These Days ~ Part One

1

 

It had been a long day.  A long, shitty day, really, leaving Kyra emotionally exhausted, so she’d begged off the suggestion of dinner and drinks with the rest of the group, instead taking a cab back to her hotel.

 

She’d gone up to her room, showering away some of the stress, then she lay down on the bed, just for a minute.  Unfortunately, her minute turned into a few hours, and she woke groggy in the darkness, discovering it was just after eleven at night.  Proper sleep beckoned briefly, but what she really needed right now was food, and maybe a drink or two.  Dressing again in jeans and a v-necked sweater, glad that at least the business part of her trip was over so she could ditch the skirts and demure blouses, then she pulled on her battered cowboy boots and headed downstairs to the bar.

 

Standing at the bar, she ordered a glass of wine, flipping through the menu and not really paying much attention to anyone else in the quiet bar.  It was getting toward time for this bar to close, but the bartender was happy enough to take her food order, heading through the back to pass it to the kitchen.  As he vanished, Kyra took a sip of wine, then turned automatically to look toward the end of the bar as she heard another soft, sobbing curse.

 

A man sat at the end of the long walnut bar, one hand supporting his head as the other poured a glass of what looked like neat whisky down his throat, the long hair touching the bartop as he threw the drink back in one.  He twisted his head forward, looking for the bartender, muttering again when he realised the guy was gone.

 

“Just motherfucking perfect.”  He grunted.  “Sums up my whole fucking day.”

 

Kyra couldn’t help herself.  He sounded to be hurting over something, and it just wasn’t in her nature to let someone suffer alone.  She took the few steps to the end of the bar, stopping just beside him.

 

“Are you okay?”  She said softly. 

 

“Fuck off.”  Was the snarled response, and she blinked at the venom in his low voice.

 

“Sorry.  I just thought you sounded upset.”  She began to back away.  If he was hurting, she’d been willing to offer a sympathetic ear, but if he felt that way then she’d stay out of it.

 

“Upset?!”  He snapped, spinning on the stool to face her, almost falling off it as his balance wavered.  “Now why the fuck would you think I’m upset?  Can’t a guy just get quietly drunk without some…..”  He looked at her with red-rimmed eyes, even drunk appreciating the curves inside the denim and soft wool.  “Without some whore coming onto him?  You’re all the fucking same!”

 

Tears rose in Kyra’s eyes as she raised her hands in silent surrender and backed away without another word, snatching her purse from where she’d dumped it on another barstool and disappearing to sit in one of the booths.

 

She’d barely sat down when she heard a rich, resonant male voice, obviously talking to the drunk guy since they were the only ones there.

 

“Hey bro.  You okay?” 

 

“No, I’m fucking not.  I wanna drink and the fucking bartender’s disappeared.”

 

“He’s right here.”  The sober voice pointed out, then Kyra heard the bartender.

 

“I’m not serving him any more booze.  He’s had more than enough, from what I heard.”

 

“Excuse me?  Give him another drink - put it on my tab.”

 

“No.”  The bartender’s voice was firm.  “Way he treated that girl, he’s had more than enough.”

 

“What girl?”

 

“You missed that part, huh?  A girl came in for a drink - one of our guests - and when she asked your buddy here if he was okay he just cursed her six ways to Sunday.”

 

“Hey!”  The sober voice again.  “This true, bro?”

 

“I guess.”  The sullen, drunk voice.  “Stupid bitch.  Why can’t they leave me alone?  What the fuck’s it to her if I’m upset?”

 

“Jesus!”  Sober guy again.  “She still here?”

 

The bartender didn’t answer, just jerked his chin toward the booth where he’d seen Kyra go after the verbal attack.  Sighing, he looked at his friend - his brother-who-wasn’t - then looked at the bartender.

 

“Do me a favor, man.  Get him some coffee?”

 

“Sure.”  The bartender said as he watched the guy walk slowly toward the booth, then he threw a glare toward the drunk who was now leaning his head on both hands, oblivious to everything and everybody except himself.

 

Kyra was sipping wine again, an angry hand dashing the tears from her eyes as she sat, then she heard the soft, rich voice close behind her.

 

“Hello?”

 

Wiping at her eyes again, she turned her head to look at him, then had to tilt her head to look higher than the bare chest in the open front of his shirt, looking up to his concerned face, seeing him grimace slightly as he looked at her.

 

“Shit.  Tell me you’re not crying because of my asshole buddy?”

 

“I’m not crying because of your asshole buddy.”  She repeated, the spark of humor in his eyes actually making her feel better already.  Really, she knew, the tears were of anger, for butting in where she wasn’t wanted and getting slapped down for it.  Anger at herself, because she should know better, with all the time she’d been involved with charities and people who were hurting.

 

“Yeah, that was convincing.”  He grinned now.  She may be crying, he thought, but she was also cool, and the smart-ass answer was enough to tell him that she was okay.  “I just wanted to apologise for him.  I…..”

 

“Do you want to sit down?”  Kyra interrupted with a smirk.  “I’m getting a sore neck looking all the way up there!”

 

She shuffled across the seat a bit as he laughed, dropping down to sit beside her then offering a hand.

 

“I should introduce myself, then.”  He laughed, shaking her hand.  “What’s your name, darlin’?”

 

Kyra felt the back of her neck tighten with mild annoyance at him so easily calling her darlin’, but she realised that he didn’t mean anything untoward by it - just the way this guy talked - and she relaxed again as she replied with a smile.

 

“Kyra.  Kyra Masters.”

 

He gave her a broad, friendly grin.  “Hi.  Nice to meet you, Kyra.  I’m Richie.”

 

“Richie….?”  She gestured for his second name, and he chuckled as he supplied it.

 

“Richie Sambora.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Richie.  I………”  She frowned slightly then flushed in embarrassment and clapped a hand over her eyes.  “Shit.  Sambora?”  Comically, she spread her fingers, peeking at him between then.  “As in Bon Jovi?”

 

“For my sins.”

 

Taking her hand away from her face, she tucked her fist under her chin, looking up at him coyly through her lashes.

 

“Are you saying you’re a sinner?”

 

Richie laughed again, realising they still held each other’s hand, leaning closer to whisper his reply.

 

“That all depends on what you consider a sin.”

 

“Nice answer.”  Kyra approved, sliding her hand free with a smile, reaching for her wine, only now realising why the drunk guy had seemed somewhat familiar when he turned to snarl at her.

 

“I’ve had practice.”  Richie smirked.  “Anyway, like I was saying, I wanted to apologise for whatever Jonny boy said to you, Kyra.  I know it’s no excuse, but there’s a lot of shit happening right now - with the band and with him personally - and I guess he took it out on you.”

 

“Ah, no biggie.”  She flapped a hand at him.  “Honestly, it’s fine.  I stuck my nose where it wasn’t wanted and got it bitten.  Don’t worry about it.  I’m a big girl.”

 

“Big!”  Richie snorted, leaning back to look at her.  “Nothin’ of you, darlin’.  Man, if I wasn’t already with Heather, I’d be on my knees begging for your phone number.”

 

“Yeah, sure!”

 

Before Richie could respond to her theatrically rolled eyes, they heard the bartender yell ‘hey!’ then there was a loud crash from the bar.

 

“What the…..?”  Richie leaned around the end of the booth then dropped his head forward helplessly.  “Aw, fuck.”

 

He slid from the booth, extending his hand to Kyra again.

 

“I’m sorry, Kyra.  It was really nice to meet you, and I am sorry for Kidd’s attitude, but I guess at least now he’s passed out I can pour him into his bed and get some sleep myself.”

 

Kyra frowned at him as she shook his hand.  “Have you been playing babysitter?”  She asked quietly.

 

“I guess.  Trying to protect him from himself.  Right now it’s about all I can do.”  He grinned sadly.  “And, look, I step away for five minutes to go to the can and he goes off on you.”

 

She stood from the booth with him, looking over the back of the seats and seeing the blond guy sprawled on the floor, clearly feeling no pain even though his legs were tangled in the bar stool.

 

“I’ll give you a hand, if you like.”  She offered.  “To get him upstairs.  I mean, you’ll need help with the door, right?”

 

“Are you sure?”  When she nodded, Richie grinned.  “He acts like a prick and you’re still willing to help him.  Sure you’re not an angel?”

 

“I’ve been called a lot of things, but never an angel.”  Kyra told him, slinging her purse over one shoulder as they walked over to the unconscious body.

2

 

Richie sighed, then crouched beside his friend, slapping his face lightly.  “Jon?  Buddy?”

 

No response, and he shook his head.  While Kyra steadied the barstool, Richie dragged Jon clear of it, raising him to a sitting position, then Kyra was there, wedging her shoulder under Jon’s arm and helping Richie to lift the deadweight.

 

“Thanks, darlin’, I got him now.”  Richie grunted, holding Jon’s right wrist in his hand, the arm slung across his shoulders.  He snagged his other arm around Jon’s waist and started to walk, half-dragging the other man.

 

The bartender laid down Kyra’s food, and she gave him a quick smile.  “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”  She promised as she followed Richie. 

 

She caught up to them as they neared the elevators, and Richie told her which floor when they stepped into the mirrored car.  When they reached the floor, Richie turned left, heading down to Jon’s room, then he stopped outside the door.

 

“Key?”  Kyra asked, stopping beside him.

 

“Aw, shit.  I don’t have his key.  It’ll be…..”  He tried to move his hand off Jon’s waist to get the key out of his hip pocket, but Jon’s legs sagged alarmingly, to the extent that Jon groaned softly.

 

“I’ll get it.”  Kyra told Richie, reaching around behind Jon, feeling the hard shape of a keycard in one of his back pockets. 

 

She slid her hand into the pocket, gripping the card, and started to slide it out, then was shocked to feel a hand grab her ass.  Particularly shocked since she knew Richie’s two hands were fully occupied.  Looking up, she saw blurred blue eyes watching her, soft lips spread in a drunken grin.

 

“Well, hello.”  He mumbled, then before she could move his mouth was on hers, his tongue driving deep into her mouth, Jon’s weight leaning forward as his hand pulled her hips against his.

 

“Jon!  What the fuck!”  Richie snapped angrily. 

 

He didn’t get the chance to do anything about it, though, as Kyra pulled herself back from Jon, fury in her dark eyes.  Before Richie could apologise - again - Kyra swung at Jon, not a slap but a full-on punch, catching him high on the cheek.  As he grunted in pain, she opened her other hand, already clutching the keycard and turned, swiping it through the lock and pushing the door when the tiny light flickered green.

 

“Here you go.”  She said softly, tucking the keycard gently into the front pocket of Richie’s jeans. 

 

“You’re one hell of a lady.”  Richie murmured with a smile.  “Thank you, Kyra, for your help.  I’m sorry, yet again, for my asshole brother.”

 

“Brother?”  Kyra interrupted with a frown.

 

“Blood brother.”  Richie shrugged.  “And thank you for punching him.  Saved me the trouble.”  He chuckled.  “Damn, I hope it bruises, because I can’t wait to tell him how it happened.  G’night Kyra Masters.”

 

Kyra laughed.  “Good night, Richie Sambora.”  Standing up on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek lightly, then she was gone, leaving Richie to drag Jon into the room.

 

His brotherly care went only so far, though, and Richie dropped Jon onto the bed, only making sure he lay on his front, head to one side, then he dumped the keycard on the nightstand and left, closing the door and heading for his own room.

 

Kyra returned to the bar, where she picked listlessly at her food, her appetite gone, then she said goodnight to the bartender and left, going to her room and straight to bed.

 

 

Next morning, Kyra was up and around ridiculously early, considering she’d spent most of the night tossing and turning.  She’d allowed herself the indulgence of an extra day in the city, to let her get in some much-needed retail therapy, and she decided to just get an early start, since she was awake anyway.  By seven thirty, she was heading downstairs, and by eight o’clock she was settled at a table in the restaurant, sipping coffee while she waited for her breakfast to be brought.  She’d just buttered a piece of toast when she heard a familiar, rich voice behind her.

 

“Well, if it isn’t the little guardian angel of drunken singers.”  He said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, grinning down at her when she looked up.  “Good morning, Kyra.”

 

“Morning, Richie.”  She smiled up at him, his grin infectious.  “Sleep well?”

 

“Like a baby.”  He laughed, then nodded to an empty seat.  “Mind if I join you?  The rest of the guys won’t surface for a while yet, and I’m betting our fearless leader probably won’t see daylight until sometime this afternoon.”  He pouted.  “I’m lonely.”

 

“Now, we can’t have that.  You want coffee?”

 

“Oh, yeah.  Can’t start the day without it, darlin’.”

 

As Richie pulled out the chair facing Kyra and dropped into it, stretching his long legs out to the side of the table to avoid kicking her as she flipped his cup up the right way and filled it from the pot.  He grinned a thank you as he added cream and a frightening amount of sugar, then he took a long, appreciative sip, sighing as the caffeine hit.

 

“You sure you don’t want some coffee in your sugar?”  Kyra asked.

 

“Trust me, I need the sweetening in the morning!”

 

“Yeah, right.”

 

A waitress came over, and Richie rattled off an order without even looking at a menu, just ordering ‘everything, darlin’, with extra potatoes’.  The girl laughed, obviously used to his minor craziness, and she took away the coffee pot when she went, bringing them a full one a few minutes later.  Kyra’s breakfast arrived first, Richie raising eyebrows at the plateful that was almost as much as he was having, then his arrived shortly after, and they ate companionably, chatting about life as a rockstar and dating a beautiful actress, Richie finding out that Kyra worked in a charitable organisation which helped pretty much anybody that needed it.  After the previous night, seeing how she’d been with Jon, it didn’t surprise Richie to find out she was such an altruistic soul, but he was surprised to learn she was a Southern gal, since her accent wasn’t the expected country twang.

 

“I spent a lot of time ‘up north’.”  She said with a shrug when he commented on it.  “I went to school up here in New York, actually.  I’m a Southern girl, for sure, but I do love this city.”

 

“What’s not to love?  Though, I spend a lot of time out in Cali these days.  Kinda have to, if I wanna see Heather.”

 

“Long distance relationships suck sometimes.”  Kyra’s tone left little doubt she’d been there, done that.

 

“They can, but so far so good.”

 

“Fuck, trust Sambora to find the best-looking woman in the restaurant to eat breakfast with.”  Came a gravelly voice from behind Kyra, Richie looking up with a grin.

 

“Hey, Teek!”  He grinned at Kyra.  “Kyra Masters - Tico Torres.  He wanted to be a musician, but ended up being a drummer.”

 

“That’s mean.”  Kyra told him, flicking a glance up at the little powerhouse standing next to her.  “Anyway, I always thought the drummer was the one who set the beat, kept everybody in time?”

 

“Ha!”  Tico laughed, flipping Richie off then holding out a hand to Kyra with a charming smile.  “You’re absolutely right, Kyra.  Nice to meet you.”

 

She could see the slight confusion in his eyes, though, wondering just who the hell she was and what Richie was doing with her.  Luckily, the guitarist put him out of his misery.

 

“Kyra helped me pour Jonny into his room last night.”  Richie explained.  “After he’d told her to go away and not make a nuisance of herself.”  He winked at Kyra.  “That was what he said, right?”

 

“More or less.  Couple more adjectives maybe, but close enough.  Nice to meet you, Tico.  Would you like to join us?”

 

“Sure.” 

 

The three of them chatted a little, then Kyra glanced at her watch and wrinkled her nose.

 

“Sorry, guys, but I need to get going.  I meant to be out of here earlier than this!  You…”  She looked at Richie.  “…are a bad influence!”

 

“You have no idea.”  He purred.  “Off to work?”

 

“Nope.  Much, much more important than that.”  Kyra got to her feet with a grin.  “Shopping.  I’m in desperate need of retail therapy.  Didn’t you know?  Shopping cures all ills.”

 

“And what ails you?”  Richie smirked.

 

“Nothing right now.”  Kyra giggled.  “But you can’t be too careful, can you?  Anyway, I feel the need to shop, and where better than New York?”

 

“Where indeed?”  Richie also rose from his chair, giving her a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek.  “Maybe see you later - we’re here another couple nights.”

 

“You never know.  Nice talking with you both.  Bye, Tico.”

 

“Bye, Kyra.”  He got to his feet to peck her on the cheek, then the two men sat again as Kyra left the restaurant, heading to her room to collect her purse and coat.

 

Both guys silently watched her leave, the tight jeans and the cowboy boots, the long fall of hair, then as she turned the corner and vanished from view Richie gave a soft sigh that made Tico chuckle.

 

“Uh, Rich, you do remember Heather, right?  Y’know, blonde, beautiful, Heather Locklear?  Your better half?”

 

“Wha…..?  Oh, fuck you, Tico!  I like that girl.  She’s got class and a big heart.”  He laughed.  “She’s also got one hell of a right hook when she’s mad.”

 

“Do I even wanna know?”

 

“Let’s just say somebody pushed his luck last night, once too often, and got a bit more personal than he shoulda.”  Richie caught sight of a familiar walk and he chuckled as Jon walked slowly into the restaurant, the sunglasses far darker than necessary for indoors, the blond hair still damp and falling over his face. 

 

“Mornin’.”  Jon mumbled as he reached the table, slumping into the empty chair, vacated by Kyra.  “What the fuck happened last night?”

 

“Whaddya mean?”  Richie asked, and Jon gingerly lifted his shades, revealing a dark bruise on his cheekbone, spreading up to puff his eye.

 

“Looks like a right hook to me.”  Tico offered with a laugh.

 

“Told you.” 

 

“What?!”  Jon winced as he raised his voice slightly.  “Shit.  What?”  He asked more softly, praying his brain would stop vibrating every time he spoke.

 

“You got shitfaced is what happened.”  Richie said unsympathetically.  “You got so shitfaced, in fact, that when a pretty girl came up and asked if you were okay, you called her a whore and told her to fuck off.”

 

“I didn’t!”  Jon protested, then frowned.  “Did I?”

 

“Yeah, you did, asshole.  She was crying when I went over to her.”  While Richie understood why Jon was so pissy right now, he wasn’t about to make it easy on him.  “What makes it worse is that after all that, and after you hit the floor, she helped me get your ass upstairs.”

 

“So is that what this is?”  Jon gestured at the bruise.  “I fell?”

 

“Oh, you fell, yeah.  But that?  No.  That was when she punched you.”

 

“She what?  The bitch!”

 

“Hey!”  Richie snarled.  “If I was her, and you stuck your tongue down my throat, I’da punched you out too!”

 

“What?”  Jon frowned.  All of this was news to him - he couldn’t remember a single thing after getting back to the hotel, other than heading straight for the bar, hoping a session with his friend Jack would ease the guilt he was feeling over his decision.  “I’ve not had complaints before.”  He said lamely.

