Well I went and did it again. I got involved in yet another interactive fan fiction story. This time, my character was paired with Richie (much more to my liking). That story wrapped in early November 2008, and I had been asked to assemble the "story posts", that is, the posts that tell Richie and Jen's story, in one place for people to read.

So I'm doing it.

I'm having to add some filler as I go, as there were lengthy pauses between the verbose posts I made, but I'm trying to keep the flow of the story going.

The Richie/Jen story is only half of the fan fic project. The other half was a Jon/T story. That is not explored here at all. In fact, very little mention is made. Just enough so it isn't a surprise when T shows up at various points.

If anything is confusing, please let me know. I've been living this character for the better part of the last eight months, and her memories are mine. I forget, sometimes, that you all can't see into my head.

I hope you enjoy the story. It starts here.

~ Hath

The Rest Of The Story

Saturday, November 28, 2009
Your breath hisses from your lips and you swallow audibly.

“Strip,” I command, walking back to my observation chair. You watch my ass as I stalk past you, wishing you could reach out and touch it. But you know better.

I cross my long legs, my eyes filled with pleasure as you slowly unbutton your jeans and lift them over your throbbing cock, now straining and purplish in color.

“Poor baby,” I murmur with little sympathy when you wince as the rough fabric abrades your sensitive flesh.

You kick off your shoes and push the jeans off your legs, finally standing completely naked before me, awaiting my next instruction.

I watch you over steepled fingertips, studying you from top to bottom. For long moments I make you wait as I watch you…my expression considering.

I stand and grab your wrist, leading you to a nearby table with an elaborate chest on top. “This is my box of tricks,” I explain. I open it with a flourish and you gasp. Nestled in a velvet interior as all manner of sexual, pleasure and torture devices. I watch you, considering, my eyes narrowed, gauging your expressions.

First comes several lengths of leather cord. With one of them, I wrap your wrists together, tightly, securing the ends by knotting them into a metal ring.

I peruse the other items. I remove the ball gag and look at you, noting the slightly mortified look. Pity, but I want your mouth to be free for the time being, so I save that for later.

I select several squares of fabric – lush velvets, soft silks, luxurious furs – and add some feathers, and of course, a black blindfold. I know I need a few more items before I blindfold you though. I study your impassive expression then select a long black vibrator, three silver balls, and a tube of lubricant.

Your eyes grow wide with astonishment and you start to speak.

“Mercy already, darling?” My eyebrows are high, an unmistakable challenge in my gaze.

You quickly shake your head, but your eyes are round as quarters. What a good boy you are.

I lead you to the bed by your wrists and instruct you to sit on the side. You obey and I stand with my thighs spread, straddling your knees, my breasts right in front of you.

You ache to touch a swollen pink nipple…so close…but sorry, honey. You’re to be my chair for the time being.

I slowly drag my fingertips through your hair and whisper, “It’s your job to sit completely still. Do not move.” Then I turn and sweep my hair over my shoulder so you can truly admire the lace-up back of my leather corset. I bend down and remove my g-string. The scent of my arousal tickles your nostrils and your nose twitches, but you don’t say anything, and most importantly, you don’t move.

Slowly I perch myself on your knees, leaning back against you.

You know you have to sit completely still, unmoving, but you can’t help but admire my upturned lips as I lean my head back on your shoulder.

I whisper a command. “You’re not allowed to touch.” Then spread my legs wide and reach for the vibrator.

ou groan when you realize what I’m going to do.

With an evil smile, I reach up with one hand to caress my breast, roughly pulling and plucking my nipple, the way I know you like to. With the other hand, I turn the toy on its slowest setting, lightly tracing the insides of my thighs.

You moan, a muffled sound that makes me reach for the whip lying at your side. “Remember, no words,” I remind you, dragging the ends of it across my pussy, trailing my juices up over my abdomen, between my breasts and teasing your nose before setting it back down. “And no touching yourself either,” I murmur, gyrating my ass against your bound hands on your lap.

I turn the toy on a higher setting, just lightly toying with my opening at first, then sliding it deep inside with a satisfied gasp. It’s not you baby, but right now, it will do. Particularly when I can feel your huge, pulsing cock poking me in the small of my back.

I coat it with my juices and remove it, holding it up to your face and place the tip of it against your lips. “Suck my juices off it,” I command you.

