Jon had found there to be very little that compared with the feeling when he was wrapped around Rachel like a piece of Saran Wrap, but a hot shower after a long show was a pretty close second. The thought of combining the two after a spectacularly shitty night had him hustling his sweaty ass out of Raleigh’s RBC Center and into the cold February night. The front row fans likely hadn’t even made it to the exit with their souvenir folding chairs before his car arrived at the private airstrip.
“Sonofabitch,” he swore, shivering and cramming his hands
further into his coat pockets and settling into the private jet that would have
him landing at Teterboro within the hour.
Seven weeks and four thousand miles put him a long way from tropical
Hawaii, and Jon hoped like hell not to catch pneumonia before he managed to get
to a seductively sprawled Rachel.
What he should’ve hoped for was to find Rachel
seductively sprawled, period. Rather
than finding his hot blonde beauty sporting some Victoria’s Secret creation
that kept no secrets whatsoever, he found their Navesink River Road house as dark and cold as the bitter February night.
“Well, shit.” His
halfhearted grumble was carried away by the whistling wind as he pushed into
the foyer. “She’s not here.”
Rachel had sent him a text that she was leaving California
about the same time he started his show in North Carolina, which meant she
couldn’t be too far behind him. With a
sigh, he tamped down his disappointment, bumped up the thermostat and climbed
the back staircase to the master bedroom.
If he’d been in the old house, he would’ve stopped by the
kitchen for a chilled bottle of wine to pass the time, but his
girlfriend/lover/significant other was a genius.
Jon was confident that her decision to install a full bar and wine
cooler in their massive closet certified her as a genius and, really, his
opinion was the only one that mattered.
With a lazy smirk of arrogance, he briefly surveyed the
contents of the wine cooler before bypassing his customary pinot in favor of
the warm, oak tones of Rachel’s preferred brand of red. It was a good night for warm, and he downed a
healthy swallow before the wine had even had time to breathe.
Hot would be even
better.
A flick of his wrist had the flames dancing happily in
the gas fireplace and casting a warm hue into the otherwise dark room. It was just enough to justify leaving the
lights off, and he carried that justification into the adjoining bath by
choosing only to burn the small light above the shower. A twist of the ornate knob had the water
flowing and, as his shirt flew in the general direction of the hamper, the
shower filled with steam. By the time
his pants flew in a lopsided arc, the glass had already fogged and was inviting
Jon into its humid warmth.
After the door clicked shut, the only remaining sound was
that of water battering futilely against marble. Each droplet that pulsed against his naked
flesh was rebuffed with a muted ‘splat’ and left to silently trek toward the
drain. The sound – or lack thereof –
went a long way toward unwinding Jon’s taut muscles. While he loved nothing better than the roar
of an appreciative audience, after the show, the last thing he wanted was noise.
Then you should be
glad her sexy little ass isn’t here.
He loved Rachel.
He truly, truly did, but the girl couldn’t walk into a room without
turning on the TV, stereo or some other kind of racket. For some reason that totally escaped him, she
always had to have some kind of background noise going and it annoyed the shit
out of him after a show. It was probably
the only thing she did that really got on his nerves.
He chuckled softly as he dropped his head back and let
the water massage his scalp, imagining that it was her fingers scraping through
his hair instead of the shower.
Annoying or not, he knew he’d gladly put up with her and her
idiosyncrasies for the rest of his life, if she would let him.
Yep. He was legitimately
pussy whipped.
*********************
Rachel was grateful when the hired car finally drew up in
front of the house, but it didn’t stop a frown from tugging at her mouth. The inviting glow of the family room lights shone
from the back of the house and, while it was a warm and welcoming sight, it
also meant that Jon had beat her home.
She hated that.
One of her favorite things in the world was being home to
greet him when he came off the road, preferably naked and with a glass of
wine. Mother Nature and James had joined
forces to make that impossible this time around, with last minute work problems
combining with an unusually heavy fog in the Bay Area. She was a full two hours later getting off
the ground than she’d anticipated.
Shaking off the circumstances she couldn’t change, Rachel
unlocked the front door and flipped on the foyer light.
“Right there will be fine.” She directed the driver to stack her boxes on
the dark wood floor just beyond the front door.
After two trips, he had the equipment she’d bought for her future New
Jersey office inside the house and was bidding her a good evening.
The door locked behind him, she darkened the foyer again
and made her way toward the well-lit family room. It only took a couple of steps through the
kitchen doorway before she could see that the adjoining room, where she had
expected to find Jon, was empty.
That frown tugged at her mouth once again.
“Jonny?” she called out.
“Where are you, babe?”
It was unlikely that he was already asleep, but he – and maybe
a big bottle of wine? – could be naked and waiting in that massive bed of
theirs. Grinning, Rachel dropped her
purse on the kitchen island and tossed her coat over a bar stool. It didn’t matter that she’d never shown any
psychic tendencies before this very moment.
The potential payoff was worth the risk of following her instincts up
the back staircase.
Sweeping into the bedroom, she found it empty except for
the crackling fireplace that prompted shadows to dance on the wall in a most
alluring way. The dance they did was so
seductive to her Jon-deprived body and mind that, despite Jon’s absence in the
room, she couldn’t help but imagining him – them – tangled in the sheets
together.
