31st March 1987 / Rumson, New Jersey

Jon's bedroom was rather barren. Aside from the ludicrously large bed in the centre, the two small cabinets on either side, and a singular oak closet, it was empty.

The bed was adequate, she found upon sitting on it. The bounce was acceptable, it was certainly soft enough to sustain a good night's sleep.

Feeling nosey, she opened up the first drawer to Jon's bedside cabinet. Upon finding nothing of entertainment value she moved onto the next drawer which was filled with porn magazines. She scoffed and closed it shut again. The third drawer was less conspicuous. It was filled with Polaroids, and having caught glimpse of something she swore she must've imagined, she investigated closer.

There were maybe fifty old photos just at the top, all of them containing her and Jon.

Naked, mostly.

She felt a deep blush rise up her neck and cheeks at sight of them. He still had these? And likely looked at them every once in a while.

She was butt naked in the majority of them, breasts were visible in practically all of them.

She smiled at one of them. She looked young and totally in love, her bare skin littered entirely with hickeys.

Flicking through them she found one of Jon. She felt like a pervert just looking at it, he was butt naked with a hard-on. He had this teasing smirk on his face, a finger hooked in her direction as if he was motioning for her. Others showcased his naked butt and even the two of them together.

Some of them were downright dirty, their most intimate parts on display.

But most of them merely showcased young love at its finest. There was a beauty to them, most of the ones taken of Jon were merely pervy shots that she'd snapped as a joke, but Jon on the other hand had a real eye for photography.

His photos were lovely, there was something sensual about even the dirtiest ones. Her body was always framed perfectly in the shot, there was always a dynamism, a fluidity.

And there were breasts, which was most likely why Jon had taken them.

"You pervin' in my drawers?"

Amelia's butt bounced off the bed. "Oh!" She gasped. "No, I was just-"

His brow remained piqued as he strode toward her. Oh, that look. A look of teasing reprimand.

She crossed her legs.

"The only perv around here is you," she spoke after regaining a little dignity. "You have a stash of naked photos of me."

His chuckle rumbled through he air. The bed dipped as he sat beside her, an arm resting around her hips.

"Us, darling. Not just you."

She tried to hide them from his prying eyes. That was her naked body in those images, it was invasive. But there was no use in trying to shield them from him, there were too many.

"You don't look at any of these, do you?"

"Occasionally. When I'm reminiscing on old times."

She flushed scarlet. So, his memory of her naked body wasn't at all distant, he had access to view it whenever he pleased. How shameful.

"You should have burned them."

"Burned them? My darling, that'd be sacrilege."

"Sacrilege," she scoffed. "This is invasive on all accounts."

"Invasive?" He snickered. "Talk about invasive, you're currently staring at an old photo of me with a hard-on and no clothes."

Amelia hadn't even realized the picture she was holding. She dropped it immediately and released a spew of profuse apologies, burning red as she did so.

"It's alright," he laughed, tapping her arm gently. "You're my girlfriend. Besides, you took 'em all, it's nothin' you haven't seen before."

Amelia didn't share that sentiment, she could never be so nonchalant about her nakedness.

"Don't look at that," she snatched one of the photos away from him. He merely picked up another. It was hopeless.

"You're an angel," he smiled softly. She wasn't naked in the photograph he was holding, instead she was clad in jeans and a thin, laced bra. His eyes lingered on her breasts, his lip curling more the longer he stared.

"You know," his blues flickered to her actual chest, "I think they've grown."

"Oh!" She gasped. Finding no implement to whack him with, she instead shoved him over. "You scoundrel."

His laugh filled the mostly empty room, a most joyous sound indeed. He picked up another photo, this time she was naked.

"Of course," he continued. "I'd have to feel them to know for certain."

It earned him another much harder shove. "Stop looking at my bare breasts!"

"What!" He exclaimed. "I'm a man, darlin'. If a man sees bare breasts n' looks away then he ain't no man."

"Only a respectable gentleman would do as such, and that is not a qualification that you have, Mr Bongiovi."

"Respectable gentleman my ass. Gay! If you see your girlfriend's naked tits n' look away, then you're gay! I don't make the rules."

Amelia shook her head. "Respectable, not gay. Respectable, and respectful."

"Oh, I respect!" He nodded adamantly. "No, I worship boobs."

"You're ridiculous."

She snatched the photo from his hands. It was a picture of the pair of them together, Jon standing behind her with his hands cupping each of her bare breasts. He looked like the cat that got the cream.

It was a strange position to be in, clothed next to your ex-boyfriend, now boyfriend again while viewing old naked photos of yourself. It was humbling. Eventually she relaxed a little, he'd seen the photos before, he'd seen her body before, he'd take photos of her again, and he'd see her body again.