You grimace, the idea of putting a cock, even a fake one, in your mouth distasteful. But in the end, you can’t resist the smell or the taste of me, and you obey.

I take pity on you, not forcing you to take it completely in your mouth, but instructing you to drag your tongue up one side and down the other.

“Mmmmmm, seeing your lips on that and knowing it’s going to be inside my pussy makes me hot,” I hiss, my eyes flashing with arousal.

Slowly I glide the wet vibe inside my aching flesh, uttering a deep guttural moan once it’s jammed to the hilt. I turn it on its highest setting and grab your hand, placing your fingers against the rabbit ears on either side of my clit. “Don’t move,” I whisper breathlessly, grinding against your lap and the vibe and your fingers until I feel so nasty and I just can’t take it any more. I push your legs apart, rapidly closing mine so I can clamp down on the violent pulsations, moaning, screaming, and thrashing as I come.

I collapse against you, my chair, and gasp for air until I finally return to some semblance of sanity. I’m impressed with your will power, but see your eyes darken when I remove the vibrator, a long thread of tumescent fluid clinging to its tip.

On slightly shaky legs, I stand. “Your turn, darling. Lie down.”

You smile and move backward, difficult at best with your hands bound. “Roll over,” I command you onto your stomach.

Your eyes widen in panic, fixed on the soaked vibe and silver balls at the edge of the bed.

“Mercy?” I ask, smiling.

You shake your head and roll over onto all fours. I roughly stretch your hands in front of you, exposing a hidden hook on the headboard and attaching your wrists to it. I tap the small of your back with the vibrator. “Down,” I instruct and you lay flat, moaning as you shift your hips to take the weight off your erection.

I trail the wet vibrator along your back, stopping to lightly tease the taut globes of your ass. “Relax, baby,” I whisper in your ear. Thinking I have something horrific planned, you squeeze your eyes shut, but I place the vibrator to the side and straddle you instead.

Squeezing some of the lotion lubricant into my hands, I grab the silver balls and roll them gently over your spine. Once you force yourself to relax, you enjoy the sensation, particularly when I lean over and press my breasts into your shoulders, my hair tickling your face.

“You’re doing so well, sweetie. I’m so proud of you.” My hot breath is right in your ear and you have to shift your hips to take your weight off your erection.

I notice and take sympathy, particularly since you don’t complain.

Reaching up, I remove the metal ring from the hook. “Don’t move your arms down, but turn over.”

I move to the side and allow you to twist around, then reach back up to re-secure your wrists.

Now I truly have the chance to admire your form. Your shoulders and biceps are bunched with strain, your chest heaving with each breath, sweat dampening your hair to your forehead.

I tenderly brush it aside. “What’s my name baby?”

“Mistress Jennifer,” you reply, your voice a harsh whisper.

Your cock is enormous, jerking toward me. I smile in satisfaction.

I lean down and kiss your neck, just under your earlobe, my tongue darting here and there until you’re gasping.

I drag the tip of it down the your throat, swirling into that indentation above your collarbone before moving lower.

Your breath comes out in a whimper as my hair drags down your abdomen, but then I stop, still not touching your cock.

“What’s your word?” I whisper.

“More?” you squeak.

I smile. What a good boy.

“You want my pussy bad baby, don’t you?”

You nod, sweat trickling down your cheek, watching as my open mouth hovers over the straining head of your cock.

“Well, will my tongue do?” I ask with an evil grin.

You nod even more rapidly, your breath coming in harsh gasps.

I lower my lips til they’re a scant millimeter from your aching flesh.

“God, please…” you moan, clenching your eyelids closed.

I sit back on my heels. “Those aren’t your words,” I scold.

“Baby….pleeeeease….fuck me….can’t take it,” you groan.

I move even further away. “Please don’t make me use the whip, Richard. Now what are your words?”

You shake your head as if to clear it, then whisper, “More, Mistress Jennifer.”

I lightly brush your thighs with the end of the whip. “Louder, pet.”

“More, Mistress Jennifer,” you say in as normal a voice as you can muster.

“Better. But I’m going to have to punish you for your mistakes.”

Tears trickled from beneath your lids, sliding toward your temples. God, what more exquisite torture could I have planned?

I grab the vibrator and turn it on it slowest setting, teasing your inner thighs, your tight pelvic muscles, then circling the base of your cock before settling just above your testicle, pressing it with quick touches. Don’t want to overwhelm you.

You half moan, half cry.

