Epilogue

“And I think that about covers it.”  The director of the homeless shelter finished his presentation to Project Home and the Soul Foundation. “Unless anyone has any questions.”

As the meeting broke up and the board members started to pack up Mimi Box, the Foundation’s Executive Director shot a concerned glance towards the Chairman. “Jon is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Jon replied while shoving papers into his briefcase.

“Well, because you’ve been checking your watch every few minutes for the last hour. Are you not happy with the direction we’re going?” The meeting had run late, but that wasn’t unusual.

Jon grimaced. “Sorry. Everything looks to be going well. I’m just anxious to get home.”

“How is that beautiful wife of yours?” Ron Jaworski piped up waggling his eyebrows. “I thought she might be here with you today.” Veronica had become involved with the Foundation as well, helping out where she could.

“She wanted to be, but she’s been down in Nashville this week doing some promo work with Keith Urban.” He glanced at his watch again. “That’s actually why I’m anxious to get going. She’s coming home today and I’d hoped to be there when she got there.”

“Still in the honeymoon phase?”

The grin and the look in those famous blue eyes made Mimi very envious of Veronica. To be loved and desired like that was a very rare and precious thing.

“With Ronnie it’s a never ending honeymoon.” Jon assured them before shrugging into his coat. Picking up his briefcase, he waved and was out the door. He ran down the stairs and out to the waiting car.

Just like he’d feared, they ran into rush hour traffic – plus there was an accident – on the way to the airfield where the helicopter was waiting for him. Jon wanted to yell at someone, but there really was no one to blame. He knew it was just his anxiousness to get home to his wife.

They’d been married almost a year. The wedding was a small, quiet affair, with only family and close friends in attendance. Even though it was her first – and if he had anything to say about it, only – wedding, Veronica hadn’t wanted a big, splashy to do. And that had been fine with him. Whatever she wanted was fine with him. His only stipulation was that it be soon, and she’d accommodated him. Barely two months after he’d proposed, they were married. They’d even managed to keep the vultures at bay...although they did release a few photos to appease the masses.

Not long afterwards, President Obama had been elected, the global economy started to tank and his songwriting muse went into overdrive. He’d forgotten what writing an album was like with Veronica around. She didn’t interfere....much, but listened intently and gave her opinion when asked – or when she felt very strongly that they were going in the wrong direction. The result was an album he was very proud of, quite possibly the best they’d done in a long time. And he loved that he’d been able to share every minute of the process with his wife, even if she did drive him crazy with some of her criticisms sometimes. The fact that she and Richie often backed each other up – and were usually right – was irritating and frustrating as hell...and he wouldn’t change it for the world. It was wonderful being able to share all aspects of his life with someone he loved.   

As the helicopter landed and he climbed into his car, glanced at his watch yet again and wondered if he’d beat her home.

Veronica looked over the array of sushi and condiments, checking that she hadn’t forgotten anything. “Boots, if you don’t stop, I’m going to trip over you and we’re both going to get hurt.” The cat just meowed and kept rubbing against her legs, twining around her feet. “Is all this because you missed me or because you smell fish?”

“Meow”

Veronica laughed and stooped to scoop her up. “You’re not going to be happy, but I’m going to have to lock you up in the bedroom until after dinner....or you’re going to be in the way.”

Walking through the house, she looked around, satisfied with the changes she’d made. Except for her office, she hadn’t made any drastic changes, just a different wall colour here and some new furniture there, a few knick knacs. Just enough to make it feel like her home instead of Dorothea’s. Closing the bedroom door she ignored the pitiful cries coming from the other side and returned downstairs to finish her dinner preparations. She checked her watch and hoped Jon wouldn’t be too long. The thought of calling him crossed her mind, but she wanted to surprise him, even with the fact that she was home.  It didn’t occur to her until everything was in place that he might not be alone. She really hoped he was or she was in for a boatload of embarrassment.

Jon parked in the garage and rushed into the house. Even though it was only October, it was a cold night. In the foyer he hung up his coat and looked around for any evidence that his wife was home.  “Nica? Are you home?”

“In the dining room!”

He stepped through the doorway and stopped dead. His body hardened instantly at the sight that greeted him.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Veronica purred.

