Chapter 236

Tuesday, May 18, 2010 at 7:15 PM
Amanda stared at the paper, her face burning as it turned a brilliant shade of red.

Jesus H. Christ. His autograph.

A thousand thoughts ran through her head, but one broke from the pack, repeating itself over and over.

Fuck you, Jon.

She burst into tears.


Jon had woken a bit before five that morning, lying there in the darkened room, his arms and legs entwined with Amanda’s.

He listened to the sounds of her breathing, feeling her skin pressed against his.

Every bit of her felt so right.

He frowned. Nothing had changed. She was still married. She had still lied to him, manipulated him, and here he was, acting as if his life had just been saved. As if everything was okay, because she was back in his arms again.

Nothing was okay.

She’d tried to talk to him during the night, but he‘d stopped her with his lips, with sex, with anything he could think of. There just wasn’t anything she could say.

She was married.

And he was a fool.

He’d gently moved away from her, reluctantly feeling her skin slip from his. He’d watched her sleeping as he dressed, then moved to the desk in the darkened room. He took a piece of paper out of the drawer.

He’d stood for the longest time, staring at the blank sheet.

A thousand words had run through his head. A thousand feelings from sadness to betrayal and finally to anger.

Anger at himself for still loving her.

It was the anger that moved his hand.

Anger that signed his name.


Amanda’s tears finally slowed. She hadn’t really cried when she’d found out about Jeremy. Or when she’d had to leave Jon. Too much had happened in too short a time and she’d simply been reacting. Holding everything in because everything was just too much, too fast.

She sat there on the edge of the bed that held the messy sheets from the hours she had spent with Jon. Her hand absently smoothed the blanket. She found herself just shaking her head softly from side to side, the paper Jon had written on clutched in her hand. She smoothed it out and looked at it again.


It wasn’t any better the second time she saw it.


Jon looked once more at the sleeping woman in the bed, unaware of how long he actually stood there. He could hear the tick of a clock and the soft sounds of Amanda sleeping.

He still loved her and he hated himself for it. Hated that she could do this to him after how she had lied.

He opened the door and stood outside the room, his hand stopping the door from closing.

Indecision gripped him. He could change everything just by stepping inside again.

He could … No!

He couldn’t build a life with someone he didn’t trust.

I love her.

I can’t trust her.

I love her.


He closed the door.

And instantly regretted it.


It was 6:30 in the morning by the time Amanda got off the phone with the airline. She sat, drinking another coffee, trying to empty her mind, empty her heart.

By eight o’clock she had finished her packing, arranging to have the remainder of her bags shipped to her mother’s home in Florida. Her reservations were made and she had five hours until her flight left. She hadn’t really cared where the flight would take her. She had called, asking for the next flight leaving for Europe. It just happened to be to London.

That didn’t matter, what mattered was she had to get out. Had to leave, had to be alone.

Had to forget that someone named Jon Bon Jovi ever existed.


Jon stopped at the front desk of the hotel after he left Amanda’s room. The female clerk couldn’t quite seem to believe her good fortune that Jon Bon Jovi was standing in front of her, asking for a pen and a piece of paper.

“Of course, Jon. Here, take these.” She thrust the items at him, her hand lingering over his skin as she flashed a smile that revealed teeth in need of better brushing.

Jon pursed his lips as he took the pen and paper, his “thanks” not even close to reaching his eyes. He moved into the lobby and sat in the chair where he had waited last night.

He leaned over the small table and then stopped.

What can I say?

Just tell her you still love her.

That you’re sorry you left that fucking autograph.

What the fuck were you thinking, Jon?

He was thinking that he was hurt and angry and for just that moment if felt good to be mean.

And now he felt like shit.

Sixteen different kinds of shit.

His pen flew over the paper.

Amanda, I’m so sorry for that note. I didn’t mean it. Jon

He wrote her name on the envelope the clerk was happy to provide.

“Please give this to Ms. Matthews in 1728.”

The woman nodded at him with her less than dazzling smile.

“I will, Jon. Sure.”

And she really meant to do it. It was just that watching Jon’s ass as he walked out the door proved a little too distracting.

Misfiling the envelope the clerk assured that the couple in room 1738 would have an interesting morning.

Just Some Info

Monday, May 10, 2010 at 9:47 AM
Bear with me, guys. My dad died last night and there are a zillion things to do. Thanks in advance for your patience.


