How To Have Your Birthday Cake And Eat It Too - T

Why was he doing this again?

Because of a favor owed to a friend, who owed a friend and so on. How in the hell had one disc jockey managed to pull this off?

These were just a few of the quesions that he kept asking himself while he sat there in the dark, cramped space. The other question was...Where in the hell was the birthday girl?

This whole thing started three days ago. Although, he was sure the little disc jockey had been working on it for a lot longer than that. She really had some connections. Jon had called him three days ago asking for this favor. His friend was intrigued by a woman and wanted to get on her good side. That hadn't happened since Jon's divorce was final. In fact, he'd sworn off women. That was the main reason Richie had agreed to do this. Jon said a guy from the label had called asking what the possibility of getting this done had been. Jon had been surprised at the audacity of the request and had done a little research on the woman who was behind it all. That had led to a few discoveries. The little disc jockey wrote fan fiction, and so did the birthday girl. The fact that the little disc jockey was also a fan had intrigued Jon even more, considering she'd asked for this favor for a friend and not for herself. The little disc jockey was plainly a Jonny girl, but the birthday girl liked to walk on the dark side. He smiled in the dark; if this woman was anything like her characters, this was going to be a very interesting night. Another reason he'd agreed to do this. Damn, his knees were really starting to hurt. He shifted in the dark, almost dropping the box in his hands. The box was his own gift to the birthday girl.

Apparently, he was the gift from her friend.

*************************

Jennifer had had a totally rotten day. No one at the office had remembered her birthday. At first, she'd thought it was just because they were planning to surprise her with something, but when 5 o'clock rolled around and still nothing she had to face facts. At least her girlfriends hadn't forgotten, but their celebration was going to wait until the weekend. Ribs and 'Ritas. Should be fun.

In the meantime, she was spending her birthday alone. It sucked.

Flipping on the lights in the house as she walked in the door, she kicked off her shoes. She was thinking a hot bubble bath and a glass of good red wine were in order. With her red Jimmy Choos hanging from her fingers, she rounded the corner into the living room, and slid to a stop. What the hell?

There in the middle of her living room was the biggest birthday cake she'd ever seen, with a sign that read "Happy Birthday, Goddess! Love ya, girlfriend! ~T" in dark purple letters. Jennifer laughed. All the Jovi girls knew that purple was T's favorite color, after all they all loved when she made a 'purple post' on one of her stories.

How in the hell had T pulled this off? Oh well, that didn't matter right now. What mattered was that her friend had remembered her birthday. Jen walked over to the cake. Was it real, or just cardboard? She touched the cake and then screamed bloody murder when someone jumped up from inside the cake like a life size jack-in-the-box. Reflexes took over and she swung her arm up, smacking him with her shoes, and jumping back to crouch in her defensive stance she'd learned in kick boxing, all in one fluid move.

"OW," the male voice yelled, the noise echoing through the house.

Then she saw whose ass she was preparing to kick and her chin hit the floor.

"Oh my fucking God," she gasped. "You're Richie fucking Sambora!"

*************************

In the silence, Richie heard the scrape of a key in the lock and then the door opening. Finally! He wanted to hurry up and get this favor over with. He had places to be. From a distance, he heard the clicking of high heels on the hard wood floor as the woman entered the house. Then the clicking stopped. Damn, she must have taken the shoes off. How in the hell was he supposed to know when she was in the room with him?

Then he heard her laugh, it was husky and sensual. Wow. Slowly he counted to ten and jumped up.

Then almost fell back into the cardboard cake, when he was smacked up side the head with a pair of red come-fuck-me shoes. He grabbed his cheek, preparing to defend himself if the ass kicking went any further. "OW," he yelled.

Then his eyes roamed over the little spitfire preparing for battle. She stood crouched in some sort of martial arts stance, with her tiny fists held in front of her face. Her dark brown hair was in a pony tail that had loosened up from her exertions, but if down would probably fall to the middle of her back in thick, silken waves. The woman's curves were tense right now, ready for battle, but he couldn't help but wonder how they'd feel under his hands. Suddenly all those places he wanted to be, didn't seem quite so important.

"Oh my fucking God," she gasped. "You're Richie fucking Sambora!"

He laughed at her. "Darlin', the middle name's Stephen, but I'm thinking I like 'Fucking' way better."

Jen glared at him. "You are sooooooo not funny."

"Really? You don't think so? Everyone else does. Even Jon."

That's when Jen realized this was really happening. Richie Sambora was really standing inside a giant birthday cake in her living room. Or was she dreaming? Calmly she walked over and pinched Richie.

"OW! What the fuck was that for?" he demanded.

"I wanted to make sure I wasn't dreaming," she answered, grinning.

"Then you should've asked me to pinch you. That's the way it's supposed to be done," Richie told her, rubbing his arm.

"But why would I want you to bruise me. That makes no sense, Rich," she told him, shaking her head.

"Here, hold this," he told her, handing her the box.

She looked at the box like it was a snake. "What's in it?"

"Nothing that deserves to be looked at like that," he answered.

She took the box from his hand, then watched as he climbed out of the cake. "How'd she do it?"

"Your friend?" Richie asked. At her nod, he answered her, "She used her radio connections and called in a few favors. Up a chain that led to a record rep at our label. The guy called Jon, and bam here I am."

Jen watched him reach back into the cake and pull out a beautiful wooden double neck guitar. "Oh my God," she breathed, "she didn't."

"Yep, she did," Richie answered. "Do ya mind?" he asked motioning toward the chair by the fireplace.

"No, no, have a seat," she answered barely noticing the breathless quality to her voice, and missing the stutter all together.

His fingers strummed across the strings, making a few random notes drift through the air. Then, he cocked his head to one side like he heard something that no one else could. That's when he began to play.

