Chapter 69

The Bongiovi Christmas was much like holidays in Rachel’s family.  They were filled with fun, family, food, and wine - and lots of it all.

Jon’s parents, brothers and their families were as warm and welcoming as they had been in previous times spent together.   Dorothea had also been gracious during her short time with the clan. “You always were partial to Cartier” was her only semi-catty comment, offered as a presumed jab at Jon when she noticed Rachel’s watch. 

The children remained with their father for several days after Christmas and as such, Rachel and Jon slept in their own homes.  Work had taken up so much of Rachel’s time, she’d scarcely seen any of them, able to join Jon’s family for only a couple of dinners since the Christmas. 

At a stop sign a several miles out from the Jersey house, Jon sent a brief text to his lady, hoping to catch a few minutes alone with her now that he’d dropped the kids back off with their mother. 

[5:42 P.M.] JON:  Busy?

The lack of response a full five miles later was a good indication that she was, in fact, swamped with year-end business.  It wasn't much of a surprise, since she'd warned him as much weeks ago, but he was anxious.  Anxious to get out of the damn car, which he'd spent entirely too much time in today.  More than that, he was anxious for some alone time with Rachel. 

Naked time. 

Screaming, naked time.

Sexually-deprived Jon was an unusually tense guy and her continued lack of response to his text message was not helping matters.  It certainly wasn't helping the headache that had been building for days while he'd been surrounded by his parents and children.

Having his own key definitely had its advantages and Jon chose to bypass his driveway in favor of Rachel’s.  He'd taken up an odd habit, at least odd for him.  Wherever Rachel was, he kept the key to that house with him at all times.  He wasn't insecure about her or them, but there were so many hours spent away from each other, he found that key in his pocket to be a constant reminder that no matter how miles were between them, he could get to her. 

Her SUV was visible through the windows in the garage door, so he knew she was home.  He wasted no time in pulling the key from his pocket and, after approaching the door at a near-run, he put it to good use.  When he closed the front door behind him, he could just make out the sound of Rachel’s voice coming from upstairs. 

Following the sound that teased his neglected libido, he found her on the phone in the office.  While he could only hear her side of the conversation, it didn’t sound like it was a banner day in the real estate world. 

“Enough of this shit!  If they don't have it funded by the cut off tomorrow in time to release for recording on the 31st, kill the deal.  I'm leaving on vacation come hell or high water as soon as funding cutoff times on the West Coast have hit. You can talk to James if you get in a bind while I'm gone…..Turks and Caicos….yeah….can't wait….okay…will do.  Thanks.”

Her distracted “Hey” in his direction didn’t discourage Jon’s intentions.  There was only one thing on his mind and he leaned down to her desk, taking her hands in his.  Pulling  her into a standing position so he had sufficient access to twist his arms around her waist, he ground himself  up against her in the horny man’s traditional greeting. 

“I have been DYING to do that for five... long... fucking days.”

The ringing phone didn’t dissuade his hands from roaming under her sweater in an attempt to get at her bra clasp.  

“Jon – I gotta get this.” 

Rachel had stepped out of his grasp and turned her back on him to answer the phone.  Rather than get his feelings hurt, Jon gave an appreciative leer to her very firm backside.  Undeterred by her obviously problematic phone call, he pressed up behind her to continue the assault under her sweater.  From all accounts, she appeared oblivious to him and remained completely immersed in her latest work drama.

“Just what we needed.  No, that won't work….investor guidelines won't allow it.  If you put it in as a pre-pay I can make it work there….okay…send me the revised HUD and I'll take a look.  Thanks…I’ll be on the lookout for it.”

Ordinarily, Jon didn’t have any problem putting Rachel in a receptive mood.  She was as into him as he was her.  Today however, he was horny beyond words and she didn’t know he was in the same room. 

“Rachel… baby …. Have I mentioned it’s been FIVE days?”

“Yeah, honey, I know,” she placated him, flipping a file folder open with a hurried flick of her wrist.  “But I don't even have an hour right now – West Coast is still operating and I'm putting out fires left and right.”