“Mercy?” I ask softly.

You hurriedly shake your head.

I grin. I know the one form of torture you can’t handle.

I straddle your thighs and whisper, “Look at me, pet.” You force your eyes open, grimacing as your cock jerks toward me involuntarily.

Fascinated, you watch as the evidence of my arousal slowly drips onto your thighs. “Mmmmmm see how much I want you, baby?” I whisper. I scoot up until I’m hovering over your straining dick, then firmly grasp it and begin to circle my clit with the tip, gasping with pleasure.

With my other hand I clasp my breast, pinching the nipple roughly, rolling it in my fingertips, all the while dragging your dripping cock over my clit, masturbate myself with you.

“You know you’re not gonna be inside me til you say it,” I tease.

You can’t take it any more. Your hips are jerking, your cock is oozing pre-cum, and I’m using you so nastily. “MERCY!” The word is nearly a scream.

With a satisfied smile, I lower myself onto you, taking your entire length in one deep stroke, my eyes closing as I savor the sensation.

“The wrists, Jennifer,” you grit out, desperate to touch me.

I lean over, pressing my breasts against your hard chest, and kiss your lips while reaching for the hook. “Love you, Richie…” I giggle.

Once they’re free you moan impatiently as I undo the cord, and FINALLY you’re able to turn me over and fuck me.

Pinning my shoulders with your strong thumbs, I lay there unmoving as you pound into me, exacting your revenge. Within ten strokes we’re both groaning in ecstasy, my pussy greedily grasping you, milking your cock of every drop of come as you spasm inside me.

“Fuck,” you scream, your release the most intense you’ve experienced in years.

Finally you collapse on top of me, your breathing harsh and labored while I wrap my legs around your waist, smiling with satisfaction as I feel our juices flooding out of my still vibrating pussy.

When you finally regain sanity, you look at me, stroking my jaw with a gentle fingertip. “Next time, I’m the master.”

Later that night, after Joan and Ava had gone to bed, Richie and Jen were standing side by side in the bathroom, brushing their teeth. Richie’s eyes met Jen’s in the mirror, and he wagged his eyebrows. "How's your evening looking, Mistress?" he said suggestively.

Laughing, Jennifer spit a mouthful of foam into the bowl and rinsed her mouth. "Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I'm glad you're taking an interest in my, er, hobbies as it were," she said, laughing and blushing, "but damn, you're really getting into the board and, well, our little hobby."

Richie colored slightly. "Yeah, I guess I am," he admitted. "I see the appeal of the anonymous board to you ladies. I can actually forget I've met some of them, and just goof off like a regular guy. And the others? The ones who don't know who I am? They're wonderful fun. They actually like me for me, not because they know who I am."

"Yeah," Jennifer said, "but it's a bit disconcerting to know that you're, you know..." She trailed off, not quite able to bring herself to say the words.

"That we're reading porn you write about us?"

"We?" Jen choked.

"Figure of speech." They finished in the bathroom and got into bed. "You do know how a guy's mind works right? Any porn -- straight porn -- is good porn. Even if it is written by friends."

"My friends are going to die, absolutely DIE when they know who you are on the board."

"Aw shit, are they gonna be mad?"

Jennifer laughed and carefully sidled closer to Richie, stroking him through his pajama bottoms. "Baby, they like you. They'll be mortified, but they'll get over it because you're funny, you play with everyone, are an incorrigible flirt, and the shit you write, on the board, and in yoru songs, makes them wet."

"What about you," Richie growled in her ear as he slid a hand under her nightshirt to palm a breast.

"I know you're thinking of me when you were writing that stuff on the board," she said, stroking him harder now. "I can feel your hands and mouth on me with your words." She groaned as Richie squeezed her hardened nipple. "Yeah, you could say it makes me wet too."

Jennifer eased Richie's pants down off his hips and rolled him toward her, spreading her legs so he could settle in between them. Mashing his mouth to hers, he pushed into her roughly, making her gasp. "You know," Richie said, as he stroked, gently now, in and out of her, "you've written a LOT of stories." He kissed her neck, biting and marking her. "That's a whole lot of stuff to try out."

"Damn," Jennifer said, as she raised her hips in time with his grueling rhythm, "and the others have some real good stories too..."

Richie's pace increased, making Jennifer mewl. "Baby, we have a whole lot of reading to do," he said.

