Business.........or Pleasure?

You can feel his eyes on you, even though you try to ignore his presence. You knew it was a mistake, letting him talk you into this, letting him talk his way into joining you on this trip which was supposed to be a business trip for you. But you’d been without him for so long that when he suggested softly that he could join you, the instant reaction was to say yes. Of course, your response was no doubt influenced by the timing of his question, asking you while you were still panting, recovering from the third - or was it the fourth? - orgasm he’d given you that night. You’re sitting at the tiny hotel room desk, trying to read through a report, when a soft sigh from the bed is all it takes to wreck your concentration. Laying down the report, you turn to face him, and he pokes his tongue out childishly at your serious gaze, blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

“I told you you’d be bored.” You remind him, keeping your eyes on his, forcing yourself not to glance down at the furred chest partly hidden by a hideously unattractive string tank.

“I’m not bored.” He says, almost convincing you. “Anyway, we’re between legs of the tour, so I have nowhere else to be.” A smirk quirks his lips, and he continues before you can stop him. “Of course, where I’d rather be is between your legs.”

“Baby, I have to work!” You plead, hoping he’ll quit teasing, because it won’t take much more for you to just drop the report and go to him.

“I’m sorry.” He says solemnly, propping his head on one hand. “I’ll be good. Promise. I’ll just lay here and not say a word.”

“That’ll be a first.” You mutter, turning back to the desk.

With huge effort, you get your concentration back onto the report, a particularly involved section dragging you in, not even conscious of what you’re doing as you reach up, looping your hair around and holding it to the back of your head, baring your neck. You’re rubbing absentmindedly at the tense muscle of your neck when suddenly his hands are there instead.

“Let me.” He whispers, fingers spanning your shoulders as his thumbs start a slow circular rubbing on the back of your neck.

He moves slightly, shifting closer as he keeps rubbing your neck, but now you feel the gentle press of the lump in his black pants against your back and a groan escapes you.

“Shit.” You whisper, knowing that he knows you just too well, knows exactly how to get around your best intentions.

He doesn’t quite chuckle, just a huff of satisfaction as he feels you lean back toward him. One hand leaves your shoulder, sliding forward to flick open the top couple of buttons on your blouse, easing the soft fabric back so he can get access lower on your back, moving the gentle massage down. You still have one hand on your hair, but you let go now, the long waves falling over his hands as you lean into him, tilting your head to look up at him.

“You’re a bad, bad boy.” You whisper, smiling up at him.

“I know.” He agrees with a smirk.

Reaching down, he takes your hand and raises you from the chair, turning you to face him. The white tank is thankfully gone, and you raise both hands to scratch through the dark fur. He finishes unbuttoning your blouse, stripping it off you and dropping it onto the chair, your bra quickly following. His soft, warm hands cup your breasts, and as his thumbs circle your nipples he leans in to kiss you, the gentle, loving contact quickly heating with passion as he tastes your mouth. Sliding his hands from your breasts, he reaches around to the zipper of your skirt, practiced fingers opening it blindly, pushing it down to pool at your feet.

While he was occupied with your skirt, your own hands had dropped to his belt, tugging and unbuckling then unzipping his pants. He’s hard and ready for you, and the knowledge of how much he wants you makes you want him just as badly, your pale pink thong quickly soaked with your arousal. His mouth leaves yours and you gasp when the hot, wet delight that is his mouth closes over your nipple, teeth tugging lightly on the tender point. When your nipple is soaked from his mouth and achingly hard, he moves to the other, teasing it equally as you push his pants down to fall at his ankles.

With a low growl, he pulls away from your breasts, looking down, seeing that all you wear is the thong.

“Take it off.” He purrs as he steps out of his pants.

You push both hands into the sides of the pale fabric, shoving it downward until gravity takes it the rest of the way to the floor. He’s still looking down, his eyes on your pussy, and you wrap one hand around his hard shaft, stroking slowly.

“Jesus, I’ve missed you.” He murmurs, his hands spanning your waist.

“Sweetie, we’ve been back together for over a week now.” You point out.

“I know, but I warned you before the tour started, darlin’, that I’d have a hell of a lot of lovin’ built up for you next time I saw you.”

“And I seem to remember telling you ‘bring it on’.” You giggle, heading toward the bed.

“That you did.”

You reach the bed far enough ahead of him that you can flick the cover back, then he’s there, grabbing you with both hands and tossing you onto the mattress. By the time you roll onto your back, he’s on top of you, his tongue in your mouth as you moan with pleasure, then you feel his hand pushing between your thighs, sliding across your wet entrance before two fingers push inside.

