*114:Boudoir

“You planned that,” Charlie accused, although she couldn’t have cared less if he did.  There was very little that could dull her cloud of euphoria tonight, and receiving a toe-curling kiss from her superhero boyfriend in Times Square sure as hell wasn’t going to do it.

His quiet laugh was almost as sexy as the weight of the hand blatantly roaming her ass during the private elevator journey to his penthouse.  “I didn’t have to plan.  It’s fucking Broadway.  There’s always people and cameras.  I simply took advantage of it for a change, instead of getting taking advantage of.”

“So tomorrow morning I’ll find out what it looks like to the rest of the world when we kiss?”

“If you wanna wait that long.  I’m sure the pictures have already started popping up online.” 

“Hmm.” 

That could go either way as far as being a good thing or a bad one.  If she found out that their kisses looked just as hot as they felt, it would serve as one more aphrodisiac to wet her panties.  On the other hand, if the image bore a striking resemblance to mating squid, the mental images might haunt her enough that only her libido got dampened.

It did prompt another interesting thought, though.

“You ever hear of boudoir photos?”

He peered down as though observing her through reading glasses.  “Soft porn pics that show a hint of tits and ass?  Yeah.  What about ‘em?”

“Not just tits and ass,” she corrected with a secretive smile, warming to the idea.  “The have couples’ boudoir sessions, too.”

“And I care why?”

Snickering as he used their intertwined fingers to pull her out of the elevator and into his foyer, she speculated, “Because seeing our naked bodies together might be pretty hot.”

“No,” he challenged, twirling her so that they were face to face.  “There’s nothing hot about sexy pictures other than the lights.  It’s a lot of fuckin’ work.”

“Ahhh.  That’s right.  I guess you would know.”

There was something about being involved with a public sex object that wasn’t quite real for Charlie yet.  She had a tendency to forget he was Jon Bon Jovi, estrogen magnet, instead of just the guy she was dating.  Maybe when they started going out more, it would finally sink in.

“I’ve done it enough to know it ain’t happening again unless there’s a fat paycheck attached.  Now if you want to do a little homemade porn…”

Laughing into his face, Charlie emphatically shook her head.  “No, thank you.  How about a post-orgasm selfie while we cuddle?”

“Done,” he agreed with a sneaky grin.  “I might even concede to a foreplay selfie.  If you wanted one.”

“Right now, all I want is you.”

That simple phrase held the same transformational abilities as her favorite paintbrush, because his irises smudged from a clear cornflower blue to a deeper, smokier Wedgewood.  It was a subtle difference, but one she’d seen often enough to understand what was behind it. 

Arousal.

Desire.

Passion.

She’d seen them all individually, and each had the power to steal her breath more ably than the easy force with which he pushed her into the wall.  Right now, though, they were all standing together in unified determination to end her short-term celibacy.  That, along with the hot breath that cleansed her lips for his possession, incited a bout of asthma like she hadn’t experienced in thirty years.

“Oh, Goddd…”

Cool air puckered her nipples as he pushed her wrap away to expose a minimally clothed torso.  The vee-neck dipped low on her sternum, leaving it bare to receive the imprint of shirt buttons when he leaned heavily into her.  One side of that vee was pushed aside to pop out a breast for his tactile enjoyment as he lapped at her mouth with lips that were wet, supple and able.

“I want you, Chiara.  It’s been a week and I’m as hard as if I’ve never fucked a woman before.”

Arching into the talented fingers that tugged and twisted at the throbbing peak of her right breast, Charlie tunneled both hands under the back of his shirt, seeking out the heat of hard muscles.  “I’ll testify that you’ve fucked before, Adonis.  A woman doesn’t forget being in your bed.”

“Bed.  Fuck.”  The two words were huffed in the same harsh breath before he swore pithily and took a step back.

“That’s the traditional pairing,” she agreed with languid humor, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as he pushed a hand through his hair to stand it on end.  Reaching out, he gently tucked her breast back into the top of her jumpsuit before scooping up her hand.

“We’re not celebrating one of the most pivotal nights in your life by fucking against a wall.”

She smothered a snuffled laugh as he pulled her along to scale the marble stairs with the ornate branch railings.  “I have very fond memories of fucking against a wall on another pivotal night in my life.”