 

“Yeah, but usually you’re invited.  Kyra sure didn’t invite you.  You’re just lucky she’s fast, because I’d have hit you harder than she did, just that she - literally - beat me to the punch!”

 

“Kyra?”  Jon said softly.

 

“Yeah, Kyra.  Her name’s Kyra.”

 

“I don’t remember a fuckin’ thing.”  Jon admitted.  “I remember meeting with the lawyers, and I remember coming back here to the bar, and that’s it.  After that, nothing.  Just a whole lot of blank.”

 

“A whole lot of Jack, you mean.”  Richie said, then relented slightly, waving to a passing waitress.  “Hey, darlin’.  Can we get some more coffee?  Strong coffee.” 

 

“Do me a favor?”  Jon asked quietly.  “If you see her, point her out to me, Rich?  I should probably apologise.”

 

“Damned right you should.  She’ll be back later - she’s gone shopping.”

 

Jon’s confusion deepened, the hangover slowing his thoughts.  “How the hell do you know where she’s gone?”

 

“Because I ate breakfast with her.”  Richie nodded toward Tico.  “We both did.  She only left a few minutes ago.”

 

A frown creased Jon’s forehead again.  “You fuckin’ around on Heather?”

 

“No, dipshit.  I came down for breakfast and Kyra was already here.  I just kept her company.”  Richie picked up his coffee, shaking his head.  “She’s a nice girl, actually.”

 

“Yeah, she is.”  Tico agreed as the waitress brought yet another pot of coffee, Jon pouring a mug and slurping it black, shuddering at the caffeine.

 

“Well, now I feel even more of a prick.”  Jon muttered, paling when the waitress asked if he wanted any food.  “No, darlin’.  Thanks.  Just…..more coffee?”

 

She frowned, since she’d only just brought a pot, but Jon had already finished the first mug and was pouring a second, his obvious concentration on the task telling her how he was suffering, and what he was suffering from.

 

“Sure.  Want aspirin?”

 

Jon snorted softly, the laugh turning to a groan as it reverberated around his aching brain.  “Nah.  I’ll suffer.”  He glanced at Richie, seeing the grin.  “I’ll call it penance.  Just the coffee.”

 

3

 

Kyra didn’t quite shop until she dropped, but it was a pretty close run thing, and by the time she got back to the hotel the streetlamps were starting to flicker into life, the city falling into that brief lull between worktime and playtime.  She hauled her various bags up to her room, just dumping them carelessly on the bed before throwing herself beside them, giving a soft groan as she felt the muscles across her shoulders begin to ache.

 

For a few minutes, she lay there, until her stomach growled loudly, clearly complaining about the lack of food today.  Dragging herself to a sitting position, she looked at her watch, then pried her boots off and headed into the bathroom.  She showered quickly, knotting her hair up out of the water, then when she returned to the bedroom she pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a red button-through sweater, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.  The cowboy boots went back on, then she grabbed her purse and headed downstairs, going into the bar. 

 

Once she had a glass of wine in hand, Kyra flipped through the menu and placed an order, gesturing to the bartender that she was going over to sit in one of the booths.  She made herself comfortable, digging into her purse and finding her book, getting so engrossed in the story that she was still deep in the book when the bartender brought over her meal.  The burger she’d ordered was massive, hardly needing the accompaniment of the pile of fries, and she was forced to lay down her book to cope with the burger, even though she cut it in half before attempting to pick it up.  It was worth the mess, though, and she finished the deliciously juicy meat before even looking at the fries.

 

She quickly wiped off her hands and mouth, getting rid of any escaped relish, then picked up her book, pinning it to the table with one hand while she picked at the fries, not even looking away from the pages of the book.

 

 

Jon had somehow survived the day, finally managing to force down solid food in the afternoon without feeling like he was going to puke it straight back up, and he gathered the guys - Richie, Tico, Dave and their sometime bass player, Hugh McDonald - in his room for a quick conference.  Dave and Tico looked a little surprised to see Hugh there, not Alec, but Richie was already well aware of what had happened the previous day, so he just waited for Jon to get to the point.

 

“Guys……”  Jon hesitated, but there was no easy way to say it.  “Alec…….well, Alec won’t be joining us on this next tour.  You all know Hugh well enough, and I’ve already asked him, so he’s going to step in and we’ll just see how things pan out.”

 

“What’s with Al?”  Dave asked, frowning. 

 

Jon sighed - sometimes David could be unbelievably naïve.  “You know how he’s been - well, been fucking up stuff in the studio.  I finally got the truth out of him a few days ago, and he’s decided that he needs to get out of the life, try to get himself cleaned up.”

 

“Hell, Jon, it’s not like any of us are saints.”  Dave protested.  “I mean, we all like a drink - you of all people can’t deny that today - and every one of us has tried something or other that we shouldn’t.”

 

“All true.”  Jon nodded.  “But Alec has taken things a bit too far now.  He told me he’s been using heroin for a few months now, and I guess it explains the changes we’ve all seen in him.  Physically and the other stuff, too.  In the end, it was his decision.  I said we could try to get him help, get him clean, but he reckons that he’d always use, living in this business.”

 

“Is he going to get help?”  Tico asked, and Jon nodded.

 

“Yeah.  He said he would.  And, well, I’ve already discussed it with Hugh, and we won’t officially be replacing Al.  He’ll always be a band member, but just not with us right now.”  He shrugged.  “Maybe not ever, but we’ll have to wait and see.”

 

Looking around the four guys, Jon grinned a little sadly.  Alec had been with them since the beginning, and it felt like losing a family member, but he’d had no real choice but to hit the bass player with an ultimatum, though he wasn’t going to tell the guys that.  Sure, Alec had made the final decision himself, but only after Jon told him he could either get cleaned up and stay, or get out.  He wasn’t prepared to carry a junkie on the band, and they both knew - the whole band knew - that most of Alec’s work on the new record had been unusable, which was why Hugh had been drafted in to help out.  The legal meeting had been to ensure that, no matter how much he was hurting, Alec would keep his mouth shut, or risk losing any money that was due to him over the years. 

 

“Hey, at least now you know why I got so fuckin’ drunk last night - I’d just met with the lawyers to get all their shit straightened out.  Now we all know where we stand, I’m for dinner - anyone else?”

 

“Yeah.”  Richie spoke for the first time.  “I’m with you, Jon.  I could eat a fuckin’ horse.”

 

The other three begged off, so it was just Jon and Richie who headed down toward the restaurant, but when they saw how packed it was, they changed direction and went into the bar instead.

 

“You wanna drink?”  Richie smirked at Jon.  “Jack and coke?”

 

“Oh, fuck, no.  I’ll just have a beer.”  Jon grimaced at the idea of whiskey, and they sat on a couple of bar stools to glance at the menu.

 

Richie looked up at the long mirror over the bar, seeing movement in one of the booths and believing he recognised the dark hair.

 

“I’ll be back.”  He muttered to Jon, sliding off the stool before Jon could ask where he was going.

 

 

Kyra had just picked up another french fry, holding it for a second while she read, then she felt it pulled out of her fingers, looking up with a glare that changed to laughter as Richie bit into the fry.

 

“You’re a brave man.”  She told him with a glint in her eye.  “Getting between me and my food.  How are you, Richie?”

 

“I’m great.”  He chuckled, leaning down toward her.  “There’s a guy over at the bar who wants to apologise to you.”

 

“A…..what?  Who?”  She suddenly got it.  “Oh.  What does he think he needs to apologise for?”

 

“For calling you a whore and telling you to fuck off.  For shoving his tongue down your throat.”  Richie laughed again.  “Hell, once he sees you, he’ll probably apologise for hurting your hand when you punched him!”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m here if he wants me.”

 

“Mmm…….tough lady……I like that!”  Richie grinned.  “I’ll tell him to come over and grovel, if he’s got the balls.”

 

“Cruel, cruel man.”  Kyra murmured with a smirk.  “Does he remember much of last night?”

 

“Not a damned thing.  I gave him the highlights this morning - he came into the restaurant just after you left to go shopping.”

 

“I’m not surprised.  He was pretty drunk.”

 

“That’s putting it mildly.”  Richie said, straightening away from her again.  “I’ll go tell him you’re over here, ‘kay?”

 

“Yeah, sure.  But - Richie - I’m a big girl - if he doesn’t want to apologise, you don’t need to force him on my account.  No apology at all is better than one that isn’t sincere.”

 

“Tough and ballsy.  Jonny could be in trouble.”  He gave her another grin.  “I’ll see ya later, darlin’.”

 

“Okay, Richie.”

 

He drifted away, back to the bar, and Kyra started to pick at the fries again until she decided she really couldn’t face any more, just wiping the grease and salt from her fingers before sipping wine.  She’d closed her book and turned to drop it into her purse when she heard a soft voice from the edge of the booth.

 

“Kyra?”

 

“Uh-huh?”  She turned around, seeing the blue eyes she remembered from the previous night, though now they were clear and bright as he looked down at her, a slightly hesitant smile on the full lips.  Despite herself, and in spite of her reaction to him the previous night, she couldn’t stop a brief recollection of the feel of those lips on hers, the clarity of her memory shocking her.  What also shocked her was the dark blemish of a bruise on his face, just where she’d hit him, and she realised that Richie had gotten his wish.

 

“Hi.  I’m Jon.”  He offered a hand.  “I believe I owe you an apology.  Maybe more than one.”  He continued as she shook his hand.

 

“Did Richie twist your arm to get you to come over?”  She asked, but he shook his head.

 

“No.  When he told me this morning what I’d said - what I’d done - I asked him to point you out if he saw you.”

 

Kyra’s eyes softened slightly.  “Would you like to sit down?”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Over at the bar, Richie was unobtrusively watching in the long mirror, and he grinned when he saw Jon sit down in the booth.  Looked like Kyra was willing to accept the apology.  Well, either that or she just wanted him at a more convenient height to smack him again.  He raised a hand, catching the bartender’s attention.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Hey - do me a favor.  Take a beer and a glass of whatever the lady’s drinking over to that booth?  Put it on my tab.”

 

“Sure.”  The bartender glanced across, recognising Kyra and pouring another glass of the wine he’d served her earlier.

 

Jon was sitting facing Kyra, not entirely sure what to say to her, and she just waited patiently for him to get to it.  Just as Jon opened his mouth to speak, the bartender appeared with a tray.

 

“From the guy at the bar.”  He said, laying down the beer and wine.

 

4

 

Kyra looked up, looking at the mirror and seeing Richie watching the pair of them in the reflection.  She smiled and picked up the fresh glass of wine, raising it in toast, and seeing him do the same with a beer, grinning at her.  Jon toyed with the beer bottle, but didn’t drink, just fidgeting with the label.  His main nervous habit was that he just couldn’t keep his hands still - he often blamed it on his Italian heritage - but he’d almost always be playing with something - a bottle, a bottle cap, a pen - anything he had, really.  Now that he had his ‘comfort blanket’, he looked Kyra in the eyes, unconsciously thinking how dark her eyes were - deep chocolate brown like those of his ‘brother’.  Thankfully, though, Richie’s eyes had never affected him the way this girl’s did.

 

“I’ve been told that I was extremely rude to you last night.”  He started.  “And I sure as hell overstepped the line when you were kind enough to help Rich get me upstairs.  It doesn’t make it any more acceptable, but I don’t remember a damned thing about it.  I am sorry, though, for any offense I caused.”

 

Looking at him seriously, Kyra tilted her head slightly then smiled.  “Apology accepted.”

 

“Damn, you’re easy!”  Jon exclaimed, then blanched.  “Shit!  I didn’t mean it that way!  I just meant…….just meant you didn’t make me grovel like I’d probably have done if a guy treated me that way.  I didn’t mean you were easy!”

 

“Oh, shush!”  Kyra laughed, the throaty chuckle purring against Jon’s ears.  “I know what you meant.  I just don’t see the point in holding grudges, Jon.  Life’s too short, and there really wasn’t any harm done last night.  Words don’t hurt for long.”  She laughed again, pointing at his cheek.  “Anyway, they don’t hurt as long as bruises do.  I guess I hit you harder than I thought.”

 

“I’m kinda glad you did.”  Jon confided with a grin, more relaxed now.  “Because Rich said if you hadn’t, he woulda, and he’s a hell of a lot bigger than you!”

 

“Ain’t that the truth!  Anyway, I probably deserved to get have you jump down my throat, for butting in like I did.  You just seemed really upset about something, and I guess I thought a friendly ear would help.”  Another soft laugh.  “Wrong!”

 

“I’m sorry.  Truly, it probably would’ve helped more than whatever amount of whiskey I put away last night, but I was beyond talking about anything by the time you got here.”

 

Jon finally lifted the beer to his lips, trying to get his mind off the image he’d had when Kyra said ‘you’ and ‘down my throat’, because at her words he’d almost felt those soft lips sliding along his length, her mouth taking him all the way in.  He tried to think of another subject, really not wanting to move away from talking with her just yet, then he remembered something Richie had told him earlier.

 

“Rich said you work with some foundation?”

 

“Mm-hm.  You know, just one of the many charitable foundations - we try to spread the wealth around a bit - mainly kids stuff and the homeless, but we - well, the board at least - are willing to look at any good cause.  That’s actually why I’m in the city this week - we had an enquiry from a drug rehab center, and a few of us were sent up to take a look around and see if it’s something we want to get involved with.”

 

“Yeah?”  Jon was genuinely interested, particularly after his recent discovery about Alec.  “And will you?  Get involved, I mean?”

 

“I think probably yes.  They’re well organised and very dedicated - all they need is a bit more financial support.  My recommendation will certainly be that we get involved with it.  It’s still a bit of a taboo subject, unfortunately, so if we can help out….”

 

He’d never work out why he did it, but Jon blurted it out before he could stop himself.  “I know what you mean about taboo.  That’s part of the reason for the mess I was last night.”

 

“Drugs?!”  Kyra asked incredulously.  There was no way she could imagine he was doing drugs, because he looked entirely too healthy.

 

“Yeah…….oh, shit, not me!  One of the guys from the band.  He…….”  Jon paused, wondering why the hell he was breaking the ‘brotherhood’ and telling a complete stranger.

 

“Tell me.”  Kyra said softly, the words almost a command, softened by her smile.  “Trust me, you need to talk about stuff or it just festers inside you, until you just blow.  Speaking from experience here.”

 

It didn’t help Jon in the least that his image of her kneeling in front of him returned with the word ‘blow’, but he grinned as he continued talking.

 

“Sorry.  We have this sort of unwritten law that whatever happens in the band stays there, but I think maybe you’re right.”  He took another mouthful of beer.  “We’ve been in this business a while now, and you can guess the kind of excess there’s been at times.”

 

“Oh, yeah.  I can guess.”

 

“Yeah, well, turns out one of the guys has moved on a bit.  We’ve all done the usual stuff - pot and coke, and there was a bit of a phase for uppers, but fortunately at that point I was stoked up on steroids anyway, so I kept out of that.  Hell, I just don’t have the right kind of mentality for drugs I think.  Booze works just fine for me.”  He grinned.  “But, hey, you know that already!  Anyway, one of the guys was messing up a bit in the studio, and I finally cornered him a few days ago.  Turns out, he’s moved on a level, and he’s been using stronger stuff for a few months now.”

 

“Stronger?  As in…….?”

 

Jon sighed.  “Heroin.  So, yesterday I had to meet with our lawyers, sort out some stuff, and he won’t be touring with us this time.  Maybe never again.  I just can’t do it.”  He looked at her, a plea in his eyes.  “I mean, in the studio, I can cover it - we’ve used someone else a lot on this record, because his stuff was just a mess, but live?  No way we can hide it.  I’ve worked too fuckin’ hard - we all have - to throw it away now.  Our fans don’t deserve a half-assed show, because one of us is too high, or coming down, to play.”

 

Kyra sipped her wine again, recognising that the unwritten law was still partly in place, that Jon hadn’t identified which band member he was talking about.  She took another sip then smiled at him.

 

“Well, I guess I’m not as intuitive as I thought, because I thought you were crying over a woman.”

 

“Crying?”  Jon echoed with a frown.  “Sambora never mentioned that.”

 

“He probably didn’t see it.”  Kyra assured him.  “That was what made me come over to you, but I think when you got mad at me you stopped.”

 

“Yeah, sorry about that.  Again.”  Jon grinned.  “And you weren’t entirely wrong.  There was a bit of that mixed in, too.  Woman I’ve been with for - well, forever - she and I called it quits about a week ago.  She - her name’s Dorothea - said she wasn’t going to sit home for another year while I ran around the world playing rockstar.”

 

Kyra shrugged.  “If she truly loved you, she’d wait.  Or come with you.”  She made a face.  “Now I have to say sorry.  I don’t know anything about her, or you, so I shouldn’t judge.”

 

Jon looked at her more closely - not that it was a hardship - and he could see shadows in her eyes.

 

“Somebody’s talking from experience.”  He said gently, reaching out to touch the back of her hand where it rested on the seat.

 

When his fingertips touched her skin, Kyra felt the flare of electricity between them, the light touch somehow affecting her more than their firm handshake, and when she looked up at his eyes she saw he’d felt it, too, the blue eyes glittering now as she drew her lower lip between her teeth.  Jon instinctively flattened his hand on top of hers, the heat of his palm on her skin making her heart stutter, but as he opened his mouth to speak, they were suddenly interrupted.

 

5

 

“Am I interrupting something?”  Richie’s voice from the edge of the booth. 

 

He looked down at them, watching Jon draw his hand away reluctantly, his fingertips trailing over Kyra’s hand as she pulled it back, the tingling electricity between them still hanging in the air.  Richie hid a grin as Jon looked up at him, his blue eyes clouded with something close to confusion.

 

“Rich?  What’s up?”

 

Kyra caught Richie’s fleeting smirk as he flashed a glance at Jon’s crotch.  “Nothin’ up with me, bro.  I just wanted to check how you two were getting along - if you’d come to blows yet.”

 

Jon shifted slightly in the seat, and Kyra chuckled at Richie.

 

“No - I haven’t hit him again, Rich…ie.”  She added on the end of his name as she realised she’d almost used the shortened version that Jon had been using.  “He said he was sorry, so we’re fine.  Just talking.”

 

“Cool.”  He grinned at them both, deep dimples showing on both cheeks.  “In that case, I’m for bed.”

 

“I thought you were hungry?”  Jon said with a frown.

 

“I was.  I am.  But I’ve ordered dinner to my room, since you fucked off and left me sittin’ there alone.  If I’m eating alone, I may as well do it in comfort.”

 

“Sorry, Richie.”  Kyra said.  “I guess I distracted him - he only came over to say sorry after all.”

 

“Darlin’,”  Richie said easily.  “I’d be more worried if he came over here and didn’t get distracted, sittin’ beside you.  I’ll see ya tomorrow, bro.”  He turned to walk away as Jon said goodnight, then turned back.  “I forgot - I ordered you a burger.”