Against your thigh, you can feel his hot erection, a wetness there to show how badly he needs to get inside you, and without breaking your kiss you spread your legs wider, inviting, begging him to take you. His hand slides free, then you feel the thick head probe at your flesh before he thrusts himself home, your bodies perfectly attuned to each other so that you both moan at the opposing sensations of being filled and being surrounded by hot flesh.

Another deep thrust, his hand now on your breast, smearing your own juices onto your skin with every squeeze, and your hands are in his hair, mourning the loss of the long, tangled mane that you loved so much, but satisfied that there’s just enough to grab hold of at moments like this. You tighten yourself around him, trying to drag him closer to the brink, trying to make him cum first, and he growls again, taking his mouth off yours, down to suck on a nipple, still thrusting into you.

Wet, open-mouthed kisses trail up from your breast, until his lips are on your neck, nibbling at your skin, up to your ear, and you’re holding on until he nips at your earlobe, his tongue slipping into your ear, knowing how it always turns you on more. When you moan, he does it again, then his hand comes off your breast, over your head to brace himself against the headboard of the bed, hips driving harder now. You hear him groaning your name, groaning how much he loves you, and every time he thrusts into you, you hear the headboard slam against the wall, dimly wondering what your hotel neighbour must think, but not really caring as you moan your love back to him.

He’s gasping with exertion now, so close to climax, and just as you fall into your own orgasm you feel his thrusts change, jerking deep into you, both cumming at the same time, crying out each other’s names as everything blanks from your mind. Everything but the feeling of him on you, in you, the fullness and the heat as he pours his seed into you with each thrust of his hips.

Gradually, he relaxes onto you, his hand dropping from the headboard to caress your hair tenderly, and you bring your own hands onto his back, stroking gently as you both savour the afterglow of your shared orgasm.

Picnic

The simple text message ‘Picnic. 2pm?’ had been a pleasant surprise, especially since you hadn’t even known he was in town. You sent back a quick acceptance, then told your office you were headed out to meet a client and made your escape. After stopping at home to shower and change, you stopped in at the deli, picking up the necessities of a picnic then driving out to the woods, walking in the last half mile or so when the trail narrowed too much for your car. The scarred old picnic table still stood in the secluded clearing, forgotten by everyone except the two of you.

By the time you’d set out the picnic, it was still not quite two o’clock, and you strolled to the outlook point, enjoying the view until you heard the distinctive throb of a motorcycle. And there was only one motorcycle that sounded like that. You return to the clearing and he’s there, blond and handsome as ever, the layer of scruff on his face evidence that it’s been at least a couple of days since he’s bothered to drag a razor across his face, and you wonder if it was deliberate, since he knows you love seeing him that way.

“You brought the bike.” You say softly, stroking your hand across the shining chrome surrounding the headlamp.

“Yeah.” That sparkling, famous grin. “It’s been so long – I’d forgotten how much fucking fun this thing was.”

Now that you’ve torn your eyes off his face, you realize he has a strap wrapping diagonally across his body, and when you look behind him you see a soft guitar case, the neck of the instrument tucked down behind his thigh.

“You brought your guitar? Damn – that’s really not what I was hoping you’d play with.” You pretend bitterness, and he laughs, a low, growling chuckle that puts a knot of tension in your belly and a rush of heat between your thighs.

“That’s for afterward.” He grins. “Or between-times.”

“Well, why don’t you get off your bike and come eat?”

He swings a leg high over the front of the bike, sitting facing you on the leather seat as he unslings the guitar.

“Why don’t I get off the bike and we can both cum, then eat? That way I can enjoy lunch without a hard on.”

“That works, too.” You murmur as he props the guitar against the Harley and slides off the seat, standing long and lean in front of you. Long, lean and already hard, you notice, glancing down the front of his body. He catches the direction of your gaze and reaches for you, grabbing you roughly and pulling you toward him for a kiss.

“Been too fuckin’ long.” He growls as your body slams against his, the thick stubble rough on your face as his mouth closes on yours.

This is the only good thing about the infrequency of your encounters, the desperate need you both feel, a hunger that transcends simple lust and drives the passion high. He only comes to you when he’s travelled alone to see his parents, leaving his wife and kids back home, yet neither of you feel guilt as you share the simple, uncomplicated pleasure of each other.

