These Days ~ Part Two

21

 

“God, I love the food here.”  Kyra finally murmured, pushing her plate away.

 

“Yeah.”  Jon agreed, his own plate already empty and lying back on the tray.  “And somehow it tastes better when it’s room service, ‘cause you can slouch where you like and eat barefoot.”

 

“Eww!  I don’t want to eat bare feet, thanks!”   She laughed.

 

“Aw, smart-ass today, huh?!”  Jon turned to her, seeing the teasing in her eyes.  “So what do you want to do, then?  Personally, I want to strip you naked and fuck you right here on this couch.  For starters.”

 

“Do you, now?  Maybe I’m not that kind of girl, Mr Bongiovi.”

 

“I think you’re just that kind of……….mermaid.”

 

Kyra smirked, getting to her feet suddenly, looking down at a slightly confused Jon.  She’d already kicked off her boots when they got back to the room, taking her cue from Jon doing the same, and now she fidgeted with the button of her jeans.  Jon grinned, reaching a hand to her, but she slapped his hand away.

 

“Hands off.”  She whispered with that cheeky smirk still on her lips.

 

As Jon watched, she unfastened her jeans and wriggled them off, no big performance of stripping for him, just a quick, efficient removal of the tight denim.  She pulled off her t shirt, too, standing before him in just a crisp white lace boyshort.  Without hesitation, she tugged the lace away, too, standing naked before him, Jon swallowing a groan as he looked at her.  Smiling at him, Kyra sank back onto the couch, laying one hand on Jon’s knee.

 

“Your turn.”  She told him softly, fingers sliding higher on his leg, toward his crotch.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”  Jon murmured, standing to strip off his shirt, the fine silk drifting to the floor like mist. 

 

By the time his jeans were unzipped and heading south, Kyra had her feet on the couch, and she watched him roll a condom over himself, slowly dropping her hand between her own thighs as their eyes met.  Jon couldn’t stop the groan this time, knowing exactly what she was doing, and as she raised her hand again he caught her wrist, bringing her fingers to his lips, sucking away the juices that lingered there.

 

She was obviously ready for him, and when Jon dropped to his knees on the couch, Kyra spread her legs wide, Jon just touching a finger lightly to her pussy before moving up, locking eyes with her as he slowly filled her flesh with his, her body accepting the intrusion gratefully.  He held himself still for a moment as her tight walls closed around him, then as Kyra purred beneath him, Jon started to thrust slowly, kissing his way from her chest to her lips.  She accepted the kiss for only a moment before twisting her head away, pulling his ear to her mouth.

 

“You said you were going to fuck me.”  She complained, bringing one hand down to his ass, fingernails biting into his flesh.

 

“Did I?”  He teased, keeping to the slow rhythm.

 

“Yes!”  Kyra got both hands on his ass now, her nails jamming in harder, forcing a grunt of pain from Jon. 

 

The pain - mild though it was - battled with his control, and he drove into her a little harder this time, Kyra grinning at him, eyes sparkling as she nodded.

 

“Yes, Jon.”  She muttered, jabbing her nails into him again.  “Please, Jon.  Fuck me.  We can do gentle later……”

 

He kissed her again, his thrusts starting to accelerate as he gave in to her, one of his hands sliding under her body, gripping onto her ass to steady her against it.  Tearing away from her lips, Jon could feel her tensing under him, around him, her head arching back, her throat offered to him, and he brought his mouth onto her neck, licking, kissing, biting as she moaned, her hands up on his back now, just clinging onto him.  With his mouth still on her throat, Jon’s free hand reached past her.  He wanted to feel the softness of her breast in his hand, but in the recesses of his mind he knew that he was beyond controlling his grip, that he’d bruise her if he did, and he grabbed onto the arm of the couch instead, Kyra screaming now as she climaxed, moving to wrap her legs around him, urging him on.

 

Jon felt sure he must be hurting her, but the ecstatic bucking beneath him, and the pulsing, clenching of the flesh around him, wouldn’t let him stop, drilling every stroke deep into Kyra as she came again, his own orgasm ripping through him until Jon collapsed on top of her, panting and shuddering with pleasure.  Kyra was wrapped all around him, her tightness around his dick, her arms and legs around his body, and Jon heard her soft moan as his hips twitched against her again, the dying spasms of orgasm moving him inside her.

 

“Oh, God.”  She whimpered, stroking his sweat-damp hair back from his face as he lay on top of her.

 

“Huh?” 

 

Jon hadn’t even heard her clearly, his pulse still pounding in his ears, and he slowly opened his eyes, focusing with difficulty.  At first he couldn’t even work out what he was looking at, something dark brown with pale streaks, then he realised that it was Kyra’s hair, his own blond hair tangled with hers with the way he’d collapsed onto her.  His thoughts were slowly becoming more coherent again, and he could feel her still tight around him, the softness of her body under his, the scent of her perfume clouding around them both.

 

“Jesus……..”  Jon mumbled, trying to find the strength to raise his head, only managing to twist around to lay his lips to her ear.  “Are you………..I didn’t……..?”

 

“Am I what?”  Kyra replied.  “Actually, am I who?”  She giggled.  “You’ll have to give me a minute here, baby……….I think you broke my brain……”

 

Jon chuckled softly, conscious that he still lay full-weight on top of her, but she didn’t seem to be protesting so far, which was a good thing since he couldn’t find the energy to move yet.  They lay like that for long minutes, then Kyra gave another giggle.

 

“I remember.”  She said.

 

“What do you remember?”  Jon asked, confused.  He even managed now to raise himself onto an elbow, looking down at her smiling face.

 

“My name.”  Kyra laughed, and Jon laughed with her.

 

“Me too.”  He said with a smirk.  “I’m Fred.”

 

“Good to meet you, Fred.”  She rolled her eyes.  “I’m Wilma.”

 

They both chuckled, Jon dropping his forehead to hers as he finally eased himself out of her.  Somehow, the silliness right at that moment felt just right, a perfect counterpoint to the wild ride they’d just shared, and Jon shifted again, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, enjoying the taste of her mouth almost as much as he enjoyed the taste of other parts of her.  When he raised his head again, Kyra looked up at him, drawing her lower lip into her mouth to taste him again.

 

Jon flushed suddenly as he looked at her, a wry smile twisting his lips.

 

“I think I need to apologise to you, Kyra.”

 

“What?  Why?”  She was lost.  “It’s what I wanted………”

 

“Yeah, but I bet this isn’t.”  He told her, stroking a finger over a highly visible hickey on her neck, reddening more when he saw the other one, almost an actual bite on her shoulder.  “These aren’t.”  He corrected himself.

 

“What?  What are you……..”  Kyra finally understood.  “No way!  You left hickies on me?  Jon!”

 

“Sorry.”  He dropped his head, peering at her through the straggles of blond hair.  “You made me crazy, Kyra……..I didn’t know I was doing it………I’m sorry…”

 

She smiled, tilting his head up again.

 

“Too late to worry about it now I guess.”  She smirked.  “I just may have to return the favor though.”

 

“Richie’ll love that.”  Jon muttered, then smiled.  “Let’s get off this couch, darlin’.  I want you in my bed.”

 

Kyra let him get off her, Jon heading into the bathroom to clean up, then when he emerged she slipped into the tiled room, only catching sight of herself in the mirror as she was leaving, swearing as she saw the hickey then looking more closely at her shoulder.  When she left the bathroom, she found Jon in the bed, and when she got close enough she slapped him jokingly across the back of the head.

 

“That.”  She pointed her other hand at her damaged shoulder.  “Isn’t even a hickey, Jon.  It’s a damned bite mark!  How the hell am I meant to hide that?”

 

“I was thinking about that.”  He grinned, grabbing her and pulling her into the bed.  “And I got a solution.”

 

“You do?”  She’d never heard of a fool-proof way of disguising a hickey, but maybe a rockstar knew something she didn’t.

 

“Yep.”  Jon pinned her hands in self-protection.  “I’ll just keep you in my bed until the hickies are gone!”

 

“And if you give me more of them?”

 

His face fell.  “Shit.  You saw through that one, huh?”

 

22

 

“Yep.”  Kyra nodded.  “You’re so not subtle, sir.”

 

“Hey, I can do subtle!”  He protested, then grinned.  “Just not very often.  Life’s too short for subtle.”

 

“Life’s too short to drink bad wine.”  Kyra replied, then looked over at the couch.  “Speaking of which, we left the bottle over there.”

 

She tried to get off the bed, and Jon held her hands for a moment then released her.

 

“Go get the wine, woman!”  He ordered with a smirk.

 

Kyra raised an eyebrow at him as she climbed off the bed, and as she started to walk away she flicked her hand against his bare thigh, Jon yelping at the sting of the smack, more painful than he’d have believed.

 

“Jesus, Kyra!”  He whined, rubbing the sore spot.  “You’re way too good at that!”

 

“Well, you have to sting a horse if you want it to feel it.”  She laughed as she walked to the couch.  “You gotta learn to do it right, otherwise all you do is hurt yourself instead of them!”

 

“I’m not a horse.”  He pouted.

 

“Sure you are.”  She soothed his ruffled ego easily.  “You’re an Italian stallion, aren’t you?”

 

Jon roared with laughter at that.  “Niiiiice, Kyra!  Now I can’t be mad at you, when you say something like that!”

 

“Success.”  She whispered with a smirk as she collected the bottle and glasses, heading back to the bed with hands full.  “God, you’re easy, aren’t you?”

 

“Darlin’,”  Jon took the bottle as she got back into bed.  “Tell any guy he’s a stallion and he’ll forgive you anything!”

 

“Very true.  Okay, so all men are easy!”

 

“Yeah, that we are.  Gimme your glass.”

 

Jon poured wine for them both, then they juggled the bottle between them, Jon taking a glass while Kyra took the bottle, laying it on the nightstand.  Neither of them was interested in the pretence of a toast, just sipping the cool wine appreciatively.  After a few minutes, Kyra chuckled softly, Jon turning to look at her curiously.

 

“What’s funny?”

 

“Nothing.  This just feels so………..so decadent……..laying in bed, drinking wine in the evening…..”  She looked at him through the corner of her lashes.  “With a not-too-bad-looking man next to me…”

 

“Where?”  Jon looked around.  “You can’t mean me darlin’, ‘cause I’m gorgeous.  My momma said it, so it must be true!”

 

“Mothers are biased.”

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

 

Jon stretched slowly.  Part of him - the part between his legs mostly - wanted to stay here in bed with Kyra, but he also felt like he wanted to go out somewhere.  Unable to make the decision on his own, he rolled his head against the headboard, looking at Kyra.

 

“Do you feel like going out somewhere?”  He asked.  “I kinda feel like going out for a few drinks, then coming back here and making love with you until the sun’s coming up.”

 

“Mmmm……that sounds really nice.”  Kyra agreed.  “Where were you thinking?”

 

“I don’t mind.  Somewhere with music.”

 

“Oh, in this town, that really narrows the field!”  She paused, frowning.  “Wonder where Richie ended up?  I’d like to hear him play.  Actually, I’d love to hear you both…….”

 

“You would?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Well, let’s head out and see if we can find him.  Or at least find somewhere with some live music.”

 

“I need to shower first.”  Kyra blushed.  “I can’t go out like this.”

 

“Why not?”  Jon knew why not, but he wanted to hear her say it.

 

“Because, asshole, I smell of sex and sweat.”  She twisted around, rubbing her nose into the furry mat on his chest.  “And so do you.”

 

“If you insist.”  Jon smirked.  “Let’s go, then.”

 

“Is there room for two?”  Kyra asked, not sure why she felt this tiny hesitation over showering with him.

 

“Yeah.  Tons of room.”  Jon couldn’t figure out why showering together didn’t feel like such a big deal tonight.  The only thing he could think of was that it was because they were in a hotel, and it wasn’t such an overtly intimate act as showering together in her home.

 

He nudged against her until Kyra sighed and got out of the bed, both of them leaving their wine on the side table as they headed to the bathroom.  Kyra paused to search the pocket of her jeans, finding a band to hold her hair up on top of her head, then they shared the shower, finding laughter and silliness instead of lustful touches.  Emerging from the bathroom, they dressed again, smiling at each other as they gathered their clothes from the floor, and they were ready to leave when Kyra glanced at the mirror, swearing softly again.

 

“Shit.  I don’t suppose you have a scarf or anything?”

 

“Don’t think so, why?”

 

“Uh, hello?!”  Kyra pointed at the dark bruise of the hickey on her neck.

 

“Ah.  Yeah, sorry.”  Jon turned to the closet.  “Let me look.”

 

Yanking open a drawer, Jon pawed through a few shirts, grinning as he found something.

 

“How’s this?”  He held out a bandana.

 

“That might work.”  Kyra muttered, taking it from his hand, shaking her head at the self-satisfied grin on his face.  “You’re actually happy about this, aren’t you?”

 

“Kinda, yeah.  Marked you as mine.”

 

“Asshole.”  She mumbled as she wound the soft cotton around her neck, effectively hiding the hickey.  “Okay - let’s go.”

 

They rode the elevator down to the foyer and headed out onto the street.  As they walked, Jon bumped his hand against Kyra’s until she looked at his face, then looked down, seeing his hand held open to hers.  After a brief hesitation she took his hand, Jon’s fingers lacing comfortably between hers, and they walked like that along the street, passing a couple of bars.

 

The next bar along the street had a sign saying they had live music, but after peering inside they saw that there wasn’t any band on right now.  There was another, dimly lit door just further down, and as they passed by it Jon cocked his head slightly, listening, then pulled Kyra to a halt.

 

“This one.”  He said.

 

“Here?”  Kyra looked at the plain lettering above the door.

 

“Yeah.  That’s Richie.” 

 

Now that she listened, Kyra could hear a single guitar, but no voice accompanying the fast fingerwork on the strings, making her look at Jon in disbelief.

 

“How can you tell that’s Richie?  It’s just a guitar.”

 

“Darlin’, I’ve been playing next to Rich for more than ten years now.  I know how he plays.  C’mon in, if you don’t believe me.”

 

Still skeptical, Kyra let Jon lead her inside, and when her eyes adjusted the dim lights she looked at the low stage, seeing the members of a band standing silent as a single man - in faded black jeans, black shirt and black stetson - played a hauntingly beautiful guitar solo.  He was completely lost in the music, eyes closed, and he bit on his lip, raising one leg slightly as he played a succession of high, perfect notes.  She and Jon stood in the shadows, watching and listening, until Richie finished, then they joined in the loud applause from audience and band alike.  Grinning happily, Richie stepped to the mic and thanked the crowd, then his eyes caught the familiar blond head of Jon and he quickly told the audience he’d be back and laid the guitar aside, jumping down from the stage and coming across to them.

 

“Angel!”  He grinned, hugging Kyra, then hugging Jon, too, as though he hadn’t seen them only a couple of hours ago.

 

“That was beautiful.”  Kyra said.  “We caught the end of it.  Actually, your brother here knew it was you from outside.”  She smirked at Jon’s surprised expression as she called him Richie’s brother.  “I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared, that he could recognise your playing.”

 

“Be impressed.”  Richie advised with a wink.  “He doesn’t get so pissy when you find him impressive.”

 

“Prick.”  Jon mumbled.  “Kyra, you wanna drink?”

 

“Sure.  Beer’s fine for me.”  She said.

 

Without even asking Richie, Jon ordered three beers, and they took them to a tiny table.

 

“I’m confused.”  Richie said.  “Bro - you have this hot woman in your room, and you decide to go bar-hopping?  What’s with that?”

 

“I wore him out.”  Kyra chuckled before Jon could answer, so he had to wait until Richie stopped laughing before he could reply.

 

“Bitch.”  He said mildly, Kyra nodding agreement.  “Anyway, we decided to come out for a bit, then head back to the room.”  He smirked.  “Give the sheets a chance to dry off.”

 

Kyra snorted before whispering.  “Why?  We never made it to the bed.”

 

“Kyra wanted to hear you play, too.”  Jon said a little more seriously.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Uh-huh.”  She smiled at Richie.  “Actually, I’d love to hear you both, but….”

 

“Hey - that can be arranged, girl.”  Richie turned away, waving to the singer of the band who raised an acknowledging hand.

 

When the guy had finished singing, he excused himself from the stage for a moment, leaving the rest of the band playing, and he came to their table.

 

“Hey Mike.  Listen, the lady here would like to hear me and my boy here……..that okay with you?”

 

Mike looked at Jon, recognising him and grinning as he held out a hand, Jon shaking it amicably.

 

“Sure, Rich.  Whenever you like.”  He grinned.  “Well, after you introduce me to the lady, of course.”

 

Kyra felt Jon tense beside her as Mike’s eyes flicked over her, and she twisted her foot, kicking Jon gently as she held her hand across the table.

 

“Kyra Masters.”

 

“Nice to meet you.  I’m Mike.”  He shook her hand, suddenly aware of the look in Jon’s eyes and immediately backing off.  “Any time you guys like, just come on up.”

 

Jon and Richie both thanked him - Jon relaxing again - and Mike headed back to the stage to continue his set.  Once they finished their beers, Richie was clearly itching to get back on stage, and Jon grinned at Kyra.

 

“What d’you wanna hear, babe?”

 

“I don’t mind.”  She said, then blushed.  “I don’t really know much of your stuff, so anything works for me.”

 

“Doesn’t know our stuff.”  Richie muttered with a grin.  “C’mon, Kidd.  Let’s play.”

 

Standing, Jon quickly pressed a kiss to Kyra’s forehead then walked away from the table, following Richie to the stage.  They waited by the side until Mike was finished, then he looked across and introduced them briefly.

 

“Okay, folks.  Richie you’ve already met……..he’s kinda not bad on guitar.”  That got one or two laughs.  “His friend has decided to join us, too, so would you please welcome them both - they’re gonna play one or two for us.  Richie Sambora, Jon Bon Jovi.”

 

There was applause as they stepped up to grab guitars, but from her table Kyra could hear that the crowd were applauding out of politeness, and appreciation of Richie’s playing - not because the names of the two rockstars meant much to the audience.  Once they’d strapped on guitars, the guys conferred quickly then stepped up to a pair of mics, the band taking a break and leaving just the two men with the two acoustic guitars.

23

 

“Hey.”  Jon said softly into the mic, smiling out at the crowd, but mainly at Kyra.

 

Sitting in the shadows, Kyra was a little surprised when Jon and Richie just started to play the beginning of a song, making no big thing of who they were, the latest album or the upcoming tour, just playing like any other couple of guys from a bar band.  She’d seen from watching Richie earlier that he just truly loved to play music - lead, rhythm, backup, he didn’t care - just give him a guitar and let him go.  It was a little more of a surprise, though, to see Jon didn’t suddenly change into a high-performance rockstar the second he saw a mic.  There was no doubt he was a performer, but right now he was like Richie, just happy to be there playing.

