59 - Pillow Talk

Pillowy lips brushed Jon’s, and a whisper soft tongue slid inside to snuggle against his.  It was the latest in a parade of lush and sensuous kisses from the woman who lay on top of him, legs straddling his waist.

As much as she craved her rough sex, Delaney wanted her after-play that much softer, and he didn’t mind indulging her delicate side. The fingers of his one hand soothed the length of her spine while the other drifted easily through tousled hair without a tug.  When she nuzzled in behind his ear, he gave a quiet chuff of pleasure. 

She was nothing but a sweet, affection-seeking kitten in the wake of their ruthless and noisy fucking.  Maybe it was because her reasons for putting him off this weekend included a fear of being overheard, but he was conscious of her every growl, preening cry and howl.  She was vocal about her gratification, and it was enough to make him believe she was right about not going at it with other people in the next room. 

They were going to have to work on a way to muffle it, because he spent much of his summer in the Hamptons.  He expected her to join him often, and abstinence wasn’t an option.  Not since she was responsible for renewing his sex drive to that of a teenager. 

What had become mundane was new again with her.  It helped that he didn’t have to inhibit himself, but Jon also found himself addicted to the transformation of her features when she crossed from endurance to bliss.  When furrows of distress smoothed with the cry of release, she was the epitome of feminine beauty.  It stroked his inner barbarian’s ego for a job well done and made him greedy for the next. 

The chase was more intense than his regular cardio regimen, and a hell of a lot more fun. 

Clinging lips placed a final prolonged kiss against his jaw, and she slid off with a contented purr.  Delaney didn’t go far, though.  She simply cuddled against him, and a cheek came to rest on his shoulder while lazy fingertips scraped over his stomach.

“So… how do you see this going?”

Jesus Christ.  Really?

Chin tucking into his neck, Jon scrutinized the mop of violet hair.  It was all he could see clearly with her nose touching his collar bone. 

“Are we back to words, Mou?”

She chuckled and lifted her head to grant him a clear view of sex-flushed features.  There was laughter hugging the corners of her eyes as she drawled, “No.  I was actually talking about furnishing your apartment.”

That was a surprise way out of left field.  She hadn’t exactly refused to do it, but she hadn’t mentioned it again since the night on the porch.  He had just about resigned himself to calling his assistant and asking her to find a decorator tomorrow. 

“You’re actually going to do it?”

“Might as well,” she theorized with a rueful smirk.  “My mother called and asked me if I was a homewrecker tonight.  If I’m going to get accused of wrecking one, I should probably help you get another set up.”

“She saw the pictures?”

“Why do you think I’ve been drinking?  The women on her bowling league were all over it, and she didn’t waste a freeping minute before waving them in Papa’s face.”

Dave and Matt both sent him TMZ links for Pearl’s snapshots after Delaney left this morning, and since he hadn’t bothered involving himself in the photo selection, Jon looked.  The women had jointly chosen to release an array that showed them walking hand in hand toward the ocean, laughing and playing in the surf, and him smiling down at her after tackling her to the ground. 

They would both look like water-logged shit if it wasn’t for the aura of happiness that was obvious even to a man.  He knew it wasn’t just him, because his brother and friend both made remarks, too.  Matt said it was nice to see him back, and Dave wanted to know if they were always that happy or the jellyfish had just gotten free porn.  Jon followed with an invitation for David to see for himself, and that led to a dinner date in a couple of days.

Which he’d tell Delaney about after ensuring that her parents weren’t going to be a problem.

“So they’re pissed?”

“Not really,” she denied, resuming her spot on his shoulder.  “They’re just yelling about how nice you and your wife were to visit the hospital when I got hurt.  What a good, solid couple you are.  Were.  This couldn’t possibly happen in mere days, so we must’ve been screwing around already.  Yadda, yadda.”

“Think it would make ‘em feel better to know that was the day I decided we were gonna be screwin’ around?”

His skin warmed with the heated blast of her snort.  “Probably not.”

“Yeah.  I didn’t really think so.  Are they going to be a pain in the ass for you?” 

“It’ll be fine.  They wouldn’t listen to anything I said, but Ma will call Petra.  Unlike me, Petra will scream until she’s heard.  You can do no wrong in my sister’s eyes, so she’ll have them on board in no time.”

Good.  He didn’t want to cause problems with her remaining family, but Jon wasn’t giving her up, either.  It was more a matter of determining whether he had to take care of it personally or not.  If Petra was going to be his ambassador, maybe he would let her come back to the Hamptons again. 

“So, anyway.  As long as you provide some general guidance, I guess I’ll pick out your couch and tables.”

Did he tell her now or wait until she figured it out on her own?  With an orgasm under her belt, it was probably better to seize the moment, right? 

No.  It wasn’t.  He could casually slip in his need for dishes, sheets, towels and everything else later.  There was no point in making it a big deal now, when she’d just barely agreed to do any of it.  Baby steps would be better.

“You’ve seen the Hamptons house, the Greenwich apartment and my dressing room.  I’m sure you can piece something together.”

“Yeah, but I’ve also seen a couple pictures of your New Jersey house.  There’s a vast difference, and if that’s what you’re looking for, I may change my mind.”

“Why?”

“Honestly, because I wouldn’t pick out that décor in a hundred years.  Maybe it was fine when you built the place, but now….  If I had your money, that house would look very different.”