Without preliminary, he grips the hem of your cotton skirt, flipping it high enough to get his hands on your ass, one palm wrapping firmly around each buttock. He groans as he jams you against him, letting you feel the rock hard erection he has for you. He’s backing you up, across the clearing until you wince at the roughness of the old table against your bare ass. Pushing you onto the tabletop – narrowly missing the food you’ve already laid out – he leans forward over you with a predatory grin, standing between your thighs.

“I’ve got you now.” He grins, sliding his hands under your top, pushing it to your neck, the grin widening when he sees you’d decided not to bother with any underwear at all. “No panties AND no bra?”

“I figured it’d save time.” Your reply fades to a moan when his mouth closes around one taut nipple, his fingers teasing the other until your moans grow pitiful, broken words begging him to fuck you now.

From your position on the tabletop, you can’t move, your legs hanging off the edge, spread around his thighs. He takes his hand off your breast, then raises his head slowly, reluctant to lose the taste of you, but needing more. When he unzips his jeans, his cock forces through before he’s even dropped the denim to his knees, and you watch him slip on a condom then you can’t prevent a groan when he rams himself deep into you in a single powerful thrust. He pulls back and slams into you again, and this time you scream with the pleasure of it. Leaning down, he kisses you again, his lips and tongue stifling the sounds you can’t contain. His hands come onto your breasts, a rougher touch than before, evidence of how hungry he is for this, and you’re not far behind. Even now, though, in the grip of his lust, he’s conscious of not hurting you and he moves his hands away, gripping the edges of the table instead.

He’s hunching his back with every thrust, driving into you hard and fast, finally tearing his mouth from yours as you both struggle for breath, and you grab onto his hair – the first thing you see – as you start cumming. A grin flashes across his face as you arch your back, but the pulsing contractions of your orgasm pull him over the brink, too, and the grin vanishes as he grunts in satisfaction, and with a final hard thrust he collapses on top of you, breath sawing in his throat.

“Fuck me.” You whimper, and he raises his head from your chest, grinning tiredly with shocked blue eyes.

“I thought I just did.” He groans, and you both laugh, the humor and shared sense of the ridiculous one of the things that keeps him coming back to you.

As he slowly softens inside you, he eases back, taking his weight on his hands and slipping free of you, tossing the condom into the trash bag you always bring to your picnics before tucking himself away and pulling you into a sitting position on the table.

“So what’s for lunch?” He asks with a boyish grin.

You share the picnic, squabbling good-naturedly over the last piece of cold chicken until you compromise by tearing it into strips and feeding each other. When the food’s gone, you pack away the remaining trash and he looks around, only now seeming to realize you’ve no transport.

“How did you get up here?” He asks, confused.

“I parked at the bottom of the trail and walked.”

“Wanna ride back down?”

“Sure.” You grin wickedly. “But only if you ride ‘bitch’.”

He begins to refuse, then a grin spreads his lips again and he nods. Gleeful at the idea of getting your hands on the controls of the classic bike, you don’t take notice of his expression as you both cross to the big machine. He stuffs the trash into one of the panniers, then takes your hand, steadying you as you swing a leg over the saddle in a decidedly unladylike manner. The move rucks your skirt up, landing your bare butt on the sun-warmed leather, but before you can adjust it, he slides onto the bike, jamming himself close behind you. You start the engine and he wraps both arms around your waist.

“Don’t wreck my bike.” He purrs in your ear, and you chuckle as you drive away.

Only moments later, though, the bike does take a sudden swerve to the side when one of his hands slides over your thigh, under the skirt and down to your clit. The other arm around your waist holds you prisoner as he drops his hand lower, your thighs spread wide by the bike’s tank so you can’t stop him. You let the bike coast to a gentle halt as he strokes you, building the fever in your blood before slowly pressing two fingers into you, pushing the heel of his hand against you now. Pushing yourself back against him, you feel the hard on fighting the constraint of his jeans, and you tilt yourself forward, rubbing your ass against the hard lump, teasing and inviting him. He groans against your neck when you do it again, but he holds back, determined to get you off first.

“Cum for me.” He whispers, tensing his hand against you, then moving again, two fingers still stroking inside your soaked pussy while the fingers of his other hand take over the assault on your clit until you’re moaning helplessly again, cumming hard, knowing your juices are drenching both his hands and the black leather seat. As you pant through your orgasm, he slides one hand away, and you hear the rasp of his zipper and feel the heat of his cock against your ass as he yanks his jeans open. He pushes you forward, onto the swell of the gas tank, the air cool on your naked butt, and you hear the tiny sound of ripping foil before he grips you by the hips and lifts you, the strength in those muscled arms getting you even wetter, if that’s possible. With a tilt of his hips, he slides you onto his swollen cock, breath hissing through clenched teeth as he raises you again, sliding you onto him harder this time.