 

The intro they were playing seemed familiar, even to Kyra, though she couldn’t immediately place the song title.  Jon started to sing, and she realised that it was one of their most popular songs but that they were playing it differently from on the record.  Jon sang alone until the chorus, when Richie stepped up closer to his mic to harmonise on the ‘I’m a cowboy’ and repeat Jon’s ‘wanted’.  Kyra smiled at the way their two voices blended, then Jon nodded to Richie, who smoothly took over, singing the second verse, Jon coming back for the chorus, then they traded lines through the rest of the song, finishing with the familiar picking of the chords to end the song.

 

Looking around the rest of the crowd as they applauded, Kyra guessed that at least some of them now realised who was on stage, but in the main the clapping was just because the audience appreciated the singing and playing they’d heard.  Jon and Richie exchanged a quick couple of words, then started to play again, Kyra raising her eyebrows as she did recognise this one, just surprised to hear them play it.  Jon grinned across at her again as he started to sing - ‘Busted flat on Baton Rouge…….’

 

When they finished that one, Jon looked across at Mike, beginning to lift the guitar off, but Mike shook his head, gesturing they should continue.

 

“Anything you wanna hear?”  Jon asked the crowd, but though he saw Kyra’s lips move, he didn’t hear what she said, the smirk on her face telling him to ask her about it later.

 

What she’d actually murmured, almost silently, was ‘yeah, I wanna hear you groaning my name when you cum’, and she could see in his face that he guessed it was something like that.

 

“No?”  Jon looked at the audience, guessing that they were trying to think of something that these two city boys might know - or think of something obscure that they wouldn’t.  “Okay.  Rich, let’s do…..”

 

He backed away from the mic, so they didn’t hear what he said, and Richie grinned as he hefted the guitar into a better position, the strange instrument not set as perfectly for his long frame as one of his own guitars would be.  They started to play, Jon looking down at Kyra as they sang ‘Imagine’, again taking a verse each in turn, then moving straight through into one of her personal favorites, ‘Bridge over Troubled Water’.  When they finished this time, while the audience were still applauding, they both removed their guitars and laid them aside.  Neither of them made a big deal of bowing or anything like that, just waving briefly and stepping off the stage, pausing to thank Mike and shake his hand before coming back to Kyra.

 

Jon headed straight to the table while Richie detoured to the bar, getting three more beers and bringing them with him, holding the necks of the three bottles easily between the long fingers of one hand.  He distributed the bottles to Kyra and Jon, then dropped onto the empty chair.

 

“That was great.”  Kyra said, looking at them both.  “I have to admit to being a bit surprised, too.”

 

“Surprised?  Why?”  Jon asked, and she blushed just a bit.

 

“Well, you - both of you - just went up there and played like you were from a bar band.  I guess I expected a bit more rockstar.”

 

Jon laughed.  “Darlin’, we are from a bar band.  It’s just that, usually, we play reeeaaally big bars!”

 

“S’true.”  Richie agreed.  “It’s where we came from, and I guess we’re still real comfortable with it.  Anyway, it’s fun, when people don’t have any expectation of you.  On tour, with the whole band, the fans are always gonna expect to hear certain things, and hear them certain ways.  Here, though, nobody cares so long as we’re in tune.”

 

Nodding agreement, Jon sipped beer, and Kyra smiled.

 

“You managed to hit on one of my favorite songs, anyway.”

 

“Which one?”

 

“Bridge.  I’ve always loved that song.”

 

“Yeah?”  Jon grinned at her.  “Me too.”

 

Richie looked from one to the other then made a retching sound.

 

“ ‘Scuse me while I puke.  Shit - why do I suddenly feel like a chaperone with a pair of lovebirds?”

 

“I dunno.”  Jon smirked.  “Maybe ‘cause you’re old?  Maybe ‘cause your woman ain’t around to take care of you?”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Told you earlier, bud, you ain’t my type.”

 

“Hey!”  Kyra interrupted, nudging Jon.  “Leave him alone!”

 

“Or what?”  He laughed, wincing and pulling away when she made to smack his thigh as she’d done earlier.  “Okay.  Peace!”

 

“You got him trained fast.”  Richie grinned.  “Thank you for sticking up for me, Kyra - I think we need to bring you on the road with us, for when he gets tired and pissy - you can……..ummmmmm………take his mind off it.”

 

“I do have a life, y’know.”  She informed him.  “The Foundation doesn’t run itself.  You’ll just have to distract him some other way.”

 

“Uh, hello?  Remember me?”  Jon pouted.  “Stop talkin’ ‘bout me like I’m not here!”

 

“Who said that?”  Kyra joked, blushing furiously when Jon leaned to growl in her ear.

 

“The guy who fucked you until you were screaming his name.  Repeatedly.”

 

Kyra turned to look at him, still so close that all she could see was blue eyes, the corners crinkling with his grin, slowly fading as his eyes heated.  Richie looked at the pair of them, even from across the table feeling the crackling tension between them, but it was a good kind of tension, making him grin as he spoke.

 

“You two need to get a room.”

 

“We’ve got a room.”  Jon muttered, still looking at Kyra, easing back enough that he saw her bite on her lip.

 

“Well, I suggest y’all go back there before you put on entirely a different kinda show for these nice folks.”  Richie laughed. 

 

Blushing, Kyra looked over at Richie, but she couldn’t deny how she felt, or hide the flush of hunger on her face.  The bar suddenly felt very warm, and she tugged unthinkingly at the bandana around her neck, lowering it slightly, realising her mistake when Richie grinned again, shaking his head helplessly.

 

“Shit.”  She muttered as she knew what he’d seen, pulling the cotton up over the hickey again.  “Not a word!”  She spat at Richie, trying not to giggle.

 

“Never said a thing.”  He smirked.  “Jonny got any of those?”

 

“Not yet he hasn’t.”  Kyra said darkly, Richie laughing again.

 

Richie was still laughing at them as they stood from the table, just waving him goodbye as they left the bar and headed for the hotel.  He watched them leave, smiling happily, glad that Jon was enjoying himself again.  After Dorothea kicked him to the curb, Jon had been in danger of either falling back into a deep funk like he had after the New Jersey tour, or going the opposite way and banging anything with a pulse.  Looked like Kyra had stopped either of those possibilities, and even if it was just a temporary thing, it seemed as though she’d straightened Jon out.  At that thought, Richie laughed again.  Straightened him out in more ways than one, he thought.

 

24

 

After leaving Richie in the bar, Jon and Kyra made their way back to the hotel, both chuckling a little self-consciously as they realised they were walking just short of a jog, desperate to get into the privacy of Jon’s hotel room. Even when they laughed at themselves, though, they didn’t slow their pace, reaching the hotel in half the time it had taken on the outward journey and riding the elevator upstairs. By some mutual, unspoken agreement, they stood on opposite sides of the elevator car, only their eyes touching each other’s faces and bodies, building the sweet anticipation toward boiling point.

Finally alone in Jon’s bedroom, they kissed lingeringly as soon as the door closed behind them - a teenager’s dream of a kiss, with sighing and gasping and gentle, almost hesitant fondling of each other. Kyra purred a soft, contented sigh as they parted, Jon smiling at her.

“Let’s go to bed.” He murmured, taking her hand to lead her there.

On the way to the bed, they both discarded their t shirts, boots following suit, so that they both wore only their jeans when they reached the bed, still rumpled from earlier. With Jon again holding her hand, Kyra got onto the bed, moving across to leave room for him to join her, and he followed her onto the mattress, gathering her into his arms with a soft smile.

Secure in his embrace, Kyra raised one hand to Jon’s face, stroking the mess of blond hair back so she could see his face more clearly. The blue eyes gazing back at her were softer than their usual sapphire blue, no less electrifying for it, and she couldn’t resist smoothing a fingertip down from his forehead and around the corner of his eye, his skin smooth as a child’s.

“How old are you?” She whispered, her fingertip continuing it’s exploration, down onto his cheekbone now.

“Why?”

“Because this beautiful skin belongs on a child.” She smiled at him, feeling his fingertips pressing into her back. “But you’re no child.”

“Glad you think so.” Jon leaned in to kiss her lightly. “I’m………fuck, how old am I? Nineteen sixty…….. thirty three. Shit. You’d think I’d remember - my birthday was just last month!”

“You don’t look thirty three.”

“Well, thank you, darlin’. I don’t feel it either.”

His gently caressing hands moved lower, right above the waist of her jeans now, enjoying the velvet smooth skin, leaning in again to brush his lips onto hers, slowly parting her lips to taste. Kyra let his tongue into her mouth, savoring him, then easing back again, conscious of the feel of Jon’s hands on her bare back, long, slow strokes of fingers and palms up and down her back. She pushed herself a tiny bit higher on the bed, brushing his hair back again, repeating her gentle caress of his face, forehead to eye to cheek, but this time using her lips instead of her fingers. Jon brought one hand around to her breast, light squeezes of the soft flesh as Kyra nudged at him, finally taking the hint and rolling onto his back, pulling her on top of him.

Kyra pushed at his hair again as she lay straddling him, her butterfly kisses crossing his forehead and dropping along the other cheekbone. She worked her way back to his lips, sharing another deep and satisfying kiss, then it was Jon who moved, sliding down the bed a little, bringing his mouth onto her breast, taking each nipple in turn, suckling tenderly, hearing Kyra’s sigh of pleasure above him.

He was hard already, but Jon wanted to make this part last forever - the delicious anticipation of sliding into her hot flesh, feeling her clench tight around him when she came. With one nipple still in his mouth, he slid his hands down onto her ass, pulling her down a little, letting her feel him hard beneath her. Kyra purred again, moving her hips against him. The lace panties she was glad she’d put on were soaked already, a deep, aching hunger between her thighs, the need to have Jon inside her growing into desperation. His mouth on her breasts felt almost too good, sensations rippling through her as he sucked on her nipples, and when he rocked her down against his trapped erection she gasped as it was all suddenly too much, the blend of stimulation pushing her over the edge, cumming with a whimpering cry, feeling the heat of her own juices soaking into her jeans.

Jon let her nipple slip from his mouth, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at her, loving how freely she was giving herself over to him. He reached up to suckle her other nipple for a moment.

“You like that?” He whispered as he released her, and Kyra just nodded, slightly embarrassed that with just a few minutes of well-places touches, he’d gotten her so excited that she literally came in her jeans. “I love that you let yourself go that way.” Jon reassured her, somehow knowing what she was thinking. “Love you’re that comfortable with me.”

Still blushing, Kyra smiled down on him, then kissed him again. They were still both feeling the tenderness of the night, and Jon let go of Kyra as she moved down the bed, kissing the furry mat of his chest, searching out his hard, tight nipples with her lips, kissing and licking, nibbling carefully.

 

She moved lower still, lips on his belly as she unfastened his jeans, her tongue snaking to tease his belly button, Jon gasping at that sensation. Getting his jeans open, Kyra gently eased his aching cock through, closing both hands around the hot shaft, lips and tongue touching to the tip, tasting him. Jon sighed as her mouth took just the head of him inside, a light sucking all he allowed her, though, reaching to touch her hair.

“No, darlin’.” He murmured. “Please don’t. I love the way you do me, but I want to make love with you tonight.”

Obedient to his wishes - just as eager to make love with him - Kyra smiled and released him from her hands, instead gripping his jeans and tugging them down, sliding herself off the end of the bed and taking his jeans with her.

Jon reached to the nightstand for a condom, rolling it on as he watched Kyra strip off her jeans and panties, holding out his hands to her as she climbed back into the bed. He eased her onto her back, leaning over her for another kiss, his hand on her breast as her palm rubbed along his side, and they were still kissing as he moved across, sliding between her parted thighs, pressing himself gently into her, the heat enfolding him as he sank all the way inside.

Kyra had one hand on his back, one in his hair, and Jon shifted to bring his own hand to her hair, the other still on her breast as his hips started on a slow rhythm, nature driving his movements as his mind concentrated on the kiss. Feeling Kyra tensing under him, he changed the angle, holding her off from orgasm, and Kyra’s hand on his back was working instinctively, like a cat with a cushion, squeezing in rhythm with his thrusts.

Jon raised his head for a moment, looking down, seeing her open her eyes and smile up at him. Smiling back, he lowered his mouth to hers again, feeling the tension building in her again, his own body close now, ready to cum with her, groaning into her mouth as he felt it start, felt himself rising right to the brink, then Kyra moaned louder under him, her body tensing, clenching around him, and the pressure destroyed him, drawing his orgasm out of him deliciously slowly, no slamming impact but a glorious feeling of release as they came together, Jon slowing above Kyra as he rode through it, finally lifting his mouth from hers.

They grinned at each other, wasted, satisfied grins, and Jon reluctantly eased himself out of Kyra, disposing of the condom before curling her into his arms again. Neither of them spoke - words seemed superfluous right now - Kyra just snuggling into his arms, her head on his warm chest, one hand splayed on his belly.

25

 

In the sweet warmth of recovery, Kyra idly raked her fingers through the fur on his chest, her head comfortably on his shoulder as Jon tugged her a little higher against him.  He tightened his arm on her, holding her as he leaned to press a kiss to the top of her head, then he laid his head down on the pillow with a sigh.

 

“That was a sad one.”  Kyra murmured, still playing with the mat of hair that fascinated her somehow.

 

“Hmmm?”  Jon raised his head a little.  “Sorry darlin’.”

 

“What’s wrong?”  Her fingers moved across, fingernails circling his nipple, her eyes on his chest watching the flesh tighten, rising to a hard nub as she teased the skin.

 

“Nothing.  I was just thinking that I wish I wasn’t leaving again tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow?”  Now Kyra did look up at him, her eyes wide.  “I didn’t realise you were leaving so soon.”

 

“Yeah.  We left a couple weeks free before we head out on the road, and me and Richie just took a quick trip down here to play.”  He smiled at her, toying with her hair.  “I guess I was maybe a li’l bit pissed that I hadn’t heard from you, so maybe it was fate that brought us here.  If I hadn’t been here alone because Rich couldn’t drag himself away from Heather, I wouldn’t have been bored and agreed to go to the fundraiser.  Wouldn’t have found you there.”

 

“I don’t really care what brought you here.  I’m just glad it did.”  Kyra smirked up at him.  “When do you leave tomorrow?”

 

“Flight’s at three, I think.  Why?”

 

She chuckled, a dirty sound that had Jon smirking back at her.

 

“I was just wondering how many times I can get you off before you have to leave.”  She told him, moving herself up the bed as Jon grinned.

 

“You naughty little girl, you.”  He smirked, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her mouth to his.

 

While they kissed, deep, slow strokes of tongue on tongue, Kyra shifted to kneel astride Jon, his free hand sliding to caress between her legs, and she could feel him starting to harden beneath her.  After enjoying the taste of his kiss, and the touch of his hand, she eased herself backward, kissing her way to his crotch, hands and mouth bringing him fully erect.  Jon laid his head back on the pillow with a groan when she took him into the heat of her mouth, fisting his fingers in her hair as she worked on him with tongue and lips.  He tightened his grip, though, pulling her up, looking down at her confused eyes.

 

“Darlin’, you……..”

 

She smiled, letting the pressure of his hands draw her up his body, kissing him then whispering in his ear.

 

“I like the way you taste……..”

 

Jon groaned again when her lips closed on his ear, playing with his earrings.

 

“Kyra, I want…….”  He grinned suddenly, bringing his lips to her ear.  “You know the old saying?”

 

Sitting up a little, she looked at him curiously, and he continued.

 

“Wine me, dine me…………..”

 

Kyra laughed, wrinkling her nose as she shook her head at him.

 

“I know the old saying.”  She laughed.

 

It was hardly an elegant position, but Jon grabbed her by the waist, twisting her around until she was crouched over him again, her lips on his cock but this time her already wet pussy above his own mouth.  Jon was always turned on to find how much some girls got aroused by giving head, and Kyra obviously got very turned on by it.  He didn’t waste any time, gripping her hips as he licked slowly across her, the pillow under his head bringing him closer to her.  Kyra’s hands were on his thighs, and she raised her mouth off him for a moment as the tip of his tongue circled around her clit, her fingers digging into his legs.  She got control of herself again, one hand nudging between his thighs to cup his balls, her mouth sliding all the way down his cock, taking him right in until he could go no deeper, slowly working her way up him again.  When Jon’s tongue slid into her, she groaned against Jon’s dick, feeling the corresponding buzz against her own flesh as Jon groaned at the feeling of it.

 

His tongue still thrusting into her, Jon managed to move one hand, getting his thumb onto her clit, stroking in rhythm with his tongue.  Kyra moaned again, lifting her head as her back arched, and Jon moved his mouth away, still stroking with his thumb as he grunted to her.

 

“Don’t stop, darlin’……..please…….so close…….”

 

The deep flush of his skin, the heavy swollen head in her mouth had told her that, and the fluid on the tip of him confirmed it.  Feeling his tongue drive into her again, Kyra licked across him, circling her tongue around the tip, Jon’s hips moving as he tried to thrust upward into her mouth.  She took him again, the pleasure starting to course through her forcing her movements faster, her head bobbing on him as she sucked harder, Jon groaning into her, both of them right on the edge.  Kyra heard him grunt in satisfaction a split second before he came, and she quickly swallowed the cum that flooded her mouth, still sucking on him, then yanking her head away from him as she came, knowing as it racked through her that she’d have closed her teeth on him in the shattering spasms of her orgasm.

 

Beneath her, Jon slipped his tongue out of her as she came, his thumb still stroking as he licked away the juices from her, feeling her hands gripping tightly to his thighs, very glad that she’d raised her mouth off him, then as the sensations ebbed away and her head drooped forward, he could feel her hair on his thighs, down between, touching his balls in a fairy’s caress.

 

Still whimpering, Kyra moved, Jon letting her go as she just shifted off him, slumping down onto the mattress beside him, head to feet as they both recovered.

 

Jon rolled his head to look at her, lying with her eyes closed and a smile on her lips, then he moved onto his knees briefly, grabbing a tissue from the bedside to wipe his face before lying down beside her, both of them with their feet on the pillows and heads by the foot of the bed.  Kyra opened her eyes when he touched her hair, stroking it back over her shoulder, then Jon leaned forward to kiss her gently, tasting himself in her mouth, wondering if she could taste herself in his.

 

“I like how you taste, too.”  He murmured.

 

Kyra just smiled, then Jon chuckled.

 

“Well, that’s one.”  He told her.  “Should I get a pad, keep count?”

 

“Huh?”  She frowned, then realised what he meant and laughed.  “If you keep doing things like that to me, you’ll need to get a pad so you can write down my name, ‘cause I’ll forget it permanently.”

 

“S’okay.  I know who you are.  You’re Wilma.”

 

“That’s right.  And you’re Fred.”

 

Both laughing softly, they lay like that, close together, occasional touches as they talked, enjoying the closeness and giving their bodies a chance to recover.  Until the next time.

 

26

 

“Will you stay with me tonight?”  Jon asked, still stroking her hair, and Kyra opened her eyes drowsily.

 

“I didn’t bring anything with me.”  She clarified her statement as he frowned.  “I didn’t bring any other clothes.  Not even a toothbrush.”

 

“The hotel can get you a toothbrush.”  He pressed, wanting her to stay.  “And I’m sure you can find something in my clothes to wear.”