He was, but not necessarily for food! Feeling over dressed, he reached to undo the buttons on his shirt, never taking his eyes off of his ‘dinner’. There, lying on the polished oak table, was his beautiful wife....naked except for a covering of sushi. Tossing his shirt on a chair, he stepped closer and had to clear his throat before he could speak. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“I missed you. I’ve had a whole eight days to fantasize about what I wanted to do with you when I got home.” It was the longest they’d been apart since they’d gotten back together. Contrary to her fears, the more time they spent together, the more she wanted to be near him.

Jon sat in the chair placed by her shoulder. “No chopsticks?”

“Nope. You’ll have to use your fingers.”

He picked up a California roll from her collarbone, noting the dabs of wasabi covering her nipples and the pool of soya sauce filling her navel. Refills were available in dishes on the table on her other side. Dipping the roll in the soya sauce, he lifted it towards his mouth. “Have you eaten?”

“No.”

Jon bit the roll in half and fed her the other half. While they ate she told him about her work with Keith and her visit with the girls, and he filled her in on the Foundation meeting, and updated her on the plans for the release of the new album and the tour.

“What about the greatest hits album Vince wants?”

 He grimaced. “He’ll get it...after this one.” When he was damn good and ready.

Veronica had to fight hard to focus on the conversation, particularly when he kept ‘refilling’ his wasabi and soya sauce ‘holders’. She noticed his smirk when she shivered and her stomach muscles twitched. “You can just use the bowls, you know, instead of having to do this every few bites.”

“But this is more fun.” He grinned. “Besides, it tastes better after it’s been warmed a little by your skin.” She snorted and he mock frowned. “Hey! Don’t move or you’ll spill the soya sauce!” He leaned down to lick up the dribble of sauce that had escaped the indentation of her navel and threatened to slide down her side onto the table.

The rasp of his tongue brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin and she bit back a moan. Not that it really mattered. She couldn’t exactly hide her body’s reaction, with everything on display, as it was. Besides, he knew her too well.

When the last bite of seaweed and rice was swallowed, Jon sighed in satisfaction. “That was great. Thanks sugar.” He looked at her, then at his hand. “Hmm...I think we need some cleaning up.” He pressed his fingers against her lips. “You wash the utensils and I’ll clean the table.”

Her nerve endings went on high alert with all the ways her imagination came up with for him to perform that domestic task. Opening her lips she took his fingers inside, licking and sucking them slowly, sensually, in an effort to rev up his motor so that he wouldn’t torture her for too long.

Jon watched her as she suckled his fingers, his eyes bright and hot with his rising passion. Standing, he bent his head and proceeded to give her a tongue bath, licking and sucking up all residue of his meal. From her shoulders to her fingertips, collarbone down to her toes, his mouth roamed, spending long moments on his favourite spots – and hers, which he judged by the moans and soft cries she couldn’t hold back. By the time he was finished, she was a quivering mass of sparking nerve endings. His body told him he needed to move on to the next step if he wanted to stay in control and complete his plan. After one last tug on a nipple, he gripped her legs and swung them around until she was lying crosswise on the table. Pulling up his chair, he sat again.

Veronica raised her head to look at him, noting the quality of his slight smile. “Jon? What are you doing?”

He lifted a shapely leg and set it on his shoulder. “Time for dessert.” Situating her other leg on his other shoulder, he settled in to feast. He tasted her with long licks, light nibbles and soft sucks. “Sweet. God Nica, you’re so sweet!”

“Johnny....” His name was a cross between a moan and a sigh.

The first orgasm rocked her when his tongue penetrated her, delving as deep as he could. But he didn’t stop there. Instead, he brought his fingers into play, caressing and teasing her sensitive flesh, once again using her moans as a guide. She cried out when he thrust two fingers inside her. It wasn’t what she was hoping for, but it would do for now.

“Johnny please!”

“Mmmm.” He hummed against her clit and slid his fingers in and out of her writhing body. Curling his buried fingers slightly he found the spot on the front of her sheath that produced the most intense sensations. He rubbed gently, insistently, and listened to her screams fill the room.