Jennifer just stood there clutching the box in her hands, grinning like an idiot, while Richie Fucking Sambora sang 'Happy Birthday' to her.

When the last notes faded away, Jennifer pulled herself together. Barely. "Would you like to stay for dinner?" she asked him. "I was just about to call for pizza."

She watched with bated breath as he sat the guitar down next to the chair and unfolded his long frame from the chair. He crossed the room in three long strides to stand in front of her. He lightly stroked her cheek with one long fingered hand. "As tempting as that sounds," he began.

She was sure he was going to turn her down. Oh well, she told herself, what the hell. At least, this was a birthday she'd never forget.

"You're far more tempting," he finished.

Jennifer sucked in a deep breath in surprise, just before his lips descended to brush across hers lightly. She was lost in the wonder of the moment and opened her lips in a surprised "O". Richie took advantage and slid his tongue inside to taste her. She was fire and ice cream, lightening and chocolate, dynamite and... his downfall.

He did manage to pull himself back, and behave like a gentleman, while she ordered pizza. Even managed to remember the manners his mother taught him during dinner. They laughed and joked. They discussed everything from her favorite music to his daughter. From her work to his alcohol problem.

Finally, Jennifer yawned and looked at her watch. "Christ on a crutch, it's after 2:00 am."

"Really? It's true what they say about time flying, fun, and all that shit."

She stood up and reached to take his coffee cup and saucer, intending to take it to the kitchen.

"Here let me help with that," he offered.

"You don't have to," she replied softly.

"I want to."

It was in the kitchen, against her counter, that he kissed her again. Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers tangling in the hair that curled at his nape. He was so damn tall.

His lips left hers and trailed across her cheek. She shivered as his warm breath coasted along her skin. He nipped lightly at her ear, then his tongue swirled inside the delicate shell. "Tell me you want me," he whispered, making her tingle.

"All my life," she answered with a groan. "Tell me I'm not dreaming," she whispered back.

He bit her earlobe, then sucked on it gently to ease the pain. "Did that feel like you were dreaming?"

"Yeah," she breathed.

He pushed her back against the counter with his hips, letting her feel his arousal. "And this?"

"Hell yeah," she answered.

Richie chuckled, his hands moving from around her waist, his fingers dragging slowly across her sides. Up. Up. Until his large hands were each cupping a breast, his thumbs lightly stroking her nipples into attention, even through the silk of her blouse and satin of her bra. His eyes never left hers as he slowly unbuttoned her blouse. When his lips touched her collarbone in a soft kiss, she made quick work of the two buttons that he'd actually fastened on his own shirt. He was placing a series of burning kisses across the tops of her breasts, when she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. When he was unhooking the front clasp of her bra, she'd already found the button and zipper of his jeans.

She was pushing his jeans down over his hips, when his hands drifted up under her skirt. "Oh damn," he growled. "Thigh highs? You're gonna kill me. I just know it."

She grinned against his lips. "Wait. It gets better."

"Oh my God," he groaned, when he discovered not only that she wasn't wearing any panties, but that she was wet and ready for him.

"That would be 'Goddess'," she corrected him.

He laughed softly, a deep rumbling in his chest, as he picked her up and sat her down on the counter. He dug into his wallet and pulled out a foil packet before dropping his jeans back on the floor. Once he was sheathed, she hooked a leg around his waist and pulled him toward her.

"I always promised myself that I wouldn't go to bed with you on first meeting," she murmurred, right before she gasped when he filled her.

"Darlin' in case you haven't noticed, we're not in a bed," he growled against her neck, pulling out slowly just to thrust back inside.

His big hands were braced on the counter on either side of her hips as he moved against her, but now they slid across the counter and under her to cup her ass tightly. She clutched at his shoulders and screamed out his name as she came.

"Damn," he moaned, with just a tinge of surprise in his voice as his release followed hers.

They leaned on each other for several seconds while they caught their breath. His chuckle somehow managed not to break the mood, but his words almost did. "Ok, let's call this date officially over."

She pulled back from him and frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Because I need the second date to begin now. I need a bed."

She laughed, as he picked her up with his hands still gripping her ass. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and then directed him to her bedroom.

He laid her down on the bed, and then jerked back to a standing position. "Oh shit."

"What's wrong, baby?" Jennifer asked.

"I forgot the box, your present." He turned and left the room with her laughter following him back down the hall.

"Just leave it 'til morning," she called out.

"Can't," he called back, "the occasion will be over by then."

He came back through the door with the box in his hands. "Besides, I've got some ideas for this."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Birthday cake."

**************************

The next morning with her bed full of sleeping, gorgeous male. Jennifer slipped out of the bedroom to check her email and get ready for another day at the office. There was an email from Terri in her inbox.

To: TheGoddessHathor@gmail.com
From: totalconfushun@gmail.com
Subject: Your present

Hey, girlfriend! I just wanna know....did you figure out how to have your birthday cake and eat it too?
Call me with the deets!
~T

Laughing, she picked up her cell and dialed Terri's number, not even caring that it was only 4am in Arkansas. When Terri answered the phone, her voice was husky from sleep and her tone was hard. "This better be good."

"It is," Jennifer laughed.

"Was it a good birthday then?"

"The best. What did you mean about the birthday cake?"

"Well, I'm hoping you got to have your cake on Richie Sambora, and I'm hoping you got to eat it too."

"Yeah, that's how it happened."

"So you did sleep with him then?" Terri asked, then went on like Jennifer had already answered her. "Good, because I'd hate to think that my plan to pimp him out failed."

"You mean you planned this all from the start?" Jen asked, grinning.

"Naaaa," Terri replied. "I just asked him to sing 'Happy Birthday' to you. The rest was just a bonus."