Chapter One

"Holy shit! He did NOT just lick his lips at me," I said to my friend, Jen, who was with me at the concert.

"The hell he didn't," she said back, envy flashing briefly in her eyes.

We had front row seats during the HAND tour in Detroit. Fantastic views (of course) and oh my God, they were so unbelievably close! Jon had played to our part of the audience all night, throwing us looks and winks and whatnot, and we played right back. I mean, who could resist?! Besides, we looked hot and we knew it. We were both wearing tight, low-rise jeans with cropped t-shirts. Mine was white, with Jon's beautiful, smiling face on it, and Jen's was black, with "Sambora" spelled in gothic letters across the front.

The boys were in fine form, as usual, and had all of us in the audience dancing and singing our heads off. Jon and Richie had the two of us more than turned on, and we were playing it up; dancing with each other without taking our eyes off the boys. They saw us too -- it would be impossible not to, given where we were. Jen had a major thing for Richie, but when Jon threw me that look, the expression on her face was "Richie who?" Ha, ha, ha. Sorry Jen, this one's all for me.

God, he's all sweaty and I just LOVE him in that tight black muscle shirt -- he looks like such a bad boy; the kind of bad that makes you clench in all the right places just thinking about it.

They were singing Bad Name – the slutty version from This Left. That bluesy, sexy music paired with Jon's honey-sweet, whiskey-roughened voice. He was shaking that scrummy ass in time with the music, flicking his head back and forth...

Sorry, got distracted for a minute there.

Anyway, about ten seconds ago, when he sang "paint that smile on your pretty lips," I blew him a kiss. Nothing raunchy or anything, and I'll be damned if he didn't smile at me. After he sang "kiss me once baby, then it's bye-bye," he looked straight at me and tossed me a sexy look (although, that's really the only look he has) and licked at those pouty, plump, perfectly delectable lips. I can die a happy woman now; Jon just personally gave me an orgasm. Like I said: holy shit!

I turned to say something to Jen, but noticed she was in her own place. Richie was playing his solo, and doing that jazz scat with the music. Jen's eyes were glued to the guitarist, and I'm pretty sure she was in the throes of her own Richiegasm. I left her alone.

When I turned back to the stage, there was Jon, crouching down in front of us at the edge of the platform, singing. I elbowed Jen roughly in the side, and she gaped at him. He, of course, smirked at us, knowing full well what was going through our heads at that moment. Jon caught a glimpse of Jen's "Sambora" shirt and motioned for Richie to come over. Richie turned to Bobby and said something, and the other guitarist picked up the lead while Richie unstrapped his guitar, grabbed his mic, and strutted to the edge of the stage to squat with Jon. Goddamn, their pants were tight. You could see everything.

By now, the women near us were trying to get around or through us to get their hands on these two Gods before us – who could blame them! The two of them were singing at us (at least it looked that way to me), and then Jon started talking.

"Hey, Rich," he said, in his aged whiskey voice.

"Yeah, brother," Richie answered.

"Ya see these two fine ladies right here? They're labeled, one for you, one for me."

"Ain't that convenient," Richie said, laughing.

“Yeah, it sure is.” Jon grinned at us, and continued talking. “D’ya suppose they want to come on up here and dance with us?” The crowd screamed. Jen and I had to grip each other to keep from falling down.

Richie laughed. “Brother, I think those two want to do more than dance.” Of course we do, you fool!

Jon nodded to the BIG security guards who lifted us up to sit on the stage. We looked at each other and giggled. Like teenaged schoolgirls. Jon took my hand to help me up, and Richie took Jen’s and I lost track of her. Jen who? I had my arms around the waist of a tall lean, gorgeous hunk of sweaty man, and he had his around mine. The low-rise of my jeans neatly left an inch or two of flesh showing, allowing Jon to touch my skin. His touch electrified me. I could feel the shock of his warm, rough fingers all the way to my leather-boot-clad feet.

He pulled me in close to dance, and I could feel his arousal against my thigh. I pressed in slightly, making him chuckle into my ear, “Don’t start something you aren’t gonna finish, darlin’.” Good Lord, I nearly tripped on my own feet.

“I’m game if you are, sweetheart,” I said back, playfully. I didn’t think he heard me because of the monitors in his ears, and I certainly didn’t think he’d take me up on the offer, but he leaned back to smile that megawatt smile at me. Can’t say it enough: holy shit!

“You’re on,” he said, all serious. He asked me, “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Rosa,” I said on a whisper, "but my friends call me Sterling".

“Sterling, huh?” he tried out my nickname on his lips. Burying his head in my neck, he inhaled deeply. Leaning back to look at me, he asked, “Well, Sterling, do you taste as good as you smell?”

“Better,” I answered. What the hell. “Wanna find out?”

Jon laughed and pulled me in for a quick peck, then spun me around a few more times, and danced me over to Richie and Jen (I don’t think Jen knew that I was even there – she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Richie’s chocolate-brown eyes and her hands were splayed across his bronzed chest. Good night, Gracie!) He nodded to Richie and Jen and I found ourselves dipped over strong arms, and kissed firmly on the mouth. When they spun us back to the edge of the stage and the waiting arms of the security guys, we got smacked in the ass. Jen laughed, but when I turned around to see Jon strutting away, I raced over and smacked his ass for him. No way he was getting the last word, so to speak. (For the record, it’s very tight. My hand bounced back!)

As the security guards set us down on the floor, they slipped cards into our back pockets, and whispered, “pass for after” in our ears. Whoa. When our feet were firmly back on the arena floor (physically at least) we were besieged with questions by the others around us “What did he say?” “How did he taste?” “Why’d he pick you?” You know, all that sort of thing. Jen and I just held onto each other’s hands, and smiled. Things were going to get interesting.