’ll make those sounds when I eat that candy from your sweet pussy.”

His wicked promise had her heart pounding like a jackhammer and her skin went hot all over, causing her to fan herself as she requested from the clerk, “We’ll take the biggest box you have.”

Designer bag swinging from Jon’s fingertips and filled with mouthwatering chocolates, they’d gone only another few short blocks when Rachel spotted something more pressing than Paris’s fattening confections. 

“There.”  She pointed to the awning, and leaning into his side to guide him in the right direction.  “It’s time to put a ring on that finger of yours.”

It was with a silent giggle to herself that she stepped through the door he held for her, preceding him into the quaint shop. 

I wonder if he’ll be surprised at what I choose for him.

“Good morning,” she greeted the sales clerk behind the glass cases. 

“Good morning, mademoiselle,” the smiling young man returned with a heavy local accent.  “I am Gregory.  How may I be of service?”

“We are here to buy this handsome gentleman a ring, Gregory.”  She cut her eyes devilishly toward Jon.  “I was thinking of something that might be considered a wedding band.  Could you show us the least expensive one that you have, please?”

His professional gaze having quickly assessed Jon’s heavy necklace and her new ring, along with Rachel’s diamond studs and necklace, Gregory hesitated only one slightly confused moment as his thought of a resounding commission skittered away. 

He stepped to the end cabinet, sliding back the door as they followed, and then produced a simple, plain ring no more than a couple of millimeters wide.  “This titanium band will fill your request, mademoiselle.  It is only ninety-five euros.”

She accepted the ring and slipped it on Jon’s finger, noting that he was more confused than Gregory, and had no reason to hide it.  “Seriously?”

Smiling delightedly into his face, she nodded, informing Gregory that the ring was perfect.  It took only a moment to produce her newly acquired acquired Visa and finalize the purchase.

The shop door had no more tinkled close behind them when Jon draped his arm around Rachel’s shoulder and tucked her into his chest.  “Not that I’m a materialistic sonofabitch or anything,” he told her conversationally.  “But why were you set on buying me a beer can tab of a ring, when I got you one Liz Taylor herself would be jealous of?  I’m pretty sure I can afford something a little nicer, since I am the one paying for it.”

Rachel giggled with elation because, true to form, he had fallen right into her trap and asked the perfect question. 

“Oh honey,” she sighed, conjuring up the most remorseful expression she could muster and patting his chest, “I’m sorry, but my ring was obviously very, very expensive.  I might have picked you out something nicer, but after what you spent on mine and the chocolates we just bought…  Well, I’d say that the hundred and nineteen or so dollars I just spent on yours is all we can afford.”

“So, lemme see if I got this right,” he snorted as they strolled along the avenue.  “I bring you to Paris and set up the most romantic atmosphere to propose, give you the Hope diamond and her sisters, and you still refuse to marry me.  But you keep the ring AND THEN use the credit card I gave you to buy me the cheapest ring in all of France.  Is that the story, baby?”

“Pretty much,” she confirmed with a wink.  “There’s just something about taking Jon Bon Jovi off the market for a measly hundred and nineteen bucks that tickles me.  And using your hundred and nineteen bucks to do it, tickles me even more.”

“You realize you’re evil, right?”

“Yep!”  But she didn’t mind, because he didn’t mind.  It was all in good fun. 

“Well, you just enjoy your moment, because – mark my words – I will have the last laugh.”

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

  

By early afternoon they’d managed lunch at the Eiffel Tower, but it wasn’t quite the way Rachel had imagined her first visit to the classic landmark, but she’d never considered trying to sightsee in one of the most famous cities in the world with an equally famous man.   

It didn’t really matter whether Jon attempted to disguise himself or not – and today he hadn’t – they rarely went out that someone didn’t recognize him, and this time was no different.  A wide variety of locals, tourists and paparazzi snapped pictures continuously from the moment they arrived.  Jon, as always, was very polite and cordial, even going so far as to sign several autographs in between bites of food and posing with a few people on their way back to the car. 

In short, he behaved exactly as she expected and would want him to.

But it didn’t keep her from wishing they’d been able to enjoy a little anonymity in this remarkable place. 

Fans and photographers notwithstanding, they managed to accomplish a whirlwind, but functional, tour of the city’s high points by evening.  They were just about to step back into the hired car and return to Shangri-La when Rachel caught sight of a silver tray in an antique shop’s window.

“One more stop?” she beseeched and, when he nodded with only a tiny sigh of boredom, she beat feet for the door and scooped up the beautiful piece.  Tucking it under her arm, she promised, “Just let me take one quick look around and I’ll be ready.”

“Take your time, baby.” 

No, he didn’t mean it, but Rachel appreciated that he said it all the same.  It was the same thing any man would say to his partner and, amid all the ‘famousness’ of the day – she savored the ordinary moment where they could be just another couple. 

The pieces grew larger as they roamed further back in the store, going from tabletop antiques and wall hangings to more significant items such as furniture.  Once they reached the back wall, they discovered an ornate bed that was showcased amongst the other pieces.

In silent, unspoken agreement, they both paused at its foot and were momentarily lost in their own thoughts. 

Something about the oversized piece felt quite regal to Rachel, and she recalled that she’d once heard Jon referred to as His Royal Hotness.   That prompted her fantasies to put the man beside her in a starring role, as she often did – only this time with a crown.

Rather than being comedic or ridiculous, the crown simply made him... more commanding.  The images built blended to create a steamy film that played through her mind, with her as the other lead, of course.  She couldn’t stop herself from imagining Jon throwing her down on this bed and making her scream out his name over and over until –

“A bed like that gets the imagination turned up, eh, Rach?” he interrupted softly.

Snapping her head around, Rachel could feel her face and neck flushing like crazy at being caught having pornographic fantasies in public.  “W-What?”

Jon stepped closer behind her and dug his hands into her front pockets, chinning the hair off her neck and whispering in her ear, “I bet you could fuck me senseless in that bed, couldn’t you, baby?”

She was absolutely positive her nipples stood at full attention as she shivered, then slowly breathed in and out – twice – and swallowed hard before responding, “I could.  No doubt about it.”

“You’re gonna get your chance to prove it,” he promimsed.  “I want that bed, Rach.  We’re gonna make some of the best memories of our life in that bed.”  

It was irrelevant to her that the bed would look amazing with the beams in the ceiling of the master bedroom of the Jersey house.  They could’ve had a disco ball hanging from the ceiling and she still would’ve been on board with buying this tantalizing weapon of seduction. 

“Okay,” she murmured.

Really, what else was there to say?