“Not tonight.”  His jaw was jutted out stubbornly as they reached the upper landing that placed them between the upstairs living room and his bedroom.   That was before he huffed and swore again.  “You’re fucking with my head.  I’m forgetting everything, including a bottle of that cabernet you like so much.  Would you grab it from the wine bar and bring it to the bedroom?  I wanna do kinky things with that wine.”

The possibilities began racing through her mind and the blood followed suit, racing between her legs.  Her array of possibilities was limited by her imagination, but his array was augmented by years of uninhibited experience.  It was a seductive realization that sent a shiver dancing up her spine to flick already hard nipples along the way. 

“I’ve missed you.”  The whispered confession washed over his lips before she turned on the ball of her foot to skitter back downstairs.

Each step that she took down, into the wine nook and back up the stairs was excruciatingly notable.  Slick lips glossed against one another between her legs, swollen with a desire that grew with each pulse of blood that found its way there. 

Charlie was one very horny Lois Lane, eagerly approaching the bedroom in search of her Man of Steel. 

That is, until she stepped through the doorway.

“Holy Mother of God.”

Her palms went slick enough that she almost dropped the wine bottle.  It was only a mindless reflex that had her cupping its bottom with her other hand while a frantic heart thundered in her chest.  With each thump, it seemed as if it squeezed its way into her esophagus until Charlie was forced to swallow to put it back in place. 

“You don’t like it?”

Wide eyes zipped up to lock with those of the man who stood on the other side of the bed with his arms folded over an unbuttoned shirt.  His smile was endearingly uncertain, but she couldn’t bring herself to reassure him because…

Her gaze fell from his to the king-sized bed. 

She knew from experience that the duvet was just as pristine white as the one in her own bedroom, but right now, it wasn’t white that came to mind.  The ambient glow of candlelight on the bedside tables gave everything a soft amber tint – including the dozens and dozens and dozens of red rose petals covering the bed and pillows.

Another painful cardiac thump reminded Charlie that she was still alive, and that Jon was still awaiting her reaction.

Most women would push him into the midst of those rose petals and fuck him senseless, but all she could think was…

“Please tell me you don’t have a ring in your pocket.”

The uncertain smile was eaten away by a sheepish laugh, but thank God his tousled silver head shook in the negative.  “No ring.”

“Then.”  Her eyelids blinked too quickly to be referred to as anything but “fluttering”, which is what one of her hands did in the direction of the current décor.  “What is all this?”

Dropping his chin toward the floor, Jon’s eyes were trained on his own bare feet as he came around the bed with arms still folded. 

“This…” his subdued explanation commenced.  “Is for you.”

Since the only thing she could think to do was ask why, Charlie stayed silent as he took the wine from her and nudged a burning candle to the back of the nightstand to make room for it there.  His fingers were slow to release the neck, and when he turned back to her, eyes that were neither cornflower nor Wedgewood finally lifted to hers. 

Flickers of candlelight danced as stars in eyes of solemn midnight, when he said, “Tonight is a celebration for you – of you – and as hokey as it seems, I wanted it to mean something.  That’s why I took a scene from a song that’s been romanticized and claimed by countless women and am giving it to you.  Because you’re the one woman since I wrote the goddamn thing that deserves to be laid on a bed of roses.”

It was the candlelight making her eyes blur, Charlie thought as she pushed his forearms apart to glide open palms into his open shirt and skim ribs before trembling fingers knit together at his back.   “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t say anything,” he coached softly, cradling her head and coaxing each eyelid shut with a feathery kiss to the lid.  “You just let me prove that a man can love you for nothing more than your warrior’s heart and artist’s soul.”

A soft gasp forced quivering lips apart and Charlie’s eyes pricked with emotion that wouldn’t be stifled.  The pain in her heart this time was a direct result of the love that threatened to burst it at the seams. 

“Is… Is this another instance of your selective timing?” she inquired, her voice thick with clogged tears.  “Like that sun thing on the beach?” 

“No, baby,” came his doting whisper as he swept reverent thumbs across her cheeks.  “This is a rare instance of baring my soul.  I love you, Chiara.”

Those same thumbs swept away the first round of tears that would no longer be held at bay before Jon claimed her mouth with a tender passion that was as sweet as his soul.  Long, languid strokes sampled each crevice and hollow as he made love to her mouth with thorough precision that still left her aching for more. 

“I need you.”  The breathless plea was all she could manage beyond pushing at the fabric of his shirt and tugging at the buttons of his fly while he did his own share of tugging at her clothes.  “In every sense of the word, I need you.”

