John Francis

The warm water felt heavenly to Amanda. Her head was a bit tender when the water, then shampoo and conditioner, hit the sore area, but realized it was not nearly as bad as she had feared.

She felt emotionally drained after telling Richie what had really happened. Now she needed to tell herself. She had made love with another man. For the first time in 23 years she had given herself over to another man. That it was not her choice to start did not mean it had not been good sex. Okay, amazing sex. That it was Jon Bon Jovi didn’t really enter into it, even now, as in the night it had been a man, just a man.

She had married at 20 and been faithful her entire marriage. She had loved Jeremy so it was easy not to stray. But, looking at things in the cold, hard light of morning, she knew it had also been a hard year and she had missed the warmth of a man…her man, yes…but also the pulsing throbbing warmth of a man, deep inside, taking her over the edge and beyond.

So, she supposed she owed the jerk at least a semi-thank you for bringing her back to the land of the living. Shaking her head at the irony of the situation, she left the shower and started to get dried.

Jon was sitting in the kitchen shirtless in a pair of jeans, drinking another cup of coffee, when Amanda found the kitchen. She was following the smell of coffee and had closed her eyes briefly in anticipation, then opened them again to find the shocked blue eyes of Jon looking at her.

She paused, then marched determinately to the coffee pot and the rack of mugs hanging near by. “Is there any cream?” she asked without looking at him again.

“Uh, in the fridge, I think, I’ll get it.” He started to jump up.

She turned then and looked at him “Oh I think you’ve already given me quite enough. Tell me something though – did you use protection or were you too drunk to think about anything but fucking?”

He stopped dead at the ice in her tone, his guilt eating away at him like never before in his life.

“I used protection,” he answered softly, almost unable to meet her eyes.

She nodded jerkily then opened the fridge and got the cream. He truly had no clue what to say to her as there was no excuse for what he had done. Thinking about last night brought back the feel of her and he wished his dick would stay dead instead of rising to full attention when she bent over to get the cream from the bottom shelf. He sat down quickly, determined not to scare her. He had to talk to her. She stirred her coffee and bent to put the cream back again and again his dick jumped as if bit.

She kept her back to him for a few minutes and he took the opportunity to look at her from head to toe now that he was sober. She had improved from when he was drunk. She was tall, he noticed that first, probably close to his height, and lean, with well-rounded hips.

But that hair, Jesus, that fucking hair of hers. His balls started to ache when he realized he wanted that hair in his hands again, brushing against his body, until she again almost fucked them off the bed… ‘oh shit, she turned’ he thought he whispered to himself, until he realized she heard him and had seen him looking at her ass and her hair and…remembering.

In light of what had happened, Amanda had been determined to act as normally as she could. Jon staring at her ass though brought a flash of memories to her mind and a telltale flush to her skin. She didn’t have a bra on and her nipples sprang erect and to her disbelief she felt herself moisten. Her eyes closed briefly as the remembered sensation of his being inside brought heat and a tingle to her loins. She felt herself responding to the man sitting there.

She flushed deeper, blushed actually, and lowered her head. Jon once again thought his cock was going to explode if he did not have this woman. Richie and Tico had gone to try to find clothes in her size as hers were pretty much ready for the garbage can, even after washing. In fact, it was probably the multiple washings that did them in. They were alone.

Jon had to stand or he was going to strangle in his jeans. He stood and her eyes flashed open, but this time they did not meet his. Her gaze went unwillingly to the front of his pants, to the bulge he could not hide. An ache so deep she couldn’t breathe filled her most feminine parts and she started to tremble.

Her eyes then flicked up to his face and stayed locked there by the intensity of his gaze. There was no sneer on his lips, no cruelty in his eyes, no “rock star” – just a man. And she knew, there was no stopping it, her control just shattered and she whispered, almost to herself, “I want you again.”

“Mandy, I…” he began. “Shut up” she commanded. He shut up. She looked down for a second time, flicking his jeans front yet again with her eyes before staring at the floor. He noticed it then, a fine trembling of her skin, like a racehorse shudders before a run. He walked up to her and they were almost eye to eye except she would not meet his eyes. He took the coffee cup from her hand and set it on the counter. She let him take her hand and lead her from the kitchen to the stairs and upwards. Neither said a word.

The house was eerily quiet as if they were the only two people left alive. Jon led Amanda to the room he was using, closing and locking the door behind them. Amanda gave another shiver at the sound of the door being locked, but stood stock still as Jon approached her. Her eyes were firmly closed, her breathing heavy. She felt her breasts swell in anticipation of his touch and the ache grew into an overwhelming need.

He lightly touched the side of her face to try to get her to look at him. She shivered again, but opened her eyes. Dark chocolate met electric blue and locked. They held each others eyes as her hands reached for his chest, her fingers finding the hair there, soft, yet rough at the same time. She ran her fingers through the fur of his upper chest then her hand moved lower, trailing the line that led into the tight jeans.

She reached then to touch his lips with her fingers, but hovered over those inviting lips, trembling. Jon was so afraid to do the wrong thing with her, but he realized he needed to say something. “It’s okay baby…” he started to say, but she stopped him then with her hand to his lips.

“I’m not a child, Jon, I don’t need to be gentled”.