"Remind me never to have my hair like that again," he laughed. "And thank God I grew some damn chest hair, I looked prepubescent."

"You did not," she chided, though she couldn't deny she enjoyed his chest hair. There were so few photos of him in comparison to her. Some of them were so revealing Amelia simply wanted a hole to swallow her up.

"You know, you could get in trouble for having these," she said, all flustered. "These could be explicit photos of a minor, I may have been ask young as seventeen."

"Pretty sure you were nineteen," he said plainly.

"That's beside the point."

His arm pulled her closer. Amelia had forgotten how cheerful he could be, how happy he always was to merely be in her presence. She thought herself a fool.

It'd been over six months since she'd returned from England. It had taken her six months to finally grant him a much requested date? And of course, as her stubborn mind should have known, that date had changed absolutely everything.

Amelia, for the first time in over four years, felt truly and incandescently happy.

"Remind me never to give you a camera when I'm naked," Amelia returned to his previous comment.

"You loved it. My little model."

She blushed as he started to gather the photos and slot then back into his bottom drawer.

"Anyhow, what do you think of the room? Could use a womanly touch, don't you think?"

Amelia could admit that the bland navy walls and the lack of any updated decor wasn't to her fancy, but she was no interior designer.

"I think it's lovely. The balcony is beautiful, the bed is comfortable, it's spacious. You should be proud of yourself."

His house was a magnificent estate. Old fashioned, stone-made. Amelia almost felt as though she'd stepped straight into the 1800s with it, especially considering the lack of interior renovation. She felt as though she were living in her favorite books; as though she'd taken a step into Jane Eyre and she was now in Thornfield Hall, or Netherfield, or Pemberly. She loved it.

Jon stood and wandered around the empty room. "It's only a house," he said, surprising her. "It's just bricks, wood, cement. It'll be a nice place to grow old in someday, a place for my kids to grow up but it's nothing more than that."

He turned back to her, the moonlight leaving half of his face shrouded.

"It's a multi-million dollar mansion," Amelia reminded him. "You always dreamed of the perfect home but even you would've had a hard time dreaming this up."

"Home." He laughed a little, tilted his head to the ceiling. "When you live your life on the road you realize more than ever that home ain't a place. Home is wherever you feel safe."

He pulled her closer to him. He had a way of wrapping her up that made Amelia feel like she was a small child encased in their mother's arms. Jon wasn't an overly large man, she reckoned he was 5'9, maybe 5'10 in certain shoes or with his fluffy mane. Regardless, the sheer strength of his arms were enough to make him feel like a giant. Sometimes she was reminded of the strength difference between man and woman, Jon would be able to lift two times her body weight with relative ease, meanwhile she struggled to lift children over a certain age.

That thought made her feel safer, the idea that he was so strong and yet so gentle.

"My home was always with you, my dear," he whispered tenderly, cheek atop of her head. "I'd rather live on the streets with you than alone in a house like this."

The absurdity of his statement was not lost on her, after all she'd spoken almost identical words to her father after she'd run away all those years ago. Back then she'd meant it with all of her aching heart, she'd begged him emphatically to understand how little she cared for wealth or social standing.

She could well believe that Jon meant each word, the man that held her now was no liar, he was incapable of even the most innocent deciet.

"So would I," she replied softly. She reciprocated his embrace with all the strength she could muster, wishing for a moment she could squeeze him as tight as he did her. "God, you're going to make me cry again."

His chuckle vibrated through their bond. His hand cupped her cheek; no more profound happiness had ever shone upon his delicate features.

"That's okay," he assured tenderly, his voice hardly above a whisper.

"Goodness, I'm so emotional," she sniffled back a tear. "I think everything's just happened so fast, I don't think I've ever felt such sudden and profuse happiness."

Jon pressed a sweet kiss to her lips. "I understand, sweetheart."

"I just that I've hardly felt happiness at all when I was away," she continued as though he'd never spoken. "I felt empty even as I received my degree results. Any happiness since then has been fleeting or superficial, and now—"

Jon nodded. "And now?"

"Now? Well, goodness. I feel like a teenage girl again, I feel wonderful. In fact, so wonderful that I hardly care what others think anymore, my parents can disown me if they'd please, my brother can go fuck himself. I'm happy again, I hardly care for anything else."

"Don't talk that way," Jon smiled, a hand caressing the soft curls in her hair. "Your parents won't disown you, they love you. Richie loves you in some strange backwards way, but he loves you more than any other person on this earth."

"Are you as happy as I am?" She asked him, again ignoring him. She clutched tightly at the collar of his shirt awaiting his response.