“Then do something about this goddamn outfit so I can fuck you already.”

The grin swallowed Charlie’s face, and laughter bubbled free as she performed the magic maneuvers that would have the silky jumpsuit slithering to the floor.  “I can’t even explain how much I love you right now.”

“I don’t want explanations.”  His rumble vibrated against the delicate underside of her jaw as Jon walked her backward to the bed.  “I want you.”

A gentle shove had Charlie free-falling onto the luxurious surface, and the movement sent a fragrant shower of rose petals spraying into the air.  For the first time since hearing Vivi tell the story of the crotchy rose petals, the concept didn’t seem quite so gross, and she knew she’d be saving some of these – but maybe just the ones that had already fallen to the floor.

More petals were displaced as he shouldered his way between her thighs, and Charlie dug anxious fingers in, further disheveling his hair when tender lips closed demandingly over her clit.  The setting was picture-perfect for romance, but her lover didn’t make love.  He devoured her like a starving man at a feast.  He owned her.  He pushed her harder and further than anyone had ever dared, because he knew how to play her body as well as that beat-up guitar of his. 

“Oh God.  Yes!  So good!”  Demanding fingers pierced his scalp as she bowed her hips into the blissfully carnal devastation of his mouth.  “Lick.  Suck.  Harder.  Faster.”

His ravenous attacks became more frantic and were supplemented by the hard insertion of at least two fingers, if not three, into the greedy center weeping for that very thing. 

“Your pussy is so fucking sweet.”  The declaration was muffled inside her most feminine spot before he captured one of her swollen lips between his and suckled the honey from its surface.  He did the same thing with the other, and his hum of pleasure tickled in all the right spots.

“I’m going to come.  Oh.  Ohhhh.  Oh…..”  Sucking in a shallow breath, she held it deep and still as her thigh muscles went rigid with the anticipation of what lay just beyond her reach.  When he fluttered his tongue again, it hit a spot so magical and mystical that Charlie found that everything was in her reach.  “Nnnnnggggg!!!  Jonnnnnnn!!!  Hu-hu-hu-hu… .Ohhhhhh.  Yesyesyes!!!”

Rose petals were once again flying through the air as his hips settled between Charlie’s thighs and the heels of his palms were braced in the mattress on either side of her face. 

“Ohhhh, baby,” came his lusty growl as he established a rhythm that would deliver him to the same place he’d taken her.  “Feels so fucking good.  I can still feel you coming around me.  Christ, Chiara.  The shit you do to me.”

“It’s you, not me,” she corrected, meeting him stroke for stroke and grinding her pelvis into his.  “You make it so good.  You make me ache.  You make me love you.  Everything is you.  Give me everything.  Everything...  Everything….”

“You’ve… al…ready… got…. Unnnnh!!  Oh fuck, yeah!  That’s itttttt!”

His chest heaved against hers, the heavy breaths filling both her ears and her nostrils before Jon sealed their mouths together in another intimate coupling.  His bared soul was poured into her wherever they touched until the last of the passion had wrung them dry.  Only then did his lips gentle, nuzzling the bruised flesh of hers before rolling them both onto their sides. 

With their legs intertwined, their torsos meshed together and their arms looped around one another, Charlie felt closer to him than anyone else in this world – both physically and emotionally.   It was nothing short of euphoric, and she decided that if neither of them moved another muscle that night, she’d be fine with it.

As luck would have it though, she’d no more had the thought when he started fumbling around for something on the nightstand.

“Ow!  Goddamn candles.”

Giggling into his chest, she vainly tried to look over her shoulder to see what Jon was in search of, but before she could focus, the full weight of his body once again hit the mattress.  Displaced roses were settling around them when Charlie felt the warmth of his lips come to rest against her forehead, prompting a contented smile and sigh.

“Done.”

With her forehead crinkling with curiosity, she drew back from contentment to look him in the face.  “What in the world are you doing?”

A movement above them caught her eye, and she found that he was waving his phone at her.  “Selfie.”

The picture on the screen was nothing short of perfect.  His messy silver head nestled next to the wild tangle of her dark waves on the pillow, and while their bare shoulders made nudity apparent, the perfectly pursed lips against her brow were so blessedly sweet that Charlie’s expression was nothing more inappropriate than angelic innocence. 

Being in Heaven would do that to a girl.

“I love you, Jon.”