Chapter 235

Sunday, May 2, 2010 at 9:08 PM
Jon’s eyes widened in surprise as he did a quick look around. He’d been so involved in his own thoughts he hadn’t even noticed Richie wasn’t in the limo.

The other men were still talking when he walked up to them, but conversation trailed off at the scowl on his face and the narrowed blue eyes that shot each man their own look.

“Where’s Richie?”

The men glanced at one another, shoulders lifting in shrugs. Everyone turned as one to look at the driveway to see if the other limo was coming.

Tico spoke first. “Dunno, man, thought he was behind us.”

Jon just stood there, his mind racing.

Where was Richie?


Richie was back in the elevator, heading down to the lobby, trying to find out where Amanda had gone. He heard laughter from the bar area behind him. He paused, convincing himself she was in there, then turned in that direction.

He found her.

Moving through the crowded room, he walked gracefully through the laughing crowd, working his way to her table, a smile on his face that slowly drifted into a frown as he saw her.


Did she know tears were running down her face?



“Amanda?” He reached out to touch her arm and gave a small wince as she turned her eyes toward him.



Amanda looked up at the tall man, so deep in her thoughts it took her a moment to focus on his face.

“Richie? What are you doing here?” Amanda blinked at his sudden appearance.

He sat down on the other side of the table and gave her a small smile.

“I don’t think you should be alone tonight.”

Now she was the one with the small smile.

“I’ll be fine.” Her voice tightened a bit as she spoke.

Richie’s voice reached her ears as a whisper.

“You’re crying.”

Amanda’s eyes widened and she raised her hand, touching her cheeks. She felt the wetness and shook her head softly.

“It’s nothing.”

Richie opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as the waitress moved to their table. Amanda took those few moments to get a tighter hold on her emotions. It seemed that’s all she had been doing for the last week. Trying to not feel anything.

It was getting easier.

Now, she was lying.


Jon stood there, his anger growing.

He wanted to punch Richie right in the mouth.

Tell him to stop fucking with his private life.

Can’t even handle his own fucking life. Needs to stay the fuck out of mine.

Stop talking to people he was over.

Why the hell is he talking to her anyway? He needs to tell her to get lost.

He needs to … tell me where she is.

What the fuck?

He did not want to see Amanda.

That voice in his head needed to shut up.

Reluctantly, his mind churning, he followed the other men into the bar.

Three quickly downed drinks later, Jon pulled out his cell as he walked away from the table.

Dave, Hugh and Tico exchanged looks and a few rolled eyes.

Hugh looked at Tico.

“You think he’ll be back?”

Tico grinned as he lit another cigarette.

“Not a fucking chance.”


Jon’s strides ate up the floor as he walked to the exit doors, the cell to his ear.

“Where did you take him?”

The limo driver answered and Jon punched the button to end the call, dialing a cab company in one practiced motion and barking out his need for a pick up.

He paced, waiting for a cab, anger growing with each stride.

Fucking Richie. This was going to end tonight. Right the fuck now.

He loved Richie like a brother, but he’d made up his mind.

If Richie had taken off, without saying anything, he had gone to see Amanda. Jon just knew it. He could feel it.

Richie was with Amanda.

He might be looking at her right now. Sitting next to her, close enough to smell her perfume. Feel her hair brush his arm as she turned. See her smile. How her eyes would light up when she saw…

How her eyes would light up when she saw me.

He shook his head, crushing his hand into his jacket pocket to grab his cigarettes. He lit one with movements harsh with anger, taking several quick draws until he began pacing once again.

Amanda was not the problem. She was not. That was done. He was over her. He didn’t want to see her. Wouldn’t even be thinking about her if she hadn’t shown up tonight. If Richie hadn’t brought her back stage.

Richie was the problem.

Not Amanda.


“What are you going to do?” Richie toyed with his drink as he watched her, saw her open her mouth to speak, then close it, shaking her head.

“I’m gonna go away for a while, Richie.”

He squinted at her, not sure if it was surprise he was feeling at her answer.

Hell, I’d wanna get the fuck outta Dodge too.


Amanda’s eyes met his. “I don’t know yet. Does it matter?”

He wanted to answer her. To tell her it did matter, that she shouldn’t give up.

That it would all work out.