"Baby, I don't think I've ever been so happy in my whole life. I've got you back, I'm startin' to see your old self again, the real 'Melia. I ain't letting you go this time, you're mine."

His embrace tightened, she was well and truly stuck. "I'm yours," she repeated quietly. All felt right again, the thought of ever being with another man felt like betrayal not only to him but to herself. Amelia was destined to either be with Jon or die alone, and she was convinced Jon had a similar outlook on the matter.

"Mine," he repeated, a slight gravel to his voice. He kissed her once more; the pair were giddy, giddy like drunken teenagers experiencing love and intimacy for the first time.

"Jonny?"

"Mm?"

Amelia waited. The words didn't flow as naturally as she'd hoped they might.

"Will you make love to me?"

The man halted his tender ministrations to instead look at her. He wondered momentarily if his ears had indeed deceived him, but her eyes told no lies, they were big and brown and just begging for his response.

"You want me to make love to you?" He asked slowly, quietly. She paused before nodding.

His lips landed by her cheek, kissing her one singular freckle. He had been content to cuddle her for the night, to truly catch up with her after their years of separation, to watch the night sky from the balcony as he held her close for the first time in years.

But sex worked too; sex was perfect, actually.

"Your wish is my command."

The pair commenced in a gentle, passionate kiss. Jon slowly inched her toward the bed, quickly the pair found themselves laying on the bed, Jon on top of her as he kissed her lips, chin, neck and jaw. His hands remained a good deal tentative; Amelia was a shy girl, a sheltered girl, he didn't want to scare her off too soon. But he couldn't deny himself the opportunity to cup her breasts through the velvety fabric of her dress. Oh, he needed it off, he needed it all off! He needed them both naked while they bathed in the intimacy of it all.

"Can I take off your dress?" He asked after what he deemed to be a suitable period of kissing. His fingers danced at the hem by her thigh, preparing to rip the thing off her. Amelia sat up wordlessly and turned to him, instructing him to undo her zipper.

His fingertips grazed along her smooth, bare back. No bra. His mind fixated on the crucial detail, his pants grew tighter, throat bobbed.

Amelia turned and started to shimmy out of her dress. She kept her back to him until she was standing in only her red, laced panties.

She turned around, arms remaining tightly crossed against her breasts. Her face burned with embarrassment, she'd forgotten how naked one could feel in front of somebody. It didn't help that Jon oggled at her as though she was a piece of meat.

He approached her with a smile. "Why so shy baby?"

Amelia turned away from his attempt of a kiss. A sudden chill swept through her, she wondered if she'd leapt in too fast. She'd forgotten how intimate sex was, just how far of a leap it was from kissing.

"C'mon," Jon smiled softly. "It's just me, baby. You're the most damn beautiful woman I've ever seen, you don't gotta be shy."

That only made her blush more. She chuckled a little at the ridiculousness of being afraid to be naked in front of a man that'd seen her naked every day at one point.

Jon wrapped his arms around her as she cuddled herself. "Do you know how lucky I am?" He whispered softly. "Here I am holdin' the woman of my dreams. Not only does she make me happy every day, make me laugh n' smile, but she's the hottest chick on the planet. I get to have sex with my best friend everyday, ain't that neat?"

Amelia finally removed her arms from her chest to reciprocate his embrace. There she stood, practically naked and hugging him like her life depended on it. He didn't show any signs of letting go either, he wanted her to dictate when she was ready. He simply relished in the feeling of his hands on her back, the span of his hand almost covered the small of her back entirely.

Amelia wondered why it always seemed to be the woman stripped first in these sorts of situations, she'd feel a lot less exposed if he had no pants on.

Relax. Jon's seen me, he knows me.

She parted somewhat bashfully. She fought the urge to buckle as Jon's knuckles trailed up her ribs and to her breasts. No man had touched her sensually in years, the sensation of Jon's large palm cupping the entirety of her breasts made her swoon, especially as his forefinger flicked over her sensitive nipple.

"They've definitely grown," he remarked with a smirk, then kissed her before any possible reprimand.

And that was that. Amelia felt her shyness dissipate like snow on wet ground. The man that held her and ravished her now was the same man that'd always been with her, there was no need for any sort of inhibition. She felt entirely liberated.

His strong arms lay her back down. His mouth soon took ownership of her nipples; she'd always said that Jon was a tactile man, he could never keep his hands off things that he liked.

The feeling of being loved again was pure bliss, Amelia could almost cry. She'd forgotten intimacy, foregone love, and now she had it all again at once. She was at the mercy of a man she knew would move heaven and earth for her; a man that worshipped her body as though it were his sanctuary.

