85 - Who's the Boss?

Lust.  It was the downfall of many a man through history, along with the occasional woman.  In her greed for the sexual fulfillment that her husband was eager to provide, she neglected to recognize the fatal flaw in her plan to get to him. 

“Sheridan!” 

She heard the furious clicking of camera shutters before she reached the first corner in her ten block trek.  The unfamiliar voice that called her name with such commanding authority both startled her and had a jolt of fear knotting her stomach.  How had they found her?

She’d no more asked herself the question before she was following up with the answer.  Of course they’d found her apartment.  Why wouldn’t they, the scum-sucking vultures?  That’s what they did – nose into things that were none of their business to make money.  Lovely career.  Just lovely.

She pulled her quilted jacket tighter and snugged the fluffy black scarf over her nose and mouth.  At least they wouldn’t get a full face-shot.

“What’s it feel like to hook a mega-millionaire like Jon Bon Jovi for your baby daddy?”

“Did you do it on purpose, Sheridan?”

“When’s the baby due?”

“Did Jon make you sign a prenup?”

“Show us the ring!”

There were only two men, but as fast as they were hurling their intrusive questions, it seemed like a dozen.  Ducking her head, she crammed her hands into her pockets and tried vainly to tune out the rapid-fire inquisition.  Jon had told her if she gave them a friendly smile and ignored them that, eventually, they would grow bored and leave her alone.

She didn’t feel like giving them a friendly smile.  In fact they were starting to freak her out a little in their overzealousness.  The younger of the two men was jogging backward in front of her, snapping a handful of shots for every step he took.

“C’mon, Sheridan…  Drop the scarf and show me that beautiful smile!  What’s it gonna hurt?” the slender man wheedled, adjusting his black and gray striped beanie hat.  “It doesn’t cost you anything.”

Just my soul.

His companion, an older man with a full salt-and-pepper beard, had a plain burgundy toboggan to accompany his down filled extreme-weather jacket.  Reminding her more of a fatherly-type, he wasn’t quite as obnoxious as the ardent Peter Parker wannabe who was making her more and more nervous with his decreasing respect for her personal space. 

Even with his ridiculously telescopic lens, the guy felt the need to put himself less than ten feet in front of her.  His close proximity was curtailing her pace and her stride.  She was afraid of walking right into him.  At this point, she wasn’t sure he would care.

“Any baby names picked out yet?  Is it a boy or a girl?” the older guy inquired amiably as he strolled along beside her, apparently having gotten his fill of photos with nothing but her eyes, ponytail and scarf.

Eight more blocks.

“Hey, I’m not such a bad guy,” the man assured her with a chuckle.  “Just a poor working stiff trying to earn enough money to pay his alimony.  Help a guy out?”

“Is the baby even his?”  Peter Parker badgered like a seasoned interrogator.  Her continued lack of response wasn’t sitting well with him and his cajoling smile had morphed into something uglier.  Harsher.  “You couldn’t make it with your bookstores, so you decided to try your hand at gold-digging?  Or should I say legalized prostitution?”

That question startled her so badly that she snapped her head up, looking right into his camera lens just in time to catch her toe on an uneven piece of pavement.  Her hands were firmly entrenched inside the snug coat pockets, effectively trapping them there, and she couldn’t pull free quickly enough to maintain balance.  In all likelihood, she would have done a nosedive onto the sidewalk if the older man hadn’t grabbed her arm, keeping her upright at the last minute.

“Are you okay?” he asked with what might have been actual concern.  Sheridan wouldn’t know.  She couldn’t hear well enough to tell through the sound of her own blood boiling.

The kid had gone too far.  Between his intrusion into her physical space and the provoking barbs that had gone from annoying to blatantly insulting, her mindset had completely changed.  No longer intimidated or afraid, she was now just plain old mad and refused to be disrespected by some bottom-feeder that couldn’t find a real job.

Showing your anger is only going to get it captured on film.

That was something she simply did not want.   Number one, she didn’t want to embarrass herself or Jon.  She also didn’t want Riley on her back.  Her older sister was having way too much fun with the candid shots that had been snuck this week and were appearing online.   Sheridan wasn’t going to add fuel to the fire. 

