Cowgirl Casanova
Pairing:Dean Winchester x F!Bartender!Reader
Tags/Warnings: Smut, PiV, Oral (F. and M. rec), make-shift blindfold—so, sensory deprivation?, Switch!Dean being a munch, cum eating, pain kink if you squint, overstimulation, marking/hickies, unprotected sex with a stranger, alcohol consumption, both parties are intoxicated but not incoherent, reader has blue eyes but no other descriptors, no use of y/n, reader is on the Nexplanon, implied early seasons, but could potentially be read at any point in canon, twist ending??
Summary:After a successful hunt, Dean finds himself at a local dive bar where he meets the enigmatic bartender, but is she more trouble than she's worth?
Word Count: 6k (oops)
Author's Note: Title and fic inspired by Cowboy Casanova by Carrie Underwood
So this is filthy.... Read at your own risk lol. I got a little freaked out with this one.
This fulfills "Do you trust me?" "No." "Smart man." prompt from @jacklesversebingo '24
Dividers: Line Divider 1 by @olenvasynyt Line Divider 2 by @omi-resources SPN Divider by @talesmaniac89
Tag List: @zepskies @copperboom82
Cold Beer, Hot Food
The neon letters had pulled Dean into the dive bar like a moth to flame. He was in another little no-name town in the middle of Wyoming after a hunt and a cold beer and a meal that was not of gas station origin was calling his name.
He and Sam had ganked the shifter, who’d stolen the identity of the town’s pastor and was using that position to kill the parishioners, before returning to their respective motel rooms. It was a small place and the rooms were charged to a credit card under the fake name Jake Albrecht, so upon arrival they’d agreed on separate rooms.
“I don’t wanna come back from a food run to see you pile driving some girl you picked up.” Sam had scowled at Dean while they waited for the clerk to retrieve their keys.
“Don’t be jealous, Sammy.” Dean had simply grinned, patting his younger brother’s arm condescendingly.
“Not jealous.” Sam had grumbled, swatting Dean’s hand away from him. “And it's Sam.”
A shower and a change of clothes later, Dean went on the search for sustenance, which is how he ended up here, taking those neon lights’ invitation.
Raucous laughter and conversation backed by classic country welcomed him into the building. Immediately he was glad he had forgone the leather jacket, sticking to just the flannel over his tee and a pair of jeans. It wasn’t stifling, but the amount of people in the smaller space definitely made it a little toasty.
Eyeing the food on booth tables and high tops, Dean made his way into the throng of patrons all the while deciding what sounded better: A cheese burger, or a plate of loaded nachos. It really wasn’t a question, but as his eyes wandered further into the bar, his eyes landed on a third option.
A woman was leaning against the juke box system set up near the bar. The lights outlining the machine glanced off the gloss of her hair and the silver of a necklace. His eyes tracked the denim of her bootcut jeans up her legs to where they sat snug against her backside. A flash of skin across her lower back was the break before the cropped tank took over to stretch across her abdomen.
Her blue eyes flashed as she looked around towards the back of the kitchen before returning to the machine.
His feet were moving before he realized he was walking again. Dodging waitresses with large trays of food and groups of biker-types, Dean approached the machine and the woman assessing the options.
“Need change?” Dean drawled coming to a stop on the other side of the juke box system.
Logically, Dean knew he was clothed. He’d dressed himself before coming here after his shower. But he felt next to naked under the sheer intensity of her gaze. Eyes dragging up his form before, almost reluctantly, settling to meet his eyes.
Her mouth twisted upwards. “Nah, just deciding who I’m in the mood for.”
“You mean what.” Dean returned her crooked grin, sidling closer. “What you’re in the mood for?”
“That too.” She shrugged nonchalantly, eyes dipping down to his mouth as he moved closer.
She didn’t move away, just turned back to the machine. With a few clicks of the raised buttons on the console, the machine whirred lowly, cueing up her selection.
Faintly, he recognized Woman by Def Leppard—her choice. But Dean was too busy taking the opportunity to better drink her in now that he was up close and personal. The way her features, separately works of art, put together to create someone so alluring he thought only existed in his head. But here she stood, all his fantasies given flesh and blood.
Maybe Sam had a good point getting the separate rooms.
It was a pull low in his abdomen when she turned her attention back to him. “When you’re done gawking, can I get you a drink?”
With enough sense to at least pretend sheepish, he ducked his head. Mostly, though, it was to hide the roguish grin he was incapable of suppressing.
