100 - Bongiovi Brothers Bakery

“I’ll be up in a little bit,” Jon spoke against her lips, swiping his tongue out for a taste of the bottom one.  “Fair warning… I might wake you up.”

She laughed softly, unwinding her arms from around his neck and bringing her palms to rest on each side of his white shirt’s buttons – which were only partially done.  “Take all the time you want.  I think you and your brothers probably work together more than you socialize.  Enjoy the change of pace.”

“No comment on me waking you up?  You know I get horny when I drink too much.”

Emerald eyes locked on his and glowed with full comprehension.  The subtle twinkle lurking at their edges was one he recognized and loved.  It was what he'd privately come to think of as her Sex Kitten Sparkle.  When she got that look in her eye, she was game for anything.

“Yeah, I do.  Gimme an hour to nap and I’m all about you waking me up.”

“An hour?”  He grinned, knowing full well that he and his brothers could bullshit that long without breaking a sweat.  “I can do that.”

Another promising kiss and she slipped up the stairs, leaving him to his man cave – also known as the New Shoe Inn.  It was actually inside of the house instead of being a standalone building, but he could always fix that later. 

For now, it was far more appealing, regardless of the location.  There was a chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio under the bar, waiting along with the company of two men for whom he didn’t have to be anything other than “Johnny”. 

The guys in the band…  Well, hee loved them with all his heart, but at the end of the day, he was still the boss and they still expected him to make their career decisions.  He wouldn't trust those decisions with anyone but himself, but still...

It was different with Tony and Matt.  Sure, he felt like a second dad to Matty a lot of the time, but he still didn’t have to be ‘in charge’.  They didn't rely on him for anything other than being himself.  There was no sense of obligation for Jon to fulfill.  He didn't have to make everything right.  His brothers had seen him fuck up things more than once in his life, and they were always gonna be there for him just the same.

It was a peculiar kind of freedom to shoot the shit with them – something he couldn’t find with anyone else. 

“What the fuck too so long, man?” Matt piped up as soon as the pub door closed.  “I’m half a bottle ahead of you already.”

Jon made a beeline for the bar and the bottle he had stashed there.  Holding it aloft, he grinned.  “Not for long, baby brother.  Besides, you better slow down or you’ll be passed out before I get the first glass poured outta this one.” 

“In your dreams.”

Tony cocked his left eyebrow in a move they had all three perfected long ago. It was a classic John Bongiovi, Senior move that they'd been subjected to their entire lives. “Seriously, Matty?  You’re gonna try and drink the wino under the table?  You’re outta your fuckin’ mind.  He’s gonna be fifty next week and still looks forty.  That’s because he’s motherfuckin’ pickled.”

“Go to hell,” Jon tossed off good-naturedly.  Sure he enjoyed his wine.  Often.  That didn’t mean he was pickled.  And you know what?  So what if he was?  His pickled face and ass attracted women who wanted to buy concert tickets and would pay dearly for them.  He considered it job security.  “You know I don’t care about that shit.”

“Fifty years old with a kid the same age as your thirty-seven year old brother.”  Matt’s short-cropped head shook sadly.  “I hope I’m not starting over again at fifty.”

“Yeah, well, I hope you’re not either.” 

Jon tried to fastidiously avoid thinking of it in those terms.  This was something he did because it was his life, and he made it a point not to regret his life.  If he’d had the choice to make, he would’ve thought long and hard about a new baby – and then vetoed the idea.  But he didn’t have the choice, so it was simply a matter of putting his chin up and carrying on.  No point in dwelling on it.

Except that his brothers wanted to dwell.

“Seriously, man,”  Tony persisted, his feet kicked up on the table in front of the leather couch that had been in Jon’s SoHo living room a month ago.  “I’m not sayin’ you and Sheridan aren’t happy, but how do you really feel about this whole thing?  Unplanned kid.  Unplanned wife... that you haven't known that long.”