Oceans.  Ducks.  Tranquility. 

She freed her mouth and nose from the scarf and smiled at the photographer still holding her arm and waiting for a response.  “Yes.  Thank you for catching me.”

“You’re welcome.”

When she turned her head, the younger guy had vanished, leaving her alone with her ‘rescuer’ and the brilliant flash of a brainstorm. 

“Listen...  What’s your name?”

“Hal.  Hal Bugliotti.”

She stuck out her hand, as she would to any business associate with whom she wanted to strike a deal.  It was time to use one of these guys for good instead of evil.

“I’m Sheridan Bongiovi, as you’re well aware,” she greeted him with a quick bob of her chin when his beefy fingers wrapped around her gloved ones.  “Hal, you said you’re not a bad guy.  Prove it by agreeing to a trade with me.  Tit for tat.  You give me something I want and I’ll return the favor.”

The older man’s eyes narrowed speculatively and he angled his head with interest.  “What do I have that you could possibly want?”

“Connections to the journalistic underworld,” she replied without pause.  “Connections that can reveal whoever is leaking very private information on me, my husband and his friends.”

“Richie Sambora.”

“Richie Sambora,” she confirmed, wondering if she’d made a mistake bringing him into her quest for answers.  It was too late to take it back now.  The wheels were already moving behind Hal’s shrewd brown eyes.

“Say that I can find something.  What’s in it for me?”

This was the part that was a little scary.  What would one of Satan’s minions demand as payment?  Her soul? 

“What would you want?”

“Exclusive photos of the baby when it’s born.”

That was out of the question and she shook her head firmly.  Too much.  No wedding details either.  Jon wouldn’t like it and she preferred to keep the details of their wedding unsullied by the rest of the world.  The trick was to give him something without giving him anything… 

“No.  I’m not offering my child as a sacrifice, but I will give you a story that only close friends and family know.  Provided that you sell it to someone reputable, you can have the exclusive on how Jon and I met.”

 

He was intrigued.  She could see it and silently encouraged him to accept the tempting offer.

“Deal.  But I want a shot of the ring now.  You know, as a show of good faith.”

That unexpected request made her stop and consider what she was doing.  She wanted to be very sure of herself before opening this door.  Was she ready to irrevocably link herself to a member the ‘press'?  If a catalog-style photo of her ring could get them the information they were so anxious to have, the answer was yes.  And she didn’t think Jon would kill her. 

“Just the ring,” Sheridan finally acquiesced and tugged off her glove. 

§§§

“What the hell took so long?” Jon demanded as soon as she stepped from the elevator.  “Your ten minutes turned into half an hour.  I was starting to get worried.”

That’s when he noticed the mischievous sparkle in her eyes.  She unbuttoned her coat and hung it up, turning to place her hands on the tops of his shoulders.  The sparkle was made more pronounced by rosy-tinted cheeks as she smugly grinned up into his face.  Sheridan was positively glowing.

“Sorry.  I got detained.”

“You look like you got laid,” he observed dryly, accepting her kiss with a quirked eyebrow. 

She laughed, sliding her arms around his waist for a quick hug before dancing fingers found their way under his shirt and up his spine.  “I’m almost that satisfied, but I saved myself for you, baby.”

“Married less than a week and you’re already finding satisfaction someplace else?  I can see I’m going to have to take my husbandly duties more seriously.”

“Oooh.  Would you?  That would be great,” she purred into his neck, nibbling the biggest tendon and walking him backward until his back hit the foyer wall.

She hadn’t been this relaxed and happy since they got back to New York.  He had to know what happened between her apartment and home.

“I’ll nail you to the wall, couch, dining room table and bed just as soon as you tell me what’s got you in such a good mood.”

“I can’t just be horny for you?” Her fingers were now twirling in the coarse hair on his abdomen and tracing it into the waistband of his jeans.  Damned if his Kitten in the role of aggressor didn’t have the crotch of his pants going stiff.

“You can.  Good mood might be the wrong thing to say.  It’s more like... cocky.  Proud of yourself.”

“Mmm...”  Her tongue darted to the pulse point under his jaw and he felt her grin against his neck at the same time her fingers curled around his erection. “I might be groping your cocky.”