She couldn't even be bothered to look at him, let alone return his kisses.  She was too busy shuffling papers to take notice of the vein threatening to burst in his forehead.  

“I’ll soooo make it worth your while, Rach.”

Instead of dropping to her knees like a fantasy girlfriend, she only patted his chest in that dismissive way women did and offered him a token kiss.  “I know you would.  I just can't right now.  There’s chaos on every file.  I told you it would be this way at year-end.  Two more days and we'll be on vacation and I'll make it up – ”

Jon didn’t hear anything other than “two more days” before interrupting her. 

“TWO DAYS?!?!   Uh, No.  My balls will be so high up by then I’ll never find them again.  You don't know what it’s like for a guy.  Really, babe, it’s torture.  I don't need an hour,  just twenty minutes.  Hell, fifteen! Give me fifteen minutes so I can knock the edge off and then I’ll leave you in peace.”

The ding of her email alert was constant and Rachel turned to glance at her computer before stepping back to the desk.  “Jon, I have to review these numbers.”

Frustration was evident as he ran his fingers through his hair with a mighty huff.  “Rachel, I have a headache that has moved all through my head and down my neck.  You could get rid of it in fifteen minutes – or  maybe ten.  Whatever.  Just – honey, are you listening to me???”

He didn’t know if it was his pathetic tone or imploring eyes that had roused her attention when she finally turned to look at him.  She  raised her eyebrows and shook her head at him, muttering, “Oh... my... God!”

Her acknowledgment of him was all he needed to think he had a green light.  He started feverishly unbuckling his belt while simultaneously trying to pull Rachel’s clothes off her. 

“You’re the BEST, baby… No wonder I love you so much.  Christ, I can't wait to get rid of this headache.” 

He'd moved on to the zipper of her jeans and was trying to tug them down her legs, only to be derailed by her boots.  “Jesus, baby you could help me get these boots off ya know!” 

During the frenzied effort to be naked, Jon hadn’t noticed her lack of response, verbal or otherwise, but now he couldn't miss her muttered “Shit!” When he looked up, she had turned her head and was reading something on her computer screen while absently unzipping one of the troublesome boots.

The whine in Jon’s voice couldn't be hidden.  “Baby? I don't think you’re really into this….”

He'd seen that look before.  Not on her face, but he’d seen it hundreds of times on Dorothea’s face – every time he did something obviously ridiculous.  Rachel gave him a hard blink like she couldn't believe what he'd just said. 

“Ya think?  Maybe?  What was your first clue, Jon?”

His ego may have been slightly deflated, but his pecker was as determined as ever.  “Are you giving me a mercy fuck?”

“Judging from the bulge in your jeans, you’re not in a position to complain.”

“No.  But I sorta thought you'd show up at least.  I didn’t expect to have to compete with your emails.”

This was the rock star People magazine named one of sexiest men alive?; Rachel mused.  He looked hilarious and pained.  She would've liked to laugh, but instead, she took the two steps necessary to stand toe-to-toe with him, never taking her eyes off his. 

It was beyond peculiar, but somewhere in those two steps, everything that had held her attention captive disappeared in a haze of lust.  The only thing in the room was Jon. 

Overdressed Jon. 

Her palms slid down the front of his shirt and caught the hem at the bottom, pulling it up and over his head.  As soon as the garment cleared his face, she could see the intent to ravage was written clearly in his eyes.  She didn’t notice which of them pulled her sweater off, but it was Jon who flipped the clasp at the front of her bra, tossing it across her desk.  When her hand slipped into his jeans, he hissed and she thought maybe, just maybe, his eyes rolled back in his head. 

Clothes started flying, mostly hers.  Jon couldn't be bothered to do more than let his jeans drop to his ankles before he picked her up.  With a rumbling growl, he laid her across her desk and roughly pulled her to the edge, impaling her in the process. 

If the phone rang, she never heard it.  She had no trouble ignoring the chiming email alerts.  The only thing Rachel was aware of was the leverage she gained by grabbing the edge of the desk as Jon slammed into her time and again.

The fires on the West Coast could keep on burning because they were nothing in comparison to the inferno currently building on her desk by the Navesink River.