Chapter 71

A feast of local delicacies had been pre-arranged for Jon and Rachel’s dinner on the boat dock.   Brightly colored fish swam all around and under them as cocktails and appetizers of mini ceviche cups were served beneath an enormous umbrella.  In the shade of that umbrella was a rustic teak table and chairs staged to serve as their dinette. 

There wasn’t an ounce of formality to be found in the relaxed setting.  The turquoise blue waters of the island were the centerpiece, and the simplicity of the furnishings allowed the sea to remain the star of the show.

“You did good, Rach.”  Jon’s raised glass was met by hers and the fine crystal tinkled in a New Year’s Eve toast.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.  I could get used to being a kept man.  Sun, sand, sex… what’s not to like?”

“Provided I can ever get you off the beach –  or out of bed for that matter – there’s so much we can do while we’re here.  The snorkeling and scuba diving is second to none, or so they say.”  Swallowing the fruity rum concoction the chef had assured her was an island specialty, Rachel considered that too many more sips might leave her flat on her back – in a way Jon wouldn’t be happy about.  “We can take the jet skis out, go kayaking.  The property manager even suggested we charter a boat and do a scuba trip that takes us right to the reef.”

“Sounds great – especially the scuba trip.  Would you enjoy that?”

“Yeah, I’d love to do the scuba thing.  Tomorrow though, I’d really like to do NOTHING.  Sleep late, read a book, maybe even watch a movie.  They have this huge screen on the patio.  Wouldn't it be delightfully slovenly to just lie around drinking more of this rum punch and watching old movies?”

“You really are the perfect woman.  You’re not even going to make me shave on this trip are you?”

Her response was delayed until the servers had replenished their dwindling cocktails.  The meal – an assortment of freshly caught spiny lobster, the traditional side dish of peas and rice, some sort of sweet potato salad and a bowl of root vegetables in a spicy-sweet sauce – was scrumptious.  The food wasn’t enough to offset the impact of the liquor and Rachel considered sipping this new drink – the  third that had been presented to her – a  little more carefully. 

She forked the last remaining carmelized carrot and popped it into her mouth.  “I don't want you to do anything that you don’t want to do - ever -  but especially this week.”

“Meaning?”

Rather than looking at him, she toyed with the umbrella in her drink when she replied, “Meaning I don’t want you to do anything that YOU don’t want to do just because you want to make ME happy.”

“I’m sensing we’re not talking scuba diving. What’s up?”

Their surroundings and the mood were so perfect tonight.  Rachel wasn’t about to let anything tarnish their few days in paradise or disrupt her rum buzz. 

In an attempt to derail Jon’s train of thought, she pushed from her chair to cover the few steps separating them and dropped sideways into his lap.  She hooked one arm loosely around his neck and pushed the wind-blown hair off his forehead with a playful smile.  Using two curled fingers under his chin, she lifted his mouth to hers and teased, “If it doesn’t make you happy to let me be on top, then I guess it won’t hurt for YOU be on top.”

Rachel giggled and, releasing his neck, began to stand.  Jon’s arm quickly stole around her waist, holding her firmly in place. 

“Don’t.”

“Don’t get up or don’t let you be on top?”

He frowned, unhappy she was playing games that threatened to ruin his rum-mellowed state.  Was she ever going to just be open and honest with him?  WITHOUT the aid of a lust-hazed fog?

“Don’t shut down.  We have less than four hours left of this year.  Finish your thought without using seduction or jokes to change the subject so that we don’t begin the next year still carrying this year’s baggage.”

The silence would have been deafening if it weren't for the sound of the azure waves rhythmically washing up on the beach.  Rachel’s defiantly tilted chin combined with the firm set of her jaw left Jon wondering how the conversation would progress at this point.  Fight or flight?

He was pleasantly surprised when it was neither.  There was no longer a reason to restrict the booze’s reign over brain cells when her shoulders relaxed, her eyes softened and she nodded in acquiescence. 

“Okay then.  Today on the beach you said you could do marriage if it were important to me.  I wouldn't want you to agree to marriage just because you thought it would make me happy.”

Jon knew the overzealous applause was overkill all on its own, but he couldn’t stop himself from dispatching a rum-induced drawl to accompany it. “Well done, baby.  You barely flinched.”

She rolled her eyes and returned the sarcasm with a dry, “Glad you approve.”

