Ch 71 ~ Dirty Pool

Jon was frustrated in every sense of the word. 

Not only was he sexually frustrated, he was emotionally frustrated with the stubborn woman responsible for his sexual frustration.  If she would just give up and admit he was...  Well, more stubborn than she was, they would both be rolling around and suffering from some kind of orgasmic bliss in that motherfucking bed by now.

But noooooo....  Rachel had spent the last three – count ‘em... three! – hours prancing herself through each room of the massive house and making a point of floating by him so closely that her scent filled his nostrils to the exclusion of everything else. 

And that was the least of it.

First she’d bent over in front of him under the guise of checking the contents of the bottom kitchen cabinet, when she really just wanted to wiggle her high-and-tight ass in his face.  Then, while he was standing in the doorway “inspecting” the squeaky door hinge and making the most of his shirtlessness by subtly flexing his muscles, she simply brushed by with her breasts tantalizingly brushing his tricep – with their rigid nipples.

They were both clearly aroused, yet neither one of them budged an inch on their dogged stance to outlast the other. 

God forbid she actually be submissive for once in her life.

Submissive was not Rachel’s forte, and she made that known when she strolled outside where he lay by the pool – once again flexing his now sweaty chest - and dived into the pool.  That was all well and good, but the little minx mercilessly flaunted that near-perfect body of hers by not bothering with a swimsuit.  When she pulled herself from the pool with pornographic droplets of water trekking over the flesh that he wanted to brand with his own, the air hit her nipples and beaded them as hard and tight as he’d ever seen them.

Jon was proud of the fact that he didn’t throw her onto the nearest lounge chair and pound into her with the ruthless fury that he managed to contain. 

Barely.

He also barely managed to contain his raging hard-on by crossing his legs so that his trunks tented up in the front. 

The way he saw it, Rachel had no intention of crying uncle anytime soon, so that left him with two choices.  One, he could give up and drop to his knees, begging for mercy, a blow job and an orgasm from the woman who was seductively dabbing at her damp skin while keeping tabs on him from beneath her eyelashes.  Two, he could play dirty.

Anyone who had ever met Jon wouldn’t have to think twice about what his choice was going to be, and he wasn’t going to hesitate in summoning necessary reinforcements.

Tequila might be too late to make her clothes fall off, but it’s still her kryptonite.

“It’s awful hot out this evening.  I’m getting a little thirsty.  How ‘bout you?”

“Mm.”  She slid him a look that was as sultry as the July air.  “What did you have in mind?”

“Only one thing that’s going to quench a mouth as dry as the Sonoran Desert.”  He grinned at her, feeling quite smug.  “Margaritas, of course.”

She tossed her towel onto one of the chaises and sauntered provocatively toward him, one condescending eyebrow forming a perfect arch two inches above the other.  He swore she gave a little extra wiggle to her ass when she perched on the edge of his lounge chair, bumping her naked hip against his thigh to scoot him aside and make room for herself.

“I can hardly believe my ears,” she drawled, the natural heaviness of her breasts swaying in a move that was effective as a red flag before a bull.  His eyes were momentarily riveted to the droplet that still clung to her right nipple, finally giving up its fight and falling free at the same moment her flow of sultry disbelief resumed.  “My self-proclaimed wino is forgoing his perfectly fermented Santa Margherita for a plain old tequila margarita?”  

She is the devil with a pussy, and damned if I don’t love it.

But Jon had become a millionaire because he had a steadfast vision for the future and, if he kept his eye on the prize, his future held sexual exploits that would rival no others.  He would not be swayed by a beautiful set of swaying tits.

He slowly cocked his head and swept an open palm over that pushy thigh, his thumb just barely dusting the crease where it met her torso and rapidly retreating.  “Guess I’m feelin’ like wine may be a little too… civilized tonight.  Tequila’s got more of a raunchy little edge to it.  That appeals to me, how ‘bout you?”

Rachel’s nostrils flared and her pupils dilated in the dimness of the poolside lights, proving that he’d just about reached his goal.  He’d bet if he slipped that same thumb into the slit sitting prettily between her thighs, that he’d find it hot, wet and ready to beg. 

Jon, however, wouldn’t get the chance to test his theory, because she tipped her chin defiantly and picked up his still-wandering hand.  Separating the thumb from the rest of his fingers, she popped it in her mouth and swirled her tongue around it before sucking it so hard that he was amazed he still had a fingernail attached.  It slid from her wet lips with a loud ‘pop’, and she dropped his hand nonchalantly onto his stomach. 

“Honey, if you wanted raunchy, you could’ve had that hours ago.  But now,” she yawned, those damn breasts hiking up and daring him to touch them as she stretched her arms above her head. “Now I’m feeling a little sleepy.  I think I’ll just head up to that big, fluffy bed you bought me and snuggle in for the night.  Did you put my vibrator in the nightstand for me?”

You little cocktease…

If it wasn’t so painful, this whole thing would be the funniest thing he could recall in recent history.  Hell, if it was happening to Sambora, Jon would get a million laughs from now until the day he died.

But it wasn’t happening to Sambora, it was happening to him, and he had to keep the upper hand here.  If he conceded that she was just about to kill him, then…  Well, then he’d be conceding defeat. 

No, and HELL no! 

She was every bit as horny as he was and, if he pushed the matter, he could have her coming unglued on this damn chaise inside of two minutes.  No doubt about it. 

Pushing the matter didn’t suit his purposes though.  So he played along.

“Sorry, babe.  The bedroom wiring won’t handle the voltage of the plug on your vibrator.  Contractor said he could be here sometime next week to look at it, but you’re outta luck until then. A cocktail in bed sounds good, though. I’ll fix a drink and meet you up there.”

Rachel didn’t say a word before she spun on her heel and headed into the house, but Jon saw her jaw drop for a split second before she got control over it. 

He grinned into the dusk. 

It wasn’t the same satisfaction as an orgasm, but it would do. 

For the moment.