Chapter 9

Tressa noticed the items Jon picked out and didn't say a word, figuring he needed those things. It was his house and, in all the years they had known each other, she'd never been to his place in Vegas. They paid for their purchases and headed out with Jon finally making his way to his house. The drive was made in silence, each in their own thoughts and when they pulled up to the huge house, Tressa's eyes widened. It was beautiful, on the outskirts of Vegas, about 10 minutes from the airport and strip. She could still see the city lights somewhat, but they weren't blinding, and it was in a private vicinity with other homes that looked just like his. It was obvious this place was newly built, and Jon had capitalized on one of them. Grabbing her Vodka and bag from the backseat, Tressa followed him up to the front door and stepped inside when he opened it for her. Jon really did have a beautiful house and the décor screamed both him and bachelor.

It did. It also screamed 'been trapped via my own body for months' because there were still signs he had been ill. He had been let home after a while, under supervision, and there was still a faint, lingering trace of antiseptic in the air. Jon hadn't even been gone that long, back on the road, and coming in here smelling that…he groaned deeply.

"Come on, doll, I'll show you to your room."

Jon had thought, when he bought the place, he'd have friends over and entertain, party a little, but not so much. He had discovered he valued his privacy too much. Joe and Colby had been over a few times, usually when they were in the area for work and it was just easier to have them crash here than at a hotel, but other than that…nope. He led the way, taking his time so she could look around and get familiar with the layout. Jon counted six bottles of Purell, in various states of emptiness.

"Here."

It was a nice enough guest room, a basic queen-sized bed. Dresser, private bath, all done in neutral shades because he never used this room. Jon had just been amused with the idea of having a 'guest room', that had been something he had only heard about on TV. He had never actually known someone to have such a room until he had started making serious money and house hunting.

"Thanks."

Tressa didn't bother looking around and just set her bag down on the floor by the bed, setting the brown paper bag with her sleeping remedy on top of it. At least she had her own bathroom, so that was something. There was no bottle of Purell in here, though she had noticed them throughout the house while Jon lead her here. He really was a huge germaphobe, not that she blamed him. After dealing with MRSA, she would have been too. That was probably why he cut his hair short too, no longer having the shaggy look she adored.

Now, Jon was clean-cut, thicker, and beefed up compared to what he used to be. The man had a delicious body on him for sure, even Tressa wouldn't deny that. Jon left her be to go do whatever he needed to around his house and let her get settled in, giving her space. She appreciated it, closed the door, and shut her eyes while tilting her head back, feeling the tears already starting up.

This was getting old – she was sick and tired of crying and feeling miserable.

Jon went down to the kitchen to put away their take-out, his appetite long gone. He would eat, eventually, just because he had to. His size, and his muscular build, meant he ate a lot of small, frequent meals when he could, especially when he was home. Then it was unpacking his luggage and tossing things into baskets to be washed, or in the trash, and he washed the hell out of that healing cut again. Stupid chair.

After an hour, and no sign of Tressa, he went to go knock on the bedroom door before poking his head in. She was lying curled in the bed, crying, and he wasn't the least bit surprised by it, not after that call she had received. Quietly, he walked over to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out to place his hand on her hip and gently but firmly rolled her onto her back, bending over to stare into her tear-stained face.

She had changed into a black sleeveless nightshirt that went to her knees and kept her bra on, not feeling comfortable without it. Not even in Jon's house. Tressa did warn him she would be awful company and he still insisted she stay with him. Reaching out, she placed her hand on his since it was on her stomach and shut her eyes to take a couple of deep, fortifying breaths. The word 'sorry' was on the tip of her tongue, but she remembered what he said to her at the airport and bit it back. With her free hand, she reached up to caress his bearded face, silent tears falling, not sure what to say to him in her current state. He was checking up on her, though she hated the amount of concern in his eyes.

There was also something else she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Obviously, he was concerned, they were friends and she had gone through a series of traumatic events. Now, just because the universe liked kicking people when they were down, she was being shoveled even more misery and pain by people who were supposed to be family, even if they were in-laws. He reached out to take that brown-bagged bottle off the nightstand and pulled it slowly out, Absolut. Her 'medicine', he uncapped it, his eyes never leaving hers. She was a mess. She was a beautiful, despairing mess and those thoughts surprised him for about two seconds.

Jon had always been attracted to Tressa, though he hadn't pursued her because she was married – happily married, and he had respected that. It occurred to him, just then, that that had changed, and was he a preying scumbag for thinking about that? She had lost her husband, her unborn child, months before and here he was thinking about how beautiful she was, even at this point in her life. He took a small sip of the vodka, bending down, his eyes searching hers intently. A second later, his vodka-damp lips were on hers, coaxing her mouth open and he was passing that small shot to her, his tongue darting out to catch the drop that tried escaping the corner of her mouth.

It took her fuzzy brain a moment to register what was going on because Tressa had to clear out the misery and pain. It took her several seconds to realize what was happening. Jon was kissing her…Jonathan Good was kissing her! Tressa felt the Vodka slide down her throat he passed to her, but he hadn't stopped the kiss. Christ, his lips were soft against hers and Tressa ignored the alarm bells ringing in her head, slowly returning the kiss. It occurred to her this was a really bad idea.

Her husband was dead, along with her unborn child, and here she was, after three months, kissing one of her best friends in life. The grief, the loneliness is what fueled her not to break the kiss, however. So many nights she had passed out because of a Vodka-induced coma, still crying in her sleep and the nightmares…the nightmares plagued her. Tressa desperately needed a distraction of some kind, anything to get her mind off the slew of crap her life had become in such a short amount of time.

