1 - Intimate Duet

Cassidy strummed the guitar that was finally starting to feel more natural in her grasp. 

It had been almost two years her first guitar lesson from a rock star by the name of Jon Bon Jovi, and he’d followed it up six months later with a Takamine for Christmas.  With her luscious curves and sprigs of dainty flowers etched into the pick guard, there was no doubt in Cassidy’s mind that her new instrument was all woman., and the deep red acoustic beauty had practically begged to be called “Ruby”.

Who wanted to deny her?  Not Cassidy. 

She and Ruby became the best of friends, spending hours each day together, which meant the strings weren’t as biting tonight as they’d once been.  The pressure was barely noticeable against her fingertips as she hummed the tune that haunted her this week.  Not satisfied that her fingers and voice were on the same page, she tried a different chord and pitched the hum a half-step lower. 

That half-step created a more comfortable vocal register, and the music vibrating in her throat grew fuller.  Prettier.  Sadder. 

This wasn’t a feel-good song.  That much she knew, but lyrics hadn’t crossed her conscious mind as of yet.  Notes had seemed more important, and now that they flowed effortlessly, she could let herself ramble. 

Why not?  There was no one else in her family room – or anyplace else within the walls of this thirty-six hundred square foot house – at two in the morning.  There was nothing or no one to keep her from singing whatever came to mind. 

“If tomorrow is another yesterday

I’m not interested in stayin’.

The agony of walking way

Hurts less than findin’

I wasn’t enough 

To keep you… hap-py.”

The chord trickled into nothingness, resonating in the silence of her mind until there came a quiet, “Do I want to know what inspired that?”

“Lord a’mercy!” she exclaimed around the heart lodged in her throat and whirled around to find Jon standing behind the couch.  “What in Sam Hill are you doin’ here?  I thought you were spendin’ the night in Alabama.”

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you surely did that,” she laughed as the shock faded into pleasure. 

Three weeks had passed since his last visit to her home outside Nashville, and it was their longest separation since reuniting at the Civil War Museum.  There was usually no more than ten days between his visits, but he’d been preoccupied lately with rehearsals and preparations for the new tour. 

They were a week into that tour with the Nashville show scheduled for day after tomorrow.  She was looking forward to going backstage that night but hadn’t expected Jon to arrive so soon.  He must’ve hopped a flight right after that evening’s Birmingham show.   

While she was surprised, the Good Lord knew that she wasn’t complaining about getting an extra night with her boyfriend.  She’d take all she could get.    

Parking Ruby on the sofa cushion next to her, she bounced up to wrap him in a fierce hug.  Cassidy briefly wished she was wearing something nicer than a lumberjack shirt and yoga pants that used to be black but wardrobe shame didn’t keep her chin from tipping up to deliver a bright smile. 

“It’s good to see you, baby doll.”

Jon’s mouth slanted over hers briefly and without the usual fervor of their reunion kisses.  There was an unusual squiggle of consternation wedged between his eyebrows as well.   

“Tell me about the song, Dixie.”

“Oh, honey,” she laughed, patting the fine black cashmere of his sweater before twining their fingers together and leading him to the sitting side of the sofa.  “It’s just a song.”

“I call bullshit on that.  There’s no thing as ’just a song’ and we both know it.”

That was true.  All of the songs on her upcoming debut album held a personal element, and some more so than others.  Family secrets, accidental love, hard-working women, trust and castles in the clouds were all represented, simply because she was still too new at songwriting to do anything besides draw on experience.

“I was playin’ around with somethin’ is all,” she stubbornly insisted while climbing onto his lap and planting knees outside his hips.  “You really wanna waste time quibblin’ about my foolishness when we can be doin’ somethin’ more fun?”

In reality, the song lyrics stemmed from a phone conversation with her younger sister earlier this evening, but Cassidy had no interest in revisiting it.  Not when a certain handsome man was pushing desperate hands into her hair and whispering, “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

The squiggle between his brows was now smooth, as were the rest of the lines in his face.  Intensity lingered only in the steady blue gaze that lit her from the inside out – and even that was diluted by a glaze of tranquility.   

He was happy now.  That’s all that mattered.

“Back at ya, handsome,” Cassidy breathed into his mouth, chasing the words with a tongue eager to sample her favorite delicacy. 

The flavor that flooded her mouth had a familiar undertone that told he’d been drinking tonight.  It wasn’t hard to pinpoint hint of fermented grapes, and she suckled the tang from his taste buds.  In both drink preference and personality, he was wine to her whiskey, but it didn’t deter the desire to get drunk on him. 

His impassioned tug of copper waves had them tingling at the roots, and an involuntary sigh flared her nostrils.  She would forever love the way he fisted her hair.  The way his mouth ate at hers like she was his dying meal.  The way he forced her to swallow his groan because the pleasure was both too much and not enough. 

Not a time would go by that she didn’t itch to burrow under his shirt.  That she didn’t savor the soft pelt of fur that coated his chest and belly.  That she didn’t succumb to the tempting trail dipping behind the button fly that opened under her touch. 