The nip he gave to her shoulder as faux-punishment was both affectionate and tender.  “As for the marriage part?  I already told you marriage, per se, isn't important to me.  But I know it means something to you and I just wanted you to know if it became a major issue between us I could… ya know… I think I could do that for you.”

Rachel wasn’t exactly doing cartwheels over his reluctant offer, but she was willing to let it go.  It was New Year’s Eve, after all. 

Her man was never a sloppy drunk, but he was clearly feeling no more pain than she was.  His relaxed slump somehow made him appear irresistible.  Again. 

“Is that all you could do for me?”

Rachel’s body language couldn’t have left much to the imagination.  But when Jon leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, she wondered if she’d been too subtle.

Until his hand crept under her short skirt, unerringly finding its way between her legs.  Proof that, even ‘blindfolded’, he knew his way around her body.

“Oh, I dunno,” he drawled.  “I could probably think of some other things to do for you while we're down here in the tropics.”  The sun hadn’t quite gone down and the sky still had its dusky light but nonetheless,  Jon removed his sunglasses and tossed them onto the table.  “Whaddaya say we ring in the New Year with a real bang?  I’ll make you come more times than you ever have in your life – all before midnight.”

Rachel rolled her lips between her teeth in an attempt to refrain from giggling or spilling her guts about what a feat Jon’s suggestion would be.  Her expression must have betrayed her, and Jon didn’t overlook it.

“You think I can’t get that done or what?  What’s the look for?”

She tried to fight off the giggles, really she did.  But the combination of Jon’s hackles being raised and the obscene volume of rum she’d consumed just didn’t allow it.  “No, honey, I’m sure you can get the job done…. no doubt about it.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes.  “I know I’m gonna regret this, but how many times HAVE you come in one night?”

The effects of the rum washed over her with a new wave of giddiness and Rachel shook her head with an embarrassed grin beginning to form on her face.  “I am SO NOT having this conversation.”  She leaned into his smirking mouth and briefly slipped her tongue between his lips before trying to pull him into a standing position.  “C’mon… let’s go inside where you can get the New Year’s celebration started.”

Jon straightened up in his chair and pulled her back to his lap.  “Oh no you don’t.  No way I’m letting you off that easy.  How many orgasms have you had in one night?”

“Fine.  I’ll answer that question.  But only if you’re willing to tell me how many women you’ve slept with in one day.”  She couldn’t resist grinding into his lap while she teased, “Still wanna play that game, baby?”

“It’d stunt your growth.”

“I’ll bet my number is higher than yours.”

The back of his chair provided an excellent resting spot when he allowed his head to drop back.  “Hmph.  No way.  That’s a bet I’ll gladly take.  What’s the wager there, sweet stuff?”

“Trust me, lover – you do NOT wanna take this bet.”

“You don’t have a poker face, Rachel. I’ll take that bet.”  He tugged on the elastic top of her strapless sundress, pulling it down enough to release her breasts for a quick nipple pinch. 

Jon came as near to giggling as she'd ever seen him when she slapped his hand and pulled the top of her dress back over her breasts.  

“What’s the wager, rock star?”

 “Gosh, honey, I sure hate to take advantage of you here… what do you think is fair?”

“Let’s see….”  She tapped her chin thoughtfully with one hand and kept control over the top of her sundress with the other.  “If you win and you’ve slept with more women in one night than I’ve had orgasms…. I’ll make your most secret sexual fantasy come true.”

If the growing erection she was currently sitting on was any indication, Rachel had managed to get his full attention.  “Don’t you want to know what that fantasy might be before you commit to it, little girl?”

Rum.  It was doing all the talking for Rachel now. 

“Doesn’t matter.  If you want a threesome – I’ll make it happen.”  She traced his lips with her fingertip and growled, “Anything you want.  NOTHING will be taboo.”

This was a side of Rachel Jon had never seen.  She was full-on sexually charged – down and dirty. 

And he liked it. 

“Nothing is off limits, huh?”

She looked at him like she could eat him alive.  “Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  I’ll make it a night to top all others.”

Jon recognized the lethal combination of being buzzed and turned on.  The anticipatory throbbing between his legs told him it was going to be a good night – a very good night if Rachel’s sexy grin was any indication.  But on the off chance….

“And if you happen to win, Rach?  Is that what you want?  Your secret sexual fantasy come true?”