This was a new playing field. Sure, his usual hook up’s flirted back. It wouldn’t be fun if they didn’t. But fuck, she was coming on nearly as strong as he was. The chase was fun and all, but he liked when they stood still too. Looked him dead on and gave him a run for his money for a change.
“Shouldn’t I be buying you a drink?” He hooked a thumb into the belt loop of his jeans, keeping the hand occupied lest he reach out and pull her in by one of hers. This was a marathon, not a sprint, he reminded himself.
“Mmm. That’s a little outdated, don’t you think?” She breezed past him. Shamelessly, he breathed deeply through his nose. Fuck she even smelled good. “Besides, my rule is the pretty one never pays.”
Now that brought heat to his cheeks. All he could do is blink after her. Sure, he knew he was good looking, and had been told as much most of his life. Handsome, gorgeous, hot, sexy. You name it, he’d probably had it said to him.
But pretty? That was new.
The kicker? He didn’t hate it.
Nope. Definitely did not hate it. Not as it rattled around in his head, and with every ricochet, the front of his jeans got that much tighter. He definitely didn’t consider himself ‘pretty’, but he’d rather die than admit he wanted to hear her call him it again.
Taking a second to recalibrate, Dean shook his head slightly, huffing a laugh to himself. Jesus Christ, I’ve fuckin’ lost it.
The juke box system was strategically placed within eyeshot of the bar. Probably to keep the patrons from fucking around with it, Dean thought to himself. It wasn’t that hard to jimmy open the slot where the coins paid for a song.
Not that he had any experience with that.
Dean did have to fight a little to follow her through the crowd in that small space. They parted easily for her, but close just as quickly in her wake. But slipping past a couple, finally did they arrive at the bar. But instead of aiming for the few, temporarily, open stools, she breezed to the bar.
“You work here?” His eyebrows rose a little as she slid behind the bar, the other servers and bartenders, not paying her any mind.
“Only on days that end in ‘Y’.” She ducked down to a small fridge under the bar, popping back up with a bottle of beer. With a swift motion, she popped the top off and slid it across the wood surface between them.
He tilted the bottle towards her before taking a long drink. The cold glass bit into his hand, but he welcomed it. It was a little hop-y, but he wasn’t one to complain. Beer was beer, especially when it gave him something to focus on besides the low cut top she was wearing.
“Don’t suppose I can get you to accept a drink?” Dean rested a hand on his pocket where his wallet left an outline in the denim.
Turning back to look at the clock hung high up on the wall, she tilted her head side to side in contemplation. “Got another half hour on my shift and then I’ll let you get me a drink.”
“And after?”
Her lips parted and a look flashing across her eyes Dean couldn’t quite put a name to. Not too far off from the way the women he’d picked up countless times before looked at him.
“We’ll see.”
Patience had never truly been Dean’s virtue; not as a kid, and certainly not now. His leg bobbed up and down from where the shallow heel of his boot was hooked onto the rung of the barstool, fingers tapping the glass in time with the music. And as much as he tried, his eyes kept straying to the clock, watching the small hands tick, tick, tick, closer to the top of the hour.
When he wasn’t checking the time, he was kept mesmerized by the way she moved behind the bar. It seemed like each time a patron needed something, she was there. She answered each request with a saccharine smile and a smart quip. Not once did she turn and twist into another of the bartenders' way, all of them moving in sync.
At last, the longest hand ticked up straight like a spire and on the dot, she disappeared back into the kitchen. One of the other waitresses had just replenished the Jack and Coke—his second since switching from the bottle of beer—when the warmth of her body slid up next to him.
“I’ll take that drink now.”
“Say no more.” Dean caught the attention of one of the other bartenders before turning to her. “What’s your poison?”
She rattles off her order to the bartender as they come up. Her eyes are on the man, watching him make her drink, while Dean’s eyes are on her. They’re on the way her nails tap in a wave rhythm against the bar, on the way she shifts so fluidly to take the drink, on the way the glass rests against her lips.
That last part was the most distracting. His mind too easily conjured images of her lips doing other things. How they’d feel against his skin, against his cock. Just that thought had it twitching in his jeans.
Too hot. The room was definitely too hot now. Her body all but pressed up against his, the alcohol burning that warmth through his system. The ice in the glass helped, but barely scratched the surface. Not when the source of that heat dragged a hand down his arm.
“So do I get to know your name or do I get to call you pretty boy all night?”
