Chapter Forty-One: Too Many Balls on the Table

“You know if you stare at it longer enough it will ring.”

Devon teased Jon across the table as he stared at his phone. She picked up the napkin from her lap and rested it on the table. They’d planned to go out for dinner but the day had run away on her and Jon’s business calls had taken longer than he’d thought they would. So instead they were sitting on the deck of the penthouse having just polished off Italian takeout and a bottle of red wine.

Jon had been somewhat absent and not his usual punchy self. Her feet ached and were like swollen pin-cushions from bustling around the salon all day and avoiding the paparazzi. Eventually the congregation outside her door had simmered down to a few stragglers so she’d easily been able to escape unnoticed to get to Jon’s place that night.

“Huh? Sorry Dev. I’m distracted.”

She picked up her wine and lent back in the chair and gazed out to the late sunset that stretched out like a blanket over the cluster of high rises. “Tell me something I don’t know. What’s going on? You’ve barely said a word tonight and we both know that’s just not you.”

His brow lifted. “Hey! Yeah, ok. I’ve just got a few things on my mind with the band and the next album.”

“Is this to do with David?”

He shrugged. “A little. We took a break after Lost Highway and I always indicated that we’d get back to writing about now or a little bit after and have an album out by the spring. David’s pretty busy with his Broadway thing and we’ve got some different opinions of the type of music we should be making.”

She already knew Jon took the weight of the world on his shoulders when it came to Bon Jovi but it was because he was a control freak, worse than she ever was. She couldn’t imagine he was an easy man to work for or please for that matter.

“And?” She prompted as he paused but the lines on his face said much more.

“I worry about how relevant we still are. Everyone wants to hear the hits which is great but my biggest fear is that we’ll end up a nostalgia band.”

“I get that. You want to be current and you want to be known for the work you still do, not did.”

“Right. And I don’t discount Prayer or It’s my Life or any of them. They’re money makers and I’d never been here without them. I play them every show as that’s what they come for but I just hope that we can still make relevant music.”

“Well, what do you want to write about this time?”

“The world. The way we treat each other and the inequality that there is for the average working man.”

“That’s all relevant. Nothing wrong with that.”

He bit on his thumb and nodded. “No there’s not. ”

She sighed and half-laughed. “But...”

“I have to be careful. I don’t care about the critics but I don’t want it coming off hokey either, here’s this rich guy singing songs about the working class and how the world used to be.”

“You don’t. You only have to look as far as all your community projects to know that isn’t true.”

He waved her off and reached for his wine. “It’ll be fine. We always hit a few rough edges when we go back into band mode from a break. It’ll be fine. I’m just over-thinking.”

“You’re hopeless. You can talk to me you know, if you want to. I can listen.”

“I know I just don’t want to be a grumpy old man which is what I sound like.” He chuckled and covered his chin with his hand and rubbed it.

“Well let’s do something fun then.”

His eyebrow lifted and his grin broadened.

“Not that-well yet. C’mon we’ll play a game. I noticed the big billiard table you have in your games room.”

“Game of pool huh? We could do that. I’m a better bar tender than I am pool player though.”

“I’m not great either, soooo....” She thoughtfully grinned. “You show me some tips and then we’ll make it interesting.”

He popped his knuckles. “Ok, deal. I’ll bring up the wine.”

She walked up to the second level where the games room was. It had a classic English look with dark wood panelling that framed the walls to shoulder height. A small ridge sat along the top that spanned around the whole room making it an excellent place to stash your drink while you played. A Dart board, pool table and custom made mahogany bar filled the room nicely. Pictures of Frank Sinatra, Elvis and other musicians lined the tops of the walls.

“Nice man-cave.” She commented as he came up into the room.

“It’s not bad. The one in the house in Jersey is my pride and joy though.”

“I bet it is. When am I getting the grand tour?” At first it had been overwhelming that Jon had so much real estate but then again it was all part of him and she was interested to see what his house and style was.