Flopping down next to the brother who was most similar to him in age – and thereby, the one he’d been closer to for most of his life, Jon grunted.  Tony was still bitter over that bitch ex-wife of his, and that skepticism was bleeding over onto Jon's marriage.  It had been almost five years and his middle brother still wasn’t ready to date a woman on a regular basis, much less get remarried.

“Ya know, man, it’s okay.  I mean, would I do it – have another kid – on purpose?  Probably not, but neither would she, so that makes her the perfect person to do it with.  It's all cool.”

“And it don’t fuckin’ hurt that she’s hot as hell,” baby brother chimed in with an appreciative snort.  “Damn rock stars are pussy magnets.  It ain't fair, I tell ya.”

Jon grinned around his next healthy swallow of wine.  “I think you’ve gotten plenty of pussy ridin’ off this rock star’s coattails, so quit your bitching.”

“Yeah, you little slut.”  Tony loved calling the physically largest of them anything with ‘little’ in it.  It always made Matty nuts to think his brothers didn’t view him as an equal because of the eight and thirteen years difference in their ages, and he hated the reminder.

“Hey, just because you stay holed up under the fuckin’ stage and avoid ninety percent of the pussy that throws itself at any and everybody in a Bon Jovi shirt, don’t be raggin’ on me.”  

“I don’t need to be part of somebody’s Jovi memory book, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah?”  Jon kicked up an eyebrow in the exact replica of what Tony had given him earlier.  “What about making your own memories?  Or just shootin’ a load before your balls go blue and fall off?”

“Smurf balls,” Matt chortled, throwing his head back.  “That’s what I’m gonna start callin’ you.”

The ever-stoic Tony stuck is middle finger up in the air, totally unaffected by the harassment.  “Need I remind you that both of your wives are pregnant?  It’s not like you’re getting much either.”

Jon and Matt exchanged a look and matching grins turned their faces into masks of wicked glee. 

“Knock a girl up sometime,” Jon advised, nudging him with an elbow.  “Yeah, you’ve got about six weeks after the baby is born where you’re reduced to nothing but blowjobs, but God makes up for it in the early stages of pregnancy.”

“Hell yes!  Desiree can’t get enough when she’s pregnant.  Horniest woman I’ve ever met.”

Jon had heard that before about his sister-in-law – during the last two pregnancies.  That’s why it surprised him that she’d let Matt stay behind and hang out with his brothers rather than taking him home and raping him.  Sheridan was a little more restrained, but only in initiating sex.  If he initiated it...

“Sheridan will let me have it anywhere, anytime, any way I want it,” Jon informed his brothers smugly.  “She was hell to keep up with before she got pregnant, but now...  Blows my mind.”

Their middle brother just scoffed and slung back another belt of Jack Daniels.  “I’m just fine without a pregnant wife.  Don’t need one, don’t want one.”

“Says the man who has no pussy.”  Matt got up to fetch the bottle of Merlot he was drinking from.  “What else would you say?  You’re trying to save face.”

Tony spat a nasty epithet at his younger brother, to which both siblings laughed.  “I might not be seven feet tall with biceps as big as my head, sing like a goddamn girl, or play guitar, but I got no problem gettin' all I can handle – when I want it.  Now...  Are there any of those Greek things left that Sheridan made?  Sambora ate, like, three of them right in front of me.  They looked good.”

Dissolving into a fit of giggles that only a bottle of his finest Pinot could produce, Jon couldn’t resist sharing the mental flashback that statement gave him.  It almost made him wish Richie hadn’t gone to stay at his mom’s tonight.  He could make this so much funnier, but damned if Jon wasn’t going to try.

“In the words of the immortal Mr. Sambora,” he choked out.  “’Pastries are not the same as pussy.  Not even when you eat one from the other’.”

Both brothers burst out into the appropriate peals of laughter.  That laughter became tear-inducing when he told them about the Sheridan’s presentation of those pastries at Richie’s house.  The more he thought about that day, the funnier it got. 

“In appreciation for allowing me to come into your home, I made a little something that I hope you’ll enjoy.  Jon said you liked honey covered pastries.”