That had him laughing out loud, head thrown back to the ceiling.  “Dirty puns?  Now I know you’ve been up to something.  Tell me.”

“Oh fine,” she pretended to pout, pulling her hand out of his pants and lacing their fingers together.  Leading him through the living area and toward the bedroom, she told him of her encounter with a couple of photographers, including the backdoor deal she’d made with one of them.

“And...”  She pushed lightly at his shoulders until he collapsed onto the edge of the bed.  “By the time I got back here, I was feeling so good that I just waved and smiled at the vultures waiting outside the building.  They didn’t make a dent in my newfound armor.”

Hooking his arm around her waist, he pulled her to sit on his right thigh with a chuckle.  “I can’t decide whether to be pissed at you or impressed as hell.  You realize that could have gone very differently, don’t you?”

“No it couldn’t have,” she disputed stubbornly, scratching his chest through the aged Giants t-shirt he wore.  “I can read people.  He’s an older guy who is tired of the young man’s game he’s trapped in.  He was grateful for the opportunity to get off the hamster wheel.”

“Listen to me.”  He used his finger against her jaw, tilting it so that he could look into her eyes.  What she’d done was impressive and brave, but it was also potentially dangerous.  She put herself and their baby at risk and he wanted to make sure she realized it.  “I’m telling you it could’ve gotten ugly.  Don’t pull a stunt like that again.”

Her grin was completely unconcerned and impish.  “Relax,” she chided and he allowed her to push him back onto the bed.  She planted a knee beside each of his hips and spoke from a looming position above his face.  “I promise you I’m always going to be careful, but it feels good to have taken some control back over my life.  Stop being a buzzkill.  You’re drying out my panties just when they got good and wet.”

Once again, he was overtaken by a genuine like and respect for the woman he’d made his wife.  Jon had been worried about her the past few days, but this was the old Sheridan.  The one who had the world – and him – by the balls, in the best possible way. 

Trust her.  She hasn’t disappointed you yet.

“Let’s see what I can do about that,” he acquiesced, folding his arms around her with a leer.  He crawled his hands up to her shoulder blades and used the weight of his palms to flatten her torso against his.  When they were breathing one another’s air, he relocated one hand to the swell of her bottom.  Holding her steady, he lifted his hips into the vee of her thighs at the same time his tongue delved into the silky confines of her mouth.

In and out he thrust his tongue, mimicking the action with his lower body by rocking his pelvis into hers.  Her taste blended with the flavor of the coffee he’d been drinking, sweetening it more effectively than sugar. 

“How’s that,” Jon breathed against her kiss-bruised lips.  Using his middle finger, he tracked the seam of her stretchy pants.  Starting just below her waist, he traveled downward along the cleft of her bottom until he found the hot spot at her center. 

“S’ok,” was her nearly strangled response when he simultaneously pressed his finger and ground his swollen dick into the feminine softness.

“Just ok?”  Lifting his head off the mattress, he arched up to nip at her juicy bottom lip.  Her body temperature was rising.  He could feel it against his crotch and finger.  “I think you’re lying.”

She lithely lifted her torso, balanced on her knees and pushed herself into the steel rod that was keeping his zipper stiff.  “Stop thinking and get serious about those husbandly duties.”

“Ohhhh little girl…”  He grabbed her by the waist and flipped them so that she was flat on her back staring up at him.  Lips that were still shiny from his kisses parted in surprise.  “You better watch your sassy mouth.”

Her eyes glinted with the jewel-like sheen of real emeralds as she fought a grin.  “Or what?”

“Or…”  Jon slid his feet to floor at the bottom of the bed, unbuckling his belt.  “I’ll give you something else to do with it.”

Whipping her shirt over her head, she laughed without concern as she tossed it aside.  Her hair swirled wildly around her shoulders when she shook out the ponytail and she unfastened her bra with the flick of one wrist.  Her generous breasts were already showing signs of pregnancy by overfilling the cups.

“You’re still stuck on my being cocky?” she asked, balancing a breast in each hand and tugging at the nipples.  The way she sucked in the corner of her lip and bit down told him she wasn’t just doing it for show.  She wanted the pleasure that came along with it. 