“Soon. I’ve barely lived there in the last few months but with recording coming on soon, I think I’ll be based there more. You’ll have to come and stay with me on the weekends.”

“I could be tempted.” It would be nice to leave the city - god knows she really hadn’t since she arrived here.

He scratched the back of his neck and paused. “OK, you do know how to hold a stick right?”

She reached for the rack on the wall and plucked a cue. “Yeah, kind of.” She leaned over the table and lazily let the tip of the cue flail in her hands and hid the smile the twitched on the corners of her mouth.

“Oh jeez. You need a bit more control than that.” He leaned over her from behind and flattened her hand so the cue rested nicely in the L between her index and thumb. “There, now draw back and then hit the ball square as you can in the centre for the break.

She did and deliberately wobbled the cue as she smacked the white ball so it ricocheted off the triangle of coloured balls, poorly. “Whoops.”

“And I thought I was bad at this. OK let’s try again. I don’t think I can take your money though, that would be too easy.”

She stifled the laugh; he was in full Dad mode instructing her how to do this with a face as serious as sin. She leaned over the table again as he straightened up the balls. “Who said anything about money? I was thinking more... a ball in a pocket is an item of clothing.”

“Oh, I do like how you think naughty girl.” She shivered as his breath was warm on her neck. “How about we skip the game and just get straight to the good part?”

“No, I want to try and win this fair and square.”

His lips brushed the side of her temples and her skin zinged. “I’m not above that at all but I feel bad that I’m going to be taking candy from a baby here.”

She turned her head and their noses bumped. She licked her lips and her gaze flicked up to his. “How about you worry about your candy and I’ll worry about mine. Sound fair rock-star?”

The electricity snapped between them and the challenge was laid down.

“Fine. No more tutorials. You’ll have to tell me what the felt feels like against your nipples as you drag them across the table to make your next shot when you’re naked.”

“So cocky!”

He kissed her and hard, knocking the wind out beneath her feet before he pulled away.

“Let’s do it.”

She held the side of the table for a minute to get her balance and she knew it was his strategy to make her a pile of goo which the kiss had successfully threatened to do. It was a good thing she had her own strategy lined up and ready for implementation.

~

Jon topped up their glasses and selected his stick from the rack and chuckled as watched Devon prepare herself. He sucked at pool yes but that was when he played against people that actually could play. This would be a piece of cake and he’d be getting laid really soon.

She was dressed in a simple black knee length dress with small white belt and matching white heeled sandals. It was casual to her but as per usual she looked amazing. She never seemed to spend hours getting ready like some of the women he used to date and they’d still look tacky and over-dressed but she seemed to have such a natural beauty that was impeccably clean and beautiful.

And she had great legs.

“I’ll break.” He leaned over and fired the ball to break down the table. The loud crack sent the balls flying but none managed to make the pocket. “Dammit.”

“I guess you’re up.” He picked up his wine and leaned back with an amused smile. Thank god for Devon. He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him these days and why this band stuff was winding him up so much. He was a man of decision and he was always clear about what he was doing but he just was restless and he didn’t like it. Devon was enough to keep the distractions at bay.

The mansion hadn’t been the same since Dot and the kids had moved out, he missed the family always being there whenever he’d been home but now it just seemed so big without them. The kids especially. He’d let Obie and Richie stay there more in the last six months than himself if he was really honest. He loved the place and it was still his home but he just wasn’t happy staying there.

Devon quietly leaned over the table and adjusted her stick. He snickered when her ball bounced down the table missing the other ones completely.

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” He grinned as he slotted a ball into the pocket. “Lose it.” He pointed the tip of his cue in her general direction.

She narrowed her eyes and undid her belt.

He snorted. “Oh c’mon that’s not clothing. What do you think I am, stupid?

She smirked and kicked off her shoes. “Fine.”

“That dress is next and I’m guessing it’s a one-piece so woo-hoo to me.” He took his next shot and missed.

She took a sip of wine and then chalked her stick. “Silly men with their brains in their pants.”