 

Kyra giggled suddenly.  “Well, now that you’ve outgrown your spandex phase, I may take you up on that.”

 

Unable to contain it, Jon snorted.  “What?  You got something against my eighties fashion sense?”

 

“It may have been fashion, but there wasn’t much sense in it.”  Kyra retorted.  “I did like the hair, though.”

 

“It’s always about the fuckin’ hair.”  Jon muttered sulkily.  “What’s so special about my hair?”

 

“It looked hot.”  She shrugged with a smirk.  “S’fine now, though - still enough to get a good grip of.”

 

“Maybe I’ll just shave it.”  He grunted, and Kyra pouted.

 

Bringing her hands up, she knotted them into his hair, pinning his head as she looked at him.

 

“Don’t you dare!”  She growled, tugging lightly.  “I don’t go for bald men.  Just leave it alone.”

 

Jon laughed, trying to pull away, but Kyra held him until he relented.

 

“Oh, okay, then.  If you insist.”  Now she let him go.  “But anyway, by the time I see you again, it’ll be a mess - during a tour I don’t have time to get it cut.  It’ll be a fuckin’ bush.”

 

“So?  All the more to hang onto.”  Leaning to kiss him, Kyra grew serious.  “When do you actually leave on tour?”

 

“First show’s April twenty six, in India, so we’ll be leaving Wednesday so we get time for all the soundchecks and the final setting up.  The first show’s always the hardest.”  He rolled onto his back, feeling exhausted just at the thought of it.  “We don’t really get a break until the second half of May, when we go from Pacific Rim to Europe.  Few days off in between.”

 

“I don’t know how you can do it.”  Kyra leaned over him, propped on one elbow as she stroked his chest, Jon smiling at her tender caress.

 

“S’not so bad, really.  I guess we’re used to it now.  Hell, we toured for about seven years I think, when we did Slippery then went straight into New Jersey.”  He frowned at the memory.  “Damned near broke us, though.  In fact, damned near killed me.  Or  rather I damned near killed me.”

 

“By working too hard?”  Kyra frowned down on him, but he shook his head sadly.

 

“No.  I mean I damned near killed myself, literally, darlin’.  I was in a car, on the freeway, and it was only Dot that talked me out of opening the door and just throwing myself the fuck out.”  The hurt was still there, deep in his eyes, as he looked at Kyra.  “I was lost, Kyra.  Didn’t know where I was going, or if I even wanted to go there any more.”

 

“Jesus, Jon.”  She couldn’t think of anything else to say, stroking his face now.

 

“Yeah.”  He said softly, but he’d opened the door to it now, and he kept talking softly.  If he’d learned one thing from the near-destruction of himself and the band, it was to talk about things.  “You shoulda seen me by the end of that never-fucking-ending tour.  I was jacked up on so many steriods I’d put on something like fifteen pounds - I look fuckin’ weird - big black rings around my eyes, all puffed up.  I saw a photograph of myself, recently, and my eyes are just dead.  I don’t know where the fuck I was, but I sure wasn’t on that stage.”

 

“But you got through it.”  Kyra said gently, tilting his face so he looked at her, looking deep into his eyes.  “You got through it and you survived it.  That’s all that matters.”

 

“I know.”  His smile broke through again, throwing the shadows out of his eyes as he laid his hand over hers.  “I know it, darlin’.  That’s why I try to live each day now.  Live every single minute like it’s your last.”  He chuckled.  “Hell, one day I’ll be right.”

 

“But you won’t be throwing yourself out of moving vehicles, right?”  Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, and he dragged her hand across, kissing her palm.

 

“No.  I won’t be throwing myself out of moving vehicles.”  Another grin.  “No matter how crazy you drive, I promise I won’t jump.”

 

“Thank you.”  She said quietly, Jon frowning again.

 

“For what?”

 

“For telling me.  Thank you for trusting me that way.  Thank you for opening up to me.  Just……I don’t know……just thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome, babe.”  He brought her hand to his mouth again, this time taking a fingertip in his mouth, smiling around it when her eyes closed at the feeling.  “You could always show me how grateful you are, though.”  He told her.

 

“So I could.”  Kyra answered, moving her hand away and replacing it with her lips.

 

Jon slid his hand into her hair, around behind her head to hold her close, and Kyra never lifted her lips from his as she moved to lie half on top of him, her breasts pressed tight to that furred chest, feeling Jon’s other hand squeezing on her ass. 

 

Neither of them felt quite ready for another round just yet, though, and after a long, deliberately thorough kiss Kyra raised her head a little, Jon’s hand moving down onto her back.

 

“You kiss so good.”  She whispered to him, and he grinned.

 

“Thank you, ma’am.  So do you.”  He chuckled.  “I think it’s an old Italian saying, that you can live well on bread and kisses.”

 

“Who needs the bread?”  Kyra teased, outlining his lips with a fingertip.  “Who needs it when you’ve got these beautifully soft, luscious lips, and that amazingly talented tongue?”

 

“Do you always say things like that?”  Jon asked curiously.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Just………just whatever you’re thinking.  So far, you’ve talked about my skin, my hair and my mouth…..”

 

“Does it bother you?”

 

“No.  It’s just unusual, is all.  I guess I know people probably think that kinda thing - well, I know it about the hair thing - but they don’t usually just say it to my face.”

 

Kyra shrugged, at least as much as she could shrug lying on top of a naked man who was holding her with both arms.

 

“S’pose I do just say whatever I’m thinking.  Except when it comes to the Foundation, I guess I don’t see the point in skirting around things.  If I think it, I’ll say it.  And I’ll say it to your face - I won’t go behind someone’s back and bitch about them.  Or compliment them.  If I have something to say, you’ll hear it.”  She grinned.  “Not always a popular trait, but that’s just how it goes.”

 

Now Jon grinned up at her, his hands moving on her back in a soothing stroking motion.

 

“Do you even know what a turn-on that is?  Someone who’s totally honest about what they’re thinking?”

 

As his hands stroked her skin, Kyra could feel him under her and she smirked, rubbing her hips gently on him, feeling him just beginning to get hard.

 

“Y’know, I kinda get that impression.”

 

She dropped her mouth to his again, but their lips had barely met when someone hammered a fist against the bedroom door.

 

“What the fuck?”  Jon muttered as Kyra lifted her head in surprise.  He raised his voice.  “Yeah?  What is it?!”

 

No response, just another thump on the door, and Kyra rolled off Jon.  He got to his feet, swearing suddenly as he grabbed his jeans and pulled them on.

 

“I swear, it’s fuckin’ Sambora.”  He growled, looking at the naked Kyra.  “He’s just bein’ a prick ‘cause he’s not gettin’ any tonight.”

 

“He wouldn’t be that mean.”  Kyra said.  “Would he?”

 

“Oh, hell, yeah.”

 

Jon headed toward the door, Kyra getting off the bed, too and picking up Jon’s grey silk shirt from the floor, slipping it on.  She buttoned enough of it for decency - more or less - and Jon opened the door, ducking instinctively as the fist that was raised to bang on the door almost hit him instead. 

 

“Fucker.  I knew it was you.”  He grated at Richie, who laughed delightedly.

 

“So why’d you open the door then?”

 

“Because we were just catching our breath.”  Kyra told him, walking across, Jon grinning as Richie flushed slightly, looking at Kyra, hair mussed around her shoulders and the grey shirt only just covering her body.

 

“C’mon darlin’.”  Jon said, turning to wink at Kyra.  “You know he’s too old to cope with seein’ you like that.”

 

“Sorry.”  She whispered, winking back at him, then pouting at Richie.  “We were kinda busy, Richie…..”

 

“I can take a hint.”  He grunted, backing away from the door with a grin, inwardly overjoyed to see Jon being this silly and boyish again, knowing it boded well for the tour.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kidd.  No doubt you, too, angel.”

 

“G’night Richie.”  Kyra blew him a kiss and headed back toward the bed.

 

As Richie started to walk away, Jon called to him with an evil smirk. 

 

“Hey - old man - just remember, when you’re jacking off in your lonely room, the face you should be picturing is Heather’s………”

 

“Fuck off.”  Richie laughed as he walked across the hallway to his own door.  “Just keep the fuckin’ noise down, okay?”

 

Jon was still laughing as he closed the door, leaning against it as he looked at Kyra, perched on the end of his bed, slowly unbuttoning the shirt.

 

“Now, where were we?”  He purred as he walked over to her, unfastening his jeans as he went.

 

27

 

Next morning, Kyra woke in a pool of sunlight, blinking groggily as she woke.  As her brain started to work, she could feel a weight pinning her down, half of her body jammed under Jon’s.  He had one leg between hers, his head resting on her shoulder, and he was still deeply asleep.  Or unconscious might be more accurate, she thought, realising from their position that they’d fallen asleep right after another passionate session.  Or maybe during it.

 

The bed seemed uncomfortably hard, but as her eyes finally focused properly she realised the ceiling looked too far away.  Twisting her head, she looked up at the bed.  That certainly explained why she was lying on a hard surface - they were on the floor.  Once that was established, she remembered how they’d ended up there.  How she’d been on her knees next to the bed, Jon’s dick in her mouth, then he’d pulled away, pushing her to the floor and only taking the necessary moment to roll on a condom before dropping on top of her, driving himself into her waiting body.

 

Remembering that, and the list of other times from last night, she suddenly felt the tender ache between her legs, memory of the times Jon had thrown her into orgasm.  Didn’t matter whether he was being as gentle as a man patiently taking a virgin or pounding wildly into her, he seemed to instinctively know how to drive her over the edge, and she chuckled silently as she vividly remembered him suddenly covering her mouth with his on one occasion as she screamed, muffling the sound.

 

The shake of her belly as she laughed broke into Jon’s sleep, and he woke with a purring groan, raising his head slowly to look at her, then looking around bemusedly.

 

“We’re on the floor.”  He mumbled sleepily, rolling off her.

 

“Uh-huh.  I think we fucked each other unconscious last night.”  She frowned, thinking.  “This morning.”

 

“Both.”  Jon said, pulling himself into a sitting position, feeling the ache in his back, the strange, empty sensation at his groin reminding him just how many times they’d gotten lost in each other.

 

“Yeah.”  Kyra rolled onto her side, resting her head against the floor for a moment, Jon stroking his hand down her shoulder and arm as she lay there.

 

She pushed herself up, onto her knees, but immediately moved to sit on her butt, leaning against the bed, when the tender flesh between her thighs protested at her position.  Jon looked at her sitting there, the long hair tangled around her face, her lips still puffy from kissing.  And other things.  He leaned toward her, laying the softest kiss on her lips.

 

“Good morning.”  He murmured.

 

“Good morning back.”  She replied with a smile, stroking a hand down his face, feeling the light growth of new beard on his skin.

 

He kissed her again then put one hand either side of her, leaning on the mattress and pushing himself to his feet.  Standing over her, he grinned down, the smile wobbling when Kyra raised a hand to touch him intimately.

 

“Jesus, darlin’……….you’ll kill me………”  He groaned, his body actually protesting the touch.

 

“You’re safe.”  Kyra admitted.  “Right now, I couldn’t make love if you paid me.”

 

“I hurt you?!”

 

“No.  Well, yeah, but no.”

 

“Oh, that clears it right up!”  He still looked concerned.

 

“I’m sore, from last night and this morning, from so many times, but you didn’t hurt me, no.  That clearer?”

 

“Yeah.”  Smiling again, Jon caressed her hair.  “I’ll be right back, babe.”

 

He headed in the direction of the bathroom, and Kyra sat for a moment longer then dragged herself up, perching gingerly on the edge of the bed.  Even with the sunlight, there was the chill of early morning in the room, and she scooped up Jon’s grey shirt from the floor, pulling it on and fastening a couple of buttons before walking slowly to the phone.

 

She called down to room service, ordering coffee, and she was just laying the phone back in the cradle when Jon returned.

 

“You calling work to say you’ll be late?”  He asked with a grin.

 

“Nope.  I was calling room service.  I need coffee.”

 

“No food?”  Jon looked disappointed.

 

“No.  I figured we could go downstairs for breakfast…….I thought maybe Richie would want to join us - I feel kinda bad, keeping you away from him all this time.”

 

“He’s right - you’re an angel.”  Jon smirked.  “He just hasn’t seen your horns.”

 

“He hasn’t seen me horny, either.”  Kyra shot back at him, and Jon laughed.

 

“Let’s keep it that way, baby.  You’d kill him……….he’s too old to keep up with you!”

 

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

 

Jon opened his mouth to respond, but there was a knock at the door, the polite sound of a staff member, not the rude pounding of Richie.  He headed toward the door, but Kyra stopped him.

 

“You either want to put some clothes on or let me get that.”  She advised, and Jon looked down and grinned.

 

“You have a point, darlin’.  You go - I like watching you in my shirt.”

 

As Kyra went across to the door, Jon just went back to the bed, flicking the cover over his waist as he sat.  Kyra opened the door and let the waiter in, adding a tip and scrawling a signature on the slip on the tray.  The waiter took his copy of the sheet then, with a final appreciative glance at Kyra’s bare legs, he left the room, leaving Kyra to carry the tray across to the bed.

 

“Y’know, if I didn’t need the coffee so bad, I’d have kicked his ass for checking you out like that.”  Jon muttered as he poured coffee.

 

“Down, boy.”  Kyra muttered back.  “Don’t go getting all caveman on me!”

 

“Caveman?”  Jon echoed with a grin.  “What?  Like throwing you over my shoulder and dragging you back to my cave?”

 

“Yeah.”  Kyra was laughing, though, as she sipped coffee.  “So, can I dig through your closet, try to find something to wear?”

 

“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”

 

“Uh, I can’t go out in public like this, Jon.  Besides, it’s kinda crumpled.”

 

“Still looks good on you.”  Jon gave his opinion with a grin.  “But, sure, help yourself, babe.  I’m gonna jump in the shower - wanna join me?”

 

“Uh-huh.”  She was walking to the closet.  “Just gimme a sec to find something to wear.  I’ll be right with you.”

 

He took his coffee with him into the bathroom, slugging another mouthful and laying the mug down to step into the shower.  Kyra opened the closet, sipping coffee as she looked at what was available.  There was a leather vest that she loved instantly, but there was no way she could wear it, not without something underneath.  She’d like to see Jon in it, though, with nothing else.  She smirked.  Not even jeans - just the leather vest, open to let her fingers and lips onto that chest.  Before her mind got too deeply into that imagining, though, she shook off the thought and looked into the closet again. 

 

The morning was still cool, and she tugged a white sweater from a hanger, holding it up and looking in the mirror.  It was still going to be a bit on the big side for her, but the thick fabric would disguise the fact she’d no underwear.  Besides, she liked the black star on the front.  Heading to the bathroom, she laid the sweater on the edge of the couch as she passed.

 

In the bathroom, clouds of steam were already billowing from the shower, and she took off Jon’s shirt and finished her coffee before joining him in the shower.

 

“Find something?”  Jon asked, turning around and pulling her under the water.

 

“Mm-hm.”  Kyra tipped her head back, soaking her hair.  “Hope you don’t mind - white sweater?”

 

Jon frowned.  “The one with the star?”  Kyra nodded.  “I love that thing.  Still, I’m sure I’ll love it even more when it’s wrapped around you, especially since I now remember you don’t have any underwear, do ya?”

 

“Nope.  It’ll be just me and the thermal.”  Kyra teased.

 

“Well, with that image, I won’t need thermal to keep me warm.”  Jon laughed.

 

They showered slowly, washing each other, both becoming more comfortable with sharing the intimacy, at least here in a hotel bathroom.  Leaving the shower, Kyra cleaned her teeth - they hadn’t needed to ask the hotel for a toothbrush, since she’d found at some point during the night that there was already a spare in the bathroom - then joined Jon back out in the main room to dry her hair.  He grinned as he watched her, wearing only his thermal sweater, pouting when she finished and pulled on her jeans.

 

“D’you think Richie’s already eaten?”  She asked as she finger-brushed her hair.

 

“I doubt it, at this time.”  Jon glanced at the clock.  “Anyway, even if he has, he’ll eat a second breakfast, no trouble at all.”

 

“Man after my own heart.”

 

“I thought that was me?”  Jon pouted yet again, and Kyra laughed at him.

 

“Darlin’, I didn’t think it was my heart you were after.”

 

Both laughing, Kyra poured more coffee while Jon picked up the phone and dialled Richie’s room.  His buddy answered quickly, and confirmed that, no, he hadn’t eaten yet.  They agreed to meet out in the hallway in a few minutes then Jon hung up the phone.

 

“He says he’s starving.  He’ll be out in a couple minutes, so you’ve time to finish your coffee.”

 

Kyra did just that, Jon swallowing what remained in his own mug, then they found their boots where they’d been abandoned across the room on the way to the bed.  Finally ready, they left the room, just as Richie stepped out of his, facing them with a grin.

 

“Good morning, angel.  Mornin’ Jonny.”

 

He gave Kyra a quick kiss on the cheek, then stepped back to look at her again.

 

“Nice sweater, darlin’.”

 

28

 

Flanked by a pair of rockstars, Jon slinging a somewhat possessive arm around her shoulders, Kyra headed for the elevator, reaching out to press the call button when they got there.

 

“So did you kids have a good night?”  Richie smirked, having already noticed how carefully Kyra was moving, but feeling too diplomatic to mention it outright.

 

“Ohhhhh, yeah.”  Jon purred, and Kyra dug him gently in the ribs.

 

“Yes, Richie, thanks.  How ‘bout you?  Did you sleep well?”

 

“Not really.”  He grinned.  “I think somebody in one of the other room was watching a horror movie or something - I’m sure I heard screaming.”

 

“Really?”  Kyra blushed, but she played along.  “I never heard it.  But, I guess we did go to bed pretty early, didn’t we Jon?”

 

“Huh?  Yeah.  After earlier, I couldn’t wait to get in there.”

 

“I’ll bet.”  Richie muttered just as the elevator arrived, and they stepped in, riding down to the foyer and walking across to the restaurant.

 

They were taken to a table and placed their orders, and it was only after the coffee had been brought that Kyra realised she’d forgotten to tell Jon how the fundraiser had gone.

 

“I meant to mention it before, Jon, but the fundraiser did sooooo well……..and I saw the checks yesterday.  I want to thank you both.”  She reached out, laying a hand on Jon’s, her other hand on Richie’s as she looked solemnly from one to the other.  “Thank you for your donations to the Foundation.  I know it’s not exactly your backyard, so it really does mean a lot that you contributed.”

 

“You’re welcome, darlin’.”  Richie smiled, patting her hand, and Jon just flipped his hand under hers, squeezing her fingers.

 

“Consider it a thank you for listening to me.”  He said quietly.  “Up in New York, I mean, about……”

 

“Yeah.”  Kyra stopped him, knowing he meant his little confession - or confessional - about ‘someone’ in the band.

 

Breakfast passed in laughter and conversation, Kyra sometimes playing referee between the two men when they argued over tremendously important things.  Things like football.  Eventually, lingering over the last of the coffee, Jon looked at his watch and sighed.