But he still wasn’t finished. He kept up the internal massage and resumed his sampling of her now dripping, pulsing flesh. His tongue flicked her swollen clit and stroked the soft tissue stretched around his fingers.

Veronica couldn’t get her breath. His ministrations prolonged her orgasm, yet at the same time incited another one. Her muscles got tighter and tighter and she was afraid something was going to snap. When his lips closed around her nub and he suckled with knowing finesse, every pleasure centre in her brain exploded.  “JOHNNY!”

Jon lightened the pressure of his mouth, slowed the movement of his fingers and waited for her convulsions to subside. When she’d calmed a little, he stood up and undid his pants, pushing them over his hips and let them drop to the floor, keeping her legs on his shoulders. Gripping her hips, he pulled her to the edge of the table, leaned over and slid home. “Fuck sugar, I missed you so much.”

Veronica couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, could barely breathe. All she could do was pray that she’d survive the intense ecstasy he was pressing on her with each thrust of his hard, throbbing shaft. As he pounded into her she let her arms drop to her sides, unable to summon enough strength to even hold onto anything. Violent shudders shook her body as rapture overwhelmed her yet again. She didn’t have enough breath or strength to scream. Holy fuck! The man is lethal!

Jon would have grinned in satisfaction if he’d been able to control his facial muscles, but he was beyond that. With a throttled shout he let the tide pull him under and collapsed on her, flooding her with his hot seed.

When his heart rate slowed, he sat back down again. “Best meal I’ve had in over a week sugar, thanks.”

Veronica chuckled breathlessly and had to wait a few seconds to speak. “You’re welcome. You know how much I love to...cook.”

That comment elicited an amused chuckle. “And you’re the best cook I’ve...eaten.”

“Lucky for you then, since I’m the only cook you get to...eat....from now on.” She rose up on her elbows to look at him.

“Yes dear. No worries. I seem to have lost my taste for anyone else.”

“Good answer. Now...how about you go light the fire while I clean up? Oh, and let Boots out of our bedroom.”

“How come you locked her up?”

“She wanted some of our dinner, and considering the presentation...”

“Ah. Right...gotcha.” Standing, he pulled up his pants and helped her off the table before leaving the room.

Veronica picked up his discarded shirt and slipped it on before picking up the dishes and heading into the kitchen.

She walked into the den to find Jon sitting in the big armchair near the fire, two glasses of wine on the small table next to him, Boots purring in his arms. “You’re just a big softy.”

“I’d rather it was you purring in my arms.” His blue gaze was appreciative as he took in the vision of her in only his shirt. He reached out for her hand and tugged. “Come here.”

When she sat in his lap, he handed her the cat and wrapped his arms around her. Veronica leaned against him, her head on her shoulder and stared into the flames, petting Boots almost absently.

They were silent for several minutes. “What are you thinking about?” Jon asked, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“Do you remember the first time we sat in this chair like this in front of the fire?”

He would never forget. It had been his birthday weekend when she admitted to the pain being around his kids caused and confessed her fear of ever being able to accept Romeo. “Mmmmhmmm.” He squeezed her. “And how do you feel about my kids now?”

She tilted her head to look at him. “You know that I love them.”

“Even Romeo?” He pressed. He knew the answer, but wanted to hear her say it – wanted her to hear it.

“Even Romeo.” Her lips twisted in a wry smile, then frowned. “If you say ‘I told you so’, I’ll hit you.”

Jon laughed and hugged her. “I won’t.”

They sat and sipped wine, enjoying the warmth of the fire, and each other.

“Happy to be home?”

Jon’s question pulled her out of her contemplation of menu items and possible activities for when the kids arrived for the weekend. “Very. As much as I love Nashville and miss the girls, this is my home now.” She stroked his cheek. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Good.” He kissed her.

They sat there watching the dancing flames, talking quietly, exchanging kisses and soft caresses until there were only embers left in the fireplace.

Jon stirred. “If you let me up I’ll put more wood on the fire.”

Veronica stood, but shook her head. “Let’s go upstairs instead.”

“There’s no fire up there.” He warned, lips twitching, his body reacting to the message he read in her eyes.

“There will be,” she assured him, “it’s time for my dessert.”

 The End