James Byron Dean Winchester was a womanizing asshat. For years, he perfected the art of getting into and out of charwoman 's bottom quickly. He does n't do sleepovers or breakfast. Hell, most char were lucky if he bothered waiting for them to fall asleep before he left.

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

That was before he met Joanna Beth Harvelle. They say the sure people change your life. It may be for the best, it may be for the worst ... but for the well-nigh share, they just do. You meet them when you least expect it. At the market depot or at school. Sometimes at a eatery or a bar. In this fount, her female parent 's bar ...

This is n't the first time he 's come by to see her and he knows it wo n't be the finally. He waited until the slide was top before moving from a tabular array in the darkened recession of the Roadhouse to the bar itself. Ellen was gone. She 'd been gone for 20 instant. The in conclusion of the customers was shuffling out the door.

A calloused hand cam stroke over her forearm as she leans in to talk to him. He pushes a vagabond dearest blond Robert Floyd Curl Jr. behind her ear with the early and trails his finger's breadth down the line of her jaw. He kisses her, slack and deep, grunting at the counter between them and the way it keeps him from pressing her body 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 here and now he walked through her door that this was where things were heading. Still, she nods and lock up.

He takes her paw, smiling as he leads her to the room he knows is hers and making her gasp as his fingers slip into her hair and shift her mouth up to his in the moonlit hallway. `` Do you commit me ? ``

Do you trust me ? That was preposterous. Did she trust that he was a good hunter - perhaps even the good ? - yes. Without inquiry. Did she trust him not to cave in her mettle ? No. But she was n't willing to plough him away because of it.

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

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

Jo 's lid drop obediently. She fights the urge to crack them open as she feels something soft tighten around her face. `` Dean ? What ... ? ``

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

Jo feels her base leave the trading floor as Dean sweeps her into his blazonry. He carries her into her bedchamber, kicking the door shut behind them, and sets her down, slowly stripping her out of her clothes without removing the blindfold.

Her sensation are heightened. She feels each caress tenfold. The brush of his lips over stark skin. The teasing of bumpy digit over a firm breast and its stiff nipple. The sense of taste of his tongue. The sound of his breathing.

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

He lowers her, lovesome and bare, to the bed. She feels his tegument pressing against hers and tries to advertise closer to the strong heat of him. His hands close around her wrists and she feels a silklike cording looping around them.

For a abbreviated arcsecond, she scare. Sam tied her up when he was possessed. Was doyen driven by an unspeakable personnel ? 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 breath scorches her throat as he hovers over her. As if sensing her insecurity, voice husky, he says, `` I 'll bar if you want me to ... ''

The serious-mindedness in his wrangle - the rawness and uncertainty - stopping her. It opens her mettle and her body. Fills her with desire and want. Swallowing, she nods in answer.

Dean 's big hands map the curve of Jo 's body. They drag over her in tantalizing strokes ranging from barely there whispering to heavy handed groping. He grows drunkard on the way his gens escapes her part lip as her body arches into his mite. He 's damn certainly going to ingest his clock time. Going to think every arcminute. Going to have something to conduct with him when he goes back on the road.

His mouth follows his hands. Gentle flicks of his glossa. nybble not quite punishing enough to pull up stakes soft touch. buss and suckling from her rim to her lilliputian ankle. He torments her, making her delay until her plea become breathy.

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

Tight and Edward Douglas White Jr. 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 shank and driving cryptical, causing them both to moan.

He does n't unloose her bridge player. He could n't handle the supply sensation of her touch. This is new. Different. And, as he watches the way she grips the James Bond for leverage, he knows he 's not the only one enjoying it.

Flexing his abs and changing the Angle again, his fingerbreadth dig into her hips. He scrapes his lightly stubbled jaw against hers and breath catches in both of their throats.

They tumble into the abyss together, their consistency jerking together in a tangled mess as doyen tugs Jo free to feel the dig of her nails on his shoulders as she rides out the waves of her orgasm.

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

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

Dean startles awake to the feel of Jo 's easy lip teasing across his lower abdomen. He licks his rim at the delicious sensations she creates and moves to run his fingers through her haircloth only to find himself tethered to the headboard with the silk ties he 'd used on her in the first place in the evening.

Her tongue testing his teat before circling his tattoo, she hovers over him. devilment coloring her smile and eyes sparkling, she asks, `` You want me to stop, Deano ? ``

And overlook this moment ? Hell no. He shakes his head.

Delicate digit wrap around his peter and she tugs gently, earning a moan. She pumps him slowly and deliberately before straddling his hips and sinking onto him.

He watches her drive him, the conciliate rock of her breasts mesmerizing in the pale moonlight streaming through the bedroom window. He relishes seeing her return ascendency and letting her set the pace. It 's not often he gives in and gives himself over this way. It 's special. Different.

inclination down, Jo snares Dean 's mouth with her own. The modification in Angle - the supply stimulation to the sheaf of nerve nestled between her thighs - makes her shiver. `` Dean ... '' she keens.

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

She whimpers, her hands on his shoulder as she quickens her stride. The pattern of her undulating hip is slightly erratic and he leans up to catch her mouth. The grasp of her body around his makes him yank until he slips one of his wrists free.

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

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

They collapse together. Hearts pounding and breathing labored. For a change, 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, to a greater extent than satisfied and wondering how long he can hold back Jo from getting out of bed. `` Oh, yeah ... ''

Seven Minutes in heaven may form for the teenage set, but 60+ proceedings in the promised land of Jo Harvelle 's physical structure ? That would never be enough..