The bike sits low enough that he can get both feet flat on the ground, giving him the purchase to drive his pelvis against you, and you prop your feet on the footrests, letting him take full control over you as you grab onto the handlebars, gripping tight and pushing back against him. He cums inside you, but he’s not satisfied, still thrusting into you as one hand seeks out your clit again, deep between your thighs and driving you on until he feels you cumming, hears you screaming his name. Finally satisfied, he pulls himself out of your throbbing flesh before scooping you off the tank, gathering you into his arms until you’ve both recovered.

“We need to go back to the clearing.” He mumbles, when he can speak. “I forgot my guitar.”


He squeezes his arms around you again, dropping his head to kiss your shoulder, right where it begins the rise into your neck, then he shifts you forward on the seat so he can half-stand behind you, creating space to he can tuck himself back into his jeans, zipping up slowly. When he sits down again, he lightly caresses your back for a moment, and you just barely hear his contented sigh before he speaks.

“Want me to drive back up?” He asks, but you shake your head.

“You may be able to get me off easy, darlin’.” You chuckle. “But you’re not getting me off the bike that easily.”

Laughing, he slaps your bare thigh lightly. “Okay then, babe. Let’s go.”

You carefully manoeuvre the bike around until you’re facing back uphill, gently easing the throttle open, unable to prevent a gasp at the vibrations of the engine, exaggerated by the low speed and rough ground. Behind you, Jon chuckles again, knowing exactly why you gasped, but he leaves his hands just resting comfortably on your bare thighs until you reach the clearing again. The guitar - still in it’s soft case - is propped against the picnic table, and you bring the big bike right up to the table before stopping.

His arms come up around your waist as another sigh escapes him, a sadness there now.

“I don’t want to go back just yet.” He murmurs.

Hearing the change in him, you drop one hand back, onto his thigh, as you twist your head to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask gently, and he sighs again, a twisted grin on his lips.

“Nothin’. I just……I just feel such a prick, treating you this way.” He sees your confused frown and tries to explain. “I feel like I’m just using you, whenever I’m here.”

“You’re not. I’m happy with this.” You smirk slightly, wondering if he’ll remember what you’re about to quote back at him. “Like a wise - and hot - man once said….I’m not looking for forever….not even looking for tonight…..just looking for a couple hours…..a couple minutes….”

He frowns for about a millisecond, then he gets it and laughs, nipping lightly at your ear.

“God, you’re crazy.” He chuckles. “And you make me feel so damned good.”

Stepping off the bike, he reaches to pick up his guitar, hesitates, then turns to kill the engine of the Harley.

“C’mere.” He holds out a hand to you. “Let me play you some of the stuff we’re working on for the new record.”

Obediently - eagerly - you slide off the bike and sit on the rough wooden bench as he unzips the guitar case and pulls out his old black acoustic, perching himself on the tabletop, feet on the bench as he grins down at you, his sadness evaporating as he starts to play. You know that the few songs he plays for you won’t sound the same way when they finally hit the shelves, but it just makes them more enjoyable, knowing this is how they were written - just a guy, or two of them, with an old acoustic guitar. The last one he plays rips at your heart as he sings of longing and loss, his eyes closed as he falls into the lyrics, but you don’t even realise you’re crying until he finishes and opens his eyes, looking at you and biting on his lip.

“Is it a good thing or a bad thing,” he asks, laying the guitar down, “that I’ve made you cry?”

“It’s a good thing.” You assure him. “That’s one of the most beautiful songs I think you’ve ever done, Jon.”

“Thank you, darlin’.” He says softly, sincerely.

He drops to sit on the bench beside you, straddling the boards and sliding close so you’re tucked between his thighs. Gentle touches of his fingers on your cheeks wipe away the tears before he folds you into his embrace. You lay your head onto his shoulder as you get as close as you can, your hip against his crotch, feeling the heat of his body. Even though his song had moved you to tears, it also turned you on from the longing and hunger in his voice, and you turn your head, bringing your lips onto his throat.

You kiss the side of his throat, the scruff on his skin prickling against your lips, and as you work your way up to his ear, you whisper to him.

“There’s one major problem, of course, with that last song.”