"Speak for yourself," Jennifer said through tightly clenched teeth. "I've already -- OH!" she groaned as the waves overtook her. She arched from the bed, grabbing onto Richie's shoulders for purchase as he slammed her silly.

"Already what," he gasped, hanging onto his control by a thread.

Nearly sobbing with pleasure, Jennifer finished her thought, "...already bookmarked them."

"Dammmmmmnnnn," Richie growled as he pulsed inside her.

The next morning was an early one, and Jennifer stumped into the office a little after 6:30. She hardly had any time to herself all day. Richie kept sending her sexy texts and emails, and more than once, Jennifer had to ignore the little blinking red light on her blackberry or the envelope icon in the system tray. She just couldn't handle all the teasing. The board had turned some switch in him, making him more open, more playful, than she'd yet seen him.

God, she loved her Jovi Sisters…

Goddess’ Note: The substory in this and the previous chapter are from the Fiction Mistress. She wrote them during the T’s Place Interactive Fan Fic adventure, and incorporated it into one of her own stories.

Thank You, Samantha!

Tuesday afternoon, Richie was left on his own. Jen was at the office and Joan and Ava had gone out with Ma and Joanna for a girls’ day out. He messed around on the computer for a while, but the raunchy talk was making him miss Jennifer. He called Jon and talked to him for a while, and was still on the phone with him when the women returned from their day out. Richie dropped the phone to the floor with a clatter. He could hear Jon yelling at him, but could only stare at his daughter. Ava was glammed up. There was no other phrase to describe how she looked. She had light makeup on, her hair was styled into an elegant chignon, and her wide smile made her look, well, just like her mother.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" She said, frowning. "Don't I look pretty?"

Richie shook himself. "Angel, 'pretty' doesn't begin to cover it. You look beautiful." He kissed her cheek. "Did Joanna get dolled up, too?"

"Yep, she sure did. We had fun taking pictures. Nana and Ma have some, I'm sure they'll show you." Richie smiled at the way Ava called Jennifer's mother "Ma".

Ava preened and Joan caught his eye over Ava's head. Smiling at his gobsmacked expression, she asked, "Who's on the phone?"

"Shit!" He exclaimed and picked the device up off the floor. "Sorry man, I just aged 10 years. You should see what they did to my baby girl. She looks about sixteen."

Jon chuckled. "S'alright," he said. "Just wait until she's sixteen and looks twenty-two. Then we'll talk." Jon sighed. "Look, I gotta go anyway," he said. “Catch ya later."

"Yeah, sure," Richie answered.

He hung up and went in search of his women. Well, the women who were home. Joan had taken Ava out back to feed the ducks who seemed to like the pond out there. "Whatcha girls doing?" he asked.

Ava pulled a face and sighed. "Daddy, we're trying to feed the ducks, but you're too big. You're scaring them. Go away."

"Love you too, baby," Richie said. "But okay. Come find me when you're done with the ducks."

Richie smiled as he went back inside. With his mother and daughter occupied, he knew what he was going to do. He was hitting the board. He ensconced himself in their bedroom, and booted his laptop. When he signed onto the board and started reading the posts from one of the more naughty of Jen’s friends, his erection nearly knocked the computer off his lap.

You finally notice me, sitting in that chair in the corner. I think you may have an idea what’s coming once you see the leather. And the boots.

“Well, hello darlin’,” your voice dips low, husky, your eyes taking it all in, from the pointed heels of my boots to the pony whip I’m slowly stroking in my palm.

“No more talking,” I say, my voice seeming as if it’s coming from someone else. Hard. Brooking no arguments.

I walk toward you, eyeing my prey.

You stand straight, watching me. Is that amusement I see glinting in your eyes?

That’s mistake number one, my friend.

I slowly trace the end of my whip down your throat, down your chest, down your abdomen. With the tip, I lift the soft cotton hem of your t-shirt to trace the outline of your ab muscles.

They twitch, obviously enjoying the attention. Fascinated, I drag my fingernails across those abs as I circle behind you. “Richard,” I begin, the tone of my voice a warning, “there are only three words you’re allowed to utter now.”

Your eyebrow inches up your forehead as you wait. Your mind is full of questions, but you know you’ve just given up the privilege of asking them.

I complete the circle, standing in front of you, my breath on your lips, my eyes commanding you not to look down.

“Your safety word is mercy. When you say this, I will stop. But make sure you want me to.” The whip is circling your burgeoning erection and at the moment, the last thing you want me to do is stop.