If the small moans that spilled from his lips, the small flicks of his tongue over her nipples, and the gentle kisses that he ministered weren't turning her on enough, she felt herself building to her very own emotional orgasm.

"These are lovely, my darlin'." His two fingers dipped beneath the hem of her red laced panties. Her stomach jumped up her throat, only to calm once his fingers quickly removed themselves and crawled back up to her breasts. "You always had an eye for color."

"Don't I get to see what you're wearing beneath that fancy tux?" She peered at him with those angel eyes, pouted her pretty lip.

He released a sinister chuckle against her neck. "You know I don't wear underwear, angel."

"Oh, that's right. Only your g-strings," she teased, hooking a thumb through his belt loop.

"You leave my g-strings outta this, 'kay?" He wagged an unimpressed finger at her. "Now c'mon, take my clothes off."

Jon was far more nonchalant about his nakedness, as most men tended to be. He seemed merely excited as Amelia dutifully undid his belt. She took a little while to savour the moment, kissing him and feeling his muscles through the fabric of his black shirt.

She undid each of his buttons one by one, and she was sure that Jon's gaze resided by her breasts for the entirety of it.

"You're perfect, you know that?" He tucked a finger beneath her chin. "Tell me you know that."

"Nobody's perfect."

"Sure. Not in the literal sense, but when I say you're perfect I mean I wouldn't change a damn thing, you understand? I love everythin' exactly how it is, you wouldn't be Amelia if you didn't drive me mad with your stubbornness all the time, or if you weren't painfully honest, or if you didn't get embarrassed over the littlest things. Do you understand?"

Amelia paused her undoing of his shirt to admire him. Her face remained frozen in a state of bewilderment and adoration. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" He asked.

"How are you so eloquent?"

"I'm a songwriter baby, it's what we do." He kissed her gently. "N' I mean every word."

She tugged the shirt off his shoulders and admired the bare chest it revealed. Mindlessly her hand wandered over the familiar territory, a small laugh passed her lips.

"What's funny?" Jon smiled, watching her hand closely.

"Nothing. It's just, where did all this hair come from?"

His chest rumbled with hearty laughter. "Dunno, you like my shag carpet babe?"

"I like it very much," she responded absently.

"Well, that's good. I just seem to be getting hairier and hairier."

She liked it, it made his chest appear soft and cosy, manlier too.

Without specific direction from him, she began to tug down the hem of his pants. Jon shook them off entirely, and what she was faced with was the image of her boyfriend entirely naked.

The joints in her knees became feeble. She panicked and scooted away further up the large bed, half to admire him wholly and half because she was slightly afraid. He was at attention in more places that one; he hadn't had sex in forever, she remembered the pain it caused her when she lost her virginity. Would it be like that again?

Jon didn't notice her hesitance, he delved in for another make out session without second thought. Something caught in her throat when she felt his hard-on press against her lower belly. She felt her apprehension and desperation grow in equal measures, the sudden surges of each emotion led to overdrive.

"Everythin' okay?" Jon pulled away to examine her. Her brown eyes were fittingly that of a doe's, in that moment she looked like a deer in the headlights. A large palm landed flat on her cheek. "What's the matter, angel?"

"Nothing," she whimpered. "Everything's great."

"C'mon now, I know you better than that." He levelled his expression, Amelia felt like a fool for lying. "What's the matter?"

He was so gentle in his ministrations, so tender as he kissed her forehead and her nose and her cheeks.

"I don't know," she rambled, "I'm not like you, Jon. I haven't had sex at all since the night that you left, you've had sex probably every night since you left."

Jon took a deep breath. She couldn't read his expression as he looked toward the window out at the moon which bathed them both in solemn silvery hues.

"Is that what's botherin' you?" He asked, voice a little louder than his previous whispers. "The thought of all the women I've been with?"

"No," she promptly denied. "Not at all."

He seemed a little crestfallen. Amelia held his cheek. "Really, it isn't," she insisted. "It's just, sex is different for men and women. It can hurt us, I'm scared it'll be like the first time again. Our first time was wonderful, perfect even, but the first few minutes were agony. I'm just a little nervous."

He seemed relieved. The tips of his middle and forefinger genly traced along her temple and cheekbone. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Princess." His voice was lilting as a lullaby. "I can promise you that."

His nose grazed against hers, his smile soft as he planted another gentlemanly kiss to her lips. "You won't feel any pain, I've gotten the hang of this stuff by now."

Amelia trusted him.

"But if you don't want to-"

"No, I do," she insisted.

"Are you sure? I want you to want me as much as I want you."

"I want you," she promised. He was laying naked on top of her, of course she wanted him. Desperately, as a matter of fact.