“Then why in the hell did you go out of your way to ensure I keep it?”

“I told you, already.  Your kids.  And if they like it, I’m sorry.  I hope all of you love it, in fact, but it’s not my thing.”

The place in Jersey was his very first house, and he had a shit ton of money to spend on it.  Maybe – maybe – he’d been trying to prove that with the design.  He wasn’t ashamed of it, nor was he a huge fan of change.  Once things were done, they stayed that way, mostly because he didn’t want to have to think about fabric and colors.  Ever.  Decorating and redecorating were two very prominent circles of Hell that he’d prefer to avoid at all costs.

Recruiting Delaney’s help was avoidance with a personal touch.  She would navigate the Fiery Lake of Interior Decoration shit far less impersonally than a hired designer.  If she’d just do it, Jon could be very flexible about what “it” was.

Within reason.

“If the apartment was yours, what would you do to it?  Bright colors like you’ve done here?”

“No,” she immediately denied.  “Quirky and colorful fits in Queens, but this look isn’t meant for a multi-million-dollar apartment.”

“Then what is?”

Hooking her leg around his, she drew the covers over them with an indecisive hum.  “Manhattan is cold and stark enough on its own, so I’d avoid the black, white and gray that’s so trendy right now.  Sophisticated warmth, I guess.  Something that feels like home instead of a museum.  Inviting to guests.”

“That’ll work.  Go with that.” 

She laughed quietly and hugged close to his side.  “I know the guide to being obscenely rich probably tells you ‘go with that’ is the accepted means of accomplishing almost anything, but…  I live in a world that requires mundane details, Bongiovi.  The most basic of which is money.  I can’t just waltz into a furniture gallery, pick out thousands of dollars’ worth of stuff and pay for it with my dimples.  That means we’re back to my original question… How do you see this going?”

“Oh.”  In this case he was guilty as charged.  His assistant had a credit card for expenses and the bills went to his accountant, so “go with that” was normally how he rolled.  “I’ll give you Kathleen’s number.  She’ll make it work.”

“Thank you.”

He returned her hug, absently stroking her hair to inquire, “When can you take a couple days off work?”

“I just took four, in case you don’t remember.”

“I remember, smart ass.”  Rather than pissing him off, her sarcasm only made him smile.  “And I’m not talking right away.   I’ve got shit to do this week, including going out of town for a couple days.  I probably won’t even see you until the weekend.  We have dinner with Dave Saturday, by the way.”

“We have dinner with Dave?”

“He saw the pictures, too and started in with the ‘Bounce’ shit again.  After I told him to fuck himself and provided explicit instructions on just how to do it, he decided he wants to see us and reassess the situation personally.  He’s a stupid fucker, but since you asked about him the other day, I told him we’d go out.  S’okay?”

“Sure.  I’ve seen his wife, though.  She’s very… fashionable.  Is this a fancy thing?”

“Lexi likes her fashionable clothes, just like you like your jeans.  Just like Lema likes his jeans, for that matter.  Wear what you want.  It’s just a little place in Greenwich Village.”

The slight tensing of her shoulders suggested that she was going to give this more thought than it warranted, but she hummed agreeably before asking, “Going out of town anyplace fun?”

“Not really.  Jess wants to start moving west with the wine, so we’re going to go visit a couple of distributors.”

He neglected to mention that it was his idea, and one that hatched only today.  Jesse possessed the same unabashed motivation that Jon held at his age, though, and quickly jumped on the idea.  He would spend tomorrow making the contacts that would get them meetings later in the week. 

The other thing Jon purposely neglected to mention was that those meetings would take place in Chicago, where he also planned to conduct business of a more personal nature.   

Something nagged at him about the daughter who so completely severed ties from her family.  There was more to the situation with Poppy, and since Delaney continually refused to discuss it, he’d go in search of his own answers.  Maybe he wouldn’t even talk to the girl, but he was damn sure going to find her and check her out.

Delaney needed resolution or closure with her daughter, and if he could facilitate that….  Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d made her take something she needed.

“The Midwest and wine distributors.”  The dry voice was completely unaware of his intentions, and he chose to believe it was for the best.  “I can’t say I’m going to envy you that trip.”

“Iowa or Israel, Denver or Denmark.  Work’s work,” he rationalized and bent to press a kiss to her forehead.  “But I thought you and I would go someplace just for fun, if you can find the time.”

“Fun?”  There was a definite interest in the soft gray irises that peeked up at him.  “What kind of fun?”

“Rock climbing in the Adirondacks fun.”

Interest became excitement, and she pushed the covers away to stand on her hands and knees.  It brought her within inches of his face when demanding, “Are you freeping kidding me?”

“You said you wanted to go, didn’t you?” he teased, resisting the urge cup her cheek.  There would be no need to coerce her into this trip, and Jon found that her eagerness made it all the sweeter.

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t expect you to take me.”

“That’s part of what makes it fun.  We’ll go next week.”

She was back to straddling his waist again, but the kisses she peppered over him weren’t sensual this time.  The pecks raining across his cheeks, nose, chin and lips carried sheer excitement.  “I think I’m going to like dating you.”

“Fuck that ‘going to’. You already do,” he scoffed, and when a chastising hand smacked onto her butt, she just deluged him with dimples.   

 “Yeah.  I kinda do.”