“Your pleasure word is more. When you say this, I will take it to the next level.” You gasp as I reach forward and grab your shirt at the collar, efficiently ripping it off your body. “Very nice,” I say with a pleased smile when I notice your cock is now straining above the waistband of your jeans, already oozing pre-cum.

“And the third word?” You gasp, more turned on than you’ve ever been.

I arch a brow and swat your side with the wispy ends of the whip. “I SAID no talking.”

You lower your head in, not quite submission yet, but acquiescence.

I smile. I know it won’t be long. “The third word is my name. That is the only name you need to remember from now on. Of course, I suppose that means we need to add a fourth word.”

You blink, staring at the floor. I raise your chin with my finger until you’re looking directly into my eyes.

“You may call me Mistress Jennifer.”

"Sweet Jesus," he said, turning away. Then he turned back and read it again. Then he reached for the phone.

"Jennifer Petruzzo," she said, distractedly.

"Hey, darlin', whatcha up to?" he said, in a low, sultry voice.

Jennifer chuckled as she walked up the hallway toward her next meeting. "I take it you read Sam's latest bit of porn? She's trying that out for a story she's working on; I take it that it works for you?"

"Oh hell yeah it works for me," he said, stroking his cock. "Can she see into my head or something? I know I told her my little desire, but hell, she jumped all over it."

"She sure did, baby," Jennifer said, whispering.

"Oh, damn, I love it when you talk all low and sexy like that," Richie said, breathing hard.

Jennifer paused to listen. "Tell me you aren't doing what I think you're doing? Dammit, Rich, I can't believe I'm missing out."

"Don't worry, there'll be more for you when you get home..." His stroking was getting more insistent.

"What about the other people in the house?"

"They're outside, and trying to distract me isn't going to work; I'm picturing you in that cat suit and stilettos..." His breath came in a gasp, and Jennifer hastened to lower the volume on her phone.

"Dammit, that was LOUD," she hissed. Sighing, she ducked into an empty conference room and continued, smiling evilly. "But, baby, are you almost there? Is my voice helping you get harder? Are you feeling my hand around your shaft, or maybe my mouth?"

"Jesus, Jen," Richie gritted out.

"You started it, baby, now finish it. Let me hear you. C'mon, baby, groan for me."

"Damn, darlin'...oh hell....fuck...Jennnn...." He finished on a long, low groan as he came. "Sweet hell..."

"That's it, baby," Jennifer crooned, then jumped when someone knocked on the door.

"You alright, Jen?" Paul, her new manager asked. "You're awfully red."

"I'm fine," Jennifer said, even as she heard Richie's laughter. She spoke into the receiver. "Clean up, I'll see you later. Love you, bye."

Richie chuckled at her, and at himself. He didn't know why this was getting to him so much. Sure, it was sexy stuff, and very erotic, but it was directed at him and Jennifer, and he knew Sam did that on purpose, and that made it much easier to picture the two of them in that scenario. He looked at the board again, refreshing his screen, and read the next "installment" of the little story. Holy shit.

Goddess’ Note: The substory in this and the next chapter are from the Fiction Mistress. She wrote them during the T’s Place Interactive Fan Fic adventure, and incorporated it into one of her own stories.

Football Game

Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The box seats were wonderful, the food was fantastic, and drinks were offered almost constantly. Jennifer thought to herself, "A girl could get used to this." The only thing that was wrong was her leg wasn't comfortable. Well there were two things: her leg, and the sucky performance of the freshmen on her beloved Patriots' team.

Throughout the first quarter, the Ravens walked all over the Patriots. Matty Cassel couldn't make a play to save his life, and the defense was spaghetti at best. The second quarter wasn't much better, but when the new quarterback fumbled a snap, well Jennifer was all set. She knew the team wouldn't pull this one out.

When halftime rolled around, she looked for Richie. He was talking with some of the others who shared the corporate box. Jennifer smiled. That man could make friends with a stone statue. Richie caught her eye, and made his excuses, crossing the box to sit on the plush couch next to Jennifer.

"You alright, baby?" he asked, gently pulling her leg up onto his lap. The tenderness in his touch made her sigh.

"Yeah, sweetie, I'm alright, just a little uncomfortable."

Richie smiled. "You wanna take off?"

