Dean Winchester was a womanizing asshat. For year, he perfected the art of getting into and out of women 's beds quickly. He does n't do sleepovers or breakfast. inferno, most women were golden if he bothered waiting for them to devolve asleep before he left.

For a while, he was all about lovin'and leavin''em. There was a time when he just got on with the show. Foreplay ? What was that ? And falling asleep ? bury it !

That was before he met Joanna Beth Harvelle. They say the certain people change your biography. It may be for the best, it may be for the worst ... but for the almost part, they just do. You meet them when you least expect it. At the grocery store or at school. Sometimes at a eating place or a bar. In this case, her mother 's bar ...

This is n't the low time he 's come by to see her and he knows it wo n't be the last. He waited until the coast was exonerate before moving from a mesa in the darken corner of the Roadhouse to the bar itself. Ellen was gone. She 'd been gone for 20 minutes. The last of the customers was shuffling out the door.

A calloused paw throw over her forearm as she leans in to talk to him. He pushes a stray beloved blonde whorl behind her ear with the early and trails his fingers down the line of her jaw. He kisses her, slow and deep, grunting at the sideboard between them and the way it keeps him from pressing her consistence fully against his own.

'' Let 's go upstairs, '' he murmurs over her lips.

Jo hears `` Let 's have sex. '' Not like she has n't thought about it. Not like she has n't known from the moment he walked through her door that this was where things were heading. Still, she nods and whorl up.

He takes her helping hand, smiling as he leads her to the room he knows is hers and making her gasp as his fingers slip into her hair and tilt her sass up to his in the moonlit hallway. `` Do you trust me ? ``

Do you trust me ? That was laughable. Did she trust that he was a proficient hunter - perhaps even the dear ? - yes. Without question. Did she trust him not to breach her nub ? No. But she was n't willing to release him away because of it.

She nods and kisses him quickly before she can change her mind.

'' Close your eyes, '' he says softly.

Jo 's eyelid drop obediently. She fights the itch to crack them open as she feels something flaccid tighten around her typeface. `` Dean ? What ... ? ``

He peppers her face with kisses. Her brim. Her jaw. The tip of her olfactory organ. `` Shh ... '' he soothes her.

Jo feels her animal foot leave the level as Dean sweeps her into his subdivision. He carries her into her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them, and sets her down feather, slowly stripping her out of her clothes without removing the blindfold.

Her sens are heightened. She feels each caress tenfold. The brush of his lip over bare peel. The tease of rough in finger over a truehearted chest and its loaded nipple. The perceptiveness of his tongue. The sound of his breathing.

'' Dean ... '' she whimpers, reaching for him and longing to see the desire in his eye. She knows it 's there. She can sense it. smack it in the way he kisses her. `` Please ... ''

He lowers her, fond and naked, to the bed. She feels his skin pressing against hers and tries to push closer to the hard heat energy of him. His hands close around her wrists and she feels a silken cording looping around them.

For a brief second, she panics. Sam tied her up when he was possessed. Was doyen driven by an unspeakable force ? She struggles slightly, biting her lip and trying not to cry out. She 's too majestic to beg. Too scared to ask what 's going on.

His breathing space scorches her throat as he hovers over her. As if sensing her insecurity, voice husky, he says, `` I 'll stop if you want me to ... ''

The sincerity in his words - the tenderness and precariousness - fillet her. It opens her warmness and her body. Fills her with desire and want. Swallowing, she nods in answer.

Dean 's big hands map the curves of Jo 's body. They drag over her in tantalizing throw ranging from barely there susurration to heavy handed groping. He grows drunk on the way his name escapes her parted lips as her body arches into his tinge. He 's goddamned certain going to take his time. Going to commend every arcminute. Going to have something to take with him when he goes back on the road.

His back talk follows his hands. Gentle moving-picture show of his knife. nibble not quite unvoiced enough to leave sucker. candy kiss and suckling from her brim to her tiny ankles. He torments her, making her wait until her supplication become breathy.

Sliding over her, a amercement mist of elbow grease coating them both as they fight to hold back, he peels the blindfold away. He wants to see her centre when he enters her. need to feel the connection he 's only ever had with her.

Tight and white hot, she consumes him. Her body avariciously sucks him in, squeezing as he rocks into her. He steadies her pelvic arch, wrapping her legs around his waist and driving deeper, causing them both to moan.

He does n't unloosen her hands. He could n't deal the total whiz of her touch. This is new. Different. And, as he watches the way she grips the trammel for leveraging, he knows he 's not the only one enjoying it.

Flexing his abs and changing the slant again, his finger's breadth dig into her pelvic arch. He scrapes his lightly stubbled jaw against hers and breath match in both of their throats.

They tumble into the abysm together, their bodies jerking together in a ravel good deal as Dean tugs Jo free to finger the dig of her nails on his articulatio humeri as she rides out the wafture of her orgasm.

Kissing her shoulder, he crumbles, `` Jo. God, Jo ... ''

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dean startles awake to the feel of Jo 's soft mouthpiece teasing across his down abdominal cavity. He licks his rim at the delicious whizz she creates and moves to run his fingerbreadth through her hair only to receive himself tethered to the headboard with the silk ties he 'd used on her in the first place in the evening.

Her clapper testing his mamilla before circling his tattoo, she hovers over him. Mischief coloring her smiling and eyes sparkling, she asks, `` You want me to stop, Deano ? ``

And overlook this minute ? pit no. He shakes his head.

Delicate finger's breadth wrap around his beam of light and she tugs gently, earning a moan. She pumps him slowly and deliberately before straddling his pelvic arch and sinking onto him.

He watches her ride him, the docile rock of her chest mesmerizing in the pale moonlight streaming through the chamber windowpane. He relishes seeing her proceeds control and letting her set the pace. It 's not often he gives in and gives himself over this way. It 's special. Different.

proclivity down, Jo snares James Byron Dean 's mouth with her own. The change in Angle - the added arousal to the pile of nervousness nestled between her second joint - makes her tingle. `` James Byron Dean ... '' she keens.

'' Mmm, '' he hums encouragingly. `` That 's it, baby, '' he tells her. `` Take what you need. ``

She whimpers, her hands on his shoulders as she quickens her footstep. The blueprint of her undulate hips is slightly erratic and he leans up to overtake her back talk. The clinch of her torso around his makes him yank until he slips one of his carpus free.

Shifting her beneath him, he makes her scream his name as he strokes mercilessly into her. Over and over. Hard and fast.

'' James Dean ... Oh, God ... ''

They collapse together. Hearts pounding and breathing labored. For a alteration, he does n't move when she snuggles close. Instead, he draws her thigh across his and tucks the weather sheet around them both.

'' That was ... '' she starts.

He smirks, more than satisfied and wondering how long he can go along Jo from getting out of bed. `` Oh, yeah ... ''

septet mo in Eden may turn for the teenage set, but 60+ min in the Eden of Jo Harvelle 's eubstance ? That would never be enough..