 

“Bro - we gotta get movin’.”

 

“Yep.”  Richie agreed, and Kyra looked at Jon.

 

“D’you want a ride to the airport?”

 

“Darlin’, I don’t think there’s room in your Shelby for all of us.  Not with the amount of luggage Sambora drags around.”

 

“Aw, fuck you.”  Richie laughed.  “Just because I can’t travel light.  Anyway, you just save space by giving stuff away.”

 

“Nope.”  Kyra shook her head.  “This is just a loan, until I get something else.  I won’t deprive you of your favorite sweater, babe.”  She told Jon.

 

“S’okay.”  He said, but she shook her head again and he shrugged.  “Sure.  If you want.”

 

Jon signed the bill and they headed out again, Kyra detouring quickly into one of the tiny boutique stores in the foyer, picking out a shirt and handing over her credit card.  That done, she followed the guys to the elevator and up to Jon’s room, pausing at the door.

 

“So, d’you want a ride or not?”

 

“Nah, you’re okay, babe.  It’s out of your way, and there really isn’t room for Rich to fold himself into the backseat.”  He continued before either of the other two could speak.  “And there’s no fuckin’ way I’m sittin’ alone in the backseat while you two are up front.”

 

Richie snorted and opened the door of his room.  “Half hour?”  He asked, disappearing into his room when Jon nodded.

 

Jon let Kyra into the room, closing the door behind them and leaning against it, looking at her.

 

“What?”  Kyra frowned.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“What’s wrong is me goin’ off like this, before we get the chance to get to know each other.”  He smirked.  “What’s wrong is both of us bein’ too fuckin’ done from last night to make love again before I leave.”

 

“You too?”  Kyra looked slightly surprised, moving toward him.  “I could…….”

 

“Naw, baby.”  He cupped his hands around her face when she stopped in front of him.  “You’ll kill me.  As much as it pains me to admit it, I ain’t eighteen any more, babe.  It’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve had a night like last night……..”

 

“Me too.”  She whispered, then giggled.  “Okay, that’s a lie.  I don’t think I’ve ever had a night quite like that before!”

 

“I’m flattered.”  Jon laughed, and she wrinkled her nose at him.

 

“You should be, city boy.  Or, what is it Richie calls you?  Kid?”

 

“Yeah.  Kidd.  I can’t even remember where the fuck it came from, but I’m Captain Kidd and he’s The King of Swing.”

 

“I thought he just meant ‘kid’ because you’re younger than him!  You called him ‘old man’ last night.”

 

“Well, he is old!  Older than me, at least.  Teek’s our real old man in the band.  But it’s ‘Kidd’ - double dee.”

 

“Double dee, huh?”  Kyra smirked.  “You like the double dee?”

 

Jon chuckled, dropping his hands from her face, sliding them under her - his - sweater and up to cup her breasts.

 

“Most guys do, darlin’.  But these feel just about perfect to me.”

 

“Yeah?”  Kyra’s voice lowered as Jon’s hands caressed her gently, thumbs circling around her nipples, his lips twisting into a grin as the soft skin tensed to firm points.

 

“Yeah.”  He replied, his hands still on her breasts as he kissed her slowly, his hands sliding to her back, arms coiling around her, crushing her against him as they got lost in each other one more time.

 

The kiss faded into gentleness, ending with soft brushes of lips on lips, then Jon grudgingly released her and Kyra stepped back to pick up the bag containing her new top.  Pulling it out, she ripped off the tags and was about to remove Jon’s sweater when he stopped her with a soft request.

 

“Let me.”  He said, and Kyra waited.

 

Jon pressed her back so that she was leaning against the back of the armchair, laying his hands on the hem of the sweater while he kissed her tenderly.  Pulling back from her mouth, he pushed the sweater up a little, baring her stomach, his lips finding her skin, and he eased the soft white fabric upward, following every inch of revealed skin with his lips.  He took a little longer when he bared her breasts, kissing around each taut nipple, just sucking gently on each hard tip before moving on, his tongue stroking the hollow of her throat as he pushed the sweater all the way off over her head.  When she stood before him in just jeans and boots, he kissed her again, and his hands were back on her breasts when he eased his mouth off hers.

 

“You do realise.”  He said with a soft grin.  “That I’ll get a fuckin’ hard on every time I wear this sweater now?  Remembering it wrapped around you, wishing you were wrapped around me.”

 

“Hey, I could always come visit you.”  Kyra said, then wondered if she’d overstepped some line.  “Sorry.  I know you’ll have other stuff to do, other people to..…”

 

“Would you?”  Jon stopped her.  “Would you come see me?  I’d love that, honestly.  We could get a couple of days, maybe, when we hit Europe.”

 

“Sure, if you want me to.”  She smiled at him, unbelievably pleased that he wanted to see her again while he was on tour.  “Just let me know when and where.”

 

“I’ll get a plane ticket to you.”  He said, but she shook her head.

 

“No need, Jon.  I’m more than capable of buying a plane ticket.  Really.”  She finished firmly, and he wisely let it go.

 

“Okay.  Well, once I know where we’re staying, I’ll let you know.  Richie’ll be pleased to see a familiar face, too, and you can meet the other two guys.”

 

“Two?  I thought there were another three?”

 

“Yeah, but you’ve met Teek, haven’t you?”

 

“So I have.  The others are David and Alec, right?”

 

“David and Hugh.”  He tilted his head as he looked at her, the blond hair falling into his eyes, smiling when Kyra brushed it back.  “Hugh’s touring with us, on bass.  You’d have figured it out soon enough, from what I said, then seeing the band.  Alec was our bass player - technically still is - but he’s out, at least for now.  Just have to see how it goes, with his………his rehab…..”

 

He looked so sad, and Kyra tightened her grip on his hair, shaking his head gently.

 

“Hey!  It’s not your fault, Jon.  Just like nobody can make someone stop taking drugs, nobody else is responsible for him starting either.  It’s on Alec, not you.”

 

“You sure you’re not a gypsy?”  He asked.  “Second sight or something.  How did you know what I was thinking?”

 

“I hate to disillusion you, Jon, but you’re a guy.  Guys aren’t exactly hard to read!  At least, you’re not.  Shows in your eyes.”

 

“And I always thought I was intriguing.”  He pouted.

 

“You are.  Just not in that way!”

 

“Oh, good!”

 

Grinning again, he let her go, and Kyra pulled on the new top while Jon threw open the closet, opened his bag and unceremoniously dumped all his clothes - including the still-warm white thermal - inside.  Yanking the zipper shut, he straightened, looking at Kyra.

 

“The other reason I didn’t want you driving us to the airport.”  He said, walking to her and dumping his bag on the chair.  “Is that I couldn’t say goodbye properly in public, could I?  Not here in your town.”

 

Smiling, Kyra wound her arms around his neck, Jon’s arms looping around her waist.

 

“Really?”  She murmured, her lips just touching his.  “What did you have in mind?”

 

“Just this.”

 

He worked her lips apart with the tip of his tongue, stroking his tongue against hers, never quite taking her mouth in a proper kiss, teasing until Kyra moaned, knotting her fingers into his hair and pulling his mouth hard onto hers.  They kissed hard then, muffled whimpers and groans in the silence of the room, breaking apart with perfect timing, just as the unmistakably rude hammering started on the door.

 

“Put your pants back on and let’s go!”  Richie yelled through the door. 

 

Shaking his head with a laugh, Jon leaned his forehead against Kyra’s, then kissed her very softly on the lips before letting go.  While he grabbed his bag, she went across to open the door, looking at Richie with a theatrical scowl.

 

“Y’know, just because he calls you ‘King’, you don’t need to act like it!”

 

“Calls me……….?”  Richie laughed and looked at Jon.  “For fuck’s sake, Kidd - you giving away all our secrets?”

 

“Not yet.”  Jon told him, and they all headed downstairs, Jon and Richie heading for the front door while Kyra turned toward the parking lot.

 

“Hey!”  Richie protested, reaching to grab her hand, pulling her back.  “G’bye, angel.”

 

“Bye Richie.”  Kyra laughed as he folded her into a bearhug, just saying goodbye to Jon with her eyes when Richie let her go again.

 

“I’ll call ya.”  Jon said softly, and she nodded.

 

“I’ll see you two later.”  Kyra said, heading for her car again.  “Just tell me when and where, Jon.”

 

She disappeared with a wave, and Richie looked at Jon curiously until he explained.

 

“Kyra’s going to come out to Europe when we get there, spend a couple days with us while we’re off work.  You should get Heather to come, too.”

 

“Yeah, maybe.”

 

They left Nashville in high spirits, Jon’s feelings mixed between sadness at leaving Kyra, but excitement at knowing he’d see her again.  When they got back to New York, and collected the rest of the guys, he could see that they knew something was up, from his newly improved mental state, but none of them asked.  They didn’t really care why he was back to being himself, just so long as he was. 

 

Even without Alec, and with the addition of Hugh, the brotherly feeling was back in the band, and they set out on the first leg of the tour feeling like they could rock the world.  And, for the next few weeks, that was exactly what they did, from India to Korea to Japan, and a few other countries in between. 

 

29

 

Over the couple of weeks they’d been apart, Jon and Kyra had talked on the phone a few times, but they’d found that, with the relationship - if it even merited that title yet - at such a fledgling stage, talking on the phone was slightly awkward.  Neither of them was comfortable enough to let their conversations slide over into phone sex, and the calls tended to be fairly short and innocent.  The most important discussion had been when Jon told Kyra which hotel they’d be in when they got to Milan, then she booked flights and let him know when she’d arrive. 

 

It was all vaguely unsatisfying, and Kyra found herself wondering, on the long flight, whether this was a mistake.  Did they really have anything in common except sex?  She forced the doubts away, knowing that the few days they had now would tell their own tale, so whether this trip was a stepping-stone to a more involved relationship, or merely a couple of nights of farewell fucking, she was just going to enjoy it for what it was.  Whatever it was.

 

Landing in Italy, she got through the formalities easily, blatantly and unashamedly playing on the Italian male’s inbred appreciation of a pretty girl.  She smiled her way through passport control and customs, exiting the airport and catching sight of a uniformed driver with her name printed in neat continental script on a small board.  Identifying herself to him, she let him load her bag into the trunk and climbed into the backseat of the car.  Excitement was bubbling inside her now, and she wondered - hoped - if Jon was as excited to see her as she was to see him. 

 

The ride to the hotel wasn’t far, and when she arrived Kyra headed straight for the reception desk, just giving her name, not entirely sure what Jon had arranged.  She felt vaguely disappointed when the pretty girl behind the desk just handed her a card to fill out, taking it back when Kyra had signed her name and handing her a key with a brass fob, ornately chased with the room number.

 

She followed a bellhop in a quaintly elegant uniform, reminiscent of some nineteen forties movie, and he led her from the lobby to the elevator - and she’d have felt sorely cheated if it hadn’t been the glistening brass enclosure that fit so perfectly with the whole, overblown, over the top, utterly Italian hotel.  Surprisingly, he left her at the closed door of the room, accepting the tip she offered with a small smile and a gracious nod, then walking away without a word.

 

Frowning in confusion, but figuring maybe that’s how they did it in Italy, Kyra unlocked the door and stepped into the room, closing the door before sliding her hand along the wall in search of a light switch.  Before she found it, though, an unseen hand flicked on a floor lamp, light spilling out to brighten the room, and Kyra followed the light source into the main part of the room.

 

“Hey baby.”  Jon’s voice from a low, gilt framed couch, and Kyra looked down, seeing him lying comfortably on the cushions, bare feet propped on a pillow.  He wore only a pair of faded jeans, no shirt, and the fur on his chest made her fingertips itch to touch.

 

“Hey yourself.”  She replied, suddenly nervous, fumbling her bag and dropping it to the floor.

 

In a single fluid move, Jon was off the couch and on his feet, two long steps bringing him to her.  His eyes searched her face with something close to desperation, and whatever he was looking for, he obviously found as he wrapped his palms around her face.

 

“I missed you.”  He murmured, pressing his lips to hers.

 

Kyra didn’t even answer, at least not with words, just opening her mouth under his kiss, stroking her tongue against his, sighing as her hands came up into his hair.  When they’d kissed each other breathless, they slowly, reluctantly, eased apart, looking deep into each others’ eyes.

 

“I missed you, too.”  Kyra told him, and Jon grinned, kissing her nose tenderly.

 

“I’m glad to hear it.”

 

His bare arms slid down around her, his left hand gripping his right wrist behind her back as he looked at her.

 

“How was your trip?”

 

“Long.”  She sighed, letting her head droop forward, her forehead resting on his chest, stealthily inhaling the scent of him from the furred skin there.

 

Those warm, soft hands rose to rub soothingly up and down her shoulders, Kyra sighing with pleasure at the tenderness, but forcing her head up, unwilling to succumb to tiredness just yet.

 

“I really did miss you.”  She told Jon, and he grinned again.

 

“And I really missed you, darlin’.  Hell, just ask Richie and the guys - I’m sure Sambora will be more than happy to tell you how I’ve been getting pissy and grumpy the longer I was without you.”

 

“Aw, poor baby.”  Kyra stroked the side of his face.  “Are they here, too?”

 

“Nope.”  Jon grinned.  “We don’t need to worry about Sambora hammering on our door here, baby.  The guys are a few minutes away in the Four Seasons - I took a room here just for us.  I want you to myself tonight.”

 

“I don’t know…….”  She smirked, giggling at the shock on Jon’s face before she continued.  “I mean, last time we had a full night together we damned near killed each other………and you have a tour to finish.”

 

“Oh, trust me, darlin’.  With these couple of weeks since I’ve seen you, I got a whole lot of……….. energy built up for ya.  Anyway, no shows for the next few days, so it’ll be okay.”

 

“Well, in that case……..”  Kyra smiled at him, her hands on his bare back as she pushed her hips forward against him.  “I suggest we try out that beautiful bed.”

 

“I sure as hell hope you don’t mean for sleeping!”  Jon joked, and Kyra dropped her head to suck on his nipple before she answered.

 

“Only if hell froze over while I was on the plane.”

 

“Good.  Come on darlin’.”

 

Jon unwound his arms from around her, lacing his fingers with hers instead and leading her to the ornately furnished bed.  Two pure white columns flanked the walls as they stepped from the sitting area toward the bed, the rich golden cover matching the fabric draped from almost ceiling height, the whole effect opulent and luxurious. 

 

“This place is beautiful.”  Kyra whispered, her tone hushed and reverent.

 

“It is now you’re here.”  Jon murmured, turning to grasp her hips, pulling her to him and pushing her lips apart, a hungry kiss that only seemed to build in intensity with each stroke of his tongue.

 

Kyra’s hands were on his back, Jon’s hands on her ass, cupping and squeezing in rhythm with their kiss, rubbing her pelvis against himself, until he broke away from her mouth with a groan.

 

“I’m sorry, darlin’.”  He apologised as he grabbed her sleeveless tunic, yanking it up and off over her head.  “I can’t wait, Kyra.  I need you.  I need to be inside you, right now, before I just cum in my fuckin’ jeans.”

 

“Well, we can’t have that.”  She said, her voice fading to a moan when he pulled her bra strap down, fastening his mouth over her nipple, sucking hungrily.

 

When he lifted his head, his eyes were faded blue, dulled by his passion, and without a word Kyra tugged his jeans button open, leaving him to finish the job while she took off her own loose pants, just dropping them where she stood, bra and panties following.  Jon stripped off the jeans, never taking his eyes off her as he walked to the nightstand, lifting a condom and putting it on then stripping back the bedcover to reveal pristine white linen.

 

Kyra walked to him, pushing him to sit on the edge of the mattress, and when Jon shuffled back just a bit she wasted no time, climbing to kneel on the bed, astride him, guiding him with one hand as she sank onto him.  She ground herself onto him, groaning with her need, Jon’s mouth moving from one nipple to the other, nibbling and teasing as Kyra rode him, groaning against her chest as she moved faster.  Shocking Kyra, Jon gripped her hips, stopping her movement, then bringing his hands to her waist and lifting her off his swollen shaft.

 

“Wait, Kyra.”  He panted, holding her up with the strength of his arms, the proof of his strength getting her wetter still.  “Put your legs around me, baby.”  Jon begged.

 

She complied, Jon supporting her, her own hands on his shoulders as she lifted off her knees, spreading her legs wider as she brought her feet around behind him, and Jon slowly lowered her, looking down between their bodies, watching her body take him in.  He still wasn’t happy, though, shuffling under her, gripping onto her hips and tilting her, tugging her down, a soft grunt of satisfaction as he felt himself lodged as deep as he could go inside her.  Kyra moaned, Jon driven deeper than ever before, but she’d lost the purchase of her knees on the mattress to let her move, so all she could do was slowly rock her hips, and after only moments Jon gripped her ass, twisting around to try to lay her on the mattress.  Locking her legs around him, Kyra clung on, refusing to let him slide out of her, not now that she was so close, and after a bit of awkward shuffling Jon had her where he wanted her - on her back under him on a soft bed.

 

Kyra’s legs were still wrapped around his waist, and Jon reared back, straightening his arms on the mattress, looking down on her as he let go, pounding into her, the fingernails ripping into his back telling him she was as needy as him, her scream of his name slamming into his brain before he shattered, his climax tearing through his senses until he slumped down onto her, panting her name.  He tried to ease out of her, to roll clear of her body, but the legs around him clamped tighter, Kyra shaking her head silently as she held him there, stroking his hair soothingly as they relaxed.

 

30

 

It was late afternoon now, and they were snuggled together in the bed, the sheet pulled over their naked bodies as they talked softly.  They’d drunk some of the wine that Jon had ordered before Kyra even arrived, and the jetlag was starting to hit her hard now.  Her tummy growled loudly, Jon chuckling and reaching down to rub his palm across the smooth skin.

 

“You hungry, darlin’?”

 

“I guess.  Tired, but I know I need to try to keep going until nearer ‘bedtime’ here.  Cuts the jetlag.”

 

“I know.”  Jon agreed, giving her tummy another gentle rub then pushing them both to a sitting position.  “C’mon.  Let’s put some clothes on and take a walk, find some dinner.”

 

“I need to shower.”  Kyra mumbled.  “Try to wake up.”

 

“Okay - you go do that.  I’m just gonna throw on my jeans again.”

 

“Mmm.”  Kyra shuffled past Jon, off the bed, stumbling toward the sitting area, where she’d left her bag abandoned. 

 

She opened the bag, finding toiletries and underwear, then made her way to the shower.  Twisting the unfamiliar controls, she set the shower to a needle spray, washing her hair, then gritting her teeth and turning the temperature down until she was shivering, finally shutting it off.  A sheet-sized fluffy towel swathed her body, a slightly smaller one around her hair, and she returned to the bedroom still carrying her panties in one hand.

 

“Good idea.”  Jon smirked as she walked in, and Kyra looked confused.

 

“What is?”

 

“Not bothering to put your panties on.  Saves me ripping them off you later.”

 

“Asshole.”  She muttered, but smiled and dropped them back into her bag.