"Would you mind?" Jennifer knew he was having fun socializing, even though he could care less about the game. Hell, she could care less about the game. It WAS only preseason after all -- just a chance to check out the new meat. Tommy wasn't even playing, though from their seats, she could see him stalking back and forth along the sideline like Coach did.

"Nah," Richie said. "Now, if the Giants were playing..."

Jennifer laughed. "Yeah, yeah, smart guy." She pulled Richie's head down for a kiss. "Another few weeks and we're playing your G's. Damn I hope Coach puts in the first line."

"Baby, it's just a game." A hush fell over the box, and he got staring, gape-mouthed looks from nearly everyone in the box.

Jennifer smiled. "It's okay, everyone, he lives in LA."

Conversation resumed, and Jennifer could see twinkling mirth in Richie's eyes. The two made their way back to the car, and after Richie got her settled, he made the 20-minute drive back to the house. The whole time, Jennifer was twitching and shifting, though she didn't say a word. As they pulled up to the house, the front door opened, and Joan came out onto the porch. She noticed Jennifer's discomfort right away.

"What's wrong?" she asked Jennifer, as she thumped up the stairs while Richie put the car into the garage.

"I hate to complain, it's alright."

"Don't be stubborn," Joan insisted. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Well, my knee, it sorta burns on the side a little; it's probably just healing."

"When's the last time you took the brace off?" Joan knew that Jennifer had taken to sponge baths and washing her hair in the sink, especially once the brace was in a really comfortable position. It took forever and dozens of adjustments before it felt good, and she hated to undo it if she could help it.

"A couple days ago," she answered. "It's due for an adjustment, I guess."

Joan led her to the living room and Ava jumped up from the couch.

“You’re home!” She ran over for a hug. “How was the game?”

“Awful,” Jennifer answered, laughing. “My team stunk like feet.”

Joan urged her to sit, and Jennifer put her leg up next to her, groaning softly. Joan undid the brace and laid it open and gasped. The outside of her knee was cut and bleeding. "Jennifer! What the hell happened?" Jen was shocked; she'd never heard this woman utter a harsh word in the whole time she was there, and the mild curse took her by surprise.

Jennifer looked. "I have no idea. Rich?"

"Right here, babe," he said, coming into the room. "Sweet hell, Jen!" he said, then left for the bathroom, Ava on his tail. He came back a few minutes later, with Ava behind him carrying a first-aid kit. Gently, he cleaned the scrapes and Ava put a salve and light dressing over them, and Jennifer felt much better.

Ava pressed a gentle kiss on the bandage. "That's what Daddy does to make the hurt go away," she said. "He said that a kiss with love in it can fix anything."

Jennifer reached for Ava, who came to give her a hug. "Thanks, Sundrop," she said. "It feels better already."

Ava settled in next to Jen, and within minutes, was fighting valiantly to stay awake. "Why don't you go to bed, sweetheart?" Jen said, stroking the girl's hair. "You look beat."

She looked up with slumberous eyes. "I'm not sleepy," she said, making the adults laugh.

Richie scooped his daughter up, and she burrowed into his chest. "C'mon, Angel," he said. Looking at Jennifer, he warned, "Don't get up. I'll be back for you in a few minutes."

As Richie took his little girl upstairs, Jen could hear her ask, “Can I sleep with you again, Daddy?” Jennifer sighed.

As promised, he returned minutes later. Kissing his mother on the cheek as he passed, he knelt by the couch and carefully closed the brace along Jennifer's leg. "You ready?" he asked. When Jennifer nodded, he scooped her up too. "G'night, Mom," he said.

"Good night, kids," Joan answered, smiling. “I’ll be in Ava’s room with her tonight.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Richie said, as he carried a blushing Jennifer across the room.

Joan chuckled. She was so happy to see her son so happy. And Ava too. She was surprised her granddaughter took to Jennifer so quickly. For many months now, the girl had been leery of anyone outside their family. Joan was worried that Ava was getting too attached to Jen. She was a nice woman and all, but she wasn't convinced that she had the staying power to deal with Richie's professional life. She hoped to heaven she was wrong.

When Richie got them upstairs, he put Jennifer on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. He brought her a basin and her toothbrush, and when she was done, he took it all away and came back with her hairbrush. Sitting behind her on the bed, he brushed one hundred long strokes through her hair, counting each one. When he was done, he pulled her hair up into a horsetail then pulled Jennifer back against his chest.

