XXXIX

Jon placed another warm kiss on Frédérique’s lips and raised himself up in his arms to walk over to the bathroom. Frédérique couldn’t help but cast a quick glimpse on his perfectly shaped ass. Focus damnit. She took the tank top and sleeping shorts she had dropped on the floor earlier in the evening, put them on and hurried to the kitchen.

That’s where Jon found her a few minutes later after returning to the bedroom and putting his jeans back on: she was washing the dishes.

“Hey, what are ya doin’?” Jon whispered worriedly against her ear after giving her a tight bear hug from behind. Frédérique remained silent and showed no intention of interrupting her task, so Jon grabbed her hand that was rinsing one of the plates and with the other one he turned off the faucet. There was a moment of silence and Frédérique exhaled as if she had been holding her breath since Jon had returned to her door. She didn’t regret what had happened that night, after all, she had lost the man she loved – the first one she had ever truly loved, who ignited her rawest passion and deepest endearment at the same time - to another woman out of sheer stupidity and fear, leaving her again filled with nothing, lonely and empty. And Jon was there for her. Yes, he was a good man. And a very good lover, too - he was perfect, everything a woman could ever want. But married.

And not Richie.

“Promise me that you’ll leave and we’ll forget that none of this ever happened”, she demanded in a whisper, letting her head hang down. “I don’t want…anybody to get hurt because of this. Because of me”. Jon recognized that tone of voice and realized what she was leaving unsaid.

“Hey hey hey” Jon spoke reassuringly as he turned her over to face him, then lifted her head up with his finger under her chin to meet her eyes. “No one will get hurt, and there’s no one to blame” he told her with a serious tone, but then decided to ease her tension by teasing her with a husky voice and a mischievous smirk, “Well, alright, maybe you for being so pretty”, before he kissed her softly for a few moments.

Jon already knew Frédérique well enough to know that even if he didn’t keep that promise, she would. Jon didn’t regret what had happened. Hell no. And he also knew that no good could come out of Richie knowing anything about it, at least not until he had gotten over her – which might take a long time. Their friendship had always prevailed over anything else, so when the day came and Jon finally told him, Richie would probably just laugh his ass off and take great joy in saying “Told ya not to ever make tea with the water I’d heated”. Yes, his pride was also somewhat – just a little - hurt. He had seen how Richie and Frédérique were together – and overheard how good they “were together” – and she was definitely holding back now. He had seen it happen before. Sonofabitch. Another beautiful woman ruined for any other men. But he felt absolutely not apologetic about being with Frédérique tonight, not one bit.

Then he realized that it might be true that Frédérique would disappear and their paths would never cross again. But she was his for tonight. Just for tonight. And that portal would be closed forever in the morning. Jon was genuinely sorry that things hadn’t worked between her and Richie - they were totally made for each other, she was good for him – so even though it was sort of a struggle to have her around when she was with Richie (although Jon was expecting that with time the attraction would evolve into something…less harmful), it wasn't as bad as not having her around at all.

Frédérique disengaged herself from Jon’s embrace and walked toward the bathroom. She glanced at the mirror and noticed the red spots Jon’s incipient beard had left along her collarbone and shoulders, but didn’t dare to look at herself in the eyes. Jon was already back in the bedroom and his jeans back on the floor. He was leaning back against the headboard with an arm tucked under his head, making the hairs in his armpit stick out in all directions. The lower part of his body was lazily covered with the sheets.  

Frédérique returned to the bedroom with Jon’s turtleneck in her hand, then picked up his T-shirt and jeans and placed the clothes on the back of the armchair. She sat on the bed crosslegged facing Jon and hugging a pillow that rested on her lap, her hair hung to her front over one of her shoulders.

“An interdependence knot”, she said with a sweet and low voice, a genuine soft smile curling her lips as she reached for the token that was hanging from a short leather strand around Jon’s neck.

Jon told her about a book he had read called “The monk who sold his Ferrari” and how it had influenced and inspired him. They engaged in another of their flee-flowing, natural conversations, then Frédérique fetched more wine and they drank and talked for a while longer. The fact that they had just had sex appeared like an extension of their interaction, not an objective, not something extraordinary: it was what it was.

Then Frédérique suddenly became insightful, a cloud of sadness and melancholy shadowing her delicate features.  Jon extended his arm, twisted the tresses of her hair around his wrist and gently pulled her to him until she was on all fours and her mouth was close enough for Jon to kiss her deeply and tenderly.

“C’mere”, he ordered with a coo and motioned for her to lay on her side with her back to him, then he spooned her and after some additional minutes of silence, he talked secretively. “A penny for your thoughts”.