“What’s that?” He asks, curious, but also a tiny hint of irritation.

“Well.” You nip his ear, your tongue snaking inside for a second, making him groan, and you feel the build of pressure against your hip where it’s jammed against him. “The major problem is how I’m going to stop myself climbing onto the stage if I hear you do that live.”

“Climbing up to stop me?” He asks with a grin now, his hands roaming under your top.

“Nope. Climbing up to fuck you right there.”

One of his hands leaves your body to move up and grab your head instead, holding you as he kisses you hungrily, groaning into the kiss when he feels your hands on his jeans. You get his jeans open, then your fingers dip into his pocket, gratefully finding one last condom stashed there. With the foil packet in your hand, you put both hands on his shoulders and push him down on his back on the bench.

He just looks up at you, frowning when you lay the condom on the table, then grinning as you move back slightly so you can bend over him, trailing your tongue slowly along his length, then without further preamble taking him deep in your mouth. You raise your head again, pressing your tongue on him, sucking on the sensitive tip, then his hand is on your head as you sink deep again, taking it slowly and deliberately, hearing him groan softly, fingers tightening in your hair. He’s getting close when you back off, pushing his faded t-shirt up to kiss that hard belly. He doesn’t even try to make you finish what you’ve started, knowing how you feel about it, and you see him breathe deeply as he exerts control over himself, just grinning at you as you rip open the packet and slowly roll the condom onto his swollen cock.

With a swift movement, needing to get him into your wet, ready flesh, you move off the bench and straddle him quickly, his hands assisting you as you raise your skirt, holding him gently with one hand as you lower yourself onto him. You can’t keep from moaning as you settle all the way onto him, the unaccustomed position driving him incredibly deep. He feels it, too, gasping ‘Oh Jesus’ as he grips your ass hard, fighting to hold back.

Impatiently, you wait a moment until his grasp loosens, then you start a slow rocking on him, leaning forward with both hands spread on his chest, supporting yourself as you adjust your position to grind your clit against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the position and slow movements driving you higher. His hands start to move you more, lifting you a little at the end of each roll of your hips, then pulling you down again, both of you working together to get each other off.

His hands are tightening on you again, and your own fingers are tensing on him, digging into his hard pecs as you bite back a moan.

“Kiss me.” He mutters, and you slide your hands from his broad chest, over his shoulders and down to grip the end of the bench as you lean forward to kiss him.

You don’t know now which of you is setting the pace as you move on him, harder and faster, his kiss confusing your thoughts as you feel yourself falling, the orgasm slamming into you hard until all you’re conscious of is the utter pleasure ripping through your body and mind. Nothing else matters, and the only thing you can hear over the pulse thundering in your ears is his groan, louder as you pull your mouth from his, gasping and whimpering as you ride it out. Finally, exhausted, you slump down on top of him, and Jon wordlessly coils his arms around you, pulling you against his chest as you both try to recover.

37,000 Feet

Soft fingers graze your thigh as he returns to his aisle seat in the half-empty plane, and he looks at you wickedly as he leans closer.

“You know - I just noticed - there’s nobody in any of the rows around us.” He murmurs, his hand sliding your skirt upward a little.

“Is that right?” You ask, realising your voice has already become throaty at his words.

“Yeah.” He pulls the blanket from the floor, spreading it over you with a smirk. “Here. You looked cold.”

Hidden now, under the blanket, his hand pushes the loose skirt all the way to your waist as you shift nervously in the seat, glad the lights have been dimmed for the night flight. He twists around to face you, the angle of his body screening his actions a little more.

“What about the flight attendants?”

“They won’t be around much - they won’t want to disturb the passengers.”

His hand slides inside your panties, and your next protest dies on your lips when he touches you just right, knowing what you love. The tip of his middle finger circles teasingly around your clit, just the lightest of touches, and he grins when he sees you bite on your lip. Still grinning, he leans across to cover your lips with his own, swallowing your moan as he slides two fingers inside you, then he sits back again, just the clever hand touching you under the blanket.

You look at him pleadingly as you feel those long fingers stroking inside you, pressing forward as he slides his fingers partway out of you, then pushing them in again, harder, bringing his thumb onto your clit this time as you squirm in the seat. He does it again, bringing his lips to your ear at the same time.

“You’re so wet.” He breathes in your ear. “So hot. I want you so much.”

“Where can we go?” Your voice is shaky as his fingers continue to slide back and forth, his thumb occasionally pressing harder against you.