 

Jon was already in his jeans, and he opened the closet now, pulling out a t shirt that looked somewhat familiar to Kyra, and when he’d pulled it on she realised that it was the Foundation shirt she’d given him, only now without sleeves.  She wriggled into her own favorite jeans, a plain black camisole topped with a pink shirt completing her outfit.

 

“Nice shirt.”  She told Jon.  “I thought it had sleeves, though.”

 

“It did.  I cut them off - I like ‘em sleeveless.”

 

“You just like showing off your muscles.”  Kyra answered, stepping closer and running her fingers down his biceps.  “You know how it turns a girl on, to see strong arms like these.”

 

“Does it now?”

 

“Uh-huh.”  She moved away, unwinding the towel from her hair and reaching for a brush, watching him in the mirror.  “Turns me on, anyway, ‘cause I remember how strong they are, that you can hold me up while I move around you.  While I wrap my legs around you.  How strong they are when you hold yourself over me.”

 

“Shit.  You either want to stop talking that way or take your clothes back off, baby.”  Jon advised, and she giggled.

 

“I’ll stop.  I really do need to eat.”  She caught his eye and finished the statement.  “Food, caveman.  I need real food or I’ll be no use to anybody.”

 

“I don’t want you being of use to anybody.  Only to me.”

 

Kyra rolled her eyes as she quickly fastened her hair into a pair of damp braids, then laid down the brush and pronounced herself ready to go.  Jon grabbed the soft brown leather vest she’d seen back in the Nashville hotel, pulling it over his customised shirt, and Kyra just picked up her purse, dropping the key inside and following Jon from the room.

 

Jon locked the door, jamming his own key into his pocket, then he laced his fingers into hers, walking her to the elevator, still holding hands when they hit the lobby and exited to the street.  Kyra hadn’t really noticed, but Jon had sunglasses hooked into the neck of his shirt, and he put them on as soon as they hit daylight - it wasn’t really all that bright, but she remembered his sensitivity to light and said nothing.

 

They walked down the street, not really looking at anything other than a few store fronts - never making eye contact with anyone else on the street.  Kyra was surprised by how little attention was paid to Jon, clearly recognisable, and she eventually mentioned it to him, Jon just shrugging.

 

“S’funny - our fans really are pretty cool.  Especially here in Europe.  They accept that, when we’re off stage and on our own time, they should give us a bit of space.”  He grinned at her.  “It doesn’t always work, but as a rule we’re okay.  Especially somewhere like here.  We………”

 

“Hey, bella signorina……..why donchya lose the loser and come visit wit’ me?”  A voice interrupted them, coming from somewhere just above, and Jon laughed as he stopped, knowing the voice and looking up at the balcony.

 

“Hey Rich.”

 

Richie was standing on his hotel balcony - Jon and Kyra had walked far enough that they were at the Four Seasons, and Richie grinned down at Kyra.

 

“Hey angel.  He let you up for air, then?”

 

“Hi Richie.”  She smirked back.  “He let me up for food, actually.  Hungry girl - it’s been a loooong day.”

 

“You guys wanna eat here?  Me an’ the guys were just about to head down to the restaurant.”

 

“Baby?”  Jon looked at Kyra, who shrugged.

 

“I don’t mind.  Here, anywhere.  Just so long as it involves food!”  She pouted.

 

“Aw, poor baby.”  Jon freed his hand from hers, wrapping her into his arms as Richie laughed at them.  “Yeah, bro - we’ll come in.  Get you in the bar?”

 

“Sure.  I’ll gather the troops.”

 

Jon squeezed Kyra a little tighter then released her, both grinning as they linked hands again and headed inside.  He was clearly familiar with the hotel, leading her directly to the bar and ordering drinks.  Even before the others arrived, he knew what they’d want, so that when Richie, David, Tico and Hugh arrived there was a line of glasses waiting for them.

 

“Angel.”  Richie grinned, yanking Kyra from Jon’s side and into his arms.

 

She hugged him back, then it was Tico’s turn, the little drummer hugging her, too. 

 

“If you two are quite finished mauling my girl?”  Jon looked at them with a grin, then pulled Kyra to his side again, gesturing at the only two she hadn’t met.  “Kyra - David Bryan, Hugh McDonald.  Guys, this is Kyra Masters from Nashville.”

 

“Ah, the woman we have to thank for kicking our fearless leader out of his funk!”  David grinned, Jon flipping him off as the blond keyboardist reached out to grab Kyra with a grin.  “Hell, the other two got a hug, I’ll be damned if I’m settling for a handshake!”

 

Kyra laughed, hugging him, liking his sense of humor.  Hugh hugged her, too, with a soft ‘nice to meet you’, then Jon got her to his side again, everyone lifting a glass, Kyra surprised to see Tico was drinking nothing more potent than Coke.

 

With everyone introduced, Richie turned and headed for the restaurant, the others following, and Kyra looked at Jon in surprise, but he just shrugged.

 

“Sambora likes to eat, darlin’.  And you said you were hungry, so let’s go.”  He smirked wickedly.  “Sooner we get some food into you, sooner we can go back to the hotel and I can get into you.”

 

“Do you really think I’m that easy?”  She pouted, then grinned and laid her fingers over his mouth.  “Don’t answer that!”

 

Jon slipped the tip of his tongue out, stroking over her fingertip, and Kyra snatched her hand away too late to prevent her physical reaction, cursing herself for not putting on panties.  When they started to follow the others through to the restaurant, she flicked a glance at Jon and saw his smirk, digging her elbow into his side.

 

“What?”  He protested.  “I never said a word.”

 

Dinner went swiftly, with laughter and conversation flowing easily, Kyra more than capable of holding her own against even a group of rockstars.  The only ones who’d known about the Foundation and her privileged background were Jon and Richie, but she explained a bit about the work her charity did, playing down her own part as usual.  By the time they reached the coffee stage, she was fading under the weight of jetlag, thoughts of just snuggling onto Jon’s lap and laying her head on his shoulder filling her mind.  He looked at her when Richie nodded toward her, seeing her tiredness, and Jon laid his hand on her thigh, squeezing lightly.

 

“Come on, darlin’.  You need to sleep.”

 

“I know.  I hate to break up the party, guys, but I really do need some sleep.”

 

The five of them stood with her, Jon waiting while the others hugged her goodbye, and they arranged to all meet back at this same restaurant for lunch the next day.  Wrapping his arm across her shoulders, Jon took Kyra back to their hotel and up to the room, her head resting on his shoulder in the elevator.

 

“Y’know, in the restaurant, all I wanted to do was crawl onto your lap and cuddle in for a snooze.”  Kyra admitted, and Jon rubbed his hand on her shoulder.

 

“Well, just wait a few more minutes and you can do just that, honey.”

 

31

 

Jon locked the door, closing them into the opulent serenity of the room, Kyra still tucked under his arm and now leaning into him tiredly.  Smiling at her almost-closed eyes, Jon led her to the couch, easing her down onto the cushions.  Kyra held her arms out to him like a sleepy child, confusion on her face when Jon instead dropped to his knees in front of the couch.

 

“Gimme a sec.”  He murmured, pulling her sandals off, then standing to toe off his own boots before sitting beside her.  “C’mon then.”

 

He opened his arms and Kyra shifted over onto his lap, snuggling into his warmth, Jon wrapping both arms around her as her head rested on his shoulder.  They sat like that for a few minutes, Kyra’s tiredness easing her toward sleep, then she started slightly at the sound of Jon’s voice in the silence.  He wasn’t talking, though, but singing softly, his cheek on her hair as he held her.  Kyra couldn’t understand a word - from the sound of the words he was singing in Italian - but with the soft smoke of his voice washing around her he could have sung the Nashville phone book and she’d have loved it just the same.  She burrowed closer against him, realising that the intonation and phrasing of the song sounded like a lullaby, letting it take her closer to sleep.  When Jon reached the end of his song, he rolled his head, kissing her hair.

 

“C’mon baby.”  He whispered gently.  “Let’s get you to bed.”

 

“Mmmmm.”  She purred agreement, but before she could move he just changed his grip on her, one arm under her knees, and got to his feet with Kyra in his arms.

 

“Strong arms.”  Kyra mumbled against his shoulder, her arms around his neck.

 

Jon just chuckled, carrying her to the bed before setting her down on her feet.  Before Kyra could do anything, he unbuttoned her shirt and dropped it to the floor, her camisole and jeans following in short order.  The cover was still down from earlier, and Jon gave Kyra a gentle push, toppling her onto the mattress.  She rolled toward the middle of the bed while he stripped, then when he joined her in the bed, Jon flicked off the light and pulled her into his arms again.

 

“G’night, Jon.”  Kyra murmured, almost asleep.

 

“G’night, cowgirl.”  He replied with a smile, unseen by Kyra.

 

Jon woke once in the night, his sleep disturbed when Kyra moved out of his arms, turning over in her sleep.  He was still mostly asleep, though, just turning onto his side and tucking himself against her back, one arm around her waist.  His mind was still appreciating the warm body against his when he fell asleep again, and they were still lying like that when morning came, sunlight brightening the room until they both woke at almost the same moment.

 

Kyra woke smiling at the feel of the naked body pressed to her back, bringing her hand slowly up to cover the fingers spread on her belly.  She was startled, though, when Jon spoke, having thought he was still asleep.

 

“You’re awake, sleepyhead.”  He teased huskily, rubbing his palm on her belly.

 

“Mm-hm.”  Kyra laced her fingers through his.  “Have you been awake long?”

 

“Yep.”  Jon grinned as his lips found her neck between the braids she still wore.  “All of about thirty seconds.”

 

She didn’t answer, just purring contentedly as he kissed her neck, his arm tightening, pulling her even closer.  Kyra arched her head into the pillow as Jon’s lips tracked forward, and he finally relaxed his grip on her enough that she was able to turn over in the circle of his arms, getting his lips where she wanted them right now, which was on hers.  They kissed each other awake, then nature reminded Kyra exactly why she’d woken, and she eased back.

 

“I’ll be right back.”  She promised, getting off the bed and padding naked to the bathroom.

 

Once she’d attended to nature’s demands, she quickly cleaned her teeth, looking longingly at the shower before returning to the bedroom.

 

“I need a shower.”  She said as she approached the bed, approached the naked rockstar lying with both hands behind his head, watching her.

 

“Why don’t you let me go pee, then we can shower together?”  He suggested.

 

“Okay.”  Kyra agreed.  “Want me to call down for coffee?”

 

“Sure.”

 

While Jon disappeared into the bathroom, Kyra called down to room service, immensely grateful to find they spoke English.  Actually, she thought, their English was probably better than hers.  And a hell of a lot better than her Italian, which was non-existent.  Thinking of that, though, reminded her of the previous night, and when she joined Jon in the shower she had to ask.

 

“You sang to me last night.”  She murmured, both palms flattened against that furry chest.  “You sang me to sleep, even though I didn’t understand a word.  It was Italian, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yeah.  Believe it or not - surname notwithstanding - I don’t speak Italian, but my gran’mother used to sing me to sleep with that.  My brothers, too, I guess.  It’s some old Italian lullaby - I don’t remember what it all means - your typical lullaby, hush-a-baby stuff.”

 

“Well, it was beautiful.”  She giggled, her hands making  sudden dive from his chest and around to grab his butt.  “And you’re lucky I was so tired or I’d have probably raped you right there and then, listening to that whiskey and smoke voice singing in Italian!”

 

“You can’t rape the willing.”  Jon laughed.  “And there’s no way on this earth I’d have been fighting you off!”

 

Kyra laughed again, her hands still firmly on his tight ass.

 

“Kiss me, cowgirl.”  Jon smirked at her, and Kyra did, discovering that he, too, had cleaned his teeth, tasting of fresh mint and just a hint of cinnamon.

 

Kyra’s hands stayed on his butt, gripping firmly as they kissed, the feel of her body slick against his exciting Jon, his hands coming up to grab onto her braids as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth, tasting and rediscovering.  His cock was certainly getting into it, too, hardening and rising, pushing against Kyra until she broke the kiss with a husky whisper.

 

“I think somebody’s getting jealous.”  She slanted a naughty glance at Jon, squeezing her hands on his ass.  “We can’t have that, now can we?”

 

Jon didn’t understand, not until she bent her knees, sinking down to kneel in front of him, hands still on his butt.

 

“Darlin’, you don’t need to…..”  He broke off as she kissed the sensitive tip of him.  “Let’s go back through to the bed, baby, then we can…..”

 

“I want to.”  Kyra argued, blushing as she continued.  “You already know how much I enjoy it.”

 

He did know, and remembering it made Jon give in, no longer protesting when Kyra took him between her lips, tongue caressing as she took him slowly.  One hand braced him against the wall, the other clamping onto Kyra’s head, missing the feel of knotting his fingers into her hair, but turned on even more when he looked down on the pigtailed head bobbing on him.  A tiny part of him said there had to be something perverse in getting off on being blown by a girl who looked like a schoolgirl, but he knew she was all woman, hairstyle notwithstanding, and he let her work on him, looking down on her the whole time, watching his dick slide into her mouth, feeling her throat close on him as she swallowed deliberately.  His hips were moving in rhythm with her mouth, thrusting slowly, and he gasped out her name as he came deep in her throat, Kyra swallowing again with a purr of pleasure, sucking and licking her way off him again.

 

“I feel like a pervy old man.”  Jon panted with a grin.  “Getting head from a schoolgirl.”

 

“Cowgirl.”  Kyra corrected.  “I just forgot my hat.”

 

Raising her to her feet, Jon kissed her.

 

“I wanna see you in a cowboy - sorry, cowgirl - hat.”  He said, the smile turning to a smirk.  “Only the hat.”

 

32

 

They kissed again, Jon winding the braids around his hands as Kyra raked her nails back down to his butt, then she raised her hands to her own hair, tugging the bands from the tails of the braids.

 

“I need to wash my hair.”  She murmured, untangling Jon’s hands and unwinding the braids.

 

She reached for the shampoo, but Jon was there first, squeezing some into his palm and rubbing it between his hands.

 

“Let me.”  He whispered, and Kyra just looked at him as he rubbed the shampoo into her hair, massaging her scalp with strong fingers until she groaned with the pleasure of it.

 

“I don’t think any man has ever washed my hair for me.” 

 

“Must be in the blood.”  Jon joked.  “My dad’s a hairdresser.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah.  Well, he was.  Okay - rinse it off, darlin’.”

 

He pushed her back, under the spraying water, and while the bubbles streamed from her hair he quickly shampooed his own hair, rinsing it then grabbing conditioner, smoothing it onto Kyra’s long hair.

 

“No conditioner for you?”  She teased as his hands ran through her hair, rinsing out the conditioning goop.  “I thought all you city boys took real good care of yourselves!”

 

“Hey!”  Jon pouted.  “Have you ever seen pictures of my hair back in the eighties?  You think that looks conditioned?”

 

“I dunno.”  She shrugged, a wicked gleam in her eye.  “Hard to tell past the hairspray.”

 

“Bitch!”

 

“Uh-huh.  Anyway, you were cuuuuute!  All furry and puppy-looking.  Pretty baby.”

 

“You mean I’m not cute now?”  He demanded, fighting back his laughter.

 

“Nope.  Not cute now.  Sinfully handsome, deliciously gorgeous, edible and very, very tasty……..but not cute!”

 

“Okay, you’re forgiven!”  Jon laughed, kissing her smiling lips.  “You’re all clean, babe.”

 

“So we gotta get out of the shower, you mean?”

 

“Well, we could stay here…….but I’m pretty sure the coffee’ll be here by now……and we are supposed to be meeting the guys for lunch…….”

 

“Coffee!”  Kyra grinned, turning to kill the shower.  “I need coffee!”

 

They dried off, slipping into the hotel’s fluffy robes and heading out to the sitting room, finding a tray of coffee waiting there.  Kyra poured for them both, and they sat on the couch, leaning against the two ends, legs stretched on the cushions as they chatted.  After a while, the brightening sun and the rising noise of the bustling streets outside reminded them of their arrangement to meet the other four guys, and Kyra finished her coffee before reluctantly getting off the couch.

 

“I’m going to go dry my hair.”  She murmured, stroking a hand over Jon’s head as she passed, and he just tipped his head back, grinning up at her.

 

“Okay, baby.”

 

The bedroom had a dresser, similar to Kyra’s own inasmuch as it was topped with a tri-fold mirror, but there the resemblance ended.  Unlike her own piece of ranch-style oak furniture, this was ornately formed in some timber that couldn’t be seen under the layers of gilding, the top surface patterned with flowers and vines which led up into the fancily carved surrounds of the three mirrors.  Sitting on the low stool and picking up the hairdryer, Kyra looked at the dresser and decided that it may be beautiful, but it certainly wasn’t her taste!

 

Her hair was just about dry when she looked in the mirror and saw Jon standing watching her, and she killed the dryer as she spoke.

 

“What’s up?”

 

Jon snorted softly, and Kyra’s glance dropped lower, seeing that whatever was ‘up’ was tenting the front of his robe.  She chuckled, rolling her eyes and flicking the dryer back on, tipping her head forward again.  Moments later, though, a soft, warm hand closed around hers, switching the dryer off once more and gently taking it from her, laying it aside.  His hand moved onto the back of her neck, rubbing lightly, then he spoke.

 

“Y’know………back at your house…..that first night…….you were at a mirror like this one.”

 

“Well, a lot less with the gold and the flowery stuff, but I guess so.”

 

“Picky, picky.”  He scolded with a laugh.  “You were at a mirror like this, where I could see three of you at one time.”  The hand on her neck was still rubbing rhythmically.  “And I wanted to bend you over that dresser, make love to you while we both watched in those mirrors.”

 

“Did you, now?”  Kyra finally raised her head, looking in the mirror and discovering that Jon had shed his robe, standing naked behind her.

 

“Yeah.”  He grinned.  “Got a problem widdat?”

 

“Not in the least.”

 

“God, I was hoping you’d say that!”  He lifted his hand from her neck, Kyra getting to her feet and turning to face him.

 

She untied the robe, letting it slide from her shoulders, Jon easing it all the way off and tossing it aside.  Jon kissed her, pressing her back against the dresser, his hands on her breasts, one sliding slowly south, dipping between her thighs to explore there.  When he slid a finger into her, Kyra tensed, and Jon slowed his advance, stroking her clit, his mouth on a nipple, so that when he pressed a finger to her entrance again her body welcomed him willingly.  He was sliding two fingers back and forth inside Kyra now, his cock throbbing in response, and she pulled away from his lips when he kissed her again, shaking her head.

 

“No more teasing, Jon.”  She pleaded, her fingers wrapping around his cock to convince him.  “Please.  Make love to me like you said you would.”

 

“Turn around.”  He growled, lifting his fingers to his mouth to taste, Kyra groaning as she watched his tongue flick out.