Frédérique reminded him: “You didn’t promise”.

Jon sighed weakly and promised he would. “But does it mean we can’t even have coffee or dinner some time?”, he asked with mischief in his voice and Frédérique chuckled softly, gently slapping his cheek with her hand. “Of course we can, in very public places where you can behave”.

Jon chortled. “I was thinking about some stuff you could do at the foundation, I need another perfectionist by my side”. He left the suggestion hanging in the air.

“You know I’d love to..." , said Frédérique regretfully, "...but for now I think it’s better if we don’t mix things up…more than they already are”

“OK, but if I promise…does it mean that I can’t have any more of your wine, either?” Jon asked trying to make his undertone as clear as possible.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to do without it”, she replied while she scrapped his raspy cheek, throwing the undertone right back at him. “You’ve got some excellent wine back home”.

Jon kept quiet for a moment and didn’t pursue that train of the conversation, then quickly changed the subject, reminding her seductively “But remember you’re mine for tonight, and we’re not in a public place so I guess I can…misbehave, right?”. With a devilish smirk on his lips, his hand glided under Frédérique’s tanktop and grasped her breast while he nuzzled her neck and placed soft kisses on her shoulder. She chuckled hoarsely, was there any point in arguing with him?

When he felt her relax Jon eased the tanktop off over her head and swiftly moved his hand to hook his fingers on the elastic waistband of her shorts to peel them off, then came out from under the sheet and pulled Frédérique tightly to him, her soft curves molding against his warm body. Frédérique turned her face back and pulled Jon’s head closer to hers by encircling it with her arm. As they kissed deeply and heatedly, his hands traveled to her crotch and his fingers started their stimulation with dexterity and proficiency. She could feel his erection building and pulsing against her butt cheeks, and reached with her hand behind her to massage Jon’s shaft softly up and down. He silenced his moan in the kiss and entered her mouth violently with his tongue. They pleasured each other for a few minutes until he was completely hard and could feel her wetness soaking his fingers.

Jon’s hand now grabbed Frédérique’s thigh and lifted it just enough to make room for his cock to find the entrance to her body and easily penetrate her as she let out an almost inaudible whimper. Jon’s lips were merciless, nipping and grazing the  skin of her arms. His other arm crawled under Frédérique’s waist and circled it to steady her body as he rhythmically and delicately pumped into her. Her hands, in turn, rested on each of his, entangling his fingers tightly.

Jon’s pants became more ragged as Frédérique’s whimpers became huskier, but he commanded himself to slow the pace –  he wanted to enjoy her for as long as he could. Yes, he was going to keep his promise and let her go when morning came: he knew she wasn’t his and she’d never be. Except for tonight.

His hands then slowly traveled up from her calves to her thighs, then her waist and her arms. While he continued with his slow thrusts, satisfaction dripping from his voice, he told her “You deserve to be happy, Fred, don’t let anything get in the way. No matter how much it hurt, don't look back”.

She responded by pressing her hips against his, urging him to quicken the pace, but he pulled out, sat on his heels and rolled her over, grabbing her hips and resting them on his thighs, the tilted them so he could find the angle to reenter her. A small frown of pleasure drew on his brow, and his lips parted, his eyes full of desire meeting her hooded eyes. He made sure that the head of his cock caressed gently her inner walls and felt how she responded by pressing her muscles slightly along his shaft.

After some moments Frédérique skillfully raised herself on her arms, leaving her body completely in the air in a bridge posture: her hips on Jon’s, her hands and feet pressing on the mattress. “Holy FUCK!”, Jon gasped at the wave of desire that rampaged across his body and let his head fall back, parting his lips before swallowing hard. Frédérique crooked a mischievous smirk at his reaction and told him huskily "Yoga lessons".

"Sweet fucking Lord, they never taught me this” Jon managed to say raising his eyebrows and shaking his head in mock disappointment before his control completely escaped him: he started slamming her hips against his, trying to hold on as much as he could, but then he felt her walls clench around his length as husky groans came from Frédérique's mouth. His release came like a flash, and he managed to slam two more times, emphasizing with a grunt. “Holy…Fuck”.

After they were both completely spent, Jon curved his back and let his head hang down, while Frédérique relaxed and lowered her body. They moved and accommodated themselves under the sheets in their original spoon position, panting heavily for long moments before their breathing returned to its normal rythm. Jon felt heavily sleepy, and he knew that if he fell asleep, when he woke up Frédérique would be out of his life - she’d disappear and he’d probably wouldn’t see her again.

He buried his face in her neck and fought sleep by relishing in her scent, but after a few minutes he involuntarily dozed off.