Richie nearly dropped the box.

“That’s no lie.  I do, but I have a very discriminating palate.  Kidd’s willingness to share must mean that your honey is exceptional.  I can’t wait to give it a taste.”

The more they drank, the more clever each of the Bongiovi boys thought they were.  Donut puns... muffins, honey, Danish... no pastry or baked good was safe from their alcohol soaked minds and mouths. 

Jon was still cackling after he’d bid his brothers goodnight, leaving them both to find their own rooms to sleep in.  He didn’t care if they shared a damn bed, or slept on the couch.  Suddenly, he had a craving for honey...

❧❧❧

“Kitten...” 

Strangely enough his hot breath on her neck sent cold chills racing down her spine.  With a sleepy purr, she rolled from her side onto her back, ready to ask him if he enjoyed the time with his brothers.  Before she could do more than part her lips, his tongue was filling her mouth with the taste of his favorite wine. 

“Mmmmm...”

Sheridan wound her arms around his neck, arching up into the firm palm that cupped her breast.  Tongues slid one against the other in the most arousing kiss she’d ever been awakened with. 

I must invite his brothers over often.

His wandering hand drove lower, parting first her thighs and then her sex as he stimulated the soft tissue there.  If the desired response was to turn her on like a water faucet, then he was successful.  She could feel how easily his fingers slipped and slid through the saturated valley and writhed against them, already close to release. 

There was something about a determined man and an unexpected attack that was....  soooo good.

Sheridan whimpered as he took his mouth away, leaving her lips as coated and wet as the ones he was manipulating down below. 

“I wanna eat you.”

Her stomach muscles contracted at the roughly rasped words, and they had no more settled in her ears than her thighs settled on his shoulders.  Her husband was like a starving man as he burrowed into the vee of her legs with a vengeance. 

The slurping sounds and appreciative moans were obscene, but there was no better soundtrack on any pornographic movie, she would wager.  Wetly drinking lips inhaled her most sensitive flesh and she let out an uncontrollable cry.  Thick fingers pushed in and out of her voraciously sucking body as his teeth nipped at her clit.

He was like some kind of wild animal devouring her, and his ruthless abandon was making her just as wild.  If she were in her right mind, she would be ashamed of the way her hips bucked up and her hands knotted in his hair, preventing him from moving his face away from where she needed him. 

“Ohhhh, God, baby....  Your tongue...  amazing...  don’t stop......”

“Sweet, sticky honey,” she thought she heard him murmur and the vibrations sent another spark of excitement tingling through her limbs. 

At that exact moment, his tongue found the perfect spot and sent her skyrocketing out on a silent scream.  She thrashed her head back and forth on the pillow savoring the intense physicality of her release.  Her lungs were robbed of any remaining air when he slammed his rigid length into the still-rippling chasm and she came again – that fast, that fierce.

When he groaned his own release into her shoulder with a sharp bite, Sheridan was exhausted.  Beyond exhausted.  Beyond satisfied.  Beyond.... thinking.

“Sweet...  honey.... pastries so good.”

But her sweetly drunk husband couldn’t seem to stop the tumble of words that now wanted to bubble out.  They didn’t make much sense, but she got the feeling that he meant the mumbled jumble in a good way. 

“Sheridan.”  He was up on his elbows staring down at her.  She could see his eyes were a little glassy in the dim light, but he suddenly sounded so much more sober that she frowned, reaching up to cup his cheek.

“What is it, baby?”

“This...”  He put his weight on one hand and dropped the other one over her swollen belly.  “...isn’t something I planned, but if I hadda do it, I’m glad it’s with you.  I told Tony that tonight and I wanted you to know it.  In case you didn’t already.”

Her eyes welled with tears and love.  He was the best man in the world to go through a ‘crisis’ with.  He’d proven it time and again, and if she was going to go through this with anyone, she was grateful that he was the one holding her hand. 

“I feel exactly the same way.  Exactly the same.”