But he couldn’t. And he knew she understood that when her slight smile quivered and she grabbed her hat and bag, standing at the side of the table.

Richie stood, following her through the bar into the lobby. She waited for him and he slipped an arm around her waist as they walked to the elevator.

Amanda briefly leaned her head against Richie’s shoulder as they waited for the elevator doors to open and felt him tilt his head to lay the gentlest of kisses against her hair.

Jon watched all this from a chair in the lobby. His eyes blazed and he was on his feet as the doors opened.

Amanda and Richie entered the elevator, then froze as Jon seemed to just appear outside the slowly closing doors.

Amanda took a step forward, her eyes wide, her arm rising to touch without her conscious thought.

“Jon … please …” She stopped as he looked at her, his eyes burning into hers.

Richie took a small step back from her side as she and Jon just stood there, the door holding at Jon’s body in the way.

Jon stepped into the elevator and Richie’s hand shot out, catching the door. He stepped out and watched the door closing on the two inside.

She stood silently in the elevator, her arm burning where Jon’s hand had reached out and made contact with her skin. His eyes blazed into hers and they both stood there, breathing the other in.

The door pinged open and a group of men turned to enter.

Jon jammed the button as he spoke, his eyes never leaving Amanda‘s face. “Elevator’s full.”

One man opened his mouth to protest, then stopped, leaving the door to close on the two inside.

“What room are you in?”

She blinked at his voice, then had to search inside her bag for her room key. She stumbled a little as she did this and he took the bag from her to get the key. He pressed the button for the 17th floor and they started the ascent.

They walked down the hallway to her room, her balance less than perfect and Jon’s arm moved unbidden around her waist. He opened the door and she went inside. He stood at the doorway for a moment, long enough for her to turn and look at him, then he went in, closing the door.

Amanda slipped off her heels and Jon dropped her bag on the dresser. Standing there, looking at her, he was flooded with memories of her in his arms, the feel of her skin on his, the way it felt to be inside her.

He fought every memory. He thought of how she had lied to him, disappeared, threw everything he had offered her back in his face.

He knew he had to turn and walk out the door, walk away from her as she had walked away from him.

He moved to do just that and had no idea how he ended up moving towards her instead. She slid into his arms like the missing half of his soul.

His hands rose to push her away and suddenly there were shreds of clothes in them.

He grabbed her hair to keep her lips from his and those same lips were now joined with his, her breath softly mingling with his own.

He dropped his hands to her hips to stop grinding against her and instead met naked flesh.

She stood there, hardly daring to breath, her eyes liquid with desire, and he lost the fight.

A near-angry shove had her on the bed and in seconds he was inside her, her legs quivering with her need, her hands moving everywhere she could reach. He grasped her hands with one of his, forcing them over her head, using his other hand to raise her hips as he bent over her, burying himself inside her warmth.

He managed to stay just this side of too forceful as he reined in his anger and hurt, lost in the sensation of her body, the uniqueness of her smell, the fullness of her response.

She responded to this man, this love, with a wildness she had almost forgotten she possessed. He was almost unprepared for her climax, feeling her shake suddenly with the force and he opened his eyes to take in every move she made. The thundering in his veins announced his own peak as he curled over her, driving in deeper with the last few strokes.

One was afraid to speak, the other unable. Their gasping breaths told their own tale. As breathing slowed, passion renewed, but no words were spoken.

One physically demanded.

One more time, just once more.

The other silently pleaded.

Oh god, please, once more.

An exhausted sleep eventually found them.


Amanda woke the next morning, a shaft of muted sunlight in her room announcing the time was still early, not yet quite full dawn.

For the first time in more days than she could count, the heaviness that seemed to live in her heart was gone and she knew the reason.

She turned to Jon, a smile already beginning to curve her lips.

The bed was empty.

The bathroom was empty.

The room was empty.

Except for a single piece of paper.

A signature.

His autograph.

Warning and Disclaimer

The content of this blog is pure fiction. Actual places and real people are named, but in no way should anything be taken as fact. This is a story, with adult content and mature situations. If you are offended by such, please do not read.

Please do not copy any of this material to any other web site.

No harm of any sort is meant to the real people in the story and there is no disrespect intended towards anyone's family.

This is PURE FICTION and hopefully those that like this type of story will enjoy it. Comments are GREATLY appreciated!


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