“Oh? You agreed to this. Don’t blame me Missy. Take responsibility for yourself.”

She leaned over and winked at him and fired a ball. Straight into a pocket. “Lose the shirt lover boy.”

Jon frowned at her and had an uneasy feeling. He pulled off the sweater and let it fall to the ground. “Lucky shot?”

“Nope. Taking responsibility.” She arched over and sank another one and then another. What the hell?

“Shit. You hustled me.” Dammit. The little minx.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Boom. Another one rattled into the pocket.

He let out a long whistle. “Maaaaan.”

“So the moral of the story is...” She lined up her next shot and nailed it. “Never assume. Now get naked pretty boy.”

“Fuck.” He muttered as he undid his belt, kicked off his boots and slid down his jeans.

Her gaze drifted down his body. “I guess the optional underwear thing wasn’t such a great idea today.” She sniggered as he pushed them down his legs.

“Oh shut up.”

She giggled. “I do love when you get pissy because you lose.”

He stepped out of his jeans and growled. “I was played. I didn’t lose. You lied to me.”

“Suck it up princess.” She cleared the table in less than five minutes and he stood there naked, while she was still fully clothed. God damn the woman.

“You had an advantage with a bra and panties. That’s extra clothing.”

Her eyebrow cocked. “Well I didn’t get that far did I? So who’s to say it would have been. Besides, who said I was wearing any?” She ran the tip of her tongue along the bottom of her teeth.

Fuck.

“Oh god. I did under estimate you Devon Scott.”

“See you assumed. Again. I thought you were smarter than that.” She stood opposite him with the pool table in-between them. Her vibrant smile and cockiness was hot, he’d give her that. He wanted nothing right this minute than to spread her out on that green felt and nail her to it.

“Ok then smart-ass. How about this?” He crooked his finger. “You c’mere and we play another game.”

“I think I’ll stay right here thank you very much. If that’s alright by you.”

His cock was half-hard but imagining all her creamy scented skin under that dress wasn’t going to end well for him. He wanted her and she knew it, dammit. He was used to always having the upper hand but she kept it fresh with them in a way most women didn’t get without being bitchy. And every-time he never saw it coming.

“You can make this hard. Or you can make it easy.”

She bit her lip and hid the insane smirk that she was obviously relishing and unzipped her dress. It fell to her feet and vibrant pink silk with a black lace trim was left staring at him. His cock jumped.

“Fuck Devon.”

“I think there is only one thing that’s hard in this room.”

“Come here and fix that then.” He demanded his gaze zeroing on hers.

She leaned over the pool table towards him and her bra strap slid down her shoulder showing off the cup of her breast. “Double whoops.”

He stood still and leaned in towards her. “Come here. I’ll slam you into this table and give you a night of a thousand orgasms.”

“No. You’re stubborn. Come here and take me like a real man and admit defeat.” She closed her eyes and her lips parted and she let out a small groan. Holy shit. He swore a drop of pre-cum just came out of his cock.

“You’re playing with fire.”

“You’ll only be playing with yourself soon if you keep this up.”

“I’m not moving. Come here and show me you want me.”

A drop of sweat dripped down his forehead and his fingers curled around the edge of the table. “I can wait all night.”

“Oh really?” She let the other bra strap slide down her shoulder and hovered down over the table and groaned as her nipples slid across the table. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, the sound shot straight to the tip of his cock. “FYI...you wanted to know what this feels like. It feels amazing.”

“You suck.”

“You could be-if you came here. What will it be? Us standing here opposite each other depriving ourselves or you coming over here and admitting defeat. What will it be? I’ll make myself cum if you don’t. You know I will.”

“I could too.” He wound his fingers around his cock and groaned and he pumped it once. “Don’t you want to be a part of this?” He was ten seconds away from giving up and he hated that she knew exactly how to manipulate him. That was usually his job.

It was a sexual standoff with a battle of wits.

It would just be a case of who gave in first.