“Mm…. it might be that MY fantasy is the same as yours.”  The gleam is her eye was just a flash, but the change was perceptible.  Lust had been transformed into teasing.  “So, I’ll pick a different reward.  Let’s see… How about if I’ve had more orgasms than you’ve had partners in one night, you cook dinner for me while we’re here?”

“I can’t cook.”  Jon didn’t have time to process a response before that one came out.  He knew Rachel was up to something but he didn’t much care, her sexy talk was the hottest thing he’d been part of in years.  

 “I’ve just offered to have a threesome with you – or anything else you want.  Surely cooking me dinner can’t be too much to ask, can it?”

Boobs. 

She had amazing boobs.  They were full on the top without sagging, with ample cleavage and those sweet, pink nipples…. Jon couldn’t even think beyond getting to them.  While his hands worked to tug her dress back down, he was otherwise distracted by the raging hard on she was now wiggling into.

“Sure, honey.   If you manage to win this bet I’ll cook.  So, let’s get this party started.  What’s your number, baby?  How many orgasms have you had in one night?”

“Thirteen.”

Boobs and nipples became the furthest thing from his mind.  He felt suddenly clear-headed and almost sober.  Startled eyes flew up to meet her amused smirk.  “You’re making that shit up!”

Rachel’s giggle was followed by the raising of her right hand.  “On a stack of Bibles, baby.  Thirteen orgasms, and not just in one night, but in one SESSION.”

Jon’s face crumpled into a frown.  “That’s not even possible.”

Rum giggles came spilling from her mouth,  “Oh, honey… it’s possible.  Trust me.   So…. what’s the most number of different women you’ve slept with in one day?”

“Wait a minute – how can you get off thirteen times in ONE sexual interlude?  And who was THAT with?” Jon’s rum buzz was being threatened by the sudden aching in his temple “Oh GAWD!  Please tell me it wasn’t St. Nick?  Please?”

While they had never discussed specific details about their sexual pasts, she had never been threatened by Jon’s crazed nights.  It would only follow that he should feel the same about her more tame nights, right? 

Rachel’s relaxed laugh assured him he had nothing to feel threatened about.  She was finally comfortable and able to be completely open with him. 

“No.  It wasn’t Nick.  But it did happen – I swear on all that I hold dear – thirteen times.”

His sexual need hadn’t been obliterated but it was lessened, allowing him to enjoy this silly, sexy moment.  The little vixen had actually manipulated him into a sexual frenzy, dangling all things ‘threesome’ in front of him. 

“You had me going, Rach, I’ll give you that.  C’mere...”  His hand crept behind her neck and pulled her down to meet his puckered lips.  “You’ve got a wicked sense of humor, ya know that?  Wow.  Thirteen times.  I’d like to meet the man with that kind of stamina.  Who was it?”

“It was with James.  BUT it really wasn’t anything to be too impressed over.  He was into cocaine and, well…. the truth is he couldn’t come.”  She shook her head at the memory. “It worked out okay for me, but he was a mess.”

Rachel had never been quite so carefree with him, never quite so open.  Jon laughed along with her, “Yeah, that’s why I was never into coke – it made me grind my teeth and I couldn’t get it up.  Not for me.  Were you into it?”

“Nah.  Only tried it that one time, that night.  It didn’t do a thing for me.  Drugs really weren’t my scene, except with James.”  She poked him playfully in the shoulder.  “So… spill your guts, Jon.  What’s the most number of women you’ve slept with in one night?”

His pearly whites were visible even in the now-darkness.  “Four.  And blowjobs from three others.”

She couldn’t suppress the grin or the slap to his chest.  “You’re disgusting.” 

She was amazing.  There was nothing he couldn't tell her.  Nothing that made her change the way she felt about him.  There were no secrets, no games.  His laugh was as much from that freedom as it was the look on her face. 

“It was the 80’s!  You were around in the 80’s, you know what it was like.  It was before AIDS and herpes.  We were kids in a rock band and the girls were all over us EVERYWHERE we went.  You think I was bad?  Dave had ten!  And if you ever tell him I told you that I’ll cut you off in the bedroom.”

Rachel brushed that concern off with the wave of a hand. “You’ve slept with more women in ONE DAY than I’ve slept with men in my whole life.”

“You’ve only slept with four men in your whole life?”

“No.  Including you, three.”