The scene was so real, that Rachel could even envision
the slick sheen of their skin as they rolled from one edge of the massive bed
to the other.
”You need to get laid,” she muttered, fanning herself as
she stepped away from the erotic pictorial she’d created and continued her
search for the man who could and would fix that problem.
A single step into the master bath had Rachel going from
hot to steamy.
The real life vision that captured her rapt attention was
the silhouette of Jon through the steam fogged shower doors. It was so unbearably captivating that she
couldn’t even speak. There was something
so deeply intimate and personal about the unclothed form of the man she
loved. Knowing that just beyond those
millimeters of glass, he waited naked and willingly vulnerable to everything
she had to offer. He would deny her no
part of him.
Almost without conscious thought, Rachel kicked off her
work heels and let her slacks and panties fall to the floor.
The movement must have caught Jon’s eye through the
shower door because he opened it just as she was unfastening the final two
buttons on her blouse. His wide grin
made her eyes mist with emotion and, when he extended an arm to playfully flick
open the front clasp of her bra, she was sure he’d never looked more
beautiful. As it dropped to the ground
unnoticed and he gently guided her into the shower, pulling her against his
chest, Rachel knew she was more in love with him than at any moment before in
her life.
His fingers glided down to the indentation of her waist,
then lifted to curve tightly over her ribcage as his head dipped. Rachel permitted – no begged – him to take
her mouth, inviting his tongue with a seductive swipe of her own while
tunneling her fingers through his wet hair.
So often, she and Jon were prone to have hard and fast
sex, and then have hard and fast sex again.
It was nearly always an aerobic workout disguised as intimacy. This was nothing like that. The pace was slow, the warm spray was as gentle
as their caresses and their passion was a slow, steady burn instead of the
typical inferno. The only sounds to
penetrate the tranquility of their watery cocoon were softly flowing water and
Rachel’s faint mewls.
She couldn’t help it.
His touch… It was so reverential,
with his grasp soft, like a whisper.
“Let’s take this to the bed, baby,” he crooned into the
curve of her neck.
Reluctant to sever what felt to her like a physical
connection of their souls, Rachel was slow to tear herself away from his
touch. So reluctant in fact, that she
continued to make love to his mouth while back stepping from the stall. She was extending an arm to reach for a towel
at the same time he slid one leg between hers and cupped her bottom. When he lifted, it was instinct alone that had
Rachel twining her legs around his waist.
She never doubted his strength as he walked them to the bed, where he
threw her towel to the floor.
“Don’t need that.
I wanna feel your body wet, just like it is now.”
The fireplace had warmed the room, but when Jon dropped
one knee to the bed to gently place her on the duvet and pressed his body into
hers… It was enough to make Rachel
shiver. Her nipples hardened into
diamond pebbles and the remainder of her skin was peppered with an array of goosebumps.
This man is the
most potent specimen of pure sexuality ever to walk the earth – and he’s mine.
Limbs intertwined and without a sliver of light between
his body and hers, they devoured one another with the lustful kisses reserved
for lovers who have spent too much time apart.
His hands roved over her naked form, seeming determined to reclaim every
inch of her as his own. With muffled sounds
of pleasure emitting from first one, then the other, they back and forth on the
big matress, with Rachel ultimately landing in the dominant position.
The firelight cast shadows on his beautifully chiseled
features, making them almost harsh in their intensity. It was only the cherishing touch of his hands
floating along her curves and the love in his eyes that belied that
notion.
With that same love shining from her own eyes, Rachel ever-so-slowly
impaled herself on him, reconnecting the puzzle pieces that kept getting
separated by their lives. Her hand
pressed flat against his chest and she was glad he hadn’t waxed it lately. The coarseness tickled the sensitive skin of
her palms and it added another element of erotic sensation in addition to the
age old intimate coupling of man and woman.
Tender tissue was loved by steel velvet, time after time, for either a
moment or an eternity until she took a huge breath and was swept away. That long, single release was so relentlessly
sweet that it continued after he flipped her to her back and gradually picked up
the pace that would take him to the same place with a throaty cry.
Even as she basked in the afterglow of one of the most pleasurable orgasms of her life, Jon continued to rock his hips. It was as though he wasn’t any more anxious
for it be over than she was and he softly kissed her shoulders, neck and
finally… her lips. The moment was so
blissfully surreal that Rachel was sure Celine Dion should be singing their soundtrack
in the background, replete with angelic harps and strings.
At least until Jon opened his mouth.
“Jesus fucking Christ, baby,” he finally spoke, flopping
onto his back. "If you were a hooker, you’d be the thousand
dollar a night variety.”
When faced with the choice of crying over her ruined
fairytale or laughing at the sexiest Jersey boy to ever grace a stage, Rachel
laughed. Her Jon hadn’t magically
morphed into an uber-sensitive and romantic man, he was still the guy she
fought hard with and loved even harder.
Even though he was as uncouth as hell sometimes.
“It’s that kinda smooth talking that gets you all the
girls, isn’t it Prince Charming?”
“Fuck that.” The snort that followed was classic
Jon. “Prince Charming is a pussy. I’d rather be the wolf, ‘cause he gets to eat
the girl.”
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