Inspiration

Richie woke slowly, a smile of contentment on his face though his eyes were still closed. Rolling onto his side, the unmistakable feeling of a waterbed under his body confirmed that it hadn’t been a dream. He really was back down in Florida.

With his eyes still closed, he reached out a hand, frowning a little as his fingers touched soft, warm fur. That wasn’t the pussy he’d been expecting - hoping - to find. Scratching his fingertips into the fur, he finally opened his eyes, finding a green pair staring intently back at him.

“Hey Miss Bowwwnnnnsssss.” He purred, mimicking the way the cat’s owner would exaggerate the name. “Where’s your mommy at?”

The cat stared back impassively, then rolled onto her back, demanding a better scratch than she was currently getting.

“Typical woman.” Richie grinned as he scratched the soft belly fur for a moment before sitting up. No sign of his girl in the bedroom, and the bathroom door was wide open, so she wasn’t in there either. Which only left one likely place.

“Von?” He called softly, but there was no response from the living room - right outside the bedroom - and he sighed, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” He muttered, swinging his feet to the floor.

Unconcernedly naked, he went through the living room and kitchen, heading down the hallway to the front of the house. As he’d suspected, he found her in the office, her chair pulled up to the computer desk, her legs crossed Indian-style on the seat as she typed quickly.

“And here I thought I’d fucked you unconscious.” He grumbled, leaning on the edge of the doorway.

Yelping in surprise, Von tried to turn, and it was only by luck of the chair arms being jammed under the edge of the desk that the whole damned chair didn’t go over backwards.

“Fuck!” She exclaimed. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. I woke up.” He grinned just a little sourly. “And imagine my surprise when the pussy I found next to me was the four legged variety.”

“Sorry.” All Richie could see was her face as she peered over the back of the chair, but he saw her lips twist into a smirk as she looked at him standing there, naked as the day he was born.

“Sure you are.” He grinned, pushing away from the wall and moving toward her.

“Uh, darlin’?” She gestured toward the window, unscreened by curtain or blind. “You’re kinda naked there.”

“No shit. And what are you wearing, then?”

Giggling, she pushed the chair back and spun it around, so he could see the faded, baggy Harley Davidson t shirt that was all she wore.

“Hell, at least it’s not a Jovi shirt.” He rolled his eyes, though. “You hungry?”

“I guess. I just need to finish up this chapter, but I can fix something after that.”

“You do that and I’ll fix us something.” Richie said, unwilling to wait as long as it would probably take her to finish the chapter to her exacting standards. After all the years with Jon, he was well accustomed to the vagaries of perfectionists.

“Yeah? Cool. Thanks, baby.” She smiled, swinging the chair around again as Richie retreated toward the kitchen.

A search of the fridge and cupboards brought him to a decision of French toast. Mainly because there was little other than eggs and bread in the house. Looked like they’d be eating out tonight. He set a pan to heat while he readied the egg mixture, adding a healthy amount of cinnamon, then a little more, knowing just how his lady liked her French toast. Stepping toward the pan, though, the oil spat, spattering a hot drop onto his bare belly, and he cursed softly, moving back. Just a good thing the drop hadn’t fallen a few inches lower, because that would’ve hurt like a sonofabitch. He turned toward the bedroom, to get his pants, but saw her apron hanging on a hook by the sink. He only hesitated a moment, then grabbed it, tying it around his waist. Hell, it’d do the job and give her a laugh, too.

Von - her slightly odd name was short for ‘Voncile’, the name inherited from her Southern Belle mother - was just proofing her chapter before sending it off to her writing buddy when the tendrils of cinnamon laced air began to tease her nostrils. She grinned, knowing exactly what he was making for them. The aroma sped her eyes across the words, and she quickly saved and sent the file, giggling as a new email flashed up. It was from Jon, asking her to - when she let him up for air - have Richie call him. Or at least get him to turn his fucking phone back on. She sent back a quick ‘yessir’ before closing down the computer and heading for the kitchen, following the tantalising smell.

“Hey, babe, Jon said turn your fuc………oh my God!” She burst into laughter at the sight of a naked Richie, apron tied around his trim waist as he stood at the stove. “Jesus, that’s priceless! Where’s my camera?!”

“Hey, it was either this or risk getting my…..equipment…..splattered with hot oil, so you can kiss my ass!” He grinned back.

Smirking, Von stepped closer, bending to do just that, Richie roaring with laughter.

“You’re certifiable, darlin’. Completely, totally, utterly insane.”

“So? That’s how you like me.”

“Yeah.” His grin was soft. “Siddown, baby. Food’s ready.”

For a rockstar, who for much of his life had been able to pay people to do just about anything he wanted, Richie had a truly domestic streak running through him. Perhaps it was the Italian blood, but he loved to please people, loved to cook and to share what he produced. Obediently, she sat at the table, reaching for a piece of the soggy, eggy bread as Richie took his seat across from her and took a piece for himself.

They talked as they ate, catching up on each other’s lives while they’d been apart. Obviously, Von knew some of what had been happening in Richie’s life, since much of it made it’s way onto the many google alerts she received, but he listened with real interest as she told him that she and her writing partner had hit a brick wall on one of their stories. Blushing enchantingly, she told him why.

