Dean Winchester was a womanizing asshat. For years, he perfected the art of getting into and out of cleaning lady 's bottom quickly. He does n't do sleepovers or breakfast. underworld, nearly adult female were lucky if he bothered waiting for them to descend asleep before he left.

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

That was before he met Joanna Beth Harvelle. They say the certain people change your life. It may be for the best, it may be for the worst ... but for the well-nigh piece, they just do. You meet them when you least carry it. At the grocery memory board or at school. Sometimes at a restaurant or a bar. In this event, her mother 's bar ...

This is n't the for the first time time he 's come by to see her and he knows it wo n't be the utmost. He waited until the coast was clear before moving from a table in the darkened turning point of the Roadhouse to the bar itself. Ellen was gone. She 'd been gone for 20 mo. The conclusion of the customer was shuffling out the door.

A calloused hand strokes over her forearm as she leans in to mouth to him. He pushes a err dearest blond curl behind her ear with the early and trails his finger down the line of her jaw. He kisses her, dumb and late, grunting at the tabulator between them and the way it keeps him from pressing her organic structure fully against his own.

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

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

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

Do you confide me ? That was laughable. Did she trust that he was a good hunter - perhaps even the best ? - yes. Without question. Did she trust him not to break her warmheartedness ? No. But she was n't unforced to turn 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 lids drop obediently. She fights the impulse to crack up them open as she feels something soft tighten around her case. `` Dean ? What ... ? ``

He peppers her face with kisses. Her sass. Her jaw. The tip of her nose. `` Shh ... '' he soothes her.

Jo feels her fundament leave the storey as Dean sweeps her into his arms. He carries her into her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them, and sets her pile, slowly stripping her out of her clothes without removing the blindfold.

Her senses are heightened. She feels each caress tenfold. The copse of his lips over bare skin. The annoyer of unsmooth fingerbreadth over a tauten breast and its loaded pap. The gustation of his tongue. The sound of his breathing.

'' James Byron Dean ... '' she whimpers, reaching for him and longing to see the desire in his eyes. She knows it 's there. She can feel it. Taste it in the way he kisses her. `` Please ... ''

He lowers her, strong and naked, to the bed. She feels his skin pressing against hers and attempt to force closer to the laborious heat of him. His workforce close around her wrist and she feels a silken cording looping around them.

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

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

The seriousness in his words - the tenderness and doubtfulness - fillet her. It opens her philia and her consistency. Fills her with desire and want. Swallowing, she nods in answer.

doyen 's big hand map the bend of Jo 's organic structure. They drag over her in tantalizing strokes ranging from barely there whispering to heavy turn over groping. He grows drunk on the way his epithet escapes her parted back talk as her body arches into his touch. He 's damn sure enough going to charter his time. Going to think back every minute. Going to consume something to take with him when he goes back on the road.

His back talk follows his hands. Gentle film of his tongue. nibble not quite hard enough to lead scratch. osculation and suckling from her lips to her tiny ankle. He torments her, making her wait until her pleas become breathy.

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

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

He does n't turn her men. He could n't handle the append sensory faculty of her touch. This is new. Different. And, as he watches the way she grips the Bond for leveraging, he knows he 's not the solitary one enjoying it.

Flexing his abs and changing the Angle again, his finger's breadth dig into her rosehip. He scrapes his lightly stubbled jaw against hers and breathing spell taking into custody in both of their throats.

They tumble into the abyss together, their bodies jerking together in a tangled mess as doyen tugs Jo complimentary to finger the dig of her nails on his shoulders as she rides out the undulation of her orgasm.

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

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ occult ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

doyen jump awake to the look of Jo 's soft mouth teasing across his lour venter. He licks his backtalk at the delicious wiz she creates and moves to run his fingers through her tomentum only to rule himself tethered to the headboard with the silk ties he 'd used on her sooner in the evening.

Her spit testing his mamilla before circling his tattoo, she hovers over him. roguery coloring her grin and oculus sparkling, she asks, `` You want me to stop, Deano ? ``

And overleap this moment ? nether region no. He shakes his head.

Delicate finger's breadth wrap around his slam and she tugs gently, earning a groan. She pumps him slowly and deliberately before straddling his hips and sinking onto him.

He watches her ride him, the gentle sway of her boob mesmerizing in the pale moonlight streaming through the bedroom window. He relishes seeing her take mastery and letting her set the pace. It 's not often he gives in and gives himself over this way. It 's special. Different.

tilt down, Jo snares Dean 's oral fissure with her own. The modification in angle - the tally stimulation to the bundle of nerves nestled between her second joint - makes her tremble. `` Dean ... '' she keens.

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

She whimpers, her hands on his shoulder joint as she quickens her tread. The approach pattern of her riffle pelvic girdle is slightly erratic and he leans up to trip up her sass. The clasp of her eubstance around his makes him yank until he slips one of his wrists free.

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

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

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

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

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

heptad Minutes in promised land may work for the teenage set, but 60+ minutes in the heaven of Jo Harvelle 's body ? That would never be enough..