Every time she touched the silk sheathed steel between his legs…

“My dick missed you almost as much as I did.” 

His roguish smile twinkled around the edges and set Cassidy’s lady bits to twinkling right along with it. 

Like any woman, she had sexual needs.  When those needs stirred, she wasn’t shy about making her own pleasure.  Did it quite often, in fact, but her fingers and battery-operated devices could never replace the man separating the plackets of her flannel shirt. 

It took a flesh-and-blood man to pepper jalapeno-hot kisses along her cleavage.  Only a living, breathing testosterone factory could push aside the lacy bra cup.  And only Jon could make her crazy with the way he devoured the uncovered tip.    

“Oh, baby doll,” she purred to the ceiling while taking her turn at fisting hair.  “I do like that.”

The pop of his release made her very core quiver with desire.  “You’re not the only one.  I have dreams about those fat nipples of yours.”

Lordy, how she loved getting intimate with this man.  He was just this side of raunchy with no reservations about crossing to the other side.  They’d done some… questionable things in the name of lusty fun, and she fingered one of her favorite props.

“No.”  There was no room for negotiation in his tone or harsh capture of her hand.  “No belt tonight.  Just me and you.”

“Alright.”

Eager to comply, Cassidy shed the red flannel and bra before standing to shuck the rest of her clothes.  He was similarly occupied with pushing his jeans down and stripping away the sweater, and when there was nothing left to separate them, Jon pulled her close.  With a quiet grumble, he skated determined fingertips along the fleshy seam that identified her as a woman. 

“Have I ever mentioned how good your pussy feels?”

“You might’a screamed it a time or two,” she teased into the crook of his neck.  The tip of her tongue darted out to taste the skin there and found it tinged with the soap from a recent shower.  Not that she didn’t appreciate the effort, but she liked a little more salt on her Jon.  “I’d like to try sweaty post-show sex sometime.”

He drew back from her neck kisses and peered down in disbelief.  “I stink after a show.”

“Yeah, but how do you taste?”  She drew a sharp breath as at least two fingers invaded her hoo-ha.  If she had any ovaries in there, they would’ve been tossing eggs in a hero’s welcome. 

“Don’t wanna find out.  I’d rather eat you.”

The gruff statement shot a bottle rocket from her hoo-ha to nipples that were diamond hard.  The man did enjoy all things oral. 

“That sounds fine and dandy, but how bout we get that ‘welcome back’ orgasm outta the way first, huh?”

The chuckle that found her ear was dirty.  So delightfully dirty. 

“Wet as my fingers are, I thought you’d already come.  Lemme take care of that for ya.”  A little erotic samba had Cassidy’s kneeling on the couch cushions and her elbows on the back.  She felt unmistakable body heat approaching from behind, and his right foot found a spot just next to her knee before…

“Unnh!”

Buried to the hilt didn’t seem descriptive enough for what he was.  That first drive took him so deep that she nearly choked.  Anatomically possible or not, she’d swear he’d found a way to lodge himself in her throat. 

“Honey… I’m home.  And fuck if it doesn’t feel good.”

Lord, I know it’s a mite improper to be prayin’ durin’ the deed, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t send up a quick thank You for this fella.  I ‘preciate you makin’ us to suit one another.  Amen.

“Glad you’re enjoyin’ bein’ all snug as a bug in my rug, but how ‘bout you start movin’ that fine ass of yours?”

A crack of flesh on flesh split the air and was immediately chased by the stinging of her backside. 

“No ass is finer than yours – especially with my mark on it.”

MeMaw raised her to believe that no man should ever lay a hand on a woman, but her hoo-ha evidently hadn’t taken that lesson to heart.  The sting of “his mark” rattled the core of her womanhood, driving Cassidy to the edge of desperation.

“Less jawin’, more screwin’.”

His hips wasted no time in following her terse demand.  There was a definite purpose behind the thrusts that were filling her in all the right ways, but Jon was not the meek and obedient type.  He didn’t take orders like a waiter at the Olive Garden.    

That’s why wine breath was hot against her ear as he murmured, “What’sa matter, baby?  You actually counting on me to get you off?  Huh?  You trust me to do that?”

“You know I do,” was her pant of frustration. 

Since that first time he’d asked her to, Cassidy had put her pleasure in Jon’s hands – and he’d never let her down.  Not once.

“Sweet, sweet Dix.  That still turns me on like a fucking faucet.”

A hard arm banded her waist while the opposite hand kneaded her breast.  He twisted and plucked at her “fat nipples” while finding the perfect angle for both their pleasure.  The thick crown of his man-parts sensually abused her womanly counterparts, lifting her to the heights she’d been missing.

“Yes, baby doll.  Just… like… that!”

Her internal muscles rippled with a wave of release, and it was only a gasping breath later his satisfaction filled her womb.  Cassidy grunted with pleasure at both the fiery splatter and Jon’s guttural cries. 

The man was sexy when he sang, but when they did an orgasmic duet…

Lord, I just wanna thank Ya one more time.