 

“Thanks.  I’ll see ya.”

 

“Yeah.  G’night Kyra.”

 

“Bye Richie.  Probably won’t see you again - I’m leaving pretty early tomorrow.”

 

“Aw, shit!  You mean I’ll have to eat breakfast with a bunch of guys again?”  Richie pouted, then stepped to the edge of the booth, holding out a hand to Kyra.  When she took it, though, he dragged her along the seat, bumping her against Jon then pulling her to her feet.  Richie leaned across the table toward her, kissing her cheek.  “Bye, Kyra Masters.  Good to meet you.”

 

“You, too!”  She laughed, kissing his cheek in return.

 

When he let her go, Kyra sank to the seat again, then shuffled to the side as she discovered she was pressed against Jon from shoulder to knee, scooting herself away from the contact of that hot, hard body.  Richie winked at Jon as he left and Jon just shook his head with a frown.

 

“Where were we?”  Jon asked softly, but Kyra quickly retreated from the more personal turn their conversation had taken.

 

“I was saying how I shouldn’t judge…….Dorothea…..when I don’t know anything about her or you.”

 

“I thought we were talking about how you knew that……….sounded like you’ve been there, done that?”

 

“Ancient history.”  Kyra said evasively.  “Sometimes people aren’t who you think they are.”

 

Jon frowned.  There was something in that little statement that prickled at his brain, making him wonder if Kyra was talking about an ex-boyfriend or about herself.  He knew, though, that he had no right to pry, and he skirted around the edge of the subject with a grin.

 

“Well, I’m just who you think.  Who you see.  A fairly normal guy who just happens to turn into an asshole sometimes when he’s drunk.  Usually, I’m a happy drunk, but last night……..”  He paused, then opened his mouth to speak again, Kyra beating him to it.

 

“If you’re going to apologise, I’ll have to hit you again!”  She warned, grinning.

 

Laughing, Jon held up his hands.  “You’re a tough lady!”

 

“I know……..I………” 

 

They were interrupted again, this time by the bartender bringing over Jon’s burger and fries that Richie had ordered.  After thanking the guy, Jon turned back to Kyra, frowning as she picked up her purse.

 

“Something I said?”

 

“What?  Oh, no!”  Kyra smiled.  “Like I told Richie, I have an early flight tomorrow, and I’m nowhere near packed.  I thought I’d leave you to eat in peace.” 

 

She was moving away from him already, sliding around the bottom of the u-shaped seat and along the other side, dragging her purse.  Jon slid from his own seat, standing in front of her at the edge of the booth, holding out a hand uncertainly.

 

“It was good to meet you, Kyra.”  He said softly, taking her hand in his.  “I will apologise just one more time, for last night.  Thanks for………for listening.  For understanding, I guess.”

 

His blue eyes fixed on hers, he raised her hand to his lips, caressing lightly across her knuckles, seeing the flare of heat in her eyes at the tender contact.

 

“I wish you weren’t leaving so soon.”  Jon murmured, and Kyra’s bright smile was somehow at odds with the hazy look in her eyes.

 

“Yeah, well, if you ever find yourself in my neck of the woods, maybe we’ll bump into each other again.”  She raised her free hand, Jon still holding her right, and she lightly touched the bruise on his cheek.  “I’m sorry, too.”

 

“Ahh, I’m from Joisey, darlin’.  And I got two brothers that used to beat the shit outta me on a regular basis.  Fuhgeddaboutit!”

 

Kyra laughed, and the light dancing in her eyes made Jon tug gently on her hand, hesitating and looking into her eyes questioningly.

 

“May I?”  He asked softly, then when she just smiled at him he leaned in, brushing his lips over hers.

 

The kiss was chaste, almost brother-to-sister, but when Kyra felt his fingers tighten on hers, she knew that he’d felt the tingling sensation that was burning at her own lips, encouraging her to open her mouth to him, to kiss him back properly.  Instead, though, she eased gently back, smiling to let him know it wasn’t unappreciated, but just not right for now.  Jon smiled back at her, accepting her response, and he gave her fingers another squeeze before letting go.

 

“Your burger’s getting cold.”  She said, surprised to hear the huskiness in her own voice.

 

“I’m used to it.”  Jon grinned, stepping back.  “It was great to meet you, darlin’.  If I’m ever out your way, I’ll look you up.”

 

“Do that.”

 

With that, Kyra walked away, and it wasn’t until he was halfway through his burger that it hit Jon - he couldn’t very well look her up, because he hadn’t a clue where she was from.  Cursing himself, the plunging disappointment settled in his belly, killing his appetite so that he shoved the burger away after another bite.

 

Up in her room, Kyra packed her bag slowly, trying to make space to fit in the new stuff she’d bought, her unruly mind drifting off to blue eyes and soft lips.  When she found herself standing - for the third time - with her fingertips resting against her lips, she cursed herself for the fool she was being, forcing herself to go through into the bathroom, taking a long shower and trying to clear him out of her mind.  It worked - sort of - until she settled into the big, empty bed with a mug of tea, her hair still dripping wet, then her mind wandered again. 

 

Groaning in annoyance at how he seemed to be stuck in her head - and refusing herself to indulge the thoughts of him being ‘stuck’ somewhere else in her - Kyra grabbed the control and flicked on the TV.  Only to be expected, she figured, that the screen glowed into life with Jon’s face filling the frame as he talked with an interviewer about the new record.  With another muttered curse, she flicked channels until she found a movie, letting her brain kick back into neutral as she watched, sipping tea.  The movie couldn’t hold her attention, though, and when the tea was finished she drowsily set her alarm clock and turned out the lights, settling to try for sleep.

 

6

 

Down in the bar, Jon had nursed his final beer until inspiration finally struck on how to get in touch with Kyra.  Even though he knew the hotel wouldn’t give out her room number, he drained the beer and tossed a few bills on the table, unsure if Richie had paid for the food or put it on his room, but not really caring too much.  He went out to reception, picking up a pad and pen that lay on the desktop and writing a quick note to Kyra.

 

‘Kyra - I’m an asshole - again!  How can I look you up when I don’t know where to look??  I’m going to be around for a few weeks (well, I’ll be somewhere - me & Rich might take off for a few days) before the tour starts.  Will you call me?  I promise not to apologise again!!!  Jon.’

 

At the bottom of the sheet, he carefully wrote his phone number - he’d been caught out in the past, scrawling his number too rapidly and leaving it illegible, and this time he wanted to make sure she got it right.  He folded the note and wrote her name on the outside then stepped across to where one of the receptionists was standing.

 

“Hi.”  He grinned, the girl automatically smiling back.  “Could you do me a favor?”

 

“If I can, sir.”  She said professionally.

 

“Yeah.  I don’t have her room number - and I know you can’t give them out.”  He forestalled the protest.  “But could you please pass this on to Kyra Masters?”

 

“Certainly, sir.”  The girl took the note and laid it on the desk.  Jon knew she wouldn’t write the room number on it until he was gone, so he just gave a half-wave and left, heading up to his room.

 

 

Next morning, Kyra woke with a bitch of a headache pounding at her temples, the room still dark.  She dragged herself painfully to the bathroom for water, bringing a glass through to the bedroom and swallowing a couple of painkillers.  Calculating times quickly, she reset her alarm for the very latest time she could and crawled back into bed, laying her head down tenderly and hoping the pain would be gone when the alarm sounded.

 

The alarm woke her groaning, the high-pitched sound ripping through her brain, and she fumbled it into silence, eyes still closed.  As the noise stopped clanging around her head, she decided that the headache wasn’t so bad as it had been.  Still ached abominably, but not so bad that she wanted to pound her head against the wall in the hope that it would help.  She rang down to room service for coffee and juice, adding toast after a hesitation, then she took herself through into the shower.

 

She almost wished it was a hangover, because then at least she’d have a good reason for her head to hurt so bad, but when she adjusted the shower to a soft rain, instead of her usual preference for pounding water, the warmth cascading over her head soothed the pain a little.  By the time she was finished in the bathroom, Kyra could smell that her coffee had been delivered, and she felt at least halfway human as she made her way back to the bedroom.

 

The combination of caffeine and the sugar from the fruit juice eased the headache a little more, and after checking the time she swallowed another pair of painkillers with a mouthful of coffee.  She packed away the few things that were littering the bathroom then dressed and dried her hair, knowing that her usual practice of just knotting it back wet wasn’t a good plan when her head was already hurting.  The pain - and the painkillers - slowed her down, and by the time she’d eaten a half slice of toast, reception called to tell her that the cab she’d arranged the night before was waiting.

 

Kyra finished the coffee and grabbed her bags, heading downstairs.  The receptionist was on a call, her assistant dealing with another guest, and Kyra just tossed her key onto the desk as she passed, knowing they’d just total the bill and take it off her credit card.  She’d never had a problem with this hotel, so she was happy enough to just smile at the girls and leave the building, getting into the cab and heading for the airport.

 

By the time she reached the airport, the headache was almost gone, and she moved quickly from checkin, through security and straight into a restaurant, ordering a more substantial breakfast than she’d had at the hotel.

 

So she flew home, getting herself immersed back into work almost as soon as she’d landed, jumping a cab straight to her office to find out what had been happening in her absence.  Sad but true, her life these days consisted of work, work and more work.  It wasn’t exactly how she’d seen her life turning out, but she had to admit she was working harder and longer hours than she needed to, and loving every second of it.  There were, inevitably, some parts of the job that she wasn’t so keen on, but she was a realist, and recognised that some things were a necessary evil, so she just buckled down and got on with it, comfortable in the knowledge that nobody really knew how she disliked some of her life.

 

 

Up in New York, Jon was slightly pissed that Kyra hadn’t got in touch with him.  It had been just over a week since they’d met, but he figured he couldn’t really blame her - she’d offered a friendly ear, and perhaps that was all she’d wanted to give him.  Still, Jon was certain that he hadn’t misread her, that she had liked him - the spike of tension in their light kiss had told him that.

 

The tour was fast approaching, and after another round of interviews they had a slot of almost two weeks before they headed out on the road, the gap purposely left to allow the guys to spend time with their nearest and dearest before they vanished to play rockstar for endless months.  Richie had flown back to California to spend time with Heather, but she was headed out to shoot a movie, so he was now at as loose an end as Jon himself, and when Jon called him, suggesting a little trip, he was happy to jump at it.

 

Since Richie was on the opposite side of the country, they just arranged to meet at their usual hotel down in Nashville, each flying in separately.  One of the things Jon loved about the city - Music City - was that, down there, nobody gave a shit who he was.  He and Richie could walk the streets without attention, could drop into a bar to listen to music and, if the performer knew them and dragged them onto the stage - not that Richie took much dragging - then the crowd would listen and appreciate without expectation just because of who they were.

 

Jon arrived first, since Richie had found it impossible to tear himself away from LA until he’d taken Heather into his bed one more time, making utterly certain that she wouldn’t forget about him while he was gone.  On his first night in the hotel, Jon got a call from a friend of theirs, inviting them to attend a fundraiser that was being held the next night.  Jon was bored enough already to say yes, and his friend promised to courier over tickets and some brief details of the charity, just in case the press snagged them on their way in - at least he’d have half an idea what the event was meant to be raising funds for and not look like an opportunistic rockstar just turning up for the free booze.

 

When Richie arrived the next day, after some good-natured, brotherly taunts about thinking with his dick as usual, Jon told him about the party they were going to that night.

 

“Who’s playing?”  Was Richie’s first question, and Jon shrugged.

 

“Dunno.  Maybe in that flyer - I never looked.”

 

Richie picked up the glossy sheet that lay beside the tickets, looking at the scant details, reading it aloud as Jon walked to the coffee machine.

 

“Devaney Foundation…….fundraiser…….blah, blah……..doesn’t….oh, wait!  Yeah it does.  Willie Nelson, among others.”

 

“Yeah?”  Jon said, not particularly interested.  “You want coffee?”

 

“Sure.”

 

For the rest of the day, they sat around the hotel room, chatting and working on a few songs.  Richie, as always, had brought a guitar, and they whiled away the afternoon until the light began to dim.  They finally decided to get ready for the fundraiser, Richie heading off to his own room once they’d agreed to just meet down in the hotel bar.

 

After his friend had gone, Jon slouched through to his bedroom, opening the closet to look inside, only now wondering if he had anything appropriate to wear.  He’d only brought jeans, really, but he was relieved to see a black suit coat, so at least he could be halfway presentable.  Leaving the closet door open, he headed for the shower.

 

 

7

 

Jon was down in the bar, sipping a beer, when Richie walked in.  Looking up, he grinned at Richie’s outfit.  While Jon wore a plain white shirt, halfway buttoned and exposing a forest of chest hair, necklaces glinting among the strands, Richie’s own shirt was a vibrant, wild paisley pattern - the only thing they had in common was the lack of buttons, with Richie’s shirtfront showing an expanse of tanned skin.

 

“I knew I shoulda worn fuckin’ shades.”  Jon muttered, shading his eyes with a hand as he looked at Richie’s shirt.

 

“Aw, fuck you, Kidd.”  Richie laughed.  “We can’t all be wearin’ boring white, now can we?  Somebody’s gotta brighten things up!  You ready to go?”

 

“Yeah.”  Jon upended the beer, finishing it as he slid from the stool, cursing when a trickle of amber liquid spilled down his chin.

 

“Jesus!”  Richie muttered.  “Can’t take you anywhere.”

 

Making a face, Jon wiped his hand over his chin, drying it on his jeans and grabbing his black coat, shrugging into it.  Richie had no jacket, and they headed outside to where a limo awaited them, also helpfully arranged by the friend who’d got them the invites.

 

“So.”  Jon said suddenly.  “What’s this fundraiser for?  I don’t wanna come across like some asshole who’s only there for the free booze.”

 

“Jesus!  You had the fuckin’ flyer, Jon - didn’t you read it?”

 

Jon grinned.  “Nope.  I’m just goin’ for the free booze.”

 

Shaking his head, Richie smiled.  “Devaney Foundation - charitable something-or-other - give us your money so we can help them that need it.  The usual.”

 

“See.”  Jon smirked as the limo pulled to a halt, the flickering of flashbulbs outside confirming they’d arrived.  “I didn’t need to read it!”

 

Exiting the black car, they grinned their way to the door, obediently pausing for photographs and answering the few shouted questions from reporters.  At the door, a mature but still beautiful woman checked their invitations before letting them pass, and they moved through the quiet lobby and into the bustling clamour of the event room.

 

It was the usual kind of setup, with the long bar against one wall doing a brisk trade, waitresses in smart, traditional black and white strolling around offering canapés and crab cakes.  Jon and Richie mingled a little, greeting the many familiar faces, the people they’d met on their previous visits to the city, until most of the crowd fell into a respectful hush as Willie Nelson took to the small stage.  He was already wearing his battered, faithful Trigger, suspended on his trademark red, white and blue guitar strap, launching straight into Whiskey River, backed as usual by his ‘family’ band.

 

They finished the song to the appreciative applause of the crowd then, as they began another song, there was movement toward the rear of the stage, a tall brunette in a pale golden evening dress waiting unobtrusively.  Well, Jon thought, as unobtrusively as was possible for the toned body wrapped in pale silk.  She stood in shadow, so all he could really see was dark hair – either cut boyishly short or caught in one of those formal, intricate up-do’s that always just made him itch to pull it loose, see the unruly curls tumble down.

 

Willie’s voice faded away, then when the applause died down he thanked the crowd, turning to look to the rear of the stage, smiling and beckoning to the woman as he turned back to the mic.

 

“Welcome, my friends, to the third annual fundraiser for the Devaney Foundation.”  He began.  “Most of you already know the good work the folks at the Foundation do, not just around here but all over the country.  What, or rather who, you probably don’t know is the driving force behind the Foundation.  Most of us are more than wiling to give our money or our time to help others, but not everyone is willing to give both.  The founder of the Devaney Foundation is one of those rare people who has thrown not only a tremendous amount of money behind this, but also gives it most of her time.”

 

Jon was beginning to get bored of Willie extolling the virtues of this apparent saint, looking longingly across to the bar, so he didn’t notice Richie raise his eyebrows in surprise as the woman stepped forward.  Jon only snapped his head around in shock when Willie finally got to the end of his introduction.

 

“.....so, without any more from me, would you all join me in welcoming the beautiful founder of the Devaney Foundation, and our hostess for this evening, Kyra Masters.”

 

“Fuck me.....”  Jon breathed, automatically applauding as Kyra kissed Willie on the cheek before taking his place at the mic.

 

Richie glanced at Jon’s stunned expression, grinning.  “I’m guessing that request was for her, not me?”

 

“Wha.....?”  Jon blinked, turning to Richie as Kyra spoke, eloquently and humorously asking everyone to dig deep for the Foundation.  “Did you know about this?”  He asked suspiciously.

 

“How the fuck would I know?”  Richie demanded.

 

“The flyer – you read the flyer.”

 

“No.  As much as I’d like to say I know the whole time, the flyer didn’t mention much detail about the Foundation.”  Richie snorted suddenly, elbowing Jon’s ribs hard.  “Look on the bright side – at least you know she won’t be after you for your money.”

 

“Who says she’d be after me at all?”  Jon said.  “She never did call me.”

 

“Maybe there was a good reason.”

 

Kyra finished her short speech, stepping down off the low stage and starting to work the crowd with practised ease.

 

“You wanna drink?”  Jon asked, turning toward the bar.

 

“Yeah.  Grey Goose.”

 

While Jon went over to the bar, Richie looked around, seeing that Kyra had worked partway through the crowd already.  She was close by, though standing with her back to him, obviously unaware of their presence at the event.  Grinning, Richie stepped up behind her as she moved away from one small knot of people, bending his head to whisper in her ear while she wasn’t talking to anyone.

 

“Punched out any rock stars lately?”  He purred, and the familiar chocolate-smooth voice startled her so she spun around, smiling broadly when her eyes confirmed the identity.

 

“Richie?!  What are you doing here?”  She kissed his cheek.

 

“Right now, trying not to trip over my tongue.”  He grinned.  “You sure clean up nice, darlin’.”

 

“I could say the same about you.”  She smiled, holding one hand to her eyes.  “That’s quite a shirt.”

 

“Hell, you’re as bad as Jon.  He said the same damned thing.”  Richie saw the flash of interest in her eyes.

 

“Jon?”  Kyra tried – unsuccessfully – to sound nonchalant.  “Jon’s here too?”

 

“He sure is.  But he’s a little pissed with you.”

 

“Why?  What’d I do?”

 

“What you didn’t do.”  Richie explained.  “You never called him.”

 

“How could I call him?  I don’t have his number.”  Kyra protested.