Her voice was as husky as he had heard it yet and now he was the one shivering. He reached out to her slowly but with a firm hand, brushing hair off her shoulders then sliding his arms down hers to the t-shirt edge. She raised her arms as pulled the shirt off, then closed her eyes, waiting for his touch. One roughened finger touched a nipple delicately and she instinctively leaned in for more. Jon gripped her breasts firmly with both hands, thumbs teasing the tips into firmer peaks. She leaned in to rub her breasts across the hair on his chest and his breathing stopped.

Amanda felt her excitement grow unbearably, but could not look at Jon while he touched her, not yet anyway. He, however, refused to allow this and raised one hand to her chin.

“Look at me” he demanded, “Mandy…look at me”.

She opened her eyes and allowed herself to trace his face from his hairline to his chin with her gaze. She kept her eyes open. Jon returned to her skin, leaning in to brush a whiskered face against her neck, her chin, her cheek and then he kissed her. An oh-so-delicate kiss that slowly deepened, slowly quickened, tongues mating, lips tasting, until they both realized that each of their hands were fisted in the other’s hair, holding one to the other with aching fingers.

Jon slowly broke the kiss but didn’t take his lips from her skin. His hand remained in her hair, holding her as he might hold a wild animal about to take flight. Amanda’s breathing was a shudder as his grip in her hair tightened. His other hand dropped to the sweat pants she was wearing and with a push of hand and a follow through with foot the pants hit the floor. She stepped out of them and he brushed them aside.

She reached for him again, touching the nipples that rested in the hair on his chest, teasing their peaks until his breath caught and the tips were taut. She leaned in, putting her face to his chest where the hairs tickled her nose and she breathed in a scent that was uniquely his.

Her hands moved lower, to the button of his jeans, a quick snap, a zip, another tug and a foot, and his jeans hit the floor. Her eyes, which had been locked on his, broke free of their hold and she looked. Truly looked at what awaited her.

It’s been so long, she thought, and then she stopped thinking…she reached. Her hands, warm and soft, caught at him and just held for a moment while her eyes returned to his face. She slowly moved her hands around the length of him and then further underneath to cup him fully. She gripped his firmness, feeling him swell at her touch until his breath was harsh and he had to move her hand away before she caused him to spill just from her touch alone.

Moistness had pooled intimately in her body and when Jon’s hand touched the soft flesh and softer hair she drenched his hand with her juices. He had to have her again, had to have her completely sober, completely in the light, completely willing. He played with her softness until she whimpered in her throat and he knew that she was close to the edge. He didn’t want her to come like this though, he had to be inside her to feel her orgasm.

He drew her to the edge of the bed and she sat slowly and, looking him straight in the eyes, she grinned in anticipation and lay back on the bed. Her grin caught him by surprise and for a moment tugged at his heart.

He lay beside her on the bed, touching every inch of her, feeling their toes intertwine while still meeting eye to eye. He grabbed her hair and rubbed it over his body. She used it to brand herself with his most intimate scent, wanting his sweat and fluids on her.

Jon could feel her shivering again and with a firm hand stroked her stomach and thighs, moving closer and closer. Her eyes started to close and he stopped until she opened them and looked at him again. Now his fingers attacked, performing with precision. He stroke the center of her pleasure then teased his fingers into the folds, again feeling the level of her arousal. He entered her with his fingers, feeling muscles clench, all the while holding her gaze. His eyes had turned to winter storm, while hers were dark rich chocolate.

He kept fingering her until her hips began to rise and her trembling changed to a quiver, then in one swift movement he reached over into a bedside table and removed a foil packet. Her eyes, still on his, had stolen down once again to look at what was coming, but quickly returned as the foil ripped. Her breath hitched in her chest as he prepared himself.

He returned to her, rubbing himself at her entry, over and over it with his length, until finally a whimper escaped her lips. With harsh ragged breathing and overwhelming longing, they looked deep into each other’s eyes, each seeking something from the other.

He had to speak before he entered her. He had to make her know he wasn’t a monster. “I didn’t mean to hurt you”, he started, “but I did”.

She shushed him. “Yes, you did, now heal me.”

With that she raised for him, forcing him to enter her a little with the angle, and with her permission he plunged deep, smacking up against her as she gave a scream of pure pleasure. Again and again he tasted her depths, her legs hitched around his ass, her hands running through the fur on his chest, tasting, licking, smelling his scent.

Jon was going wild, the orgasm that was building was filling him with a fire it seemed could not be quenched. Amanda felt the thick shaft of the man above her, filling every inch, forcing her up and up until his hands grabbed her hips and she came in a blinding flash of light and sensation, only dimly aware that Jon was now slowing, sweat thick on his skin as he fought for control, to draw this out for her, to make her come again. Beads of that sweat forced her to reach up and lick his skin where she could reach. He hissed at the contact, almost breaking his rhythm as he felt his own explosion building.

When her eyes locked on his again, he drew out to the end, then thrust over and over with the muscles of his ass and legs until once again she screamed and he flew over the edge, into a churning maelstrom of squeezing walls and fingernails ripping into his back. He fell over her, exhausted, and she shifted only a little to rest his weight more comfortably on her. Blue and brown eyes closed. They slept.