For the second time in the last hour, the tips of his ears burned. Recovering quicker this time, Dean quipped back.
“You can call me whatever you want, sweetheart. But most people just call me Dean.”
His eyes were once again drawn to the way her teeth dug into the plush of her lower lip before she spoke. “I think I like pretty boy better.” She leaned in until her lips ghosted the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “Although I think Dean is pretty moanable too.”
Dean couldn’t get the money from his wallet out fast enough. He slapped bills on the bar that totalled way more than the two drinks but he didn’t care. Nor did he care about the half drunk drinks they left behind.
The trip back to the motel room was a lust and alcohol induced blur. The rumble of Baby, her lips attaching to his neck, his hand that had gripped tightly to her knee. He damn near ran the only stoplight in town when she had reached over, cupping his semi-hard cock through his jeans.
Fumbling the keys from his pocket, he managed to get the door open. They were barely through the threshold before she grabbed the lapels of his flannel, yanking him down to her. Teeth clacked, her tongue swept harshly into his mouth.
Dean grunted into the kiss, kicking the door shut maybe just a bit too roughly. He drank in her taste, the feel of her tongue on his. Guiding her back with hands gripping into her jeans, he walked her back until she was caged between him and the door. The blunts of his finger tips groped and kneaded the softness of her hips, her waist, sliding under the hem of her tank top.
She was every dirty thing he had been thinking, imagining, and more. The soft sounds she made between the motions of their mouths, the roll of her hips towards him, the alcohol on her lips and tongue.
Her fingers were electric as they spanned across his chest, his abdomen. With her hands prompting, Dean shrugged out of his flannel, breaking away from her temporarily as he chucked it somewhere behind him.
When he ducked back in, he left a sloppy kiss to her lips, stopping to press open mouthed ones along her cheek, her jaw until he ended at the juncture of where it met her neck just under her ear. The resulting whimper that pulled from her was a prize hard-won.
“Like that?” He said into her neck, letting his teeth graze over it again.
“Fuck yes.” Her voice breathy, hands finding their way under his t-shirt now.
With that encouragement, he sucked and nibbled at the skin there. She squirmed beneath him and Dean did it again incrementally lower and lower until he was to her collar bones. This time he let his teeth close a little harsher over the delicate skin there. But she didn’t object, only a low moan dripped from her mouth and the sting of her nails against his abs.
“Bed. Now.” She panted, pushing at him.
“Jump.” He grunted into her skin, hands shifting downward to grip her backside.
Using his shoulders as leverage, she hopped up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He carried her with ease toward the bed, all the while placing more open mouthed kisses along the soft column of her neck.
Once he had deposited her at the head of the bed, he knelt at the foot. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he whipped it over his head, throwing it to the same unknown space his flannel had ended up.
“Like the view?” He arched an eyebrow at her when he noticed her gaze raking up his bare torso.
“Strong and pretty. Knew I chose right.” She answered, her hands roaming her body tantalizingly.
Toeing his boots off, the shoes dropping to the carpeted floor with muted thuds, he leaned forward. “Could say the same about you, baby.”
He took hold of her ankles, pulling her further down the bed, reveling at the chirp of surprise she let escape. Her boots were easy to remove—nicely crafted Ariat’s, the leather soft from care. He deposited them to the side along with her socks. Above him, her nimble fingers had already freed the buttons of her jeans.
Hands sliding up her thighs, Dean took hold of the waistband and gave them a tug. “I don’t know how you get these damn things on. Lookin’ like they’re painted on.” He murmured into the softness of her belly above the waistband.
With her assisting shimmying, he worked them down her legs, the denim rolling over itself until they were in a heap on the floor as well.
The insides of her thighs were soft against his lips as he mouthed his way back up her body until he reached the apex of her thighs where black cotton panties left little to the imagination and even less in regards to a barrier to where he wanted his mouth to be.
Her fingers found their way into his hair and he looked up grinning from his vantage point. “Still want this?”
“Fuck yes.” She breathed, pupils blown wide, her other hand palming her breast through her tank and bra. “So pretty down there, baby.”
Lowering himself so he laid prone on the bed, Dean tugged the last scrap of fabric away before tucking his arms under her thighs. Bracketing a strong arm across her hips, he licked a teasing line along the inside of her thigh where his mouth had just been not seconds before.
“Fucking gorgeous.” The words came out muffled as he spoke them into the plush of her thigh.
A tug on his hair reminded him that as much as he admired, he was here to eat. And eat he did.