 

“He said he left you a note.”  Now Richie was confused, too, but fortunately Jon walked across with the drinks, walking up from behind Kyra so it was only Richie who saw the hungry look in the blue eyes as Jon admired the curves of Kyra’s body.

 

“Speak of the devil.”  He muttered, and Kyra turned to look as Richie nodded over her shoulder.

 

“Hi.”  She said, feeling unaccountably shy.

 

“Kyra.”  Jon grinned broadly.  “It’s great to see you again.”

 

Handing Richie a glass, Jon looped his free arm around Kyra’s waist in a hug, kissing her cheek.  Even the light touch, though, sent a spark of pleasure coursing through them both, and Richie – more perceptive than the majority of men – hid a smile at the obvious attraction between them.

 

“Bro – did you tell me you left Kyra a note at the hotel?”

 

“Yeah.”  Jon flushed slightly, embarrassed.  “It was just in case you felt like calling.”  He explained to Kyra.

 

“I never got.......”  Kyra’s frown lightened as realisation clicked into place.  “Did you leave it at reception?”

 

“Yeah.  I didn’t know which room you were in.”

 

“Damn.  That last morning, I was running waaay late, and the girls on the desk were busy, so I just dropped my key and left!”  She looked at Jon sadly.  “Sorry.  I would’ve called, too.”

 

“Yeah?”  Jon looked pathetically pleased by that, Richie chuckling suddenly.

 

“What?”  Jon asked.

 

“Never said a word.”  Richie said innocently.

 

“Anyway.”  Kyra said, smiling.  “Not that it’s not really great to see you both, but why are you here?”

 

“One of our buddies knew we were in town.”  Jon explained, only now realising his arm was still wrapped around an unprotesting Kyra.  “He sent us over a couple invitations.”

 

“I’m glad.”  She almost whispered it, then sighed.  “I have to go.  I gotta try to talk to as many people as I can, convince them to part with their money.”

 

“No worries, babe.”  Jon squeezed just a little harder, then let go.  “Don’t disappear on me again – come find me before you leave?”

 

“Oh, I’ll be here until the bitter end.”  Kyra laughed.  “Later, guys.”

 

“Bye, angel.”  Richie laughed, and Kyra was shaking her head as she left.

 

8

 

For the rest of the night, Kyra managed to keep her attention focused strictly on her work.  Well, mostly on her work, getting distracted from her professional shmoozing once or twice when she’d happen to glance away and would catch a pair of bright blue eyes watching her.  She couldn’t believe that no-one noticed the snapping tension between them – she could physically feel it, like the electric tingle of an approaching storm, and she wondered if he was feeling it, too.  Across the room, Jon most definitely was feeling it, and was having almost identical thoughts.

 

Finally – almost unexpectedly – the party was over, Kyra watching as the last few guests headed for the door.  She’d have to wait for a day or two, until all the checks were banked, but she was pretty sure that the night had been a resounding success.

 

Heading over to the bar, both to get a cool drink and to thank the staff for their hard work, Kyra suddenly realised that not everyone had left.  At a secluded table Jon sat alone, watching her patiently, his black jacket carelessly tossed onto an empty seat.  When he saw her looking at him, he smiled across at her, and Kyra changed direction, walking across to him.

 

“You’re still here.”  She said, smiling in automatic pleasure.

 

“I said I’d wait.”  Jon grinned.  “You’re worth waiting for.”

 

He got to this feet, grabbing his jacket then holding out a hand to her. 

 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”

 

“No.”  Kyra pouted, the cheeky slant of her eyes tempting Jon, making his thoughts race off to an image of just bending her over the table and yanking the long dress up around her waist.

 

He gave a tiny groan as the temptation fisted in his belly, Kyra looking at him quizzically so he had to at least partially explain.

 

“Darlin’, if you don’t stop pouting like that, I won’t be held responsible for what I might do.”

 

“Really?”  She drawled slowly, moving closer, her eyes saying she wanted this to happen, too.  “Do tell.”

 

Jon grinned.  “I’d gotten as far as bending you over this table and getting that dress up around your waist.”  He admitted.

 

Kyra’s eyes flashed a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, but Jon could see that the arousal had the edge.

 

“I don’t think the wait staff would appreciate that.”  She replied.  “Even though I would.  Where are you staying?”

 

“Hermitage.”

 

They were already heading toward the door, Kyra quickly thanking the bar staff.

 

“My place isn’t much further.”  She suggested.

 

Jon frowned for a second, then he got it.  “And you’d rather not be seen going home tomorrow still in that dress?”

 

Blushing, Kyra nodded, and Jon just grinned, nodding his assent.

 

They were in the lobby, and Kyra led him away from the main doors, out another way to a parking lot.  Jon hadn’t even noticed the small purse she had over one shoulder, the color almost exactly matching her dress, but she opened it now, pulling out car keys.

 

“Weren’t you drinking?”  Jon asked.

 

“No.  Tonight was work.”  She said, then grinned.  “But once I get home I’m definitely off work!”

 

She was leading the way to a gunmetal-grey car, and Jon stopped as she made to unlock the door.

 

“What’s wrong?”  Kyra asked.

 

“Nothing.”  Jon said, starting to grin again as he looked at the vehicle.  “Just not what I expected.  Not really a girl car, is it?”

 

“Maybe I’m just not much of a girly girl.”  Kyra replied, unlocking the driver’s door of her beloved, restored sixty-seven Shelby Mustang.

 

“C’mere.”  Jon caught her free hand, spinning her into his arms, flicking a glance at her eyes, reassuring himself that this wasn’t going to earn him another bruise.

 

She just licked her lips, and Jon laid his mouth onto hers, probing gently with his tongue until she opened for him, deepening the kiss gradually then just as slowly easing back.

 

“You’re a girly enough girl for me.”  Jon murmured, and Kyra could already feel the slight bulge at his groin to back up his words.

 

Jon let go of her and they got into the car, Kyra starting the engine which didn’t purr but snarled as she pressed lightly on the gas.  Grinning suddenly, she looked at Jon.

 

“I should warn you.”  She said, shifting into first gear.  “I probably don’t drive like a girl either.”

 

Before Jon could respond, she’d laid down just a bit of rubber as she peeled out of the parking space and headed for the street.  At the exit, she turned away from downtown, a few turns taking them to the freeway.  By then, Jon had got over the surprise of her driving, and the expert way she worked the manual shift built his confidence.  At least to the point where he released his grip on the door handle, thinking he’d got away with it, then hearing Kyra’s giggle.

 

“You wuss!”  She said, scaring the shit out of him again when she glanced at him while knifing the car through the narrow gap between the truck in front of her and one approaching from behind, intent on passing.  As her car moved in front of the second truck, she downshifted swiftly, double clutching to keep her revs up, then flooring the gas, their speed climbing fast now.

 

Jon loved cars, especially good old American muscle cars, but he’d never before encountered a woman who drove them like this, always keeping just on the fine edge of control.  He’d also never known what a turn-on it would be, even though he knew well enough that a fast ride in a hot car could convince many an angel to abandon her halo.  It was almost a disappointment when Kyra slowed to take an exit, then almost immediately turned onto a long driveway, accelerating again on the smooth asphalt.  Moments later, rounding a gentle curve, they reached a sprawling ranch house and she braked to a gentle halt by the front porch.

 

“We’re here.”  She smirked.  “You can stop holding on now.”

 

“Smart ass.”  Jon growled, opening the door with a grin.  “Nice place.”

 

“Thanks.”  Kyra slammed her door and led the way up the porch steps, opening the front door without a key.

 

“Somebody else home?”  Jon asked softly, following her inside.

 

“No.  Oh, you mean because the door wasn’t locked?”

 

Jon nodded.

 

“I never lock it.”  She shrugged.  “You’re in the country now, city boy.”

 

“So you live here alone?”  Jon checked, advancing toward Kyra.

 

”Yes, why?”

 

“I’d hate to think you were disturbing the household when you’re screaming.”  He slid his hands onto her waist.  “When you’re screaming my name, I mean.”

 

“Don’t make promises if you don’t intend keeping them.”

 

“I always keep my promises, Kyra.”

 

He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers, pulling back when she tried for a firmer contact, then kissing lightly again, his lips tugging on hers until her mouth opened, her tongue flicking over both their lips, then he gave in, sliding his tongue into her mouth.  That deep kiss lasted a long time, until it was Kyra who pulled back, her eyes hungry as she looked at him.

 

“Upstairs.”  She whispered, taking one of his hands and leading him there.

 

9

 

Willingly, Jon followed Kyra upstairs, his fingers tightening on hers the further they went.  The staircase opened into a sort of sitting room, almost a library, with bookshelves lining every wall, but Kyra didn’t pause, leading him to a door and opening it.

 

They entered her bedroom, sparsely furnished with just a huge bed flanked by a pair of nightstands, and an old-fashioned dresser, complete with tri-fold mirrors.

 

Jon had left his black suit coat in the car, and Kyra raised one hand to rake through the dark mat of fur exposed in his open shirt front.  He kissed her again, groaning when her hand slid further into his shirt, her fingertips caressing his nipple.  When Jon brought his hand up onto the back of her neck, the cool, bare skin made him yearn to feel her long hair, and he broke the kiss to speak.

 

“Take your hair down.”  He said softly.

 

“Wait.”  Kyra said, stepping back.

 

Reaching behind herself, she untied the silk sashes which crossed over her breasts, then with a gentle shrugging motion the dress landed at her feet, leaving her in flesh-tone underwear and pale golden sandals. 

 

Now she crossed to the dresser, sinking down to sit on the low stool, leaning forward to unstrap her sandals, kicking them off.  As Jon watched her, and Kyra watched him in the mirror – watched him watching her – she unpinned her hair and let it fall around her, springing with curls.  Jon unbuttoned his shirt – both buttons - and dropped it beside her dress, walking across to stand behind her.  He smoothed her hair down the centre of her back then just rested his hands on her shoulders, their eyes meeting in the mirror, both smiling.

 

“Tell me what you like.”  Jon murmured.

 

“I like to be touched.”  She said, crossing her arms and laying her hands over his.  “And I like to touch.”

 

“Me, too.”

 

Kyra watched him in the reflection, not sure why she was being so open – perhaps it was after his frank admission back at the fundraiser.

 

“I like long and slow and tender lovemaking.”  She smirked.  “But, then, I also like, sometimes, fast and rough......well.......”

 

“Fucking?”  Jon asked, his cock impatiently suggesting they make up their minds before he just came in his jeans.

 

“Uh-huh.”  Kyra said shyly.  “Like you said back in the city – I’m easy.”

 

“Hey!”  Swiftly, Jon flipped his hands palm-up, gripping Kyra’s hands.  “You know that’s not how I meant it!”

 

He let go of her hands and dropped his hands onto her waist, hot palms against her sides as he lifted her to her feet.  Kyra turned to face him and they kissed once more, Jon’s hands dropping lower still, wrapping firmly around her buttocks.  She pressed herself against him, the chill of the brass jeans button not distracting her from the hard lump below.

 

“Shit!”  Jon pulled away with a worried look.  “I don’t have.......d’you.....?”

 

“Yes.”  Kyra nodded.  “Bathroom cupboard.”

 

“Where?”

 

Kyra rolled her eyes and pointed to the bed.

 

“Just a sec.”

 

She headed through a white-painted door and Jon went over to the bed, stripping his jeans off, cautious with the zipper as it passed over sensitised, swollen flesh.  He threw back the cover and sat on the edge of the bed, cursing softly at the chill of the silk sheet under him.  Kyra returned with a foil packet in her fingers, crossing to stand in front  of him, no shyness in her now as she looked down at him, at the stiff shaft so obviously desperate for release.

 

Jon reached up, behind her, unhooking her bra with only a minor struggle, pulling it off and tossing it aside.  He cupped her breasts with both hands, thumbs lightly circling already-hard nipples, and Kyra moaned softly when he raised himself a little, those soft lips taking her nipples one at a time, kisses turning to licks, licks turning to sucking, his fingers always ensuring that the nipple not in his mouth didn’t feel left out.

 

Kyra tore open the foil with trembling fingers, and when Jon heard the unmistakable sound his hands dropped to her thong, tugging it downward as he still sucked on an aching nipple.  He got the thong to mid-thigh, then her fingers touched his swollen head and he moved to quickly grab her wrist.

 

He looked up at her now, seeing her surprised expression, but he slowly folded her fingers – and his own – around his cock, sliding both their hands along his length.  Kyra tightened her grip as she pushed down, Jon’s groan her reward, then he pulled their hands away again, taking the condom from her fingers instead.

 

“Take off your panties.”

 

Kyra obeyed, watching him sheathe himself in the thin latex, and she saw Jon’s relieved smile when he saw how wet her panties were – how wet she was.  She crawled past him onto the bed, Jon turning to see her lying waiting, her hands out to him.

 

He kissed her again, harder now, and when his fingers dipped between her thighs she instinctively spread herself for him, moaning at the tender touches on her clit.  Moving deeper, Jon tried sliding one finger inside, and she was so wet that there wasn’t even the slightest resistance.   A second finger joined the invasion, and now – already – he felt the pulsing contractions of her walls, his cock jumping in response.

 

“Please.”  Kyra murmured, her hand in his hair tightening as his fingers thrust deeper.  “I need......I need you inside me.”

 

“Right where I want to be, Kyra.”  He groaned, shifting to lie between her thighs.

 

Kyra brought her free hand down to his cock, holding and guiding the rigid shaft until the head pushed into her, gasping when Jon just flicked his hips forward, filling her in that single stroke.

 

Jon thrust into her again, slow, deep strokes, bringing one hand onto her ass, cupping below her buttock to pull her leg up, deepening his thrusts.  He forced himself to keep the same rhythm – as much as he wanted to pound himself against her, he refused to let himself do it – not this very first time.  Kyra was bucking under him, her hips matching him on every thrust, and she pulled his mouth onto hers again, trying to muffle her moans.

 

Knowing what she was doing, Jon just kissed her briefly then raised his head, watching her face.  She moaned loudly, the sound ripped from her throat as she started to cum, clenching tightly around Jon’s cock as he still drove into her, the pressure drawing a groan from him then slamming him into his own orgasm.

 

Jon thrust into her until the last of the spasms had shaken through them both, then he pulled out of her, collapsing onto the mattress beside her, his breathing harsh as he panted.  Kyra wasn’t much better, lying with one leg still between Jon’s, since he hadn’t quite made it all the way off her.  After long minutes, Jon raised his head to look at her with a sappy grin.

 

“You didn’t scream.”  He pouted, and Kyra giggled, enough strength and co-ordination now that she could reach to caress his hair.

 

“You’ll have to try harder.”

 

Jon stared, then laughed, raising a hand.

 

“Just gimme a  minute, darlin’.”

 

10

 

When her breathing had returned to something approaching normal, Kyra eased out from under Jon, heading into the bathroom.  Lying on her bed, Jon waited until he heard the sound of a flushing toilet, then he rolled onto his back, stripping off the condom and getting to his feet.  Kyra was just returning to the bedroom as Jon stood, and she gave him a shy smile.

 

“Would you like a drink?”  She asked.  “I need a drink.”

 

“Sure.”  Jon replied.  “I’m just gonna clean up.”

 

“Okay.  I’ll be downstairs.”  Kyra said, then paused, looking down at the silk dress puddled on the floor.  “Damn.”

 

She picked up the dress, relieved when the fine fabric didn’t snag on the floorboards, and she crossed to a wall which Jon now realised was made up of sliding doors, opening one and finding a hanger inside, sliding the dress onto it then hooking it with a few others, obviously waiting to go for cleaning.  Snagging a robe from inside the closet, she slipped it on, then turned to look toward the bathroom.

 

“Jon – do you want a robe or anything?  I think there’s a spare one somewhere.”

 

“Nah.”  His voice floated out of the bathroom.  “I can just put my jeans on.”

 

“Oh, okay.  I’ll be downstairs, then.  What d’you want to drink?”

 

“What have you got?”  He asked, walking back into the bedroom, unselfconsciously naked.

 

“Ummm........coffee, tea, water, wine, coke, beer, whisky, tequila, ready-made margaritas.....”

 

“Jesus!  A full bar, then?”  Jon laughed as he stepped into his jeans, hoisting them to his waist.  “Lead me to the beer, darlin’.”

 

He followed Kyra downstairs, for some reason loving that she didn’t feel any need to tidy her hair from the tangled curls, mussed up even more from their activity on her bed, smiling when she just ran both hands through, sweeping the hair off her face.  Her kitchen ran through into a dining room, both rooms having sliding doors out to a wood deck. 

 

Kyra grabbed two beers from the fridge, twisting off the caps and handing Jon a frosty bottle. 

 

“Want to sit outside?”  She asked, already heading for the doors, and Jon didn’t bother to answer, just followed her out.

 

As she opened the door, Kyra flipped a switch, turning on lights which threw a glow of gentle light over the deck, illuminating a wrought-iron patio set.  Kyra crossed to sit in one of the chairs, Jon staying on his feet a moment longer, looking down off the deck, squinting as he tried to work out what he was seeing in the dim light.

 

“Hey – is that a pool?”

 

“Mm-hm.  I swim most mornings.”

 

“Cool.” 

 

Satisfied, Jon sat down, pushing his chair at an angle so he could look at Kyra, grinning at her.

 

“What?”  His gaze unsettled her, and she had to ask.

 

“Nothing.  I was just thinking how good you looked in that dress, but you looked even better out of it.”  He sipped beer.  “So – Devaney Foundation?  It’s yours?”

 

“Uh-huh.”  Kyra looked slightly embarrassed.  “My mom’s family had the money, and her name was Devaney, so......”

 

“When we met, I know you said you worked for a foundation – I didn’t realise you were the Foundation!  Pretty cool thing to do.  I guess Rich was right – you are a guardian angel.”  

 

“He told you that?  Sonofabitch!”  Kyra giggled.  “I’m not an angel – I just figure I can’t spend all mom’s money on me.  Well, okay, I could, but spas and jewels aren’t me.  I’m comfortable, and what I don’t need can help a lot of people.”

 

Jon smirked.  He just couldn’t keep the comment to himself.  “You’re damn right you’re ‘comfortable’, Kyra..........I sure as hell felt comfortable in you......I mean with you......”

 

“Smart-ass!”  She snapped with a grin.

 

He nodded, grinning silently around a mouthful of beer.  They fell into a companionable silence, enjoying the evening as the air cooled from the stifling heat of the day, the tiny sounds of the night animals and insects beginning to grow around them.

 

“Are you hungry?”  Kyra asked suddenly, startling Jon.

 

“I guess.  Not starving, but I could nibble on something.”

 

“Popcorn.”  Kyra announced, getting out of her chair and taking her almost empty beer with her into the kitchen.