“I can’t write…….God….” She rolled her eyes, toying with the final crust of her snack. “I can’t write sex scenes. Don’t know what it is, but I just can’t seem to write them right now.”

“Maybe you’re just out of practice.” Richie grinned, feeling that tell-tale beginning tightness in his lower belly as he recalled reading some of her previous sex scenes. “Maybe you just need inspiration.”

“Y’think?” Von wasn’t even looking at him, staring down at her plate. Damn, but if there was one thing she’d always been able to write well, it was sex, and now she just felt herself shying away from it.

“I think.” Richie smirked, pushing his plate aside and getting to his feet, going around the end of the table to take her hand off the plate, pushing hers away, too. “Let me inspire you, darlin’.”

Finally, Von’s brain caught on, mainly because when she turned her head she focused on the thing closest to eye level, which was Richie’s crotch, and the unmistakable tenting of the apron he still wore. Smiling now, she raised her eyes, looking up at him.

“You wanna ‘inspire’ me, huh? That’s a new word for it.”

“Hey, I’m a songwriter, baby - I’m good at finding new words.” He smirked. “Or just makin’ them up.”

He raised her to her feet, grinning as her hands slid around behind him, cupping his bare ass in both palms, rubbing herself forward against him as Richie tugged her tshirt up and over her head. A long, slow kiss, then he lifted her gently, laying her on her back on the kitchen table.

“God, I missed you.” He murmured, looking down at her naked body, stroking both hands lingeringly down over her breasts, down to her hips and beyond, stroking and parting her thighs.

Still wearing the apron, he sank to his knees, kisses and nibbles up her thighs teasing until he heard her whimper hungrily, whispering his name as she reached for his head, trying to pull him closer, to pull his mouth to where she needed to feel it. Chuckling softly, he let her pull him in, flicking the tip of his tongue over her clit, feeling her buck against him when he did it again. Slow, tender licks opened her for him, so he could slip his tongue inside her body, and she groaned at the feeling of his tongue licking the inside of her, the tip curling forward to tease that sensitive spot, glad beyond measure to have a man who understood a woman’s body and just how to play on it to best effect.

“Please, Richie……” She murmured. “Please…….make love to me…….”

Chuckling, he lifted his head, sliding two fingers into her instead, thrusting them slowly as he rose to his feet.

“Make love to you………or fuck you?” He purred, adding another finger to the penetration, twisting his wrist slightly on each thrust so that she groaned again. He knew her too well.

“Fuck me……….fuck me now, Richie…..please……” Her eyes fluttered open and a smirk twisted her lips. “And take off that damned apron!”

“As you wish, m’lady.” He grinned, reaching back to untie the apron, letting it fall to the floor as he stepped in closer, leaning over to kiss her.

Reaching between them, Von wrapped her fingers around his thick, hard cock, stroking, guiding him into her, and then, blessedly, he was there, buried all the way inside and filling her completely. There was a shared sigh of contentment at the connection. They’d both missed this so badly, this special, intimate connection that always reaffirmed how they felt about each other, even if neither of them had yet put it into words.

“Oh, yes…….” Von purred as Richie spread his own legs, lowering his body onto hers, keeping the angle just right as he drew back and thrust into her again. “Yes.”

She raised her legs, wrapping them around his hips as the rhythm was set, slow, powerful thrusts as Richie kissed her again, one of his hands on her breast as he braced the other on the edge of the table. The table really wasn’t built for this kind of thing - not exactly an activity that many kitchen table manufacturers would build for - and it squeaked softly with each of Richie’s thrusts, the table rocking on it’s legs. Moments later, as they were both rising toward orgasm, Von vaguely heard a crash as one of the plates bounced along the table far enough to fall to the floor, but by now she didn’t care, knowing her plates were unbreakable anyway. The sound that swiftly followed made her pay a little more heed, though, as there was the unmistakable sound of two cats running hell for leather from the room at the sudden noise.

“Sorry babies……..” She muttered, her hands on Richie’s back as he reared up above her, and he gazed down on her as sweat beaded on his forehead, his teeth biting on his lower lip as he fought to hold his rhythm, to keep her right there with him.

“Jesus….” Richie groaned as Von arched her back, taking him deeper as she started to clench around him, her moans of pleasure spurring him on.

He took his hand off her breast, both hands now clamped to the edges of the table, his hips pumping harder as Von came with a scream of pleasure, thrusts speeding as he let go his control, and she cried out again in an immediate second orgasm as he came inside her, heat flooding her body as it broke from him, until he slowly came to a halt above her, his head drooping forward so his sweat dripped onto her chest, easing himself out of her.

Without another word, Richie scooped Von up into his arms and carried her through to the bed, laying them both on the wonderfully soft water-filled mattress and curling her into his arms. He dozed then, waking after maybe a half hour to find himself alone again. Chuckling helplessly, he got out of bed and headed for the office, finding her once again typing furiously.

“Inspired, baby?” He purred, and got a dirty chuckle in response.

“Ohhh, yeah.”