"Good," he murmured. "You just tell me if you don't like somethin', alright? I'll stop right away."

He resumed kissing her. Amelia allowed herself to be a little daring, her arms wrapped themselves around the smooth expanse of his surprisingly hairless back. Previously, her most beloved part of his anatomy had been his butt, after all it was shapely, firm yet malleable, and devilishly cute in his tight jeans. Upon squeezing it in the same way he did her breasts, she could confirm it was very much still her favorite part of his anatomy.

He chuckled upon feeling her fingernails dig into the fleshy muscles. "Course the first part of me you really touch is my ass."

"What?" She exclaimed. "It's cute."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll never understand you girls that like my ass."

"You like my ass, don't you?"

"Very much," he responded huskily, hand slipping beneath her to pinch the area.

"Well, in the same way that you like my butt, I like yours."

"You've got the ass of an angel, my darlin'. I've got the ass of an actual ass, y'know? A donkey! Hairy man ass, what's so attractive about that?"

"Oh shush," she pulled him down to kiss him again. After gaining sufficient pleasure from kneading and squeezing his butt cheeks, Amelia took a deep breath and wrapped her supple fingers around his hard-on.

Jon released a deep, gutteral moan. He paused his leaving-of-hickeys on her chest and tilted his head up to the ceiling in pure, undiluted pleasure. "Holy shit," she was able to make out from his string of heavy breathing and small whimpers.

Jon had dreamt of moments like this an indefinite number of times. He'd dreamt that Amelia made love to him with as much emotion and passion as she'd used to, that she'd touch him and love him in the same way that he did her. He always woke up from them feeling vacant, grieving for a memory he'd conjured in his mind.

But this, this was real. Amelia was touching him with all her womanly compassion, he felt her tenderness transfer from her supple fingers to his skin.

He sat back on his haunches, and revelled in the sensations. Jon was a proud man though, especially in the bedroom; he never liked to go too long without pleasing his lady.

His fingers delved beneath the hem of Amelia's laced panties. They were slow, slow enough that if she were to have an objection she'd have more than enough time to voice it. None came, however, in fact she wriggled herself in a manner that betrayed her eagerness.

His thumb didn't bother to waste time, he found her clitoris immediately.

"You're wet for me, darlin'," he snickered. "Very wet."

Her face turned the same color as her panties. She kissed him again in an attempt to shield her blushing cheeks.

He pulled his hand out from her panties and licked off any liquids. "Sweet as ever darlin'," he grinned, earning him a smack on the thigh.

He lay her flat in the center of the bed. His finger played at the hem of her panties, he watched her writhe with anticipation and desperation.

"Can I take these off?" He asked eventually, smirking.

"You'd better," she said with a tone equally threatening and desperate. He wasted no time in pulling them off and flinging them in some unknown direction.

He took in the sight of her laying, now completely naked, in the middle of his bed. She crossed one leg over the other in an attempt to shield herself from his view. Jon, being the animal that he was, pushed her thighs apart with all his strength and delved straight between her legs.

She squealed, unable to held her hips from jumping the moment she felt his tongue in her most private area. His hands secured her thighs a safe distance apart with a strength that Amelia could never fight. He lapped at her like an animal, fully enjoying every part of it. His most favorite part was peering up at her beneath the few strands of hair that made up his fringe to look at Amelia's pleasure ridden face, her mouth wide open as she cried out a series of heavenly moans. God, he'd missed her terribly.

He toyed with the idea of letting her cum. Amelia could be insatiable, she often went round after round back when they were together. He wasn't sure if wearing her out too quickly would be a good thing considering her lack of sexual encounters over the years, she'd likely be very sensitive.

When in doubt, ask.

"Do you want to cum?" He asked her, the vibrations of his voice driving her crazy. She wanted to buck away from the intense sensation but Jon's hands held her hips and thighs firmly in place. Metaphorically, she was handcuffed.

"Yes!" She cried.

"Yes what?"

She looked at the head of hair between her legs with bleary eyes, she was too taken by pleasure to understand his meaning.

"Please!?"

Jon's laugh was what sent her over the edge. "Well then, since you asked so nicely my dear."

Amelia was already halfway through her orgasm. Jon slowed his tongue movements so not to overstimulate her. He held her down as she bucked and writhed in his grasp, took deep pleasure in the way she cried out his name like never before.

They might not have had neighbours in the nearby vicinity but he was sure that scream could be heard from miles out. There were tears in her eyes as she caught her breath, her hands reached out lazily for Jon's comfort. He crawled up the bed to her side and tugged her body close.

"How was that?" He pressed a kiss to her forehead, arms tightly secured around her waist.