 

Jon sat for a few more minutes, until his beer was gone, and as he thought of popcorn, and of melted butter, and of Kyra, he got to his feet and followed her indoors.  She was frowning at a package of microwave corn and Jon chuckled softly.

 

“I think you just throw it in and turn it on.”  He suggested.

 

“Huh?!  Smart-ass – again!”  She laughed.  “It’s kinda past it’s use-by date........I don’t know if it’s okay.”

 

He stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder to read the date.  It was only a month or two out of date, but when he opened his mouth to say so, he caught a breath of her perfume, and the scent took his mind off popcorn entirely.  Gently, he laid his hands onto her hips, slowly sliding them to the front of her body as he pushed closer against her.  Kyra purred deep in her throat, and Jon nuzzled his way through her long hair until he found soft skin, kissing her neck then opening his lips, nibbling her skin.

 

“I thought you were hungry?”  Kyra whispered, tilting her head away to give him better access.

 

“I said I wanted to nibble on something.”  Jon murmured against her skin.  “I never said what.”

 

Tugging on her belt, Jon got the robe open, still nibbling at her neck as he opened the soft fabric, getting his hands onto softer skin.

 

“Just toss the popcorn in the micro.”  He said, working up her neck to her ear.  “And we can work up an appetite for it.”

 

Kyra’s soft laugh came out on a moan as his lips tugged at her earlobe, and she did as he suggested, tossing the package into the microwave and punching in the time.  As soon as it started to cook, Jon turned her around, into his arms, taking her mouth fiercely this time so that Kyra’s hands fisted into his hair, dragging him closer.

 

11

 

Kyra moaned softly as Jon’s tongue tangled with hers, probing deep into her mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts.  Her robe was hanging open, so she could feel his furred chest against her nipples, every touch a tantalising friction against sensitised flesh.

 

Even though she’d had him little more than an hour before, Kyra could feel a desperate hunger in her belly, a raw need to have him driving inside her again, and she knew he felt the same way when his hands closed roughly on her ass, fingertips digging into her.

 

She knotted one hand into his tangled hair, her other hand on his back, both hands pulling him closer.  His cock, still trapped within his jeans, was pressing impatiently forward, the solid pressure against the triangle of soft fur at the base of her belly making her moan into his kiss, pulling back suddenly to whimper brokenly.

 

“Upstairs…..”

 

“Right here.”  Jon replied with a crooked grin.

 

“But - we need - from the bathroom upstairs.”

 

Jon’s grin just got wider as he reached to his jeans pocket.

 

“I took the liberty of helping myself before I put my jeans back on.”

 

“I didn’t see you….”  Kyra murmured, starting to smile again.

 

“Yeah, well, you know what they say about the speed of the hand.”  He smirked, one hand sliding from her ass, across her hip and deep between her thighs, two fingers entering her without warning so she gasped and Jon chuckled.  “See what I mean?”

 

“Jesus…….uh-huh…”  Kyra whined as he drew his hand back and thrust deep again.  “More.”  She whimpered.

 

For a minute, Jon was going to keep on teasing her, but Kyra brought a hand between them, cupping and squeezing the bulge in his jeans, drawing a groan from his throat.  Fighting for control, Jon pushed her backward, toward the counter, working his hand against her again.  When they kissed this time, it was hungry and almost brutal, each of them fighting for dominance, gasping and moaning as Kyra fumbled with the zipper of his jeans, finally getting them open and pushing the tight denim down to his thighs.

 

Now Jon slid his fingers out of her, digging into his pocket for one of the condoms he’d stashed there earlier.  For just a second, he broke the kiss as he ripped the foil and covered himself with the annoying but important layer.

 

Kyra was pinned back against the counter, and Jon just pushed one bare foot between hers, encouraging her legs apart.  He bent his knees, one hand on his cock, guiding, pressing the swollen head inside, then straightening his legs to drive deep.  Kyra groaned in pleasure as he stretched her again, filling her, and Jon left his hand between her thighs for a moment then reached forward to grip the edge of the counter, Kyra’s thigh raised on his forearm, holding her wide open.  Her moans maddened him, and he slammed up into her this time, Kyra grabbing onto his shoulders.

 

“Yes.”  She groaned.  “Like that.”

 

Jon flashed a grin, then he kissed her again, his hips still pumping hard against her, driving them both toward that ultimate pleasure.  He could feel her moans on his tongue, and maybe she could feel his, but Jon pulled back again, nipping his way along her jaw to her ear, his free hand on her breast now.  Kyra’s head dropped back, Jon’s mouth on her throat, her nails in his back, and Jon could feel her starting to tip toward orgasm.  He was close behind her, his voice guttural and hoarse as he panted to her.

 

“Scream for me, Kyra….”

 

“Jesus, Jon.”  She whimpered.  “I….please……more…….I……Jon!”  Her voice rose to a scream as he slammed her into orgasm, screaming his name again as she felt him stiffen against her, his own orgasm as violent as hers, roaring her name as he arched his back, pounding her against the counter with every thrust.

 

Kyra was sobbing for breath as she relaxed her grip on Jon, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and laying her head on his shoulder.  Jon rested against her briefly, then he lifted her a little, raising her off him and onto the counter, stripping off the condom and dropping it into the bin close by.  He hoisted his jeans to his waist and zipped them, then he pulled Kyra to him, her legs wrapping around his waist, and with her curled around him like that he carried her from the kitchen, up to her bedroom.  There he laid her on the mattress, and while he removed his jeans she tiredly pulled off her robe and tossed it to the floor.  Jon climbed into her bed and took her in his arms, and that was how they fell asleep.

 

When Kyra woke, in the early morning as usual, it was to the unfamiliar - but definitely not unpleasant - sensation of a strong arm across her waist and a hot, hard body against her back.  She could feel warm, rhythmic breathing on the back of her neck, slow and steady as Jon still slept.  Cautiously, Kyra eased out from under his arm and, though he frowned slightly, he didn’t wake.

 

She tiptoed to the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and when she emerged a few minutes later she felt more human, having at least cleaned her teeth.  Jon was still asleep - Kyra guessed that, in his line of work, early mornings weren’t often necessary - but the sun that was already more than halfway above the horizon was calling to her.  She pulled on her robe, still on the floor from the previous night, and headed for the kitchen.

 

There was a delicious tenderness between her thighs, and deeper inside, distracting her with thoughts of just how it had been caused.   Smiling at the memories, she started a pot of coffee before walking out onto the deck.  Already the air was warming pleasantly, and without a second thought Kyra followed her usual morning routine, going down the few steps to the side of her swimming pool, dropping her robe onto a wooden lounger and slipping into the cool silk of the water.

 

The aroma of fresh, strong coffee roused Jon from sleep, and he looked around the bedroom as he dragged himself to a sitting position.

 

“Kyra?”  He said softly, but there was no response, and the open bathroom door and the smell of coffee combined to convince him she was already downstairs.

 

He threw back the cover and got out of bed, heading into the bathroom.  Returning to the bedroom, the sunlight drew him toward the window, and he looked outside, grinning when he saw the figure in the pool.  He grabbed his jeans from the floor and pulled them on before heading downstairs, straight through the kitchen and out onto the deck.  Down the few steps, he stood by the side of the pool, watching her swim, and she must have felt his eyes on her, because she stopped suddenly, raising her head from the water and looking at him.

 

“Good morning.”  Jon grinned, and Kyra wrinkled her nose at him, sweeping her wet hair back from her face.

 

“Good morning to you.”

 

“Isn’t that freezing?”

 

“Nope.  It’s perfect.”  Kyra smiled at him.  “You could join me if you like.”

 

“I don’t have a suit.”  Jon shrugged, but she just laughed at him, rolling onto her back in the water, seeing Jon’s grin.

 

“Me neither.”  Kyra told him, stating the obvious, and Jon didn’t need any more encouragement, shucking his jeans and dropping into the pool, grinning as he stroked toward her.

 

12

 

As Jon moved across to Kyra, he realised that the floor of the pool sloped slightly, the water growing deeper the further he went.  Kyra was just barely on tiptoe, and Jon stopped before he got quite that deep, reaching to grab her hand, pulling her toward him instead.  With the steadying pressure of her hand in his, Jon arched back, dipping his head into the cool water, soaking his tangled blond hair so it slicked back from his face.  Straightening again, he finished pulling Kyra in so her body pressed against his, a delightful contradiction of firm muscles and soft breasts against his chest.

 

“Good morning.”  He said again, grinning as her hands came around onto his butt.

 

“You already said that.”

 

“I did, huh?”  He teased, and when Kyra nodded with a cheeky smile he moved closer.  “And did I already do this?”

 

Before she could ask what ‘this’ was, she found out, as Jon’s tongue eased her lips apart before plunging into her mouth, the heat and taste of him strange and familiar all at one time.  Sighing, Kyra kissed him back equally, her hands rising onto his back as his slid down to cup her ass, pressing her against him.  Kyra moved her hips slightly, rubbing onto the growing hardness, then she freed one hand from his back, reaching between their bodies to touch, her fingers folding around him, stroking slowly as he got harder, bringing him fully erect.

 

The feeling of him against her, and the combination of the hot, talented tongue caressing her mouth and the rigid shaft in her hand, was getting Kyra wetter than she’d have ever expected.  Moments later, when Jon slowly brought one hand between her thighs, he groaned softly as he felt the hot, slick wetness there.  A wetness that had nothing to do with the water surrounding them, and everything to do with a woman who wanted him.  He slipped the tips of two fingers just inside her, feeling her body accept and welcome him, then he got both hands onto her waist, lifting her until the slim thighs locked around his hips.  Kyra still grasped his cock in one hand, and as she began to guide him inside she paused, just as Jon swore with the same realisation.

 

“Shit.”  He muttered.  “In my jeans.”

 

He lifted Kyra away again, and with a soft chuckle she swam away from him, heading to the edge of the pool.

 

“You swim like a fish.”  Jon said, walking after her, the drag of the water slowing him.  It wasn’t as though he couldn’t swim, but the way she moved in the water, lithe and relaxed, made her seem completely at home there, the swimming as effortless as breathing.

 

“Fish are cold and slimy.”  Kyra pointed out.  “Is that what you mean?”

 

“Hell, no.”  He grinned.  “Okay - you swim like a mermaid.  Better?”

 

“Uh-huh.”  She nodded as she reached the edge of the pool, levering herself out of the water and reaching for his jeans.

 

Jon looked at her as he approached, the pale ass and her bent position making his cock ache as it tried to convince him to just grab her hips and slam into her from behind.  As he touched her back, though, Kyra gave a frustrated cry.

 

“I can’t reach!”

 

Chuckling, Jon pulled her away, lifting himself from the pool, twisting around to sit on the edge.  His knees spread apart for balance, Jon leaned back to grab his jeans, but as he dragged the denim closer he felt a soft touch between his thighs, swivelling to look down again.

 

Kyra had moved in close, between his legs, and one gentle hand was caressing his balls, the other closing on his dick again.

 

“Kyra?”  Jon mumbled, gasping when she slowly kissed the tip of him, open-mouthed and deliberate.  “Fuuuuuck.”  He groaned.

 

She released him from hands and mouth, spreading her palms on his thighs for support as she started a gradual, nuzzling exploration of his hard, intimate flesh.  Soft kisses trailed down his shaft, but Jon held control until her face was buried low, losing his personal fight when she sucked his balls into her mouth in turn, teasing each equally with lips and tongue, the soft flesh tensing under her attentions.

 

His right hand fell onto her head as he leaned his weight back on his left, but he didn’t try to dictate her movements, recognising that this girl - this woman - knew exactly what she was doing.  She licked around the base of him, her tongue unerringly finding the fat vein on the underside, following it’s track up to his distended head.  The tiniest, gentlest touches of her teeth on him had Jon groaning, pleading with her to take him in her mouth.  And she did, fluttering kisses around his tip, light swipes of her tongue on quivering flesh, finally opening her mouth on him, raising herself on her hands to adjust the angle before sinking him all the way into her mouth, not for the first time blessing her easily controlled gag reflex as she listened to his gratified moan.

 

The water buoyed her weight, and gentle kicks of her legs were enough to set her into motion on him, sucking on him every time she rose up, letting him deep in her throat as she sank down, swallowing against him to increase the pressure.  His hand was tight in her hair, helping her move at the best rhythm for him, and as his thighs tightened into solid bunches of muscle, Kyra felt him try to pull her off him, not wanting to cum in her mouth.

 

She jabbed her fingernails into his tense thighs, growling her disagreement.  It was something she’d never objected to, and Jon seemed to understand quickly.  Or perhaps his willpower failed, because he just groaned and gripped her head harder.

 

Sitting on the edge of the pool, Jon looked down at the dark head bobbing at his groin, his hand wound tight in the long hair and the mouth wrapped around him possibly the most talented he’d ever encountered.  And after being in the rock business for over a dozen years now, he had plenty of basis for comparison.  Moving her faster, he let his head fall back, his hips thrusting up every time his hand pushed her down.  His breath was coming in panting gasps, the sensations building higher and higher until they broke him apart, a hoarse shout of pleasure accompanying the spurting release into her throat, Kyra taking everything he gave to her without protest.

 

Jon was still gasping as he forced himself to relax his hand, raising her face from where he’d buried it against his crotch.  Tilting his head forward again, he managed to focus his eyes on hers.

 

“I’m sorry.”  He whispered.  “I didn’t mean to…….”

 

“I don’t mind.”  Kyra said, honesty in her eyes, turning to confusion when Jon chuckled breathlessly.  “What?”  She asked.

 

“Nothing.”  He smirked.  “I just never had a blow job from a mermaid before.”

 

Kyra stared for a second, then giggled.  “What?  You thought all we could blow was bubbles?”

 

“Something like that.”  Jon flushed slightly as a thought struck him.  “I’m sorry, again, Kyra.  We - you - didn’t……”  He grinned crookedly.  “You’ll have to gimme a minute or ten here, darlin’.”

 

Arching her brows at him, she smirked. 

 

“Men.”  She stated.  “No imagination.”

 

13

 

“No imagination?”  Jon repeated with a grin, looking down at her.  “Oh, I got a great imagination, darlin’, trust me.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”  He muttered, turning to grab her soft robe from the lounger, dropping it onto the edge of the pool before sliding himself into the water again.

 

Kyra was still close to the edge of the pool, and Jon caught her by both shoulders, kissing her hard, the taste of his own cum in her mouth turning him on again, from what she’d done for - to - him.  Still kissing her hard, Jon turned them both around, pushing her backward until her head bumped against the edge of the pool, cushioned by the robe.  He shifted closer, tilting his own head a little, deepening their kiss, Kyra’s hands in his hair.

 

Jon slid one hand up her wet body, cupping a round breast in his palm and squeezing gently, feeling her sigh flutter on his tongue.  He took his mouth gently away from hers, kissing down her throat, forced to take a breath before dipping his head underwater to suck on her nipple, Kyra gasping at the heat of his mouth through the cool water.  Obviously, though, he couldn’t stay there for long, and Jon came up for air, kissing her hard and fast again as his hands dropped under her ass, lifting her slightly.  Another deep breath, then he sank below the water, dragging his tongue down the centre of her body until he was almost on his knees on the pool floor.

 

Shifting his grip, Jon got his shoulders under her thighs, then straightened his legs slowly again, raising Kyra up out of the water.

 

“Jon?”  She blurted as his head, and her body, came clear of the surface.

 

He didn’t even answer, just moved a little closer, her thighs on his shoulders and his hands under her body as his blond head dropped to her crotch, his lips seeking out the swollen bud.  When his mouth touched her, Kyra whimpered, spreading her arms on the edge of the pool as she rested her head against the robe, more than happy to let him continue.  Jon closed his lips lightly around her clit, the tight nub of flesh already stimulated into aching hunger by her skilful ministrations on his cock.  He just drew his lips across her, repeating it over and over until she was whimpering pitifully, begging him for more.

 

Jon changed his motion just slightly, sucking on her as he pulled back, and Kyra instinctively spread her thighs wider, inviting more.  Leaving her clit for now, Jon’s tongue stroked down between her thighs, parting the soft flesh with gentle licks until he could slide his tongue inside her, thrusting in as deeply as he could, Kyra jerking against him when he curled his tongue forward, licking inside.

 

Thrusting his tongue, Jon slowly fucked her with his mouth, his hands busy in supporting her body.  When he heard her whining his name, he slid his tongue out of her, reluctant to leave her taste, but licking his way up to her clit again, closing his lips around it, touching gently with his teeth so that she bucked against him.  Her heels were pressing against his back, unconsciously urging him on, and Jon gave a low purr of satisfaction, the sound vibrating in his mouth, buzzing against Kyra’s clit so that she moaned louder.

 

Dipping his tongue into her again, Jon could feel her walls pulsing at the touch, and he knew she was right on the very brink of orgasm.  He brought his mouth to her clit again, sucking rhythmically, his hands grasping her waist to hold her still as she climaxed, crying out in pleasure, her hips rising toward him every time he sucked. 

 

As Kyra slowly relaxed, Jon slid his tongue down again, lapping against her, feeling the spasms fading as he licked the juices trickling from her.  When he felt her soften in his grip, her muscles recovering from the orgasm, he kissed her pussy once more before shifting her thighs down off his shoulders, sliding her back down into the water.

 

“No imagination, she says.”  Jon muttered, grinning at her flushed face.

 

“I’m sorry.”  Kyra gave him a demure look through her lashes, a satisfied smirk twisting her lips in direct counterpoint of her expression.  “How could I have doubted you?”

 

“I don’t know.”  He said sadly, pouting.  “I think you were just trying to hurt my feelings.”

 

“Nope.”  She pressed her body against his, sliding her hands down his back to grip his ass as she looked up at him.  “I was just horny.”

 

Chuckling at that, Jon kissed her, the tender kiss spiced with the taste of each other in their mouths, each tasting themselves, intensifying the simple pleasure of the kiss.

 

Kyra’s body was still recovering from her orgasm, but Jon’s was obviously fully recovered, as Kyra found out as she became aware of a hardening lump pressing against her.  She rubbed lightly forward, feeling his cock harden more quickly at the friction, Jon groaning softly at the delicious feeling.

 

“We need to get outta this pool.”  He mumbled against her lips.  “I want you, Kyra.  Right now.”

 

“Why not here?”

 

He chuckled.  “ ‘cause I never did get anything from my jeans.  C’mon, mermaid.”

 

“You just wanna see my tail.”  She joked as they parted, moving to the steel ladder at one corner of the pool.

 

“Damned right.”  His hand dropped under the water, grabbing and squeezing her ass.  “In fact, I wanna hold on tight to your ‘tail’ while you ride me, darlin’.”

 

“You’re good with the orders, aren’t you?!”  Kyra had reached the ladder and was climbing out, Jon taking advantage of her position in front of him to push a hand between her thighs, feeling how wet her pussy was, making her gasp. 