"You are so good to me, baby," Jennifer said, stroking her fingers along the powerful legs that lay alongside hers. She tickled under his knees, and he shifted against her, letting her feel his erection against the small of her back.

"It's because I love you," he said, leaning down to nibble her neck. "And I want you."

"I know," Jennifer answered smiling. "You were in my office all day today. I know what you were trying to do. And the guitar was a low blow. You know I can't resist that."

Richie bit gently on the side of Jennifer's neck, making her moan. "But you did, baby," Richie said. "And I had to take out all my frustration on your girlfriends." Richie had told Jen all about the afternoon’s activities, and she had logged onto the board using her Blackberry to see for herself.

Jennifer chuckled. "Stephanie said in a PM that she doesn't think she can look you in the eyes anymore after that. Where the hell did that come from?"

Richie trailed a hand down Jen's arm and eased it around to cup her breast. "I guess you bring out the wanton hussy in me," he said, as he squeezed her nipple gently.

Jennifer sucked in a breath. "Well," she said, "it was very, uh, stimulating."

"That was the idea," Richie said, then laughed. "Though Jon thought it was a bit much. Told me to pour some of that into song lyrics."

"Mmmm," Jennifer said, reaching between them to stroke him through is cargo shorts. "I think I'd rather keep that side of you all to myself."

Richie let her tease him for a few minutes longer, then gently pulled her hand away. "Baby, I want to be inside you," he said huskily.

"So what are you waiting for?" Jennifer asked him, squeezing him again.

With a growl, Richie gently extricated himself from behind Jennifer and hastily stripped off his clothes. Jennifer stripped off her Patriots jersey and bra, and tried to muscle her shorts down, but couldn’t quite do it. Richie knelt beside her, gently working the fabric over her legs and off, tossing them behind him. He stroked a hand up Jennifer’s thigh, reveling in the way he made her twitch and shiver. He slid up her body and into her warm, waiting flesh. With a groan, Richie fully seated himself.

“Damn, I should have let you do this all afternoon,” Jennifer said, arching her neck.

“Told you so,” Richie said, stroking gently in and out of her.

“Don’t be gentle,” Jennifer begged.


“Please,” she implored. “I’m tired of people treating me like spun glass. I’m fine,” she said, pulling Richie in closer to her with her foot. “Please, baby,” she said.

Richie’s blood buzzed in his veins. He’d wanted to be so careful with her, didn’t want to hurt her, but damn, he missed being able to let go with her. He tentatively thrust hard into her, and she moaned. When she rasped, ‘again’, and her hands closed around his forearms, squeezing, he gave her what she wanted. He slammed her hard, over and over, and watched as Jennifer’s lower lip disappeared into her mouth. He stopped and waited for her to open her eyes.

“I love you,” Richie said, and thrust hard into her.

“I love you too, Rich,” Jennifer answered, and her eyes started to drift shut again.

“Uh-uh, baby, leave ‘em open.” Jennifer’s eyes flew open. “That’s my girl,” he said. He reached between them to massage her clit, and he could feel her tensing around him as her orgasm approached.

“Rich,” Jennifer pleaded. “Please, I’m so close.”

“So let it go,” he answered, quickening his finger.

“Oh, gawwwwd,” Jennifer groaned as the first ripples overtook her.

When Richie felt her go over, he started stroking in and out of her again, letting the clenching of her muscles pull him in deeper. When she moaned out his name and arched from the bed, he dropped his hand from her clit and slammed into her, unrelenting, until he came with a growl. When the pulsing stopped, he rolled to her side and gathered her to his chest.

“Thank you,” Jennifer said, stroking his chest.

“Darlin’, you never have to thank me. The pleasure was all mine.”

“Not all, baby,” Jennifer said, looking up at him with a satisfied smile.

Richie chuckled and kissed her tenderly. “Sleep now, baby,” he said.

The next morning, Jennifer woke relaxed and happy. She raised her arms and stretched, forgetting for a moment that some of her muscles don't really want to stretch. A sharp pain stabbed through her knee and she cried out softly, not wanting to wake Rich. She thumped to the bathroom and shut the door, crying softly. "Dammit!" she cursed. "Damn, damn, damn!" After her little pity party was done, she unwrapped her leg and crawled into the shower. Clean, dried, and re-wrapped, she threw on some work clothes and went downstairs make breakfast before starting her day. Vacation time was over; it was time to go back to work.

(c) 2008 by TheGoddessHathor

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