He shakes his head with a naughty smile. “I think I just want you to cum right here.” He laughs without interrupting the motions of his hand. “How long’s this flight? Wonder how many times I can make you cum before we land.”

“But I want you…….ohhh…..”

As he feels you just starting to tense, his thumb eases back, letting you drop back down from the brink as he replies.

“Next time, baby.”

He’s holding you on the very edge of orgasm, then his thumb starts those gentle, maddening circles again, and he kisses you again to muffle the cry he knows you won’t be able to contain. You bite on his lower lip, and he chuckles against your mouth as he feels you cumming, his hand driving you on, higher and higher until you sag back into the seat, completely spent, not even able to speak yet.

Under the blanket, he slides his hand away, pulling your panties into place and smoothing your skirt back down over your legs while you gasp for breath. As your breathing returns to something resembling normal, you glance across at him, raising an eyebrow as you see the bulge, evident even within those horribly baggy pants he likes to wear when he’s travelling.

“Well,” you say, pushing the blanket to the floor and unclasping your seat belt, “I’m going to the washroom. ‘Scuse me.”

Before he gets a chance to move out of your way, you pick up your purse and slide across onto his lap, swivelling your hips on him as you lift the outer arm-rest to put your feet on the floor. He gives a soft groan at your heat through the thin skirt, then you’re gone, heading toward the back of the plane with a cheeky grin.

Inside the washroom, you look at yourself in the mirror as you unzip your purse. Thank God there’s nobody else at this end of the plane, because your flushed face and sparkling eyes leave little doubt of what you’ve been up to. Fortunately, your mom was one of those ladies who drilled into you to always carry spare underwear, since the fine mesh panties you put on this morning are now soaked thanks to his attentions. You hike up your skirt and pull off the panties, reaching for the clean pair just as a soft knock at the door startles you.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, baby. Let me in?”

You slide back the bolt and the door opens swiftly. He steps into the cramped cubicle with you, closing and bolting the door behind him with a predatory grin, which turns to a laugh when he sees your panties lying on the counter.

“Getting ready for me, were you?”

“No, I…..” His kiss cuts off your words, his tongue delving deeply into your mouth as he pushes you back against the tiny sink.

He lifts you slightly, perching you on the edge of the sink as he unzips his pants, then he pulls you toward him, driving his cock deep, making you gasp as the base presses against your still-sensitive clit. The sink height is perfect, and he thrusts up into you again with a grin, pulling down the straps of your top so he can get his mouth onto your breast, laughing around your nipple when your fingers knot into his hair. In the confined space, you can barely move, held captive on top of the sink, but you manage to raise your bare feet to brace them against the wall behind him, your back jammed against the mirror as he increases the tempo, his hands cupping under your ass.

You can hear yourself whimpering, then you’re cumming hard again, only dimly aware when he cums, too, as you feel the heat inside you. Your legs are cramping from the strain you’ve been putting on them, and you let your feet drop down as he pants against your chest for a moment before lifting you off him, sitting you a little further back as he moves back against the other wall.

As you smile at him, you can feel your mouth trembling, and his eyes lock onto yours as he also drags up a smile. He pulls his baggy travelling pants back up as you reach for your panties, but he grabs your hand with a smirk.

“Do you really think there’s any point, baby? There’s another six hours to this flight, and I’m not in the mood to watch a movie…….”

He cracks open the door and looks out to check if the coast’s clear, then leads you back to your seats. For the moment anyway.

A Special Gift

Lena tried to figure out how to say what she wanted to tell him. They’d shared another delightful evening, dinner at a nice restaurant and now sitting close together in a quiet bar, but her heart was telling her that it was time to explain herself. Gathering her courage, she took a deep sip of wine before turning to face him fully.

“Richie.” She began, and the dark eyes, so similar to her own, focused on her face.

“Yeah, darlin’.”

“I need to……….I want to………..to tell you why…….”

He frowned slightly. This sounded ominous, he thought, but he just smiled slightly, seeing her trepidation and not wanting to make it any worse.

“What, Lena?” He smiled at her, and she felt it in her gut, knew she just had to get this out.

“Shit. This is harder to say than I expected.” It didn’t help when he reached to touch her hand reassuringly, and he frowned again when she drew her hand away, tucking both hands nervously on her lap.

Richie sat back a little, waiting patiently, and she drew another deep breath.

“Richie, we’ve been out together a few times now. Six or seven dates, I think.”

“Seven.” He grinned.