Amelia was delirious. "I forgot how good you were," she said between small breaths. "No doubt you've improved with all your rockstar debauchery."

He shook his head and brushed back some of the hair stuck to her face. "That's where you're wrong. I've only ever been down on one girl, angel, and that's you."

"What?" She frowned tiredly. "What do you mean?"

"Havin' your face between a lady's legs is far more intimate than casual sex, I reserve that only for the best."

Amelia was too exhausted to really understand the implications of his statement, she only cuddled him close.

Jon had been right, that orgasm had worn Amelia out. He didn't regret it for a moment though, his number one goal had been to bring her pleasure and he certainly couldn't doubt his success. She was his girlfriend now, there would be plenty of time for sex. Now? She needed rest and aftercare.

"Seems I tired you out," he murmured softly. "Get some rest, angel."

"What?" She picked her head up. "Are you kidding?"

"What?" He laughed.

"You promised me sex, Jon. You'd better deliver."

"Now who's kidding? Look at you, you look like you've had your brains blown out. You really want more?"

"Yes," she said adamantly. "No, I need you. I only need a moment, us women can handle far more than you measley males."

"If you say so," he chuckled.

It took her a short while to grow coherent again. When she did, however, her energy seemed entirely refueled. She kissed him with renewed vigor, passion and confidence. She straddled his lap, left hickeys across his collar and stroked his cock whenever she had the chance.

That girl was gonna be the death of him.

He lifted her off his lap and plopped her back on the bed again. He took a condom and quickly rolled it over his length before starting to root through his drawers.

"Mm, what you doin'?" Amelia asked softly, still a little delirious from pleasure.

He turned to look at her with a smile. "You haven't had sex in three years, 'Melia. I always keep a bottle of lube close by."

"Lube? Hey! I said I haven't had sex in three years, that doesn't mean I haven't experimented with stuff by myself."

"Oh?" His smirk was feline. "Have you been playin' with yourself while I was away, my darlin'?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Shut up."

"Regardless," he said more seriously. "I don't want to hurt you, you can never have too much lube."

He coated himself in the substance, then tossed the bottle on the bed for further use.

"You sure you want to?" He asked her softly.

"Would I be laying on your bed, legs spread, butt naked if I didn't?"

He chuckled and kissed her. "Alright then sweetheart."

He positioned himself at her entrance and slowly inserted himself. Amelia laughed.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing, I just feel so stupid," she laughed. "I was so worried it'd hurt, it didn't even sting a little."

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you, sweetheart," his nose nuzzled into her cheek. "I know how to please my women."

"If that head was any indication of your sexual capabilities then I have no trouble believing you."

He laughed again. He loved having sex with her. He craved the intimacy above all else; he knew Amelia, sex wasn't about the orgasm for her, she loved the closeness of it all. Sex with groupies was so mindless, he loved being able to laugh, joke and smile in such intimate moments; fucking on autopilot like a dog grew both boring and tiresome.

He kept his thrusts slow at first, massaged her clit whenever he got the chance. Seeing her naked beneath him was doing inexplicable things to both his mind and body, he feared if he did too much too soon then he'd lose it.

That's what being stuck with your right hand for months would do to you.

"You're a gift from God, you know that?" He groaned. He watched her breasts bounce with each thrust he gave; watched her stare at him with the most faux-innocent gaze. In that moment the thought of having sex with groupies made him feel sick; even his best encounters felt like nothing in comparison to what Amelia felt like.

He knew for certain he could never go back. Amelia was his 'one'.

"More," she whimpered. Her moans grew short and breathy, he watched her squeak and writhe beneath his body. Jon sat back and lifted her hips with ease, thrusting both harder and deeper inside of her.

God, he loved sex. The sounds of it all, skin slapping on skin, Amelia's desperate cries, his own slightly gutteral moans. The sight of his lover all desperate for him, the stench of bodily fluids and pheromones galore. Oh, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off her after this.

"I'm going to cum," Amelia cried, grasping at Jon's body in sweet desperation. "Oh, please God- I'm going to cum."

"Just hang on a moment for me, baby- just one moment-"

He focused on the sharp nails digging their way through the skin of his back, the way her hands clutched so desperately at him. He let go, coming with a ceremonious groan. Amelia followed him instantly, crying out his name wildly.

She crashed with a whimper, falling back against the pillows in a state of exhaustion. His own body fell flat against hers, his face conveniently nestled between her breasts. He released a breathy laugh, he'd almost forgotten how good sex could truly feel.

Amelia could hardly move or think. She felt Jon's weight compressing her, felt his sweaty skin stick to her and his warm panting breath fan her breasts. Each of her limbs weighed a ton, the sheets stuck to her sweat-ridden back; Amelia was thoroughly spent.