 

While Kyra turned to face the mirrors, Jon was sheathing himself in a condom, then his hands grasped her hips as he sheathed himself in her, a steady thrust taking him all the way inside, Kyra leaning forward onto the dresser and spreading her legs wider.  She had both hands splayed on the dresser top, bracing herself as Jon started on a steady rhythm, and Kyra watched the mirror, watched three Jons slowly thrusting into three of herself, Jon’s eyes fixed there, too.  When he brought a hand off her hip, down to her clit, Kyra moaned more at the sight of it than just the feeling, fighting the impulse to close her eyes, forcing herself to stay with the erotic sight in the mirrors.

 

Jon lifted his hand to her hip again, needing the grip to hold her steady as his thrusts became harder, Kyra clenching around him as her orgasm built.

 

“Please, Jon……”  She gasped, locking eyes with his reflection.  “Faster.”

 

He obeyed, Kyra tipping her hips a tiny bit, moaning louder at the sensation, seeing how close Jon was by the look on his beautiful face.  The ecstasy in his expression drove her higher, and she felt the jolt in him as he came, just a moment before she followed him over the edge, sobbing out his name helplessly, watching him throw his head back as he slammed into her one last time, his back arching as he drove deep inside. 

 

Slowly, Kyra let her head drop forward, a moment later feeling Jon’s hand smoothing down her back, then he slowly withdrew from her, leaning down to kiss her back, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her into a hug.  She folded her arms over his, then Jon nuzzled her shoulder.

 

“Be right back.”  He whispered, letting go of her, and he headed into the bathroom as Kyra just stood, leaning against the dresser.

 

Jon returned, and while he was opening the closet to find a clean pair of jeans, Kyra slipped into the bathroom, coming back to find a fully-dressed Jon who sat and watched her silently as she dressed.  Both finally ready, they grabbed sunglasses before heading out into the day, walking down to the Four Seasons to meet the rest of the band.

 

33

 

Lunch with the band became something of a party, lasting well beyond lunchtime and into evening, so they just ordered more food and ate dinner, too.  Kyra and Jon finally escaped around eight o’clock, both of them horny and high, but sober enough to take care of the horny part.  Their walk back to their hotel was kept interesting as each of them would turn to whisper in the other’s ear, telling each other exactly what they wanted - what they intended - to do when they got back.  Next morning, when they woke naked and tangled together, neither of them could exactly remember if they’d done everything they’d promised, but the aches they both felt in various parts of their anatomy said they’d done a hell of a lot of it!

 

Their breakfast that morning was somber, as Kyra was flying back stateside that evening, and they spent the day together, doing a little sightseeing in the late morning before stopping for lunch in a tiny restaurant.  While they waited for their meal, Kyra was slowly pleating and smoothing the tablecover, her eyes and attention fixed on the pointless task, until Jon reached across the table to lay his hand on hers.

 

“What’s wrong, Kyra?”

 

She sighed heavily, forcing herself to look at him.

 

“I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”  She murmured, Jon’s confused frown prompting her to continue.  “Jon, I…….well…….  What do we have?”

 

Kyra growled at herself, leaning forward to knock her forehead against the table before looking at Jon again, a wry smile twisting her lips.

 

“That was clear, huh?”  She joked.  “I mean, is there anything here, Jon?  Anything between us?  I’m not trying to put pressure on you or anything, but I just need to know……..I need to know if this is just a fling and now it’s over, you’re off on tour for the foreseeable future.”  She smiled at him reassuringly.  “It’s only a question, Jon - not a demand for anything.  Just want to know where I stand.”

 

“Do you want it to be over?”  He asked, his eyes scanning her face.  “Because I don’t.  Just because I’m out on the road, doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you, Kyra.  Even when it’s not possible, or practical, I don’t want to lose this.  I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“I don’t want to lose you, either.”  She smiled now. 

 

“Let’s just see where it goes.”  Jon suggested, and Kyra nodded, holding out her hand to him.

 

“Deal.  Shake on it?”

 

Jon laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling it to his lips.  He smirked at her as he kissed her fingers.

 

“I have something in mind a whole lot more binding than a fuckin’ handshake, darlin’.”  He looked around the restaurant, finding the waiter and gesturing for the bill.  “Let’s get outta here.”

 

Back at the hotel, they sealed their agreement thoroughly and sweatily, then showered together one more time before Kyra had to leave.  They parted at the hotel, Kyra refusing Jon’s offer to come to the airport with her, then she left in a cab, promising to call him as soon as she was home.

 

The next few weeks were hard for them both, and even the fact that their relationship had progressed enough that their phone calls were becoming steadily filthier didn’t do any more than release the physical tension they were feeling.  The band’s tour was going well, so Jon was happy, and Kyra didn’t bother to burden him with the stresses in her own life, just telling him the good stuff, and leaving out anything negative.

 

Of course, the biggest negative aspect in Kyra’s life right now was Jared, who seemed to have taken a personal affront at Kyra’s relationship with Jon, with his sullen attitude showing in his work.  Kyra didn’t know what to do.  She knew, in her heart, she needed to fire him, get him off the ranch and get someone else in, but her resolve faltered every time she thought about actually doing it, knowing a little of his difficult past and how he’d been drifting around for a while before she’d employed him.  Sympathy wasn’t a big enough reason to keep him, though, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it just yet, so for the moment she was checking in on the horses every night herself, extending her already long days by heading down to the stables as soon as she got home, quickly walking around to ensure there were the right bodies in the right stalls and that they all had water and food for the night.

 

Somehow, though, Kyra managed to keep from mentioning it to Jon, blaming her tiredness - when he mentioned it one night - on long days at work. 

 

One night, she got home even later than usual, courtesy of a meeting which over-ran by an hour, but she still felt the need to check on the horses.  She ran upstairs, quickly exchanging her work outfit for a pair of running shorts and an old t shirt, then she headed down to the stables.

 

All the horses were where they belonged - just the one empty stall which used to house a mare she’d recently sold - and all but Cinders were set for the night.  Cinders, as she often did, had kicked over her water, and Kyra sighed, chiding the mare good-naturedly as she retrieved the bucket from the corner of the stall, taking it along to the tap to rinse and refill it.

 

She leaned back against the empty stable, eyes closed as she enjoyed the dying rays of the sun, then her eyes opened suddenly at the sound of a footstep.

 

“Jared!”  She exclaimed.  “I didn’t realise you were still here.”

 

“Sure you did.”  He replied with a grin.  “That’s why you came down.”

 

“What?!”  Kyra reached to turn off the water, but Jared beat her to it, twisting the tap closed, now uncomfortably close to Kyra.

 

“I know you’ve been coming down every night.”  He said, moving closer as Kyra backed away.  “And I know why.”

 

“You do?”  Kyra seriously doubted that, confirmed a moment later by Jared.

 

“Yeah.”  He purred, leaning in to kiss her.

 

Initially shocked, for a second Kyra just stood there, unable to believe he was reading things so wrong - or that she’d misread him so badly.  When she felt his tongue pressing for access to her mouth, though, she jolted out of her disbelief, shoving him away.

 

“Jared!  What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

 

“Stop fighting it, Kyra.”  He muttered, leaning in again, one hand reaching for her breast.  “I know you want this as much as I do.”

 

“Stop this, Jared!  You know I’m seeing Jon, but even if I wasn’t……..”

 

When he tried again to kiss her, Kyra slapped him hard, but Jared just laughed.  What made it so much worse was that Kyra couldn’t smell alcohol on his breath, hadn’t tasted it when he kissed her, and the fact that he was doing this stone-cold sober frightened her.

 

“Get the fuck away from me!”  She yelled, and this time when she swung at him it wasn’t a slap but a punch, a full-blooded swing like that first time she’d met Jon.

 

Unlike Jon that night, though, Jared saw it coming, ducking his head so that when Kyra’s fist connected she hit the hard side of his skull, not his face.  At the impact, Kyra felt bone break in her hand, and her brain was still processing that pain when the back of Jared’s hand slammed into her face, knocking her sideways to crack her head against the wooden post of the stable door.

 

Her thoughts faded into a blur of static and confusion, the only constant the pain in her right hand.  She was dimly aware of Jared dragging her upright, of being propelled into the empty stable and thrown to the straw-covered floor.  She felt a rude tugging that she’d realise had been her shorts and panties being dragged off, then full consciousness returned at a rush when she felt the burning pain between her legs as Jared rammed himself into her, thrusting in hard, no thought of anything but giving himself the gratification he obviously wanted from her.

 

Kyra screamed, an equal amount of rage and horror blending with the pain of the brutal violation, and though the agony in her right hand prevented her even raising it, she clawed at his face with her good left hand, raking bloody lines into his skin as she shrieked again.

 

“Jared!  Stop!  No!  Get off me!”

 

His only reaction to her screams was to clap his hand over her mouth, still thrusting hungrily into her.  Kyra bucked under him, thrashing as she tried to throw him off her - out of her.  Jared grunted, switching the hand that covered her mouth, now pinning her rapidly swelling right hand down hard, increasing the pain there in an attempt to stop her struggling.

 

Kyra’s eyes were wide open, staring up at the stranger she’d thought she knew.  The man she’d thought a friend.  The man who was raping her, his face contorted, flushed deep red with the exertion - and the excitement - as he pounded into her despite her best efforts to dislodge him.  She knew there was no-one else around to help her, but still she screamed in rage, the sound muffled under his palm.

 

“Always knew you’d be tight.”  Jared grunted above her, his imminent release showing in his face.  “So fucking tight……..so….oh, fuck……..so close, Kyra…….I’m……..ah, Jesus……..”

 

Kyra felt the jolt ripple through him as he came, and the horror of the assault was compounded as she felt the heat inside her body, knew that he hadn’t even used any protection.

 

As he climaxed, Jared’s hand loosened on her face, and Kyra opened her mouth, biting hard on his hand, feeling the blood flooding into her mouth as she ground her teeth together like a bulldog, snuffling for breath, her nose jammed against his hand.  Roaring at the pain, Jared gripped her right wrist, hammering her broken hand on the floor, but it took four attempts before she gave in, releasing his mangled hand with a scream of pain.

 

Jared looked down at Kyra as he pulled himself out of her, getting to his feet and tugging his jeans back up with a sneer on his lips.

 

“Tell the rockstar he can keep you.”  He muttered sullenly, and Kyra glared up, spitting back at him.

 

“You’re not half the man he is.  You never could be, you pathetic piece of shit.”

 

Rage flashing onto his face, Jared stepped forward, kicking her hard in the ribs, but fortunately for Kyra he wore running shoes, not his usual pointed cowboy boots.  He left her there, lying half-naked and bleeding on the stable floor, slamming the door and vanishing into the night.

 

Still shell-shocked, Kyra slowly dragged herself together, her overwhelming feeling - overpowering the horror and revulsion - one of utter rage.  She awkwardly pulled on her panties and shorts, her right hand useless now, then she slowly and painfully made her way up to the house, heading straight to the kitchen and the nearest telephone.

 

She leaned against the kitchen counter as she dialled, and the phone was quickly answered by a familiar voice, Kyra closing her eyes in relief that it was him.

 

“Lucas, it’s Kyra.”

 

“Kyra?  What’s wrong?  You sound terrible.”  At the other end of the line, Lucas sat up straighter.  Lucas was a very old friend of Kyra’s, who just happened to be the chief of detectives in the local office of the Nashville Police Department.

 

Kyra realised her voice was muted because of the bruising to her face, and she tried to speak clearly, not wanting to have to repeat herself.

 

“Lucas, I need you to come out here.  I need to……..”  She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the tears.  “I need to report a rape.”

 

“Kyra?  Not…..?”

 

“Yes.  It just happened, Lucas.  I haven’t changed clothes, or showered or……..”  A sob broke through, but she grabbed back control.  “Could you come out now?”

 

“I’m on my way, Kyra.  Do you know who it was?  Did you see his face?”

 

“Oh, yeah.”  She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her.  “Remember how you told me you didn’t like the look of Jared?”

 

“Shit.”  Lucas whispered.  “The little fucker.  I’ll be there in ten minutes, Kyra.  Lock the doors, stay by the phone, just in case he comes to the house.”

 

“Lucas, if he comes to the house it won’t be a rape you’ll be dealing with.  It’ll be a murder.  You know I still have my father’s shotguns here.” 

 

“Wouldn’t be murder.  I’d call self-defense all the way.”  Lucas told her grimly.  “Stay inside, Kyra.”

 

With that final piece of advice, he hung up the phone, and on the way to his car he grabbed a female officer, both of them heading out to the ranch, sirens blasting.

 

34

 

Barely fifteen minutes after she’d made the call, Kyra heard the sirens outside, then footsteps on the porch and a gentle rapping on the door.

 

“Kyra?”  The voice belonged to Lucas.  “It’s Lucas.  Are you there?”

 

She got up from where she was sitting on the second stair, walking carefully to the door and opening it.  It wasn’t locked - half of her had hoped that Jared would come to the house, which was why she held a loaded shotgun awkwardly in her left hand.  Stepping back from the door, she kept the weapon pointed down and away, snapping the barrels open, rendering it useless.

 

“Jesus, Kyra.”  Lucas muttered, stepping inside.  “What the fuck did the bastard do to you?”

 

“I told you.”  She said, confused.

 

“Well, yeah, I know what you told me, sweetheart, but your face is covered in blood and your hand…..”

 

“Oh.”  Kyra looked across at the mirror, discovering she looked like a vampire who’d been out on the prowl.  “The blood’s not mine.  I bit his hand.  Quite badly.  And I think maybe I broke something in my hand when I punched him.  Other than that……..”

 

She never finished what she was about to say as the pain from her hand - and elsewhere - washed through her, and she suddenly found herself on the floor, Lucas and the female officer kneeling over her.

 

“What happened?”  Kyra murmured, and the female gently touched her shoulder.

 

“You collapsed.  Just lie still, Kyra.  Lucas is calling for an ambulance.”

 

“I’m fine.  I don’t need……”

 

“Even if you are fine, if you want to press charges then your injuries need to be documented.”  The woman looked slightly embarrassed.  “We’ll need to run an assault kit on you.  If nothing else, that hand needs to be looked at.”

 

“Damned right I want to press charges.”  Kyra growled, pushing herself up to a sitting position.  “But you could be right about my hand.  Also…..”  She flushed in anger and embarrassment.  “….well, he didn’t….didn’t use……..the asshole……...I’ll need to be tested for, for ‘anything’, and some kind of morning-after pill or something, too.”

 

“Of course.” 

 

Before the woman - Kyra now realised she recognised her, an officer named Jane who’d been around almost as long as Lucas - could say any more, Lucas returned from using the phone, obviously catching Kyra’s last few words.

 

“What?”  He asked, but Jane shook her head, silently telling him to leave it alone for now.  “Okay.  An ambulance is on the way.  I called the office, too.  Couple of the guys picked Jared up, Kyra.  He was leaving town.  They’re bringing him in.”

 

“I want to see him.”  Kyra said, struggling to get to her feet, Jane helping her as she looked pleadingly at Lucas.  “I need to know why, Lucas.”

 

“I don’t know that’s a good idea.”  He argued, but Kyra’s jaw was set.

 

“Lucas, please.  I need to do this right now, before I lose my nerve.”

 

“One thing I doubt I’ll ever see is you lose your nerve, Kyra.  If you’re sure, then.”

 

“I’m sure, Lucas.  Thank you.”

 

Lucas disappeared back through to the kitchen to make the call, and Jane helped Kyra to hobble upstairs where they packed a few things into an overnight bag so she’d have something other than a hospital gown to wear after she’d been examined and her injuries treated.  As they came back downstairs, they heard a car approaching, and when they got to the door a patrol car was just rolling to a halt, two officers in the front and Jared in the back.  Jane was carrying Kyra’s bag, since she’d convinced Kyra to let her use a scarf to form a makeshift sling, to elevate her right hand and try to ease the pain and swelling.  Kyra headed out onto the porch, then down the couple of steps, stopping when she heard Lucas’ voice behind her.

 

“Where was he?”  He called to the officers as they got out of the car.

 

“He was driving down toward the highway.”  One of them answered as the other opened the rear door, beckoning Jared out.  “Took off like a jackrabbit when we pulled him over - tried to get away on foot.”

 

When he got out of the car, hands cuffed in front of him, Jared looked at Kyra, and the smile he directed her way made her skin crawl, and made Lucas ball his big hands into fists.

 

“Hi, Kyra.”  Jared said softly, unrepentantly as she stepped toward him.

 

“Why, Jared?”  She asked sadly.  “What made you hate me so much?”

 

“I don’t hate you.”  He said, confusion on his face.  “I love you, Kyra.”

 

Behind her, Kyra heard Lucas mutter something viciously, and she took another step forward, her eyes searching Jared’s face as he stood there proudly, arrogance and confidence in his posture.

 

“What you did………that was nothing to do with love, Jared.”

 

“Oh, come on, Kyra.”  He said, smiling again.  “Why don’t you stop pretending?  Stop acting like it wasn’t what you wanted.  Stop lying to yourself - you wanted me, just like I wanted you.”

 

“You sonofa……” 

 

Kyra couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  Even when she was standing in front of him, battered and bruised, probably still bleeding, Jared still seemed to believe he’d done nothing wrong.  Despite the handcuffs, despite his arrest, he thought what he’d done was okay. 

 

Rage burning through her, Kyra took two steps forward and swung her foot like a kicker going after a field goal.  Jared was standing with his feet spread confidently apart, and Kyra’s foot connected solidly with his crotch, with a force that should’ve driven his balls into his throat.  He gave a weak scream of agony, instinct taking his cuffed hands down between his legs, cupping over himself as he sagged to his knees on the ground, but when Kyra drew back to kick him again, Lucas was there, pulling her away.

 

“No.”  Was all he said, then looked at the two officers, then back at Jane and finally down at the moaning Jared.  “Shit.” 

 

The two uniforms looked at each other, a flash of agreement between them before the younger of the pair spoke.

 

“I’m real sorry, sir.”  He said to Lucas.  “When we attempted to arrest the suspect, sir, he tried to escape by climbing over a fence.  He slipped, unfortunately, and came down hard on the rail.  I believe he may have hurt himself - in the groin area - when he hit the rail.”

 

Lucas glanced at the other officer, who shrugged and nodded with a tiny smile.

 

“That’s what happened, sir.”

 

“He was clearly in pain when he got out of the patrol car, sir.”  Jane said from behind, and Lucas threw her a grateful glance.  “Perhaps the officers should take him to hospital for treatment for that.  And for his hand.”

 

“Good idea.”  Lucas said faintly, then winked at the officers.  “Thanks, guys.  Could you do that?”

 

“Not a problem.”

 

Between them, they scraped Jared off the ground and shoved him none-too-gently into the back of the car.  As the car drove off, one of the officers looked up at Kyra and nodded, and as they left she turned to Lucas.

 

“I’m sorry, Lucas.  That wasn’t why I wanted to see him, but….”

 

“Hey, the prick deserved it, and more.”  He told her firmly.  “Hell, I almost wish he had tried coming to the house, so you coulda filled his ass with buckshot.”

 

“Yeah.  I………..”  Kyra felt another wave of dizziness.  “I don’t feel too good, Lucas…….”