“No.” Damn if those fat nipples don’t look hot as hell rolling between her blood red fingertips, he thought as his pants, then shirt, hit the floor.  “I’m stuck on who’s in charge in our bedroom.  That would be me.”

Jon shoved her back onto the bed and immediately reached for the waistband of her pants, stripping them from her in one smooth movement.  He showed no tenderness when he arrogantly pushed her knees apart and dredged his fingertip through the heavy slickness saturating her feminine folds. 

“Mostly,” she agreed with a groan, throwing her head back.  He grinned conceitedly when her inner muscles clutched gluttonously at his crudely invading finger.  “This time I’ll fight you for it.”

His dick twitched so hard that it bounced against his stomach.  Not once, but twice.  For a second he thought he was going to embarrass himself in a way he hadn’t embarrassed himself since he was fifteen.

“Knock yourself out,” he invited, lost in the way she still plucked at her nipples and was now undulating against his hand.  They’d never done a rough tussle, but if she was game, he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.

Crimson nails moved instantly from her nipples to his, pinching them harshly enough to get a painful grunt from him.  He immediately jerked out of harm’s way and locked up her wrists with his free hand.  When she struggled against his grip, since his fingers were so damn short, she managed to unshackle one of her wrists.

“Be very careful, Sheridan,” he warned her quietly when she reached again for his left nipple.  “Any control you have is an illusion.  I can take it at any time.”

Her eyes were a heady swirl of defiance and desire when she went south instead of north, bowing up to circle her fist around his hardness.  “You won’t take anything I don’t freely give you.”

“Goddammit you’re feisty today…”

“And you’re getting off on it.”

She squeezed harder than was comfortable and he growled and withdrew his drenched finger from her core to latch onto her other wrist.  Both were pinned to the mattress above her head and he used his thighs to part hers wider.  The swollen pink pearl of her clit stood out from the honey-coated folds, every bit as demanding as his wife.  It wanted attention, but Jon was feeling ornery enough to leave it wanting.

“You keep it up and I’ll be the only one getting off.”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

He touched the very tip of his rigidness against that throbbing pink bud, stirring his oozing arousal into the pool of hers.  Sweat was beading on his forehead  with the effort to keep himself in check and Sheridan wasn’t faring much better from the hot pink flush covering her chest. 

This is gonna be so fucking good.

“There’s my sex kitten.  Talk dirty to me.  Tell me how dirty you are.”

“I don’t wanna… talk dirty,” she panted, trying to angle her pelvis in such a way to impale herself on his rigidness.  “Just stuff your cock in there and fuck me al- Unnnh!!!”

Her sexually frustrated tirade was cut off with a forceful thrust in which he buried himself in her womb.  “That what you want you bossy little wench?  You want me planted balls-deep inside you?”

She didn’t answer him, closing her eyes with a whimper as he withdrew.  Her whimper became a low and keening scream when he slammed home again. 

“Tell me,” he ordered, pounding again.  “I feel your pussy going crazy, but I wanna hear you say it.”

Her head flipped and flopped from one side to the other against the mattress.  “Harder!”

“Tell me!”

“Stop talking and make me come!”

His balls grew tight in the telltale sign of impending orgasm and he pulled out.  One swift move had her on her knees and he levered her hips to the right angle to accept his penetration from behind.  Her greedy heat sucked him in as a loud smack left a red handprint on her cheek.  There was a sharp cry of surprise, followed up with a long mewl of pleasure. 

“Mmmmm….. Good.  More!”

“Tell me this is what you want!”

Her hips wriggled against him seeking the contact that would release her from the agony they were both suffering and he smacked the other cheek. 

“Tell me!”

“Yes, dammit!  Yes!  This is what I want!  Hurry!  Hurry before I lose my mind.”

Jon’s groan was louder than anything that had come before it.  He leaned forward, tucking her back into his chest and jacked himself in and out of her with enough force to rock the bed. 

“Oh!  Ohhhh….  That’s it, baby.  So…   goooOODDD.  YessSSSsssSS!!”

He was right behind her, quiet in his release only because he was biting her shoulder when the explosion hit. 

“This…” he gasped, hugging her to him as he fell to his side.  “Is the ONLY time you’ll ever hear me thank the fuckin’ paparazzi for anything.”