It took Jon a few moments to gather himself before he sat up, peeled off the condom and chucked it in the trash.

He admired his love for a moment; naked, panting for breath, splayed out across the bed with her hair spread behind her like a halo. Her eyes remained lightly closed, and for a moment he debated taking a photo to savour the beautiful moment.

Alas, he didn't. Instead he snuggled up beside her and pulled her close. "You did so good," he murmured to her between temple-kisses. "How do you feel, Millie?"

She whined a little as she turned into his chest. "Exhausted," she breathed. "And loved. But give me a moment."

He chuckled. "Okay baby."

He lightly stroked her hair as he waited. She could be so peaceful when she wasn't biting his head off.

He admired her body wordlessly. She had the figure of a true angel, Jon had no doubt that the girl was one of Aphrodite's favorites. Her breasts were perfectly sized and shapely, her waist was tapered to perfection, her hips deliciously curved, legs long and slender. If she'd been a little taller she could've perhaps been a model. Even now Jon felt as though she was miles out of his league, he didn't see himself as anything special.

"You were wonderful," Amelia murmured just at the point Jon was starting to wonder if she'd fallen asleep. "Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me, baby."

He watched a tear slip down her cheek and caught it with his thumb. "What's wrong?" He cooed.

Amelia didn't know what to say. She'd forgotten how emotional sex was, particularly coming down from the high that was an orgasm only to be wrapped up tightly in your lovers arms; she was feeling just about every emotion under the sun.

Regret, for having not indulged sooner. Sadness for the years of loneliness she'd endured, hopeful for the future, happiness for the moment. She was intensely happy, filled with nothing but affection for the man that cradled her in his strong arms.

"Nothing. You make me very happy, Jon."

She thought of all her favorite love stories; Jane Eyre and Mr Rochester, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy, Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth- all of which had endured their own trials and tribulations. All of which were flawed but built on the same foundation; a man and woman madly in love with each other. Men and women making mistakes and learning from those mistakes in order to be a better lover. Amelia had made her mistakes, much like Elizabeth Bennet she'd been too proud; Jon had made his mistake in not contacting her.

Now? Amelia felt like a character in her own book. She could finally properly understand the characters of those books, for the first time ever she truly understood how Jane Eyre must've felt when she said Reader, I married him.

She huddled closer to Jon and worried. 'I love you' was never a profession to make during or after sex, particularly not while ones mind was clouded with exhaustion and serotonin. And it was entirely too soon, she'd only just accepted him as her boyfriend again.

But she felt intense emotions like never before. For once in her life she felt free to love him, like there were no barricades such as Richie and her parents. She was an adult now, she almost had her future mapped out with him- accepting him back was the hardest part, now all the emotions were flooding in like tidal waves on a full moon.

If there was one thing she'd learned from all her favorite books, it was that love should be embraced, not shunned, not buried.

"Do you love me, Jon?" She traced delicate patterns across his heart, waiting patiently for his response.

It came sooner than she expected, quiet and heartfelt. "Of course I love you."

There was a small sigh from him. Amelia echoed it.

"I'm an idiot," she whispered, eyes widening just a little. She'd always known Jon cared for her, and as the months went on she knew he'd been eager to rekindle with her.

But she thought it was lust. Or thrill, or even simple nostalgia. She hadn't realised he still loved her, and now she wondered how she could possibly have been so blind. Of course he loved her, he'd treated her far better than her piss-poor attitude deserved.

"It's always been you, Amelia," he said softly, dragging his thumb across her rosy cheek. "I've never been able to love another woman. I never liked change, when I looked at other girls I only thought of you. When I looked at Richie he reminded me of you, you have the same eyes, he used to tell me things about you, it drove me mad. I didn't want the songs anymore, I didn't want to tour, I didn't want to hit number one, I just wanted to go back in time and tell my stupid kid self to realize how good he's really got it."

He pressed a kiss to her messy hair.

"I couldn't stop loving you. Believe me, I tried. David told me I was crazy, that I could have any girl I wanted n' I was wasting my opportuny sulking over you but I couldn't stop. I loved you like mad, it was a disease. And then you came back only you'd changed so much, I could hardly stand seeing you. It scared me, having you here with us. Life on the road is so different to what you're used to, it scared me when people like Nikki n' Tommy tried to get at you. It drove me crazy, you know I can be a jealous guy, I would've killed Tommy had he got his hands on you."

Tommy Lee had noted Jon's fondness of Amelia almost instantly. He'd found it beyond amusing to tease him for it; to get all touchy and flirty with her at every chance he got, to dangle drugs within her reach and hope that she'd take them, just another innocent girl to corrupt.