 

He caught her as she fell, and Jane helped him carry her to the porch, laying her on a swing seat to wait for the paramedics.  Only now did they notice the blood seeping through her shorts, and Lucas cursed bitterly until Jane told him to shut the hell up and get a blanket.  Fortunately, the ambulance arrived before he even did that, and Kyra was quickly moved into the back of the vehicle, Jane going with her while Lucas locked up the house then followed in his car.

 

At the hospital, Kyra was examined, x-rayed and had to undergo the indignity of having her most private areas examined for evidence.  Once the doctors were finished, a gentle and sympathetic nurse cleaned away the blood - both hers and Jared’s - and helped her into the clothes Jane had brought before bandaging her right hand.  There were broken bones, but it wasn’t something that a cast would help, and all they could do was support it with the bandage and elevate it in a sling.

 

Finally, Lucas and Jane sat with her in a private room, taking down her statement.  Even though she’d need to come into the police station to give a more formal statement, they wanted to get as much detail as they could now, while it was still clear in Kyra’s mind.  After another hour or so - just after midnight now - it was done, and Lucas drove Kyra home, protesting that he’d rather she remain in hospital overnight.

 

“Lucas, no.  I won’t let him make me afraid to be in my own home.”  Kyra said firmly.  “Besides, since he’s locked up - where he belongs - I’ll need to be home to see to the horses in the morning.  I will - if it makes you feel better - lock my doors tonight.”

 

“Yes!  Please lock them, Kyra.  How often have I told you to lock them?!”

 

“I know.”  They pulled up at the house, and Lucas came with her to the door, handing her the keys.  “Thank you, Lucas.”  Kyra whispered, stretching carefully up to kiss his cheek.  “Thanks for everything.”

 

“I won’t say it’s a pleasure, because I’d rather never have heard from you than have heard from you this way, but you’re welcome, Kyra.  If you need anything - anything - call me!”

 

He waited on the porch as she nodded and went inside, waited until he heard the snap of the lock, then he left. 

 

Inside the house, Kyra leaned back against the door, then pushed herself off the panel and headed through to the kitchen.  She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer, but when she opened a cupboard to get a glass she saw something more appealing, so when she made her slow way upstairs it was a bottle of Jack she held in her left hand.

 

It wasn’t until she was in her bedroom that the shaking started, reaction finally setting in, and she went into the bathroom to fill a water glass with whiskey, taking a gulp and feeling it burn all the way down.  Slowly, awkwardly with one hand, she undressed, turning on the shower and setting the controls a notch hotter than even her usual.  She was shivering badly now, and she finished the whiskey before stumbling into the shower, standing under the spray for only a moment before sliding slowly to the floor, sobbing as she wrapped her arms around her knees, letting the water beat down on her head and back, hoping to wash away the memories with the blood.

 

And that was where Jenny found her early the next morning, still huddled on the shower floor, the water pounding down on her as she stared vacantly into space.

 

35

 

“Oh, Kyra.”  Jenny said softly, opening the louvred door by the vanity and taking out a soft white towel.

 

Lucas was Jenny’s nephew, and regardless of police protocol he’d called her earlier that morning, asking her to go out to the ranch early, to check on Kyra.  He didn’t tell her the identify of the attacker, but he was pretty sure she’d guessed. 

 

As Kyra slowly raised her head, Jenny opened the door of the shower, reaching in to turn off the water then stepping into the oversized enclosure, folding the towel around Kyra’s body.

 

“Come on, honey.”  She murmured, easing the younger woman to her feet, Kyra following meekly as Jenny led her into the bedroom.

 

Sitting Kyra down on the bed, Jenny sat next to her, wrapping her arms around her, and Kyra laid her head onto Jenny’s shoulder.  There were no tears though – in the night she’d cried herself out – and she just sighed sadly, her brain still churning over and over what had happened, what Jared had done to her.  She didn’t know – few people did – but Jenny herself had been raped many years before, and as she felt Kyra growing more tense against her, she squeezed her arms tighter.

 

“It’s not your fault, Kyra.”  She said firmly, and Kyra sighed again.

 

“I know.”  She said quietly, her voice sounding like the Kyra that Jenny knew, even if the bruised face was barely recognisable.  “I want to kill the bastard, Jen.  That’s what scares me.  I could kill him and not even feel a second of remorse.  Isn’t that terrible?”

 

“No, I’d say it’s healthy.”  Jenny gave her opinion.  “And if you did, I seriously doubt any jury around here would convict you.”

 

Kyra actually managed a soft laugh, the strength that had brought her through the loss of her parents showing as she hugged Jenny back then sat up.

 

“Lucas called you, didn’t he?”

 

“Mm-hm.  He told me what happened.  Didn’t tell m e who hurt you, but can I take a guess?”

 

“Jared.”  Kyra confirmed.

 

“The little cocksucker.”  Jenny spat, and it was probably the first time in all the years Kyra had known her that she’d heard Jenny use such a vulgar term.

 

“Yeah.”  She agreed, then glanced at the clock.  “I need to put some clothes on, go see to the horses.”

 

“Are you sure you want to go down there?”

 

“I don’t have a choice, Jen – the horses need to be fed and turned out for the day.”

 

“Okay.”  Jenny hugged her tighter again then stood up.  “Get dressed and I’ll start some coffee, then I’ll come down to the stables with you.  Can I take your friend Jack away with me?”

 

“My……?”  Kyra suddenly remembered bringing the bottle upstairs with her, realised it still lay in the bathroom.  “Oh.  Yeah.  I had one glass last night.  Okay, it was a full glass, but I can’t – I won’t – drown out what happened.”

 

“And that’s just one of the reasons you’re better than him.”  Jenny smiled.  “Now – clothes!”

 

“Yes, mommy.”  Kyra shot back, but as Jenny collected the whiskey bottle and headed downstairs she was smiling, a little happier now that she’d seen for herself that Kyra’s spirit was holding strong.  Not that she didn’t expect more tears, but the girl she knew was intact, and with help – from friends and loved ones – she’d be fine.  Thinking of loved ones, Jenny had to wonder if Kyra had told Jon yet what had happened.  In the brief time she’d met him, Jenny reckoned Jon would probably offer to hold Jared down while Kyra castrated him with a blunt, rusty blade.

 

When Kyra came downstairs wearing sweatpants and a t shirt, she was carrying a bandage in her left hand.

 

“Jen, could you redo this bandage?  This one’s kinda wet, so it needs to come off.”

 

“Of course.”  As she began to strip off the wet bandage, Jenny winced at the swollen, bruised flesh.  “What did he do to your hand?”

 

“I kinda did it myself.”  Kyra admitted with a twisted smile.  “I tried to punch him, but he ducked and I hit the side of his head, not his face.  I broke a couple bones in my hand.  He did slam it against the floor a few times, though, to make me stop biting his hand.”  She paled at the memory of his blood filling her mouth.  “I don’t think he’ll be using that hand for a while.”

 

“Good.”  Jenny said.  “I hope you hurt him a lot, so he remembers what he did.  Though, Lucas did tell me what happened when the officers brought him here.  Shame he hurt himself, falling onto that fence that way.”  She smirked, letting Kyra know Lucas had told her exactly how Jared had sustained his groin injury.

 

“Could’ve been worse, if he’d come around here before Lucas arrived.  I almost wish he had, because I was waiting for him.  Waiting with dad’s shotgun.”

 

“Self defense.”  Jenny shrugged, tying off the bandage.  “All done.”

 

Jenny poured two mugs full of coffee, handing one to Kyra and watching with concern as she walked carefully to the door to step into her sandals.

 

“How bad are you hurt?”  She asked, her eyes serious as she looked at Kyra.

 

“You mean…..?”  Jenny nodded at the half-question, and Kyra shrugged slightly.  “Not bad, really.  Bruised mostly.  Some….some tears, maybe, but nothing that has the doctors worried.  A few weeks and I’ll be good as new.”

 

They were outside now, headed to the stables, and Jenny sipped coffee before she spoke.

 

“A few weeks.  When’s Jon back over here?”  She glanced sideways at Kyra.  “Have you told him yet?”

 

“No!”  Kyra swung around to look at Jenny.  “This isn’t his problem, Jen.  He’s back in a few weeks, and I’ll be back to normal by then.  He doesn’t need to know about this, Jenny, and I’ll never forgive you if you tell him.”

 

“Kyra, you can’t keep something like this from him!”

 

“Yes, I can.  He’s on tour, Jenny, and he doesn’t need to be worrying about me.  Everything’ll be fine when he gets back.”

 

Jenny opened her mouth to protest, but after a glance at Kyra’s face she backed off for now, just nodding placatingly.

 

“If that’s what you want.”

 

Between them, they got the horses fed and out to pasture, Jenny doing most of it as Kyra’s hand was more a hindrance than anything else.  Kyra even managed to walk past the stable where Jared had attacked her without much more than a shudder of distaste, but she was conscious of Jenny’s hawklike gaze on her, turning to smile wanly at her.

 

“I’m okay, Jen.  Honestly.”

 

Jenny just nodded.  “Okay.  Oh, listen, Lucas asked me to bring you down to see him, when you’re ready.  He said he needs to go through your statement again.”

 

“Yeah – he mentioned it last night.”  Kyra replied.  “May as well get it over with once this lot are dealt with.”

 

“And after you’ve eaten.”

 

“I’m not hun……”

 

“After you’ve eaten!”  Jenny repeated firmly, and Kyra nodded.

 

“Okay.  I’ll eat something then we’ll go see Lucas.”

 

36

 

Back in the house, Jenny virtually forced Kyra to eat some toast, though all Kyra really felt like was more coffee, then she went upstairs to shower, Jenny quickly taping a plastic sandwich bag over the bandage to keep it dry this time. 

 

Kyra managed to wash her hair one-handed, then cleaned her teeth and dressed in clean clothes, forced to go with a pair of loose-fitting dress pants, still far too tender to even contemplate wearing jeans.  The only thing that defeated her was doing anything with her hair, and she brought her brush and a band downstairs, feeling like a helpless little girl as she asked Jenny to braid her hair.  The older woman just took the brush and stepped behind Kyra, fastening her hair into a single long braid down her back.

 

Finally ready, they headed out to Jenny’s car, driving into town, to Lucas’ office.  An unpleasant surprise awaited, though, as a reporter appeared from nowhere as Kyra got carefully out of the car, barking questions at Kyra as his photographer-sidekick snapped repeatedly.  Jenny put her arm around Kyra, who didn’t respond to the questions, but she refused to hide or to scurry inside as though she was the criminal, just walking as quickly as she could, head held high.

 

Lucas met them just at the door, glaring at the reporter as he ushered the two women inside.

 

“Sorry, Kyra.”  He said as he closed the door.  “I don’t know how they heard about what happened.  Asshole probably has a police scanner.”

 

“I doubt if you could’ve kept it quiet very long.”  Kyra reassured him.  “But thanks for the concern.”

 

Lucas led them through to his office, asking Kyra if she wanted Jane present, but just nodded at Jenny, saying she’d brought her own moral support this time.  After coffee had been offered and accepted, they got down to business, Lucas leading Kyra through a repetition of her statement, clarifying a few details as Jenny muttered darkly at some of the details she heard.  When they got to the end of the statement, Lucas left them for a few minutes, taking the statement out to be typed up, then he came back into the office, the three of them trying their best to carry on a fairly normal conversation, rescued from the stilted chit-chat when a soft knock at the door was followed by the entry of one of the typists, who smiled sympathetically at Kyra as she handed the typed statement to Lucas.

 

He quickly scanned the document then flipped it around and handed it to Kyra.

 

“Can you just read through it – make sure we’ve covered everything – then sign it for me.”  He asked, and Kyra nodded as she took the pages.

 

She skimmed past the layer of officialese at the beginning, where the various boxes had been filled in with names and other necessary details, moving down to the narrative which repeated what she’d told Lucas.  Somehow, in some weird way, reading it was worse than telling the sorry tale had been, as though seeing the facts in black and white suddenly made it all more real, but it wasn’t until Jenny gently handed her a tissue that Kyra realised she had tears pouring down her face.

 

“Thanks, Jen.”  She whispered, wiping away the tears as she finally reached the end of the statement.

 

Now she encountered another difficulty, when pain lanced through her right hand as she tried to grip the pen, the broken bones protesting.  Lucas was about to suggest Jenny could sign on her behalf, but before he could make the suggestion, Kyra ground her teeth together hard, forcing herself to ignore the pain, and she signed her name as clearly as she could, gasping and dropping the pen as she crossed the ‘t’ in her surname.  Tears started from her eyes again, but they were from the physical pain, not the mental trauma, and Jenny reached across to squeeze her shoulder comfortingly.

 

“How’s Jared this morning?”  Kyra asked suddenly, startling both Jenny and Lucas until she continued.  “In a lot of pain, I hope?”

 

“He’s certainly not too cheerful.”  Lucas grinned.  “The doctor reckons that when you……I mean, when he fell on that fence…..he may have ruptured something.  Quite possibly to the extent that he’ll never have kids.”

 

“Good!”  Jenny spat, but Kyra surprised them again when she smiled.

 

“I did warn him, a while ago when he came onto me and wouldn’t take no for an answer.  I told him if he tried it again I’d rip his balls off, so really he should count himself lucky.”

 

“He tried this before?”  Jenny asked angrily.

 

“No.  He just……it was at that dinner we all went to.”  Kyra explained.  “Remember a few months ago?  He made a pass at me and couldn’t seem to get it through his thick skull that I wasn’t interested.”  She snorted softly, raising her right hand.  “Now I know why, now I know how solid his head is.”

 

Lucas and Jenny both chuckled, but there was a sadness in the sound – almost pity – which made Kyra jerk her head up and look at them sharply.

 

“Don’t do that!”  She snapped.  “Don’t pity me.  I’m okay – maybe a bit battered and bruised right now – but I refuse to be a victim.  Don’t make me feel like one.  Please.  You don’t need to treat me with kid gloves – you’ll drive me crazy if you do!”

 

They both looked surprised – neither of them had consciously meant to act that way, but Kyra’s impassioned plea made them think about it, and after a moment Jenny grinned wickedly.

 

“How do you expect me to notice if I drive you crazy?”  She muttered.  “You’ve been crazy your whole life!”

 

“Only since I met you!”  Kyra smirked back at her.

 

Before they could say anything else, another knock on the door announced Jane’s arrival, and she smiled at Kyra as she handed a file to Lucas.

 

“You’ll want to see this.”  She told him, heading out of the office and closing the door.

 

Lucas looked at the folder, reading Jared’s name on the tab, then when he opened it he frowned, finding more than just the previous night’s arrest sheet.  There were faced copies of arrest records – and a couple of convictions – from the other side of the state, and as he flicked through the pages Lucas grew angrier at himself, for not following his instincts months ago.

 

“Shit.”  He muttered, looking up at Kyra.  “When Jared hit town back last year, and you took him on, I was going to run a check on him, until I realised you’d kick my ass for checking up on one of your good causes.”

 

“More than likely.”  Kyra smiled.  “So what have you found out, then?”

 

“I probably shouldn’t even tell you this.”  Lucas said, shrugging.  “What the hell.  Looks like what he did to you was just an escalation – he’s got a few arrests and convictions for sexual assaults and stuff like that.  This is the first time he’s been arrested for rape, though.”

 

“Or it’s the first time anyone has reported him for it.”  Jenny suggested, and Kyra raised her hands.

 

“Look, it’s irrelevant.  I mean, I know for court purposes it has relevance, but as it applies to me, it’s just not relevant.  I made a bad judgement on him, that’s all it comes down to.  But he won’t get away with it.  Not this time.”

 

Her face was set and determined as she spoke, and neither Lucas nor Jenny had any doubt she meant every word.  All Jenny wanted now – on top of Kyra healing and getting back to normal – was to try to convince her to tell Jon.

 

37

 

After Lucas’ revelation about Jared’s past brushes with the law, Kyra somehow almost felt better about what had happened - as though the fact he had a history of this type of thing made it a little less personal.  As it turned out, he had previously made a series of unwelcome advances toward one girl, but her father had intervened quickly enough to prevent it being any more than a quick and swiftly rebuffed kiss and grope.  Shortly thereafter, probably to protect his health from the angry father, Jared had left town and a few months later turned up in Nashville where he found himself work at Kyra’s ranch.

 

With her statement verified and signed, there was no further need for Kyra to be at the police office, and since the doctor who’d examined her the previous night had suggested it, she asked Jenny to take her down there to be checked over again.

 

After another embarrassingly intimate examination, Kyra was told she needn’t bother coming back, unless of course the bleeding started again, or she had any other complications.  Her hand was checked and rebandaged yet again, so the only thing that was hanging over her now was the necessary wait to find out if Jared had, on top of everything else, infected her with something nasty.

 

By the time the hospital was finished with her, Kyra was emotionally exhausted, from the stress of it all, and she didn’t even offer a token protest when Jenny suggested taking her straight home, without even a stop at the Foundation office.  When they got back to the ranch, Kyra just called in, saying she was sick and wouldn’t be along today.  The immediate acceptance of the explanation, along with the lack of any excessive solicitude, told her that the news hadn’t spread throughout the city.  Yet.  But no doubt the eager reporter from outside Lucas’ office would soon change that.

 

She laid the phone down, leaning back against the kitchen counter with a sigh.  A sudden memory struck her, of Jon there, his arm holding her leg high on the counter as he slammed her into orgasm, another recollection of him bending her over the kitchen table, with the same pleasurable and utterly satisfying result.  She shivered, her brain fighting to process the jumble of emotions hitting her, and when she looked up she saw Jenny watching her patiently.

 

“You should tell him.”  Jeny said gently.  “He needs to know, or he can’t help you through this, sweetheart.”

 

“I can’t, Jenny.”  Kyra’s self-control was crumbling fast, despite her best efforts to keep it together, shakes starting in her hands but quickly spreading until she was trembling wildly, gripping onto the counter to keep on her feet.  “What if he doesn’t want me, knowing what’s happened?  What if he thinks I asked for it?  What if he…..”

 

“Stop it!”  Jenny barked, reaching out to grab Kyra in a smotheringly tight embrace.  “No woman is ever asking to be raped, Kyra.  No woman.  And if any man says different he needs his ass kicked.”  She tightened her embrace even more as Kyra clung to her with her good arm, sobs racking through the slim frame.

 

“It’s okay.”  Jenny murmured, stroking her back soothingly.  “You’re okay, Kyra.  You’re safe here.  Just let it go.”

 

Wrapped in the comfort of Jenny’s arms, Kyra gave in, letting herself cry it out, crying away the pain and disgust.  Crying away the shame and the fear, Jenny just letting her indulge the need to get it all out, until the sobbing eased and finally stopped completely.  Minutes later, Kyra’s arm relaxed the death-grip she had on Jenny, her head lifting from the tear-soaked shoulder with a shaky smile.

 

“Guess I’m not as tough a cowgirl as I thought, huh?”