 

“Yes, ma’am.”  He purred, following her up the ladder.

 

While he fished in the pocket of his jeans for a condom, sliding it onto his wet, swollen dick, Kyra picked up her robe, only slightly soggy at one edge from draping into the pool.  She spread it on the wooden lounger, and Jon stepped past her to settle himself on the low bed, reaching for her.

 

Kyra straddled the bed - and Jon - letting his hands on her hips guide her down onto his waiting erection.  She sank slowly onto him, holding her muscles tight against him so that by the time he was all the way into her Jon was panting from the delightful pressure around him.  When Kyra flicked her hips on him, his fingers tightened on her hips, holding her from moving.

 

“Wait.”  He grated, clenching his jaw, fighting the urge to drive her hard, knowing he had to snatch back control before he just exploded inside her. 

 

She understood, grinning as she let him hold her in place, just leaning down to kiss him instead.  His mouth was hungry under hers, and after a few moments his hands started to move her again, his dick so swollen now that Kyra gasped at every movement, the thick shaft stretching her with every slow roll of her hips.  She lifted her lips from his, looking down into the blue eyes, then Jon raised his head, sucking a nipple into his mouth, still moving her on him.

 

Kyra reached over his shoulders, bracing her hands on the back of the bed, the position of the back-rest keeping Jon at a perfect angle to tease her breasts with his mouth.  She took back control of her motion now, moving in longer strokes, his hands no longer urging but just gripping hard, tilting her slightly more, grinding her clit against the coarse hair at the base of him.  Kyra moaned at the friction, and the feeling of him inside her, filling her deep inside with his hot flesh.

 

Getting closer to orgasm, Kyra tilted her body back from Jon, wanting to see his face, watching his eyes while he watched hers, seeing his grin when she bit on her lip to keep silent as the pleasure coursed through her.

 

“I want you to scream.”  He whispered, but she shook her head defiantly.

 

Grinning again, Jon leaned to take her nipple in his teeth, a gentle bite, then sucking the whole tip into his mouth.  Kyra groaned loudly, but he still wasn’t satisfied, taking control from her again, raising her up and pulling her onto him hard.  He bit on her nipple again, this time lifting her and slamming her down, and when he heard her swear he dropped his head back, watching her face as he plunged her down onto him again, feeling her vice around him as she did scream, her hands falling from the bed to grip his shoulders, fingernails driving into his skin.

 

As Kyra came hard, Jon’s hands on her hips kept her moving, his own hips thrusting up against her, until his back arched off the bed in his own orgasm, pumping into her as the heat broke from him, Kyra still panting as he finally let her stop moving, her body just drooping down onto his.  Jon wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and Kyra lifted her hands from his shoulders to his head, cupping her hands around his wet hair without a word.

 

Kyra was still astride him, Jon slowly softening and slipping away, and she shuddered slightly as she felt him leave her.

 

“Just let me……”  Jon reached down between her thighs, stripping away the condom and dropping it to the ground beside the lounger. 

 

As his hand came up again, he gripped her thigh, moving her to lie more comfortably on top of him, Kyra resting her head on his shoulder with a sigh.  Jon ran his fingers through her long, wet hair, stroking it down her back and just leaving his hand there, holding her close.  He wasn’t usually so overtly sentimental with someone he’d just met, and who could well just be a one-night stand to get her out of his system, but he felt comfortable with Kyra.  Comfortable in a way he’d only felt with one woman before, and even then he and Dorothea hadn’t stayed together forever, as he’d thought they would.

 

Kyra snuggled against him, enjoying the warmth of his body under hers, and the warmth of the new sun on her back.  After a few minutes of luxurious laziness, she raised her head, propping her chin on his chest to look at him.

 

“I made coffee.”  She said huskily.  “Do you want coffee?”

 

Jon groaned a soft protest, looking at her.  “I do, but not if it means you getting off me.”

 

“Well, it’s not going to walk down itself, is it?”  Kyra started to push herself up, but Jon’s hand came off her shoulder and onto her head, pushing her to cuddle against him again.

 

“Coffee can wait a while.”  He murmured, closing his eyes.  “This is nice.”

 

“Hmmm.”  She subsided without argument, shifting her weight slightly, one leg between his.

 

His eyes still closed, a gentle smile on his lips, Jon spoke again.

 

“What you doin’ today, then?”  A silent chuckle shook his chest.  “Other than me, I mean.”

 

“Asshole.”  Kyra said without anger.  “I have to go into my office, find out how last night went.”

 

“You mean you don’t remember?”  Even without looking up, she knew he was pouting.  “Damn.  I thought I was good last night, too!”

 

“Oh, you were.  You were very, very good last night.  And this morning.  But I meant the fundraising.”  Kyra pinched his nipple lightly.  “I hope you contributed!”

 

“Absolutely, babe.”  He assured her.

 

“Glad to hear it.”

 

They fell silent again.  Kyra was starting to get hungry, but she was reluctant to move away from the peaceful Jon, so they were still lying together, snuggled on the bed with their eyes closed when they were disturbed.

 

“Well, ain’t that fuckin’ sweet.”  Came a male voice from close by, Jon and Kyra both jolting from their pleasant doze.

 

“What the fuck?”  Jon muttered, opening his eyes to see someone standing over them.  His instinctive reaction surprised him, as he grabbed at the trailing robe, flicking it over Kyra’s body to shield her from whoever was there.  “Who are you?”

 

“I’m her boyfriend.”  Was the snarled response.

 

14

 

“You’re what?!”  Jon said in shock, tipping his head to look at Kyra.

 

It wasn’t like he didn’t know a lot of women had him as their ‘free pass’ from their husbands or boyfriends or whatever, but he’d not expected that of Kyra.  She raised her head from his shoulder, and when he saw the blazing anger in her eyes he was almost comforted.  If nothing else, he was willing to defer judgement until he heard what she had to say.  He didn’t have to wait long.

 

“What did you say?”  She snapped, raising her head to look at the guy, trying to keep herself concealed as much as possible by the robe and Jon’s body.  “We’re not going over this same fucking ground again, Jared.”  Kyra turned her head to look at Jon, a plea for understanding in her eyes.  “He’s not my boyfriend, Jon.  Never has been, never damned well will be, no matter how many times he tries to pull shit like this.”

 

“We dated.”  The guy said sullenly and Kyra groaned, her face flushed bright red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

 

“Jared, we went for a meal once.  Once!  And as you well know, it wasn’t exactly a date.  There were at least fourteen other people there - all of whom - like you - work for me in some way or another.  You need to stop this.”

 

Jon looked up again, looking closer and seeing how young the guy was.  Barely mid-twenties would be his guess, and his mind came firmly down on Kyra’s side, believing now that the guy just had a crush on her.  A huge, seriously delusional crush, but a crush nonetheless.  With that thought comforting his mind, Jon tugged the robe further over Kyra’s naked body, glaring up at Jared.

 

“Why don’t you just back off, buddy?”  Jon suggested, pressing his fingers against Kyra, hoping she’d understand his intention.  “As the lady just reminded you, she’s not yours.”  He sneered.  “She’s mine.”

 

Kyra flashed a shocked look at Jon, then saw it in his eyes and relaxed, smiling at him.  When she did that, though, Jon felt a tug of possession that surprised him, and he carefully eased out from under Kyra, pulling her to a sitting position on the bed, facing away from Jared.  As he’d moved, Jon had kept the robe around her, and now he tucked it closer as she slid her arms through the sleeves.  To ram home the point to young Jared, who stood watching with an angry scowl, Jon - still naked - raised Kyra to her feet and pulled her close, kissing her lingeringly.  With his tongue still in her mouth, Jon opened his eyes, glaring at Jared, his eyes clearly telling the younger guy that this woman belonged to him, then he closed his eyes to savor the kiss.

 

Finally pulling back, realising Jared still stood watching them, Jon smiled at Kyra, and she gently cupped one hand around his cheek in a tender gesture, apparently oblivious to their audience of one.  Jon turned his head, kissing her open palm, then he took a few steps away to pick up his jeans, pulling them on easily since the sun had dried his body.  He zipped and buttoned before turning to offer a hand to Kyra, pulling her to him and laying his arm around her shoulders, smirking at Jared.

 

“I think we need coffee.”  Jon murmured against Kyra’s still-damp hair.

 

“I know I do.”  She replied with a smile, then turned to face the other man, her smile fading, ice entering her voice.  “Did you want something, Jared?”

 

“I……..uhh…….I wanted to…….”  He flushed.  “I wanted to let you know that Cinders is doing better, and I know you’re usually swimming around now.”

 

Kyra’s eyes narrowed angrily as she repeated his words.  “You know I’m usually swimming…..?  So you thought it’d be a good idea to come all the way up here to tell me she’s ‘doing better’?  Even though you know I’ll be down there soon enough.”

 

“Well, I……..”

 

Jon squeezed his arm around her.  “Darlin’, I think what he’s trying to say is that he figured seeing you in a swimsuit was worth coming up for.”  He frowned.  “Or he hoped to catch you without one.”

 

“No!  I didn’t…..”  Jared broke off, not even bothering to try to deny it since it was so obvious.  “I’m sorry, Kyra.”

 

She sighed.  “It’s okay, Jared.  Just back off, will you?!  I’ll be down to check on Cinders in a while.”

 

Jon couldn’t resist giving the embarrassed guy another smirk as he and Kyra headed up toward the house, her arm around his waist and his still wrapped over her shoulder.  In the kitchen, she closed the door before turning to Jon, still blushing with embarrassment.

 

“I’m sorry.”  She whispered.  “I don’t know what’s with him!”

 

“Kyra, Kyra, Kyra.”  Jon laughed.  “He’s got a crush on you, babe.”

 

“Oh, duh, y’think?”  She giggled.  “I know that, Jon……I’ve known it since he made a pass at me a few months back.  I just thought he’d finally gotten it into his head that I’m not interested.”

 

“He made a pass?  Hell, he’s braver than I thought!”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Even as she asked, Kyra was opening a cupboard, pulling out a couple of mugs and filling them with hot coffee. 

 

“Well, he’s gotta know you’re out of his league.”  Jon paused, considering.  “Waaaaay out of his league.  Still, I suppose I have to admire him for having the balls to try.”

 

Kyra snorted out a laugh.  “Yeah, well, when he didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer the first time, I told him I’d rip his balls off if he tried it again.  Seemed to work.”

 

“I’m sure it did.”  Jon laughed back at her, jokingly holding both hands in front of his crotch.  “You don’t have a problem with me trying it again though, right?!”

 

“Not in the least.”

 

“Cool.”  He grinned, accepting the coffee she offered, shaking his head when she suggested cream or sugar.  “I like it as it comes.”

 

“Are you hungry?  I’m starved - we never did eat that popcorn last night!”

 

“Sure, I could eat.”  He waggled his eyebrows.  “I’ve built up an appetite already today.”

 

Kyra sipped coffee as she opened the fridge, putting the cream away and taking out a pack of bacon and a bowl of potatoes.

 

“Bacon, eggs and home-fried potatoes?”  She suggested.

 

“Don’t go to all that trouble for me, Kyra.”  Jon said.  “I’ll eat anything.”

 

“I know you will.”  She couldn’t stop herself saying it, smirking at him.  “But I meant that’s what I want, do you want the same?”

 

“In that case, yeah, sounds great.”

 

Kyra smiled and took two frying pans down from a rack, setting them to heat and cooking a generous breakfast for them both.  The potatoes were already boiled and cubed, so she just added spices and cooked them while the bacon and eggs spluttered in the pan.  Soon enough they were sitting at her chunky oak table, sipping coffee and chatting over the deliciously fattening meal, finishing off with toast and yet more coffee.

 

15

 

Jon was finishing his third mug of coffee when a thought occurred and he looked across at Kyra.

 

“Who - or what - is Cinders, anyway?”  He asked, confusion on his face, and Kyra laughed.

 

“Cinders is a horse.  She’s been lame off and on for a while, but she’s finally coming right again.”

 

“Oh.  So I guess Jared works with your horse?”

 

“Horses.”  Kyra clarified.  “I have a bit of a breeding operation here on the ranch.  Quarter horses.”

 

“Yeah?  So you’re a real cowgirl, huh?”

 

“I guess.”  She shrugged.  “Anyway, I should go check on her - Jared’s not bad, but……”

 

“But you still want to check her yourself.”  Jon laughed.  “I get it.  I’m a control freak, too!”

 

“Hey!  I’m not………oh, okay, so I am!  Just makes it all the more fun when you let go, though.”  She smirked at him, and Jon nodded agreement with a goofy grin.

 

“Damned right it does.”  He said, reaching under the table to flip the robe off her leg, his warm hand closing around her thigh.

 

Kyra just smiled, but when the hand started to slide upward she closed her thighs on his fingers, stopping him in his tracks.

 

“I have to get ready, I guess.”  She murmured, and Jon smirked at her poor choice of words.

 

“I can get you ‘ready’, darlin’.”  He said easily, but he did slide his hand away.

 

“You,” Kyra said, pushing her chair back and leaning across the corner of the table to him, “are a bad influence, sir.”

 

“Uh-huh.”  Jon agreed, Kyra almost nose-to-nose with  him, and he couldn’t help himself, making the tiny move to bring their mouths together again.

 

She kissed him back, then eased away, taking their plates and dumping them into the sink.  Jon got to his feet, coffee in hand, and when Kyra turned around he was leaning against the counter, watching her with a smile.

 

“What?”  She asked, tilting her head.

 

“Nothing.  I was just watchin’ you.  I……..”  Jon’s gaze flicked over her shoulder, and Kyra saw his eyes harden.  “Your boyfriend’s back.”

 

“My what?  Oh, you’re kidding?!  Jared?”  Strangely, though, she didn’t turn around to look.

 

“Yeah.  He’s loitering outside - I think he’s pretending he’s working at something.”  Jon grinned lazily.  “I don’t think he trusts me here with you.”

 

“Really?”  Kyra’s eyes narrowed, then she grinned, walking across to Jon.  “Maybe I should do something to convince him I like you being here.”

 

She pressed herself against Jon, tilting her head to kiss him hard, and Jon brought his free hand up to cup the back of her head, pulling her even closer as their tongues tangled.  Kyra’s hand slipped between them, up his denim-wrapped thigh, until she cupped her palm over his dick, squeezing gently and knowingly, Jon quickly starting to get hard under her caress.

 

“Kyra?”  He said gently, breaking their kiss for a moment, and he saw the devil lurking in her eyes.

 

“Yes, Jon?”  Her hand was still on him, her other hand now coming around to pop the button of his jeans.

 

“You do know he can see you?”

 

“Uh-huh.”  She smirked.  “Are you shy?”

 

“In my business?”  He chuckled.  “You are kidding, right?”

 

“Nope.  Let’s see if I can convince young Jared how pleased I am to have you here.”

 

Kyra kissed him again, but when Jon tried to untie her robe she pulled back, locking eyes with him as she slowly sank to her knees.  She finished opening his jeans, easing his hard cock carefully through the opening and closing her hand around the base of his shaft.  Licking across the tip, she flicked another glance at Jon.

 

“He still there?”

 

Jon glanced at the door.  “Yeah.  He’s………….sweet fuck…….”

 

As soon as he’d confirmed Jared was there, Kyra opened her mouth on Jon’s rigid cock, taking him all the way into her throat again.  She sucked her way back to the tip, Jon’s hand caressing her hair lightly.

 

“How much do you want me to piss him off?”  Jon asked throatily, and Kyra released him for a moment.

 

“As much as you like.  I’m sick of him doing this kinda thing.”  She smirked up at Jon.  “But I have to say this is the most enjoyable way I’ve found of putting him in his place.”

 

“For you and me both, baby.”  Jon whispered as she took him in her mouth again.

 

He let his hand tighten in her hair, Kyra’s hand inside his jeans to lightly squeeze his balls as she licked his cock, and Jon deliberately looked across at the window, seeing Jared outside, trying to be unobtrusive as he looked inside.  Unfortunately for Jared, he glanced up at the wrong moment, his eyes meeting Jon’s, and Jon just grinned evilly at him, one hand still knotted in Kyra’s hair as he tossed back the last of his coffee and laid down the mug.  Jon saw Jared’s mouth fall open as he realised what was happening, and Jon grinned again, flipping him off with his free hand.  He was about to say something to Kyra when she slid him deep again, swallowing against him, and Jon’s head fell back with a groan of pleasure, but he was feeling as devilish as the woman on her knees, and he forced himself to speak.

 

“How much of an exhibitionist are you?”  He ground out, and Kyra looked up then took her mouth away from his straining flesh, looking curious so that Jon continued.  “Do you like to be watched?”

 

“Sometimes.”  She whispered, and that was all Jon needed to hear.

 

“Condom.”  He muttered, and before he could get to his pocket Kyra had her fingers in there, smirking up at him as she ripped and rolled, covering him safely.

 

Grinning, Jon pulled her to her feet, kissing her deeply as he pushed her back across the kitchen, until she hit the table.  He laid her on the tabletop, leaning over her to kiss as his hand slipped between her legs, finding she was ready for him, then he tugged her closer so that he could thrust himself inside.  He thrust slowly in and out of Kyra, and she was rising fast toward orgasm, her body seeming to be stuck in a state of arousal every time Jon touched her.  Jon raised his mouth from hers, flickering a glance to the window, seeing their audience was gone and chuckling softly.

 

“I think that did it.”  He grinned down at her.  “He’s gone.”

 

“Okay.”  Kyra smiled.  “You can stop now if you like.”

 

Jon looked at her in astonishment but the legs wrapped hard around his hips and the hands on his back convinced him she was kidding, and he smirked as he dropped his hips lower, driving up into her for a moment, feeling her shudder.

 

“Want me to stop?”  He whispered, pretending he was going to withdraw from her, and Kyra groaned, tightening her grip on him.

 

“Hell, no.”  She spat, one hand coming up to draw his head to hers.  “Fuck me, Jon.”

 

But he did pull himself out of her, to Kyra’s shock, and he grinned down at her as he gripped her waist.

 

“Patience, darlin’.”  He grunted, pulling her off the table to stand in front of him, then turning her around, flipping her robe up to her waist.

 

When he grabbed her by the hips, Kyra spread her legs and leaned forward onto the table, letting Jon tilt her hips to the best angle, whimpering when he slammed into her this time, an audible slap of flesh on flesh as he went deep.  She held herself wide open to him, feeling his cock press against the front wall of her, every plunging stroke tormenting her with a pleasure that never quite seemed to reach the point she needed to send her over the edge.  Finally, whimpering with the frustration, she took one hand off the table, bringing it to her hip and grabbing Jon’s fingers, bringing both their hands around to her pussy, Jon groaning as they both massaged her clit, Kyra’s response to the additional stimulation tightening her around his dick.