If he was her third, that only left her husband, and… “James was your first?”

“Mmm hmm.  I thought I had saved it for the man who would be my husband.  Every girl thinks that the first one is the one she’ll be with forever.” 

Her eye roll was as light-hearted as his snort that followed. 

“Yeah, and every guy is just trying to nail as many as he can.  You weren’t all that young, then, right?”

“I was seventeen.  How old were you?”

“The first time?  Fourteen.  I was in 8th grade.  Christ that seems young now that I have kids.”  Her bottom lip just begged for attention and he felt readily obliged to give it.  The kiss was long, deep and lingering, keeping the mood between them  light, but somehow making it more intimate than ever before.  “I don’t know how you got so good at it, but you sure know how to keep me happy.”

Rachel’s hand slid into the open neck of his shirt, fingering the dust of fur there.  “I just hope you can find something edible to cook me for dinner now that I've won our little bet.”   Her face was dangerously close to his, enticing him.  “Of course, I'd probably be willing to call it a draw if you wanna go for fourteen.”

Her suggestion stirred a new arousal in him.  "I am used to being number one.  And it does seem like an appropriate way to usher out the old year…. ring in the new.  Are you throwing that down as a challenge, baby?”

Her angelic smile would’ve wooed the devil himself.  “You once told me you could cook in the bedroom OR the kitchen, but you couldn’t do both.  I’m only trying to be fair and give you an opportunity to pay off your debt in an arena you’re more… skilled in.  I’m only looking out for you, baby.”

“Yeah, that’s why I love you so much – you’re always looking out for me and my interests, Rach.”

“I am exceptionally giving where you're concerned.”

Jon scooted her off of him and stood, taking her with him into the house.  “C’mon little girl, I have some wicked things in store for you.”

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jon Bon Jovi was in excellent physical shape.  He could run for miles and not even become winded.   But right now he was sweating, breathing hard and dying for something to hydrate his throat.  He threw an arm over Rachel’s hip as he searched with his other arm for the bottle of water she’d tossed on the floor during their tumble.   The lip balm she always kept on the nightstand wouldn't hurt either, but it, too, had been a casualty of the evening’s lust. 

Finding the bottled water wedged between the headboard and the mattress, he took a long swallow.  “THAT was fun.  I’m not sure who got more out of it – you  or me!”  He passed the water to his deathly-still love.  She  managed to tilt the bottle to her lips, drain the liquid and toss the empty bottle off the other side of the bed.  Beyond that, there was no movement or sound from her.

Jon didn’t pay much attention to her lack of response.  He was too mightily impressed with himself and his sexual prowess.  “I love to watch you come undone like that – I always have.”  He kissed her shoulder, still unaware she hadn’t moved beyond stretching out a twisted leg.  “You don't make those weird faces I make – you always look gorgeous.”

Any man of his age who had pulled off a sexcapade like he just had was certainly justified in feeling a little cocky, hyper and maybe even a little self-absorbed.  But eventually, Jon did take notice that Rachel’s body was lifeless next to him and lifted his head to peek over her shoulder, brushing the hair off her face in the process.  “Rach… I can feel your pulse so I know you're still alive………. Honey?”

“You’re talking too much.”

His chuckle was decidedly more energetic than his girl.  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?  Can't keep up?”

“Oh GAWD!  You’re gonna gloat for days aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah.  That’s a given.  I’ve never seen a woman come fourteen times and since I’m now the record holder of your orgasmic marathon I’m entitled to gloat!”

“I’m so glad I was able to show you something you’ve never seen…”

The sudden, loud noise jolted Rachel into a more conscious state and she flipped to her back.  The corner of glass in the master suite allowed a perfect view of the fireworks lighting up the sky as they lay wrapped around each other in the four-poster bed. 

Jon propped up on one elbow and slid his opposite arm across her stomach.  “Hey.  Look at that… it must be midnight.”

“Happy New Year, Jonny.”

She had never before called him by the name his family and closest friends so often used, but it sounded good and natural rolling off of her lips.  Her fingers joined those of his resting on her sweat-slick abdomen. There was something about this moment that reminded Jon of the sacred hour his children had been born.  It was life changing – almost...  spiritual.

As the old year went out and the new was ushered in, he was as connected to Rachel as he’d ever been another living person.  

“Happy New Year, Rach.  I love you….”