 

“Rubbish!”  Jenny disagreed.  “You got beaten and raped by someone you trusted, and your first reaction was to call the cops on him.  You had the courage to face him, what, an hour later?  The courage to ask the loser why he did it, and the courage - when he tried to say you wanted it - to kick him right where he deserved.  I’d say you were more than tough enough, sweetie.”  She pulled back to look Kyra in the eyes.  “But being tough doesn’t mean you have to do it all yourself, Kyra.  Sometimes the toughest thing to do - and the bravest thing to do - is to ask for help.  Or to tell someone you love something that’s hard to say.”

 

“I never said I loved Jon, did I?”  Kyra said in surprise,and Jenny shrugged.

 

“No, you haven’t said it yet, but I think you will.”

 

“I don’t know.”  Kyra replied.  “But I can’t tell him on the phone.  I’ll tell him - if I tell him - when I see him again.”

 

“I suppose I have to settle for that, don’t I?”  Jenny smiled.  “Stubborn as a mule, just like your mother.”

 

“I can live with that.”

 

“Yep.  Okay - go wash your face and I’ll fix us some coffee.”

 

Kyra began to step back, then pulled Jenny in for another one-armed hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

 

“Thank you.”  She whispered.  “Thanks for being here for me, Jen.”

 

Jenny hugged her back then let go.

 

“Away with you!”  She chuckled.  “Upstairs and clean up, you silly girl.”

 

Up in her bedroom, Kyra decided to change back into her comfy old sweatpants, since she’d have to go back down to the stables.  She’d have to look for a new stablehand, but until she could get someone, she was stuck doing it herself, broken hand and all.  When she started to change, though, she discovered that the hospital examination had started her bleeding again, and she cursed Jared anew as she cleaned away the blood, relieved to find it had staunched itself already.  She dressed again, hesitating then dropping her bloodied panties into the trash, pulling the bag out of the bin and carrying it downstairs, tossing it into the outdoor trash bin.

 

When she came back into the kitchen, Jenny handed her a mug of strong, steaming coffee, and she’d only taken the first cautious sip when the telephone rang.  Jenny snatched it up before Kyra could move, wary of it being a reporter.

 

“Hello?  Masters residence.  May I help you?”

 

“Kyr…….?  No.  Jenny?”  The voice was somewhat familiar.

 

“Yes, this is Jenny.  May I help you?”

 

“Nah - you said you’d be too much for me.”  He laughed.  “It’s Jon - is Kyra there?”

 

“Jon.  Hi.  How’s the tour going?”  As she spoke, Jenny looked at Kyra, silently checking if she wanted the call.  The immediately outstretched hand answered that one.

 

“Goin’ good, thanks.”

 

“That’s good.  Oh, perfect timing - Kyra just walked in.  Kyra - it’s Jon.”

 

As she handed the phone to Kyra, Jenny whispered, asking if she wanted her to stay, but Kyra shook her head, so Jenny took her coffee with her and headed upstairs to start on some cleaning.

 

“Hi Jon.”  Kyra said, leaning against the counter again and trying to sound normal.

 

38

 

Lounging on yet another lonely hotel room bed, in a city whose name escaped him right now, Jon grinned at the sound of her voice.

 

“Hey, darlin’.”  He replied, closing his eyes to visualise her more easily.  “How are ya?  Miss me?”

 

“I’m fine, yeah.  And of course I miss you, rockstar!”

 

“Glad to hear it.”  But he could hear something else, something remote in her voice, and it worried him.  “I miss you too, baby.”

 

Out in Nashville, Kyra was fighting hard to keep her voice steady, part of her desperate to blurt out what had happened, but she told that part - very firmly - to shut the hell up.

 

“How’s it going,then?”  She asked.  “Everything still okay with having Hugh instead of Alec?”

 

“Yeah.  We’ve worked with him a lot in the studio anyway, so it’s not like he’s a stranger.  Oh, speaking of strange - Richie said to tell you hey.”

 

“He’s not strange!”  Kyra protested with a chuckle.  “He’s just…..just……Richie!  But tell him I said hey back.”

 

“I will babe.”  Jon hesitated, but losing Dot had taught him to ask, even if he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.  “Now you tell me.”

 

“Tell you what?  That I miss you?  I did that already.”

 

“No, not that you miss me - though I do like hearing it.  Tell me what’s wrong, Kyra.”

 

“Wrong?”  She bit on her lip.  Damn, but men weren’t supposed to be able to pick up the tiny nuances of a woman’s voice - not that easily at least.  “Why would anything be wrong?”

 

“I don’t know, but you sound different, Kyra.  Are you okay?”

 

‘Am I okay?’  She repeated in her head, answering herself silently.  ‘No, not really, but he doesn’t need to hear this, Kyra.’

 

Aloud, she answered him, trying not to outright lie, but to just skirt around the subject and hope he’d let it go at that.

 

“It’s nothing really, Jon.  Nothing for you to worry about anyway, while you’re away.  I don’t feel too good is all, but I can explain better when I see you again.”

 

“Are you sick?”  He asked, concerned now.  “I mean sick sick?”

 

“No!  I just……”  She came up with a thought that said what had happened.  Sort of.  “I went down to the stables the other night, to check on the horses after work.  Let’s just say I went into one of the stables and was a bit battered and bruised by the time I came out.  I’m okay, though.  Really!”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Of course I am!  Just gotta cowgirl up and get on with it.  Hey - don’t you think Jenny would’ve told you otherwise?”

 

“Nope.  Not if you asked her not to.  But you’re really okay?”

 

“Uh-huh.  By the time I see you, the bruises will be gone.  Promise.”

 

“Guess that means I don’t get to kiss them better, then?”

 

“If you’re a good boy I’ll let you kiss them anyway.”

 

“I promise to be good.”  Jon said virtuously, and Kyra giggled.

 

“Now say it without crossing your fingers!”

 

“Shit!  How did you know?!”

 

“Because I know you, rockstar.”

 

“That you do, cowgirl.”  Jon glanced at the clock.  “Okay, darlin’.  I guess I’ll let you go for now.  Are you sure….”

 

“Yes!  I’m sure I’m okay!”  Kyra snapped, immediately apologising.  “Sorry, Jon.  I get grouchy when people keep asking if I’m okay!”

 

“Guess you do!”  He laughed it off.  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, darlin’.  We’ll be……….aw, hell, I can’t tomorrow - we have a shitload of interviews tomorrow before and after the show.  Next day we’re travelling back.  Hang on.”

 

While Kyra obediently waited, Jon rolled across the bed, half-strangling himself with the phone cord as he reached to his bag, grabbing out the tour and travel schedule that was never far away.  He flipped through it, finally finding the page he wanted.

 

“Okay, I’m back.”  He said, unwinding the cord from around his neck.  “Still there?”

 

“Of course I’m still here.  Where else would I be?”

 

“Just checking!  Okay - we’ll be back in the US on Wednesday, and our next show isn’t until Friday twenty first, so I could come down to see you for a few days.  Maybe I could come down Sunday and stay a couple days - the show on the twenty first is in Long Island.”  He paused, considering.  “Unless you felt like making a trip to the city?  Then maybe come to the show?”

 

Kyra tried to think what would be easier - telling Jon what had happened here, on her home ground, or telling him in some hotel room in New York.  At least at home she’d have Jenny’s support if he took it badly, but in New York he wouldn’t be stuck in her house if he wanted to leave. 

 

“A trip to New York sounds good.”  She said after a few moments, deciding that it would be easier if she were far from home.  “And it’d be nice to see you guys on stage, if you still want me there.”

 

“What do you mean, if I ‘still’ want you there?”  Jon frowned.  There was something here he just wasn’t getting.  “I only just asked you!”

 

“Sorry.  I meant, if you want me there, I’d love to come.”  Kyra cursed herself for the slip.  “Slip of the tongue, baby.”

 

“That tongue of yours can certainly cause trouble.”  Jon chuckled.  “But I do like the things it can do.”

 

“I could say the same about you.”  She replied, wondering if - once he knew - he’d ever want to be with her again.

 

With huge effort, Kyra forced herself to stop thinking that way.  She would tell him - her cuts and bruises may be healed by then, but the broken hand would take longer, so she’d have little choice, and she wasn’t going to tell him complete lies.  Hopefully he’d understand why she hadn’t told him by phone - there were some things that had to be explained face to face.

 

“So, I’ll hop a flight up on Sunday sometime?”  Kyra asked.  “Where will you be staying?”

 

“Come as soon as you can, darlin’.  I do have an apartment in the city, but I’ll be staying in a hotel - Seasons.  Too damned much trouble to open up the apartment for just a few nights.  I’ll let you know my room number soon as I get checked in.”

 

“Okay.  I’ll find you there, then.”  She answered, deciding to also book herself a room there, in case she needed somewhere else to spend the night after she’d told Jon.

 

“That you will, babe.  I’ll talk to you Wednesday, then, when I’m back.  Bye darlin’.”

 

“Bye, Jon.”

 

Jon waited until he heard the soft click on the line before slowly laying the handset down.  There was still something bugging him, and he just didn’t know what it was.  Something was certainly going on with Kyra.  He just hoped it was only the fact that she was hurting from whatever happened.  Still trying to convince himself, he dragged himself to the shower then back to bed, sleeping fitfully through the night as his brain worked feverishly.

 

The next day was something of a blur for Jon, with the round of interviews before the show, then one almost immediately afterward, when all he really wanted to do was collapse on a couch for an hour.  Still, that was the end of the European leg of the tour, and after finishing the interview he just showered and went to bed.

 

Monday morning dawned grey in Prague, making Jon glad they were heading back home, and after showering he threw his stuff back into his bag and left it in the room while he went in search of breakfast.  Down in the restaurant, he was surprised to find Richie already there, though he had been getting up pretty early lately, to talk with Heather before she went to sleep.  His wingman was reading a newspaper - looked like the international version of the New York Times - and he looked up with a frown when Jon dropped into the chair across from him.

 

“Mornin’ Rich.”

 

“Mornin’.”  Strangely, Richie didn’t put down his paper immediately, looking down at whatever he’d been reading before looking at Jon with a sad, hurt expression.

 

Jon didn’t notice right away, as he was too busy pouring himself coffee, but he raised his head when Richie spoke again.

 

“Y’know, you coulda told me, man.  You didn’t need to deal with this on your own.” 

 

Jon frowned in confusion, completely lost, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Richie continued, his voice gentle but still distressed.

 

“How is she?”

 

“How is…..?  Told………Richie, what the fuck you talkin’ about?”  His face was creased into a confused frown as he looked over at the guitarist. 

 

“Kyra.”

 

“Yeah.  What about Kyra?”

 

“About what happened.”  Richie clarified, but when he saw Jon’s continued confusion he blanched.  “Aw, shit.  You didn’t……….she hadn’t………..  Aw, shit!”

 

“Rich, will you make sense before I have to beat it out of you?”  Jon was getting annoyed now, and Richie just folded the newspaper and turned it to face Jon.

 

Frowning again, Jon took the paper, looking at Richie before finally focusing on the page.  Now he saw it.  Saw the small piece, the headline above hitting him like a fist in the gut.  “Nashville Charity Heiress Raped: Stablehand Arrested”.  The photograph that accompanied it was barely recognisable as Kyra, the black and white print not hiding the bruising to her face or the bandaged hand, elevated in a sling.  He even recognised Jenny, holding her protectively as they walked toward a Police building.  Jon started to read, but he only got through the first couple of lines, ‘The founder and mainstay of the Devaney Foundation, Kyra Masters, yesterday brought rape charges against Jared Colson, who is employed at her ranch.  Pictured arriving to give her statement, Miss Masters declined to comment….’

 

“No.”  Jon muttered, dropping the paper onto the table and looking at Richie.  “No!  He couldn’t…….she……..I spoke with her and she never said…….”

 

“C’mon, bro - is it something you could say on the phone?”

 

“I……..”  Jon couldn’t even figure out what he was feeling.  “She said she’d got hurt, at the stables, but……”  Abruptly, he got to his feet.  “I gotta call her.”

 

“Jon!”  Richie said loudly as Jon bolted from the restaurant, but the singer ignored him, just going back up to his room and grabbing the phone, dialling from memory.

 

39

 

In Kyra’s Nashville house, the phone rang, startling Jenny out of sleep.  She’d been staying at the ranch with Kyra, mainly to help out with the horses, but also screening calls - she’d even taken the precaution of silencing Kyra’s bedroom phone, to prevent her being disturbed in the night by the few enterprising reporters who’d found the number.  Looking at the clock as she turned on a light, she saw it was just after two in the morning, and she lifted the handset cautiously.

 

“Masters residence, may I…….?”

 

“Jenny, it’s Jon.”  The familiar voice interrupted her, but even across the transatlantic call she could hear the hurt in his voice.  “Is Kyra there?”

 

“She’s asleep.”  Jenny said carefully.  “Can it wait?”

 

“Can it……?  No.  I need to speak with her, Jenny.  I need to ask her…….”  His voice trailed off, but the pain she could hear made Jenny help him out.

 

“If you need to ask her if it’s true, about what Jared did, then the answer is yes.”  She said gently.

 

“Fucker!”  Jon spat.  “Sorry, Jenny.  Can you put Kyra on?”

 

“Why?”  Jenny asked. 

 

“What?!”

 

“I asked why.  If you want to speak to her to find out how she is, then yes.  If you’re going to upset her by not trusting what she tells you, by blaming her for what happened……”

 

“Jesus!  No, Jenny!  I saw how he was with her - I should’ve said something - should’ve told her he was trouble, to get rid of him!”

 

“We’d already tried.”  Jenny sat up, believing him and now willing to wake Kyra.  “Trust me, I tried and my nephew Lucas - he’s a cop - tried, but she’s a stubborn girl.”

 

“So I’m discovering.”  Jon murmured.

 

“How did you find out?”  Jenny asked.

 

“It was in the paper.”  He replied.  “Richie showed it to me - he assumed I knew.  Hell, I talked to her the other day, Jen, and she never….”

 

“I know.  She didn’t want to tell you on the phone.  She was going to do it when she saw you.  She wanted you to be able to look her in the eyes and see she was telling the truth.”

 

“That’s why she said……about ‘if’ I wanted her at the show.”  Jon whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling tears escape to burn across his cheeks.  “Can I speak with her, Jen?  Please?”

 

“Just give me a minute or two.  Don’t hang up.”

 

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere.”  Jon said as Jenny punched the ‘hold’ button and laid down the phone, crossing the hallway to Kyra’s bedroom.

 

She switched on the bathroom light, just putting a gentle glow into the room, then she crossed to the bed, stopping at the side and saying Kyra’s name.  The low voice woke her, and Kyra blinked sleepily up at Jenny.

 

“Jen?  What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong, honey.”  Jenny turned on the bedside light, Kyra squinting against the brightness.  “Jon’s on the phone.”

 

“At this time?”  Kyra pushed herself upright in the bed, worry etched on her face.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong.  Not with him.”  Jenny sighed.  “You made the papers, sweetie.  International editions.  He read about what happened.”

 

“No!”  Kyra looked stricken.  “Oh, Jesus, no!  I didn’t want him to find out that way…….”

 

“Well, he has.”  Jenny said flatly, but not unsympathetically.  “I think you should speak with him, honey.  He believes you - said he saw how Jared was around you.  He really does want to talk to you, Kyra.”

 

“Okay.”  She whispered in a tiny voice, reaching to the phone. 

 

Jenny walked away as Kyra picked up the handset, closing the bedroom door as she left and went downstairs to make coffee.

 

“Hello?” 

 

Jon could hardly believe the tiny, frightened voice at the end of the phone was Kyra.  His vivacious, smart-mouthed Kyra sounding like a scared child, terrified of his reaction to her.  He knew he had to be careful with what he said, not to say something that would hurt her unintentionally, and he realised the one thing he could say and just went with it.

 

“It’s not your fault, darlin’.”  He said softly, and the sob he heard through the phone ripped at his heart.

 

Huddled in bed, Kyra couldn’t hold back the tears, tears of relief at his words.  As she sobbed, she could hear Jon’s voice, shushing her, soothing her with gentle words and reassurances.  When she finally got herself under control again her voice was rough with the tears.

 

“I’m sorry, Jon.”  She whispered.  “I didn’t mean to do that.”

 

“Hey - it’s okay, Kyra.  I just wish I was there so’s I could hold you.”

 

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”  Kyra apologised.  “I wanted to tell you face to face, Jon.  I couldn’t find the words to tell you on the phone.”

 

“I get it, baby.  I do.  Do you want to tell me ‘bout it now?”

 

“No.  I still want to tell you it in person, Jon.  I want you to be able to see my face, see I’m telling you the truth.  I want you to know, to believe, that I didn’t want…….didn’t ask……..”

 

“Hey!  Quit that!  I don’t believe that shit, about women ‘asking for it’.  But if you want to tell me in person, that’s fine.  Just tell me - are you badly hurt?”

 

“Not……..not really.  Bit bruised mainly.”

 

“But, your hand?  I saw a photo and your hand is bandaged.”

 

“Oh, yeah.  I guess his reactions are quicker than yours.  I tried to punch him and he ducked, so my hand hit his head.  Broke a few bones in my hand.  He smacked it on the floor a few times, too, trying to make me stop biting him.”

 

Jon swallowed the string of curses that rose to his lips.  Kyra needed him supportive, not in his - what had she called it? - caveman mode.

 

“Why don’t you fly up to the city on Wednesday, darlin’?”  Jon suggested.  “Just come straight to the Seasons.  I’d like to see you, Kyra.  I know you’re a tough cowgirl, but I wanna see for myself you’re okay.”  His voice lowered.  “I wanna hold you and try to make it all go away.”

 

“A hug would be good, Jon.  I try to be tough, but sometimes it’s hard.”  Kyra straightened up a little, forcing herself to - as she’d said - ‘cowgirl up’.  “I won’t live in fear because some asshole loser couldn’t take no for an answer.”

 

“Now, that’s my Kyra!”  Jon said approvingly, hearing the strength coming back into her voice.  “I’m sorry I called you so late, babe.  Rich showed me the paper and I had to……”

 

“S’okay.  Smells like Jenny made coffee, so maybe I’ll go grab a mug.”

 

“You do that, darlin’, and I’ll talk to you later.  I’ll make sure the Seasons has your name on my reservation, too, in case you get there first.”

 

“Okay.  Have a safe trip, Jon.”

 

“I will.  I lo…….”  Jon cut it off.  “I’ll see you soon, Kyra.”

 

“Bye.”  She whispered, laying the phone down.

 

Jon laid his phone carefully back in the cradle, fighting the impulse to hurl it across the room, though if he’d had Jared as a target he wouldn’t have been so restrained.  He headed back down to the restaurant, finding Richie now sitting with Tico, and the guitarist looked up as Jon approached.

 

“Everything okay, bro?”  He asked, diplomatic with the drummer sitting there.

 

“Yeah.”  Jon dropped back into his seat, sipping his coffee and grimacing when he found it had gone cold.  “I was just talking with Kyra.  She’s goin’ to fly up to the city, spend a few days before we hit Long Island.”

 

Tico looked from one to the other, sensing there was something they weren’t quite saying, but knowing enough to keep out of it.