“Okay, seven. But you’ve got to be wondering why we haven’t, why I haven’t, I mean…..” Lena growled at herself. “Dammit, Lena, just say it!” She said aloud, flicking a glance at Richie, seeing the confusion on his - to her - beautiful face. “You’re probably wondering why I haven’t slept with you yet. I mean, assuming you want to sleep with me.” She quickly added.

“Of course I want to sleep with you, darlin’.” He said softly. “But you seemed to want to take things slow, and I can handle that. You’re worth a bit of patience.”

“You think?” She snorted softly. “Well, the reason I haven’t, well I guess put out is still the phrase, is that I haven’t, I mean, well, I’m still………..”

Richie blinked, confused, then his eyes widened as he got what she was desperately trying to say. Or trying to skirt around, hoping he’d guess.

“You’re a virgin?”

The way she blushed bright red told him yes.

“Wow.” He said quietly, looking at her as though for the first time. “And you want to? With me?”

“Mm-hm.” She reddened again. “If you want me.”

“Of course I fuckin’ want you.” He growled. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you. But are you sure you want your first time to be with some middle-aged man?”

“No, I don’t want it to be with ‘some middle-aged man’. I want it to be with you, Richard Stephen Sambora.”

He bit on his lip as he looked at her, then leaned forward to kiss her slowly, easing back again before they got too into it here in the bar.

“So I guess the only question is……….your place or mine?” He smiled at her.

“I don’t mind.”

“Then mine. It’s closer.” He slid from their secluded booth, holding out a hand to her. “C’mon baby.”

Taking his hand, Lena slid along the seat to stand beside him. Richie dropped a few bills on the table then, still holding her hand, walked toward the door.

Once they were outside, he wrapped his arm across her shoulders, and they just walked the few blocks to his city apartment. An apartment that even die-hard fans knew nothing about, since it was owned in a different name and was well out of the area of his usual haunts. They talked quietly as they walked, smiling as they pointed out some of the more striking Christmas trees to each other, Christmas trees and fake snowmen out of place in the heat of California.

When they got into Richie’s apartment, Lena felt the build of nerves in her chest, but Richie seemed to know, gentling her with one hand stroking her hair, just holding her in his arms there in the living room.

“Darlin’, you don’t need to be nervous. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. If you want me to stop, I’ll stop, okay? Just tell me if I’m going too fast for you.”

“I feel like such a fool.” Lena admitted, looking into his eyes, but Richie smiled.

“Well, don’t. I’m……..well, honored, I guess, that you want to let me share your first time.” He told her firmly, holding both her hands now, starting to back up. “Come with me.”

Nervous but trusting, Lena let him lead her to his bedroom, but when they got there, Richie made no attempt to take her to the bed, standing in the middle of the room to kiss her, gently at first, but building gradually until their tongues were tangling hungrily. Richie eased back again, watching her face as he slowly took hold of the hem of her top, sliding it upward. Lena made no protest, watching him trustingly, and he pulled it all the way over her head, tossing it aside. Reaching behind her, Richie unsnapped her bra, pulling it slowly forward, and now Lena wished she hadn’t cut off her long hair, because she had nothing to hide behind. As his hands drew the satin away, though, Richie’s big hands cupped around her breasts, Lena gasping at the heat of his skin on hers.

It wasn’t as though no guy had ever touched her there - even in her virgin state she wasn’t completely innocent - but there was something different in Richie’s touch, something more arousing than she’d expected. He held his hands on her for a moment, Lena reaching out to unbutton his shirt, and Richie took his hands off her to drop the shirt, then took her by the hand and led her to his bed.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, looking up at her, pulling her in to stand between his thighs, opening those soft lips to take a nipple into his mouth. Lena moaned softly, running her fingers into his hair, holding him close as he tasted and teased. She could feel the wetness soaking her panties, the hunger growing as Richie moved to her other breast, then he moved again, looking up for her agreement before pushing his hands under the waist of her skirt, tugging it down until it fell to the floor, leaving her panties on. For now.

Keeping his own jeans on, Richie pulled her onto the bed with him, kissing her thoroughly, his hands caressing her body until she was panting beside him.

“I want to see you.” She said huskily, looking up at him, and Richie slid off the bed to drop his pants, turning to toss them onto a chair.

He was already hard, and when he turned back he saw that Lena had taken off her panties, lying naked on his bed, and he saw her eyes widen into uncertainty as she looked at him.

“Trust me.” He whispered, lying beside her again for another kiss, one hand sliding gently between her thighs.