"You needn't have worried about Tommy," Amelia smiled.

Jon nuzzled his face into her cheek. "I wanted you all to myself. I hated hearing about that Edward guy, hated seeing you with Tommy, I just wanted you back. Anyone could see there was something wrong, I've hardly smiled since I left you. Even when our records went gold, when Bad Name went to the top, when the tours sold out... I only thought of you. I was so angry, I wanted it to feel good, I wanted it to justify me leaving you but it couldn't."

Amelia sensed him getting emotional; he was hurting. She was ashamed to admit she hadn't noticed his pain, she'd known he'd wanted her but never could've guessed the depth of his affection.

"You have me now," she soothed his frown with her thumb. "And I promise I won't be leaving any time soon. Any time ever, actually."

Jon's eyes begged her to repeat her claim; he yearned to know that she meant it, craved her reassurance after so much uncertainty.

"I love you," she said, and as she did she felt her heart take flight. Any ounce of apprehension took leave in that moment, Amelia was liberated, at peace, entirely happy and secure in her love. "I love you," she repeated firmly, "And I never stopped loving you, not even for a moment. I'm sorry it took me so long to come round to the idea, I was a coward. I became somebody I hardly recognized; because I couldn't feel your love I blocked out any and every emotion besides bitterness and hate. I can't be like that again, it destroyed me. If I can't be with you then I can't be with any man, I'd rather live my life alone."

Jon blinked in astonishment. Amelia was never one for such emotional monologues, he could hardly believe his ears. And what was more? The tears in her eyes, she meant it, she meant every damn word.

"You love me?" Jon uttered.

"Well don't look so surprised," she laughed through her tears, "Would I truly have shut you out like I did if I didn't love you? I was scared, that's what. Scared that if I let you in, you'd leave again. I tried so hard not to love you, but how couldn't I?" She grasped his cheek in her palm and chuckled. "You hadn't changed one bit."

"You women confuse the heck outta me," Jon laughed, "I mean, you're smart as heck 'Melia, you really couldn't tell I was head over heels for ya? Not even after Tommy? After you were spiked?"

"I thought it was just residue I suppose. Just a thrill."

Jon shook his head with a smile. "You're completely daft."

Amelia giggled a little, but Jon seemed to go somber.

"What's wrong?" She enquired, grasping his shoulder.

Jon's lip twitched. "Nothin'. Just the night you were spiked."

"What about it?" She frowned. That was a while ago, really she hardly remembered it with all the alcohol she drank, never mind the drugs.

Jon swallowed thickly, clearing his throat. "I... that was the worst night of my life, Amelia."

She'd never really thought about it that way. She knew he was scared, his chastising her the next day made that abundantly clear, but until now she didn't realise just how scared.

"It was worse than the night I left you. When we broke up, I guess I always knew I'd find my way home to you. I mean I was heartbroken... but when you were spiked there was a moment I didn't know if you were gonna come back to me. I'd lost sight of you for a couple minutes and suddenly Spankie runs up to me looking white as a ghost. I picked you up and it was like lifting a dead body, I couldn't even feel you breathing. It might only have been five minutes, but I was so scared.."

"Hey," she cooed, "I'm alright, all thanks to you."

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "I should've kept a closer eye on you, I shouldn't have let you have so much whiskey."

"You couldn't have done anything more than you already did. You got me out of there and back to the hotel where I saw a doctor. I was okay all thanks to you."

That didn't seem to comfort him. He sighed, dragging his fingernails across her arm. "Just promise me not to scare me like that again."

"I promise," she smiled, "There'll be no whiskey from now on, I have nothing to prove."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I love you more than anythin', always have always will."

"I love you," she returned. She couldn't say 'I love you too' in the moment- the phrase didn't hold the same meaning, the same passion. It was a reciprocation, not a profession. "My Jonny."

Amelia relished in the naked embrace of the man she loved. She wanted him again but she knew in her heart she was too exhausted for another round.

The pair lay in comfortable silence for a long period of time. Just as Jon determined she was about to fall asleep, he made her go to the bathroom. Told her peeing helped to prevent infection, and so even as she protested in his arms he carried her over to the bathroom like a groom with his bride. Amelia ran on autopilot, too exhausted to really register what was happening. She sighed contently upon returning to the cosy confines of Jon's bedsheets, moaned happily when Jon's arms pulled her close again.

"Goodnight, baby," he murmured by the shell of her ear. "Have sweet dreams of me."

"G'night Jonny," was her grunted response. Jon watched peacefully as she drifted off.

---

Haaaate writing sex scenes 😶 but I don't think this one was too egregious.
Anyway, I hope you managed to enjoy it 🤗 let me know your thoughts 💗