 

She climaxed quickly now, crying out his name, and when her hand released his Jon just spread his palm on her shaking belly, pinning her in place as he reached his own orgasm, an animal grunt escaping him on the last few thrusts, Kyra whining at the force he threw against her, sure his grip on her hip was bruising her but the thought of asking him to stop never even entering her mind.

 

Kyra had both hands on the table again, bracing herself against Jon, and when she felt the death-grip on her ease she lifted one hand, spreading it over his hand on her belly, lacing her fingers through his.  She whimpered as Jon slowly slid himself out of her, not sure whether it felt better, now that he wasn’t pounding into her flesh, or worse now that he’d left her so empty.

 

“Did I hurt you?”  Jon asked shakily, worry obvious in his voice, but Kyra shook her head, tightening her hand on his.

 

“No.  Not really.  Just……..”  She smiled, even though he couldn’t see her face.  “I told you already I like it that way sometimes.”

 

16

 

They finally left the kitchen maybe five minutes later, Kyra watching Jon strip the used condom off and toss it into the trash, making a mental note to empty the kitchen trash into the big outdoor container before her housekeeper arrived.

 

Upstairs, she directed Jon to a spare bathroom, thankful when he went without demur.  Strange, considering what they’d done the previous night and this morning, but showering together somehow felt too intimate, and Kyra headed into her own bedroom to shower and dress.  In the spare bathroom, Jon showered slowly, wondering why Kyra had backed off from sharing a shower.  He wondered if it was something he’d unconsciously done, or if she’d felt his reluctance to share the simple, domestic activity.  Over the years, he’d certainly fucked any number of groupies in showers - usually backstage after a show - but actually showering together, well, that was something he’d only ever shared with Dorothea, and it felt like a betrayal of………..of what, he wasn’t certain, but it just felt wrong.

 

In her own bathroom, then in her bedroom as she brushed her wet hair, Kyra tried to figure out why she’d suddenly felt uncomfortable to invite Jon into her shower.  Hell, she’d taken him into her home.  Into her bed.  Into her body.  Still, somehow showering together hadn’t seemed right, and she just hoped he wasn’t too angry about it.  He’d seemed okay, though, when she’d politely pointed him in the direction of the spare bathroom.

 

Emerging from her bedroom in jeans and shirt, hair in dripping pigtails, Kyra almost literally bumped into Jon.  Fresh from the shower, he wore his jeans and nothing else, and the soft grin he gave when he looked at her allayed some of the worry in her heart.

 

“Nice.”  He said, tugging a pigtail.  “Hey, did I leave my shirt in your bedroom?”

 

“I think so.”  Kyra went back into the room, Jon hesitating in the doorway, then following her.

 

Kyra scooped the white shirt off the floor, turning to offer it to Jon.

 

“It’s kinda……creased.”  She said, twisting the fabric.  “I could…….”  Her voice trailed off.

 

“You’re not going to offer to iron for me?”  Jon grinned.

 

“Uh, no!!  I hate to iron!”  Kyra laughed, relieved that their friendliness seemed intact.  “Hell, it’s one of the biggest benefits of having money - I pay someone to iron for me!”

 

“Me too.”  Jon confided, taking the shirt.  “It’s not so bad.”

 

“No.  Not so long as you don’t mind going back to the hotel in a shirt that screams ‘I’ve been lying on the floor all night’!”

 

“Well, it’ll cheer Richie up.”  Jon smirked.  “Because he’s getting sick of me I think.  He’s had enough of me moping about to last him a lifetime.”

 

Laughing, Kyra had a sudden thought.  “I may be able to give you another shirt.”

 

“Yeah?”  Jon couldn’t hide a tiny frown, wondering just whose clothes were at her house.

 

“Uh-huh.  Through here.”  She led the way to the spare bedroom, the one where he’d used the ensuite shower.  “I had a few spare shirts from a batch I got made up for the Foundation.  I’m sure there’ll be one in your size.”

 

She opened a wardrobe and dug into a pile of black t-shirts, pulling out a medium and offering it to Jon.  He took a quick look at the label and grinned.

 

“Medium, huh?”

 

Kyra smirked at him.  “Only in a shirt, darlin’.”  She drawled.

 

Jon was laughing as he pulled the shirt on, grinning again when it fit perfectly.  It was pretty understated for a charity-type shirt, with just a tastefully entwined “D” and “F” on the front, black glossy letters on the black shirt.

 

“This is pretty nice.”  He approved, looking down. 

 

Rolling her eyes, Kyra reached out to straighten the shoulders of the shirt, badly twisted from the way Jon had thrown it on.

 

“Thanks, mom.”  He said in a smart-ass tone.

 

“Any more of your lip and I’ll have to spank you.”  Kyra warned, but Jon reached and grabbed her.

 

“You don’t like my lips?  You liked them fine before.”  Before she could answer, those very lips, soft and warm, caressed across her mouth, teasing her lips apart with gentle pressure.  Jon dipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her again, then he backed off as the kiss started to heat.  “I think you still like them.”

 

“Yes.”  Kyra whispered with a smile.  “Yes, I do.  But I still think you need a spanking.”

 

“Later.”  He growled.

 

They went back downstairs, Kyra pouring the last of the coffee into two mugs.  She sipped the steaming brew, but she was fidgety now and Jon grinned.

 

“Do you want to go check on your horse?”  He asked.

 

“I should.”  She said.  “Sorry.”

 

“No need to be sorry.  I could come with you - been a while, but I’m pretty sure I still know one end of a horse from the other.”

 

“Really?”  Kyra blinked in surprise.  “I didn’t see you as the cowboy type.”

 

“Hey!  Haven’t you heard any of our songs?”  He protested, then grinned again, singing low.  “I’m a cowboy……..”

 

Unladylike, Kyra snorted with laughter.  “Okay.  Come on, then.”

 

She headed for the kitchen door, and Jon started to follow then hesitated.

 

“Shit.  My boots upstairs?”

 

“Ummm……yep.”

 

“Okay.  Two seconds.”

 

Laying down his coffee, Jon left, and Kyra heard him pounding up the stairs, then a few moments later the sound of him returning.  In the kitchen, he pulled his boots on, and Kyra grabbed a pair of boots from beside the door, then they gathered up their coffee mugs and headed outside.  The sun was bright already, and Jon winced, glad when he realised Kyra was leading him around the side of the house, toward where she’d parked her car. 

 

“Is your car locked?”  He asked, detouring toward the shining grey beast.

 

“No.  You running away?”

 

“Hell, no.  I need sunglasses, and I think I left them in my coat last night, and I left that in your car.”

 

Jon retrieved the dark glasses from the car, putting them on gratefully and returning to Kyra’s side.

 

“That’s better.”  He said.  “I have a problem with real bright light, which is why I usually wear shades.”

 

“Poor, fragile boy.”  Kyra murmured with a nasty smirk, angling a glance at him, seeing his grin.

 

“Bitch!”  Jon joked, and Kyra just nodded.

 

“That I am.  Anyway, it’s an acronym.”  Jon looked confused, so she explained.  “BITCH.  Babe In Total Control of Herself.”

 

That made Jon laugh, and they were still chuckling together over that and other nonsense that one or other said when they reached the stables.  Kyra showed Jon quickly around the stableyard, introducing him to the only horse in evidence, the sometime-lame Cinders.

 

“The others are all out at pasture.”  Kyra explained when Jon commented on the lack of horses.  “Best place for them.  But this poor girl’s been stuck here too long.”

 

She caressed the mare’s grey face then laid down her empty mug and pulled a halter from the hook.  Quickly fastening it into place, Kyra opened the door and brought the mare out, watching her closely as she moved.

 

“You’re better, aren’t you, baby?”  She murmured, dropping the rope to the floor and going to the mare’s back leg, running a hand down and smiling in satisfaction. 

 

“Is she okay?”  Jon asked.

 

“Yeah.”  Kyra straightened and came back to Cinders’ head, scratching the horse’s chin.  “She can go back out with the others I think.  Well, she can if anybody’s actually working around here.”  She frowned, then raised her voice.  “Jared!”

 

17

 

Exasperated, Kyra walked away from her horse, leaving Jon standing watching the mare in slight confusion, wondering why it - she - just stood there.

 

“Jared!”  Kyra yelled now, her voice ringing around the stables.  Still no response, and she turned back to Jon.  “I don’t know what he’s playing at.”

 

Jon couldn’t resist, snorting quietly.  “Darlin’, after watching you on your knees earlier, then on your back on the kitchen table, he’s probably playing with himself.”

 

“Oh, ewwww!”  Kyra made a face.  “That is so not a nice visual!”

 

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”  He grinned.

 

“Well, I may as well take this poor girl out myself.”  Kyra decided, scooping up Cinders’ rope.  “I won’t be too long - it’s not far.”

 

“I’ll come with you.”  Jon grinned, reaching to pat the grey neck.  “How come she didn’t wander off when you just left her there?”

 

“Huh?”  They started walking, Kyra between Jon and the horse as they went along a grassy track.  “Oh, she’s trained to ground-tie.  Basically, if you drop the rope or the rein to the ground, they stand there until you tell them different.”  She laughed.  “Always really handy when you fall off - the horse just stands there looking at you like you’re a fool.”

 

“That’s cool.”  Jon murmured, not really able to think of anything else to say, and they lapsed into silence as they walked.

 

A few minutes later, they reached a fence, and Kyra quickly opened the gate section, leading Cinders through and slipping the halter over the mare’s ears.  Cinders took a few steps away, sniffing the air, then she whinnied loudly.  An answering whinny came from somewhere in the distance, and she set off at a purposeful trot, breaking into canter as she headed off to join the rest of the herd.  By the time Kyra had the fence secured again, the mare was out of sight.

 

They headed back toward the stables, somehow feeling a little awkward in each other’s company now.  Jon walked with both hands thrust deep into the front pockets of his jeans, his hair almost dry already, tumbling over his face.  Kyra was fidgeting with the halter rope, twisting it up into a tight coil.  Her concentration on what she was doing made her careless, though, and she stumbled, her ankle folding under her as she stepped on an uneven tuft of grass.  She lost her balance and fell against Jon, who automatically yanked his hands from his pockets, catching the slim body as it hit him.

 

“You okay?”  He asked, still holding her.

 

“Uh-huh.”  Kyra blushed, looking into his eyes.  “Sorry.”

 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for.”  Jon murmured, looking back at her.

 

He just let instinct rule, one hand sliding up her back to cup her neck, holding her as he laid his lips on hers in a light kiss.  Kyra sighed, the soft breath parting her lips, and Jon took advantage, sliding his tongue into her mouth, closing his eyes as she tilted her head, kissing him back hungrily.  In just moments, the halter and rope were on the ground, Kyra’s hands in Jon’s hair to draw him closer, Jon backing her toward the trees that lined the track.

 

Kyra whined as Jon’s hand slid under the back of her denim shirt, the heat of his hand driving her toward him.  They were both gasping as they broke their kiss suddenly, seeing the wildness in each other and slowly, with a mutual restraint that surprised them, they eased themselves apart, Kyra stooping to pick up the halter.

 

“Sorry.”  Jon said it this time, but Kyra smiled.

 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for.”  She responded, raising a hand to gently touch his mouth, Jon puckering his lips and kissing the tips of her fingers.

 

As she dropped her hand again, Jon caught her fingers, lacing his between them, and they walked back to the stables like that, both comfortable with the contact.  At the stables, they found Jared in a panic, and he blanched when he saw them.

 

“Kyra………I can’t find Cinders…..”

 

“She’s out.”  Kyra told him brusquely.  “Since you weren’t around, I took her up to join the others.”

 

“You did?  Sorry - I was, uh…….I was……..”

 

Jared flushed slightly, then looked completely confused when Jon laughed and nudged Kyra.

 

“Told you.”  Jon purred, and Kyra dug her fingernails into his hand so that he gasped.

 

“I don’t really care where you were or what you were doing.”   Kyra snapped at Jared.  “But if you want to keep your job, I suggest you get on with it.  Cinders’ stable needs doing, the feedroom and hay store need tidied and I’m sure most of the saddles need cleaned.  Should keep you out of mischief for the rest of the day.”

 

She didn’t even wait for a response, just turned to Jon.  “Coffee?”

 

“Sounds good, darlin’.”  Jon answered, neither of them paying Jared a second’s attention now as they headed for the house.

 

They were only partway to the house when Jon laughed, Kyra turning to look at him in surprise.

 

“What?”  She asked, smiling in sympathy with the grin on his face.

 

“You.”  He chuckled.  “You scared the shit out of that boy, darlin’.  I’m sure glad you don’t turn that temper on me!”

 

“I did - you were just too drunk to feel it.”  Kyra reminded him, and Jon reflexively touched his cheek where she’d punched him.

 

“I’d forgotten about that.”  He admitted.

 

“Yeah, well, I think you’ve made up for it since.”  She assured him.  “Anyway, I think………..oh shit!”

 

“What’s wrong?”  Jon saw the embarrassed flush on her face, looking ahead and seeing nothing that gave any reason for it.

 

“Jenny’s here.”  Kyra whispered, which didn’t enlighten Jon in the least, so she explained.  “Jenny’s my housekeeper - I meant to empty the kitchen trash before she got here!”

 

“Uh, isn’t that one of the things you pay her to do?”  Jon still didn’t get it.

 

“Well, yeah, but I don’t usually have used condoms in the kitchen trash!”  Kyra groaned.  “I was hoping to get rid of the evidence of my…….inappropriate conduct…….before she found it!”

 

“Is she going to be all shocked and disgusted?”  Jon asked, thinking that, somehow, Kyra’s reaction wasn’t saying that.

 

“No!  She may be older, but she’s got one of the dirtiest minds I know!”  Kyra said with that enchanting blush creeping over her face again.  “She’ll probably want all the details!”

 

Jon was laughing at her again, freeing his hand from hers and slinging his arm around her shoulders.

 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it darlin’.  You can just tell her I’m a baaaad influence!” 

 

“You are!”

 

“I know it.”  Jon waggled his eyebrows.  “And I’ll give her any details she wants!”

 

“And I’ll kick your ass!”  Kyra warned him with a laugh.

 

The joking exchange had taken them to the house, entering through the kitchen door again, an older, still pretty blonde woman standing by the sink, rinsing the breakfast dishes.  The woman’s blue eyes flicked over Jon, and the way he comfortably had his arm around Kyra, then she looked down again, smiling to herself.

 

“I thought you had company.  You don’t normally cook this much breakfast for just you.”  Jenny said, a tiny smile still on her lips, then looked at Jon speculatively, clearly recognising him.  “Did you come this morning or last night?”  She asked.

 

Jon really only had himself to blame for the elbow that hit his stomach a moment later, when he smirked back at Jenny and replied.

 

“Both, actually.”

 

Jenny laughed, Kyra gasped and slammed her elbow into Jon’s stomach, and he grunted with the pain, but chuckled anyway, pouting at Kyra.

 

“Sorry, darlin’.”  He chuckled unrepentantly.

 

18

 

Kyra looked from Jon to Jenny as they both laughed, then she just rolled her eyes, chuckling with them.  Getting her giggles under control again, she introduced the pair.

 

“Jon - my crazy housekeeper, friend, confidant and surrogate mom, Jenny.  Jen, this is Jon.”

 

“Good to meet you, Jenny.”  Jon grinned, offering a hand.

 

Jenny took her hands out of the water and gave them a cursory wipe on a towel before shaking Jon’s hand, winking at Kyra.

 

“Nice soft hands.”  She said to Kyra, who blushed, then smirked when she saw the faintest trace of reddening to Jon’s cheeks, too.

 

“Put him down, Jenny!”  Kyra laughed.  “He’s way too young for you!”

 

When Jenny pouted, Jon grinned and pulled her into his arms, hugging her close as he replied to Kyra.

 

“Nothin’ wrong with an older woman, darlin’.”  He told her, Jenny cackling with delight.

 

“Finally!  Somebody who appreciates me!”  Jenny chuckled, then smirked up at Jon.  “But I’d be way too much for you, handsome.  You’d best stick to my little chickadee.”

 

Releasing her, Jon staggered back, pressing a palm to his chest as though struck through the heart.

 

“She doesn’t want me!”  He complained to a laughing Kyra.

 

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”  Kyra assured him, and Jon blew her a kiss for the compliment.

 

Glancing across the room, Kyra caught sight of the clock and sighed. 

 

“I should head to the office.”  She said.  “Can I drop you at the hotel or something?”

 

“Oh, Lord, don’t let her drive you anywhere!”  Jenny advised.

 

“She drove us back here last night.”  Jon told her.

 

“And you’re willing to get back in a car with her?  Brave man.”

 

“My driving’s not that bad.”  Kyra protested, then smirked in Jon’s direction.  “Though I do seem to remember him digging fingernail marks into my door handle.”

 

“I’m not the only one who left fingernail marks.”  Jon muttered, and Jenny grinned again.

 

“Will you kids just get out of here and let me do some work?”  She snapped.

 

Kyra stuck out her tongue, but headed for the kitchen door.

 

“Just going to grab my bag.”  She told Jon, and he nodded, staying where he was.

 

“I’ll stay here and distract Jenny.”  He chuckled.

 

Running upstairs, Kyra got her bag from the bedroom, grabbing her jacket and Jon’s crumpled shirt, too, then heading back downstairs.  Jon met her at the bottom of the stairs, and they both yelled goodbye to Jenny before going out to Kyra’s waiting car.  They got into the car and Kyra glanced wickedly at Jon.

 

“D’you want a blindfold?”  She asked.  “So I don’t scare you any more?”

 

“I’ll only take the blindfold if you’re intending tying me to your bed.”  Jon shot back, Kyra blushing slightly.

 

“Now there’s an idea.”  She murmured, starting the car.

 

She started to drive toward the city again, but the amount of traffic on the road at this time kept her speed down to a level that didn’t raise Jon’s pulse too badly.

 

“You said you’re at the Hermitage, right?”

 

“Yeah.  But if you need to go somewhere else…..”

 

“Nope.  I’m the boss, remember, so nobody can complain about what time I arrive!”

 

“I know that feeling.”  Jon grinned, then turned more serious.  “Maybe I was just hoping you’d let me stick around a bit longer, but I guess you need to go through stuff from last night?”

 

“I do.”  Kyra blushed.  “If I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t have even let you out of my bed this morning.”

 

Jon’s grin had a very satisfied twist to it now, and he laid his hand on her knee.

 

“That’s good to know.”  He said sincerely.  “So.  Could I take you to dinner tonight?”

 

“I don’t want you abandoning Richie all alone in a strange city on my account.”  She replied.

 

“Strange?”  Jon echoed, grinning.  “Darlin’, we’re almost as  at home here as we are in Jersey - been coming here for years!”

 

“Really?”