This was wrong on a lot of different levels and Jon had no fucks to give. He wasn't about to dissect it, dissect himself, he already knew what he was going to find. He was a scumbag, accepting that about himself, moving on. She tasted like the vodka he had just passed her and there was that nicotine taste as well. Smokers couldn't avoid it, but he was a smoker too, so it didn't faze him at all. He just deepened the kiss, his tongue gliding against hers as his hands moved to hers, entwining their fingers together. His body weight slowly pressed her into the mattress, feeling just how small and fragile she was beneath his much larger frame.

A soft moan escaped her as her fingers squeezed between his, the taste of him making her world spin off its axes. It was intoxicating…he was so massive compared to her and it was oddly comforting. The way his huge body aligned with hers on the bed, but he still kept his body weight off her, not wanting to completely crush her while they continued kissing. What if Jon brought her here to get in her panties? That thought briefly crossed her mind before she dismissed it, not caring either way.

The truth also washed over her that Jon wanted her…how long had he felt this way? Or was this just pity on his part? Pity sex…Tressa wanted to push him off her and tell him to get out, but…her body was betraying her, along with her mind and shattered heart. It was mostly her body telling her to do this, she needed this release, needed this reprieve from all the trauma she endured in recent months. It helped a great deal she had obvious chemistry with Jon because their lips slid together perfectly and they both used just enough tongue to emanate sounds of pleasure from both parties.

Pity sex it was not, this was just a man kissing a woman and the fact that her life was shit right now was unfortunately just a thing. Not the driving force behind this at all. No pity, no concern, just him finally doing what he had longed to do for years, and the situations around her just meant his timing was horrible. Correlation did not necessarily mean causation. And, to be perfectly honest, Jon wasn't exactly a guy who had to go trawling for pussy, it was regularly thrown his way. Bringing someone home just to get into their grieving panties, no. Even he, for all his flaws and having plenty of go-arounds, was not that big of an asshole. Tearing his lips from hers, Jon began kissing down her jawline, bringing a hand up to move her hair aside so he could get to her neck. He ran his tongue over her pulse point, feeling it going a mile a minute before moving up to her ear, tracing his tongue along the shell.

Her heavy breathing was the only sign she gave Jon she was enjoying this. Sliding her fingers over his very short hair and arching her neck into his lips and tongue was also surefire signs. Her eyes remained closed, relishing and drinking in the feeling of him against her. It could all end abruptly, though Tressa didn't plan on ending this anytime soon. She enjoyed the distraction and attention too much, as horrible as that sounded.

For months, she had been alone, sleeping alone, hardly talking to anyone and now…now Jon was back in her life again. If he wanted to help her through this hard time in her life, so be it. Jon moved from one side of her neck, across her throat, to the other side, nipping, suckling, and exploring. His hands never left hers, keeping her pinned against the mattress and Tressa writhed beneath him, her toes curling and wave after wave of warmth washed over her. Her panties were soaked by now too.

Gradually, he was moving lower, kissing, and tasting what he could over and through her clothes. He had to let go of a hand, bringing his own up to start tugging her nightshirt up over her stomach, bunching it just beneath her breasts. Jon lowered himself down that tiny body, running the tip of his nose down the middle of her stomach, feeling her inhaling sharply when his lips finally caressed flushed skin just above her panty line. He could smell her arousal, feel the heat emanating from her and it elicited a low groan of longing from him.

"J-Jon…" Tressa finally stammered his name out through heavy breathing, watching those smoldering ocean blues look up at her and she felt her throat lock up for a second or two.

Was this really happening? Were they really going to have sex? Her tongue slid out to wet her dry, swollen lips while staring down at him, seeing the burning question in his eyes. Should he continue? Pushing herself up more, since he'd released both of her hands the lower he went, Tressa pulled the rest of her nightshirt over her head to toss it to the carpeted floor. That left her clad in a cotton black bra and dark blue cotton bikini panties. There were no matching undergarments, she just threw on whatever she could find in her bag. Tressa had also showered, so her hair was slightly damp, and her body smelled of Dove body wash, her favorite.

Taking his hands, she planted them at the waistband of her panties before laying back and lifting her backside for him to slide them all the way down and off. Then, he proceeded to kiss his way back up one leg and then did the other…Tressa was glad she had decided to shave since she hadn't in a while. She even trimmed up a bit downstairs since it was bushy as hell and for hygiene purposes. Never in a million years did she think THIS would happen between her and Jon!

"Fuck, that feels so good…" Her tears had dried up and nothing was on her mind except the man pleasuring her and making her feel incredible.

Tressa wasn't telling him no. If anything, she was encouraging him to continue on, to go further. She probably needed this after drinking herself to sleep for months on end, that loneliness and bitterness along with her grief, she probably needed this. To feel close to someone, even if it was just briefly. Why not him? He was someone she knew, someone she trusted, and he would never hurt her. She had to know that, right? Jon let his palms skim down her ribs until they reached her hips, her beautiful thighs already spread for him, revealing her glistening sex to him. Without a second thought or doubt, he lowered his head, finally tasting her, and was instantly an addict.

Her thighs trembled and her pussy was practically crying out in relief. She hadn't been touched since Joseph's death, so it had been almost four months. Now, she was used to going a week or two without sex, but Tressa had a high sex drive. Not so much these days due to her grief and sadness.