Lena tensed when he touched her, but Richie kept the pressure light, just easing a fingertip around her clit, sliding down to part her swollen lips, then back up to her clit, over and over, until he was pushing first one, then two, fingers into her on each stroke. As he did it, Lena’s hips were rising against his hand, instinct taking charge, and she moaned into his kiss as he changed the movement, still thrusting his fingers into her, his thumb on her clit.

“Richie…..please…….I want…….”

“Shhhh darlin’.” Richie smiled at her, watching her fight it. “Trust me, Lena. Let it go.”

She did, letting his hand push her up and over the edge, into orgasm, whimpering as she came with his fingers deep inside. Richie didn’t withdraw his hand, just kissing her tenderly as she relaxed, then he began moving his fingers again, Lena moaning again.

“Richie……”

“No, darlin’, not yet.” He gently slipped a third finger into her, feeling her tighten around him at the added stretch on her flesh. “You’re not ready for me yet, Lena…..patience, baby.”

He slid down the bed, burying his head between her thighs, his tongue taking over from his fingers for a moment, pushing into her then up to tease around her clit. Closing his lips on her clit, Richie brought his hand back up, three fingers easing her wider for him, hearing her moans above him as he sucked on the sensitive bud. Frustrated, Lena thrashed her head against the pillow, wanting to feel Richie inside her, the fingers thrusting inside bringing her to climax again.

“Please…..” She whimpered, her eyes begging him, and Richie carefully moved his hand away, reaching to the nightstand for a condom, covering his heavily swollen erection before dropping his hand to her clit again.

Still stroking her, building her to the next orgasm, Richie shifted between her thighs, Lena spreading her legs wide to accept his hips, and Richie rose up to kiss her again, distracting her for a moment before he let the thick head of his cock press into her. When she groaned, he stopped, raising his head to look at her, and Lena opened her eyes to gaze upward, biting her lip as she nodded.

As slowly as he could, Richie entered her, Lena giving another groan at the momentary pain, the pain overtaken by the strange sensation of his flesh filling hers. Her eyes widened at the feeling, her head arching back as her body protested the penetration, clamping down, her muscles tried to force out the invading flesh, and Richie froze in place, holding his weight on his elbows, waiting with her until she relaxed a little, her eyes focusing on his again.

“Okay?” He whispered, and Lena nodded shakily.

“Uh-huh.” She whimpered it. “I didn’t expect………”

“D’you want me to stop?” He asked, praying silently she wouldn’t say yes. It was a very long time since he’d ‘had’ a virgin, and the tightness of the flesh pressing around him was a torturous delight. But, even so, he was always aware of his size, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

She shifted herself under him, becoming accustomed to the sensation, then she smiled brilliantly up at him.

“Hell no.” She whispered, reaching her hands into his hair, feeling the thick strand where the silver trinkets hung.

Gently, Richie eased back and thrust in again, Lena gasping again, but in arousal at the contact of the base of him against her clit, the thick shaft filling her so that every pleasure point inside her was being stroked just right.

“Jesus……” Lena murmured, her instincts bringing her legs up to lock around his hips, meeting his thrusts with her own.

Richie looked down at her again, one hand on her breast, then he lowered his head to kiss her again, forcing himself to keep his thrusts gentle. Lena came again, clenching tighter around him so that Richie growled deep in his throat, fighting against the instinct that begged him to accelerate the thrusts, to pound himself into her. He made himself slow down even more, matching his rhythm to the pulsing of her flesh, the repeated relaxation of her muscles letting him deeper inside.

As Lena came yet again, sobbing out his name helplessly, Richie let just the last couple of strokes drive into her harder, riding through his own orgasm with his mouth on her neck, feeling Lena’s hands on his back, clinging to him. Slowly coming to a halt above her, Richie eased himself out of her as she relaxed, Lena gasping as he left her empty, and once he’d disposed of the condom Richie gathered her into his arms.

“Okay?” He asked, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“Mmmmm.” She purred, snuggling closer, then giggling softly.

“What’s funny?”

“I just looked at the time.”

Confused, Richie looked at the clock, seeing it was just after midnight. “Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.” She said softly, shifting up to kiss him, Richie chuckling.

“Merry Christmas to you, darlin’. And thank you for my present.”

“Exactly what I was thinking. That’ll be a hard present to beat.”

“Naw.” Richie said comfortably, shocking - and pleasing - Lena with his next words. “Next year, I’ll make you scream my name when you cum on Christmas morning.”