 

Jon nodded.  “Yeah.  Anyway, Rich won’t mind.  He’ll just find the nearest bar where there’s a band.  Hell, if it’s anything like usual, he’ll talk his way onto the stage and be happy as a pig in shit.”

 

“Oh, nice description!”  Kyra laughed.  “In that case, yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

 

“Great.”  Jon grinned.  “And if I’m going to see you later I guess I’ll let you dump me back at the hotel now.”

 

“Smart ass!  Any more cheeky remarks and I may not even stop before I kick you out!”

 

“I’ll tell Jenny you’re being mean to me.”  Jon threatened.  “I think she likes me.”

 

“She does.”  Kyra confirmed, pulling the Shelby to a halt outside Jon’s hotel.  “Here go you, sir.  Your faithful chauffeuse has brought you back safe.”

 

“Thanks, darlin’.”  Jon grinned, leaning to kiss her lightly.  “Eight o’clock good for you?  I was thinking of eating here - that way you could always stay here tonight…….save you driving……”

 

Kyra thought a second, then nodded.  “That works.  I don’t have anything on tomorrow.”

 

Jon’s smirk was deliciously evil.

 

“Hell, darlin’.  If I get my way, you won’t have anything on tonight, either!”

 

“Any more smart ass comments and one of the things that won’t be on me tonight is you!”  Kyra told him, but her stern tone was belied by her smirk and the sparkle in her eyes.

 

Jon just winked at her and exited the low-slung car, giving a swift wave and disappearing into the hotel, his white shirt bundled up in one hand.  Kyra watched him vanish, then shook off her decidedly lustful thoughts about the tight ass in the tighter jeans, sliding the car into gear and driving away in the direction of her office.

 

Inside the hotel, Jon collected his key from reception and headed for the elevator.  Riding up to his floor, he suddenly realised that there wasn’t even a trace of his usual claustrophobic anxiety at being locked up alone in a metal box, and he grinned as he decided Kyra most definitely was the reason.  Regardless of the sex - and the skilful, mind-melting talent she’d displayed when she blew him - it was more down to the fun they’d had and the silly, relaxed way they’d been together.

 

He thought he’d struck it lucky when he reached the door of his room without meeting anyone, but just as he unlocked the door Jon heard a door open behind him, then a soft laugh.

 

“So I guess you finally got fuckin’ laid, then?”

 

Sighing, Jon turned, but he couldn’t conceal his grin as he faced Richie.

 

“Good mornin’ to you, too, asshole.”

 

“Mornin’?”  Richie echoed, glancing at his watch.  “Yeah, I guess it’s still morning.  Just.”

 

Jon smirked and turned away, going into his room.  Before the door swung shut, though, Richie had snagged his own key and crossed the hallway, following Jon inside.

 

“So you obviously spent the night with the li’l chickadee.”  Richie persisted, Jon turning with a surprised expression.

 

“Strange word for you.”  Jon said.  “Chickadee.  Weird - that’s what Jenny called her, too.”

 

“Must be bein’ around all these country folks that’s affected me.”  Richie grinned.  “Wait.  Who’s Jenny?”

 

“Kyra’s housekeeper.  Among other things.  Cool lady actually - you’d like her - she has a dirty mind.”

 

“Dirty mind is good.”  Richie agreed.  “But are you forgettin’ I’m taken these days, Kidd?”

 

Jon snorted.  “No, hardly likely you’d let me forget you’re fucking Heather Locklear, is it?”

 

Richie frowned, and Jon immediately back-pedalled.

 

“Sorry bro.  I know it’s more than just that.”  When his best friend flapped a hand at him, grinning his acceptance of the near apology, Jon continued.  “Anyway, I think Jenny’s too old even for you.  She’s older than Cher, for Christ’s sake.  Well, probably.  Certainly in her sixties, but so’s Cher, right?”

 

“Ah, fuck you, Jonny.”  Richie laughed.  “Nothin’ wrong with experience.”

 

“If you say so.”  Jon shrugged but let the subject drop - he and Richie had exchanged words more than once on the subject of that particular ex-girlfriend, and it was water under their mutual bridge.

 

As Jon headed to the mini bar, Richie settled himself on the bed, waiting only a moment before curiosity got the better of him.

 

“So - c’mon then.  Spill!”  Richie demanded.

 

19

 

Turning around, one hand on the door of the mini fridge, Jon stared at Richie for a second before shaking his head and turning back to the fridge, opening the door.

 

“Y’know, for a straight guy, sometimes you act so fucking gay.”  Jon muttered as he grabbed a water.  “You want anything?”

 

“Yes, dahling.”  Richie purred, throwing in an exaggerated lisp.  “I want awwwwl the detaiws about you and Missy Kywa last night.”

 

“You sound like Tweety Pie.”  Jon laughed, pulling a can of coke from the fridge and tossing it to Richie who caught it deftly, grinning wickedly.

 

“C’mon Jonny - gimme something at least!”  Richie persisted.  “You’ve been so fucking miserable since Dot - Kyra’s actually made you look happy again already.  Hey - you owe me!”

 

“How d’you figure that?” 

 

“Well, if I hadn’t been pissed enough to tell you which girl you insulted, you’d have never met her!”

 

Jon sighed, but he knew that Richie would just keep needling until he gave him some detail - however small.

 

“She’s pretty cool.”  Jon started, not about to go into too many details of their exploits from the previous night.  Or this morning.  “Drives like a demon, too.”

 

“And how the fuck can you do that in a chick car?”  Richie asked.  “Lemme guess.  She’s got money, I know that, so some little Mercedes convertible or something?”

 

“Not even close.  No chick car either.  The lady has fabulous taste - drives a restored Shelby.  Nineteen sixty seven.”

 

That raised Richie’s eyebrows, a grin beaming across his face.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yeah.  She knows how to drive it, too.”  Jon grimaced.  “I mean, she scared the shit outta me a few times last night, but she knows what she’s doing.  In so many ways.”  He finished in a whisper, Richie frowning but not asking him to repeat it.

 

“Okay, I’m officially impressed.”  Richie informed him with another grin.  “Hot, sexy, rich and drives a great car.  What’s the catch?”

 

“So far the only one I’ve found is some asshole who works for her.  He looks after her horses, but he has a very twisted idea of what their relationship is.  Told me he was her boyfriend……but she put me - and him - straight on that right away.”  Jon frowned.  “I think he’s probably harmless.  Stupid and deluded, but harmless.”

 

“Well, after the way she punched you out, I think that little angel can handle herself pretty well.”

 

“Yeah, you’re right.”  Jon fought back the anger clouding in around his brain.  He barely knew Kyra, and it was way too soon to start getting all possessive and protective. 

 

Swigging water straight from the bottle, Jon smirked at Richie.

 

“You’ll have to amuse yourself tonight, bro.  I have a date.”

 

“Well, since it’s not just another date with your right hand, I guess I can find a bar to go play in.”  Richie joked, and Jon sneered, flipping him off.

 

“Since your woman is out in California, you’ll be the one jacking off, asshole.”

 

“Yeah, well, at least I know I got Heather to go home to.  I can live with jacking off when she’s waiting for me.” 

 

Richie’s smile said it all, really - the sheer bliss he had found with his beautiful blonde actress, and for the first time since breaking up with Dorothea, Jon found he didn’t have envy prickling at his heart.  He grinned silently and Richie laughed.

 

“You’re a sap, Jonny.”  He announced.  “You barely know Kyra but you’re hooked already.”

 

“I’m not!”  Jon protested, stomping down hard on the little voice in his head that said he was.  “We had fun last night, and we still got along great this morning.  Just nice to have someone to be stupid with again, I guess.”  He stopped Richie before he could interrupt.  “Someone beautiful and female, I mean, instead of you assholes.”

 

“Yeah.”  Richie agreed, then forced himself to be at least a little bit serious.  “I am glad for ya, man.  Even if it’s just a short-term thing, just enjoy it while it lasts.”

 

Jon looked at him in slight surprise, and Richie grinned, his natural craziness taking over again.

 

“Hey - you’ve been so fucking pissy the last few weeks, if getting laid is all it takes to make you this happy, I’ll even fuck you if it doesn’t work out with Kyra!”

 

“Shit, Rich.”  Jon smirked back at him.  “I don’t know how to tell you this, bro…….you’re not my type!”

 

Laughing, Richie hauled his long frame off Jon’s bed, heading toward the door.

 

“Seriously, Jon - I’m glad things with Kyra are working for ya.  I’ll see ya in the morning, I guess.  If you remember, tell her I said hi.”

 

“Sure, Richie.”  Jon chuckled.  “But I have to warn you - when I get Kyra here, I doubt if you’ll be on my mind too much.”

 

“True.”  Was all Richie said as he let himself out of the room with a grin and a wave of one big hand.

 

As the door closed behind Richie, Jon was still chuckling, but he suddenly realised that, if he and Kyra were going to eat here in the hotel, he’d best try to get a table in the restaurant.  He quickly called down to reception, but was told that the restaurant was fully booked.  Hanging up, he cursed quietly, but then decided to just wait downstairs for Kyra at the agreed time, then they could decide where to go for dinner.  Calling downstairs again, he ordered coffee to be brought up, then settled himself at the desk, chair pushed back and bare feet propped on the dark timber as he dialled his office back in New York.  When the room service waiter brought the coffee, Jon scrawled his signature on the sheet and gave it back to the guy with a tip, and the waiter smiled politely and headed for the door, Jon still talking to his secretary back home.

 

The waiter opened the door just as Richie raised a hand to bang on the panel, and Jon turned around, waving him to come in, noting that his buddy carried a guitar, his hand easily spanning the neck of the instrument even right down at the body.  Richie was barefoot, too, and he slouched down on the couch, picking softly at the strings as Jon finished up his call.  Dropping the phone back into the cradle, Jon twisted to look at Richie.

 

“Inspiration?”  Jon asked, seeing that Richie had a sheet of paper on the low table.

 

“Yeah.  Something like that.”

 

Grinning, Jon got out of his chair and grabbed his coffee, crossing to where Richie sat.

 

“What you got?”  He asked.

 

For the next few hours, they worked on new songs, one or other of them at one point commenting how they always seemed to do their best work in hotel rooms nowadays.    They finally quit just after seven, when Jon suddenly realised the time, and that Kyra would be arriving within the hour, and he virtually chased Richie from the room, his buddy laughing as he left.

 

“You be good, now, Kidd.”  He told the younger guy.  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

“Well, that leaves it wide fucking open, doesn’t it?”  Jon shot back as Richie closed the door.

 

Jon showered, rubbing his hair dry with a thick towel then going through to the bedroom and yanking open the closet door.  He pulled on a pair of black jeans and a silvery-grey silk shirt, buttoning it partway but just leaving it hanging loose, not bothering to tuck it into his jeans.  A pair of cowboy boots and he was ready to go, shoving wallet and room key into his pocket and heading downstairs, early but eager.

 

He was in the foyer almost a half hour before Kyra would be there, and he ordered a drink from a wandering waiter, settling onto an armchair to wait.  The wait wasn’t long, though, and when Kyra breezed through the doors some twenty minutes early, Jon knew she was as keen to see him as he was to see her.  She paused just inside the doors, looking around, and Jon took a minute to just enjoy the sight, the skintight jeans she wore with a plain black v-necked tee.  As Kyra stepped forward again, he rose to his feet, walking toward her.

 

“Hey darlin’.”  He said as he reached her, leaning forward to kiss her cheek then changing his mind and kissing her lips gently instead.

 

“Hey back.”  Kyra whispered with a smile.

 

Stepping back, Jon smiled at her.  “You look gorgeous.”

 

“Not too bad yourself.  Sorry - am I late?  Did I make you wait?”

 

“You’re not late, you’re early.”  Jon told her.  “But I was even earlier.  I guess I couldn’t wait.”

 

“Aww……that’s sweet.”

 

Jon rolled his eyes. 

 

“We have a minor problem.  The restaurant’s full, so we’ll need to find somewhere else to eat.”  He looked down at her long, denim-clad legs, smirking.  “I was going to suggest we go out somewhere, but I think maybe we’d be safer with room service.”

 

“Safer how?”

 

“Well, I’m only thinking of your health, honey.”  Jon grinned, confusing her even more until he explained.  “I mean, those jeans are a serious danger to your circulation, darlin’.  I really think we need to get you out of them as soon as possible.”

 

“You do, huh?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Kyra looked down now, her attention caught by the crotch of Jon’s own jeans, and it was her turn to smirk.

 

“You could be right.  I’m thinking yours look a bit tight, too.  Not all over - just………”

 

“Uh-huh.”  Jon confirmed as her eyes flickered over his groin again.  “Upstairs?”

 

“Upstairs.”  Kyra agreed, letting Jon take her by the hand and lead her toward the elevators.

 

20

 

They were waiting at the elevator door when it slid open, a tall, lean figure in faded black jeans and a black shirt leaning against the wall, a black stetson tilted down over his eyes.

 

“What?”  Jon said as the figure peeled himself off the wall.  “You think you’re Johnny fuckin’ Cash now?”

 

It was only when the guy raised his head and grinned that Kyra realised it was Richie.  Her concentration had been more on the heat of Jon’s soft hand in hers and the accompanying heat in her belly.  She smiled at the tall figure exiting the elevator.

 

“Hi Richie.”

 

“Hi angel.”  He replied, leaning to kiss her cheek.

 

“I keep telling you I’m not an angel.”  She protested, and Jon laughed.

 

“Trust me, Rich.  She’s no angel.”  He squeezed her hand, winking.  “Mermaid, maybe.”

 

“I thought you were going to dinner?”  Richie frowned.

 

“We were, but the restaurant’s full.”  Jon explained.  “We decided to just go for room service instead.”

 

“I’ll just bet you did.”  Richie smirked at the pair of them, laughing when Kyra blushed.  “You kids have fun - I’m off to find me a bar.  And a guitar, probably.  Later.”

 

With a final wink at Kyra, he left them, and Jon punched the button to get the elevator doors open again, leading Kyra inside.  The doors slid shut again and Jon selected his floor before turning to Kyra, seeing her leaning comfortably - invitingly - against the wall.  Smiling, Jon moved across to her, cupping his hands around her face and kissing her lips softly, light brushes of his lips on hers, knowing that he needed to keep from sliding his tongue into the deliciousness of her mouth, because if he did then the next thing he’d be doing was ripping her jeans off and ramming himself into her, right here, right now.

 

Kyra slid her hands under his shirt, caressing his stomach then moving around to his back, kneading the smooth muscles.  Her hands moved lower, onto his ass, Jon groaning and pulling away from her mouth.

 

“Stop, darlin’.”  He murmured, his hands running down her arms to pull her hands off him.  “If we don’t stop this right now your jeans are going to be around your ankles in about five seconds.”

 

“And if I said I didn’t have a problem with that?”

 

“I’d say we’re in an elevator, in your home town, and you don’t need the publicity.”

 

“You’re worried about my reputation?”

 

“Yeah.”  He smiled.  “Hell, it’d do mine good, but I doubt if the people who support your Foundation would find it so funny.”

 

As Kyra smiled her appreciation of his thoughtfulness, Jon raised her hands in his, bringing them to his lips and kissing each knuckle in turn, fighting back his urge to kiss her soft, tempting lips again.  He made the mistake of looking into her eyes, the deep brown drawing him in, but just as he started to lean closer, the elevator pinged and the doors opened on his floor.  Not sure whether he was relieved or not, Jon backed out of the elevator, pulling a smiling Kyra with him.  Reluctantly, he let go of one of her hands, dragging her along with him as his strides lengthened, his mind firmly set on getting her somewhere truly private.

 

When they reached his room, though, his heart sank as he saw the door lying open, a housekeeping cart parked outside.

 

“Oh, no way!”  He muttered sulkily, hearing Kyra giggle behind him.

 

They went into the room, surprising the middle-aged woman who was turning down the bedcover.

 

“I’m sorry!”  She said, looking from Jon to Kyra and back.  “I have only to do bathroom, then I’m finished.”

 

“It’s fine.”  Kyra told her, squeezing Jon’s hand. 

 

“Yeah.  We just need to call down for dinner anyway.”  Jon agreed, rolling his eyes at Kyra as the maid turned away.  “Menu’s over here, baby.”

 

While the woman finished up her work as quickly as she could, Jon and Kyra parked themselves on the couch, flipping through the menu.  Once they’d made their choices, Jon called the order downstairs, Kyra walking across to gaze out through the window.  The maid gathered up the bundle of used towels and took them out to her cart as she left, saying a polite goodbye as she closed the door.  When the lock snicked shut, Jon eased off the couch and went to Kyra, standing close behind her, his hands on her hips, sliding both palms slowly forward and down until his arms were wrapped tightly around her, holding her to him.

 

“Where were we?”  He whispered in her ear, licking her earlobe as their reflection in the window showed him her smile.

 

“I think you were saying something about getting my jeans around my ankles.”  She suggested.

 

“Mmmmmm.”  Jon purred, his lips tugging on her ear now, his hands roving higher on her body, up to cup her breasts, then he purred again, the soft sound deepening to a growl.  “No bra?”  He queried as his hands confirmed it.

 

“I was hoping it’d be a waste of time.”  Kyra murmured, gasping when Jon’s hands dropped quickly, sweeping under her t shirt and back up to caress her naked breasts.

 

“Forward planning.”  Jon mumbled against her neck, kissing down the slim column.  “I like that.”

 

Kyra moaned softly, leaning back into the support of Jon’s body as his hands teased her breasts, his mouth working back up to her ear, his tongue touching lightly around the edges before slipping the tip just inside.  He eased back again, Kyra twisting her head to kiss him, Jon very carefully pinching her taut nipples so that she whimpered into his mouth.

 

Jon slid one hand down from her breast, across her belly to the waist of her jeans, popping the button and slipping his fingers inside, finding the soft lace of panties.  Just as his fingers eased inside the lace, there was a knock at the bedroom door which shocked them out of their kiss.

 

“Shhh.”  Jon whispered, his hands still caressing her intimately as he raised his voice.  “Yeah?!”

 

“Room service.”  Was the muffled reply, and Jon groaned as he let his forehead drop onto her shoulder.

 

“Why couldn’t this be one of those hotels where you wait an hour for a club sandwich?”  He muttered, reluctantly taking his hands off Kyra.

 

“We could tell them to come back later.”  She suggested, not really serious, and Jon smirked.

 

“Darlin’, the only interruption I want later is them telling me to shut you up because you’re screaming too loud.  Let’s eat.”

 

Kyra pouted, but her giggle spoiled the effect, and Jon let her re-button her jeans before going across to let the waiter into the room.  After tipping the guy, he closed and locked the door, flipping the security bolt, too, just to be on the safe side.  They both had just about enough control now that they were able to sit on the couch, side by side, and eat their meal, enjoying the food, but more enjoying the anticipation of what they’d have for dessert.