The first brush of his mouth against her puffy clit had her hips jumping. His tongue swirled around the bud before his lips closed around it, sucking harshly. The taste of her was heavy on his tongue as he licked a wide line up the center of her pussy.
He wasn’t gentle, and she didn’t say anything in opposition to the aggressive way his tongue moved across her sex; he kept his ears perked, felt and watched her body for any sign he needed to let up. But it never came, only her hand in his hair keeping his face right where it was at. That was the only confirmation he needed.
The first whimper came when his free hand came up and he eased his calloused index finger inside her. His name on her lips was more sin than prayer when he curled it upwards as he rocked it in and out, probing for that spot. Lips closing around her clit once again, he added a second finger, working it in and out until she accommodated it.
This time she did moan. It was a breathy, beautiful sound that had his cock hardening further, straining against the zipper of his jeans through the confines of his boxers. Every little sound sending zings of arousal through his veins directly to it.
Pornographically wet sounds came from his fingers as they pistoned in and out of her pussy. Between that and the soft moans he was pulling from her, Dean couldn’t help but grind his hips into the bed, seeking relief for the now painful hard on he had tucked away.
“Think you can handle a third?” Dean pulled away from her clit just enough to ask.
“Fuck- please!” She whimpered, hips grinding against his hand. Well, as much as they could with his other arm keeping her well in place on the bed.
Her clit was back in his mouth as soon as he got confirmation. Her hips twitched against his grip as his teeth grazed the bundle of nerves. In time with his teasing, his ring finger slipped inside her alongside his ring and forefinger. It was a tight fit, but it was nothing compared to how tight he knew she would feel around him, though.
With each rock of his digits in and out, his hips kept time on the bed with need, his own arousal building low in his belly. It took the edge off, but with her moaning like that, the way her nails scraped against his scalp, it wasn’t anywhere near enough.
“So tight around my fingers, baby.” He mumbled into her pussy, sloppily kissing it.
His fingers slowed their pace to allow her to adjust to the stretch, pulling them out to the tips before sliding home to the last knuckle and back. Again and again he plunged them in and out of her, keeping the rhythm slow, but each thrust became more and more rough until her inner walls started to tighten around his fingers.
“Thats it, Sweetheart.” He coaxed, his tongue sliding over her pulsating clit, squeezing her thigh encouragingly.
Her belly rose and fell rapidly just above his head as she got closer and closer to that edge until it became too much. Her thighs shook on either side of his head, fingers tightening in his hair until it was almost painful. A keeping moan from her mouth shot straight to his cock, which nearly caused him to tumble over prematurely.
Dean kept his pace, working her through the high. Her body shook in waves until she was still, using her hand in his hair to push him away, whimpering that it was too much. He had half a mind to stay down there, not able to get enough of the way her taste had now coated the inside of his mouth. Her arousal coated his chin, and when he pulled his fingers from her, they soaked the length of them.
Dean knew she was watching, bringing his eyes to hers already on him as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean.
“Get up here.” She demanded breathlessly, and he was more than happy to comply, though he was in no rush.
He took his sweet time, leaving a hot trail of open mouthed kisses up her soft belly, hiking her tank top as he went until she arched her back, taking over to rid herself of it. He used that delicious arch to sneak his hands under her, undoing the last bit of clothing that still clung to her. Her bra joined the rest of the discarded items shortly thereafter.
Intending to take a pit stop at her breasts, Dean left a kiss in the hollow between them, but she had other ideas.
Dean knew her legs were strong, knew she was strong, having felt the corded muscle under the softness. But it still caught him by surprise when she hooked a leg around his, flipping them so he was under her. A surprised laugh puffed out of him as she straddled his thighs.
“My turn.” Her hands found his belt, making quick work of it.
Hands fisted in the sheets, he lifted his hips just enough to allow her to tug his jeans and boxers down in one movement. His very hard cock sprung free, slapping against his stomach. The tip of it was flushed, already covered in a sheen of his precum.
“I knew it’d be pretty too.” She murmured as she shifted further down his now bare legs. “Pretty boys also have pretty cock’s.”
There it was again, that word that had his blush spreading down to his neck. And it had nothing to do with the zing of pleasure that resulted from her hand wrapping around the base of him. Pretty, pretty, pretty. The more she said it, the more he thought he liked it.
A low groan was pulled from him as he watched her lean forward, a large glob of spit leaving her lips before plopping down into the head of his cock. Head falling back against the pillows, he gave up trying to watch as her hand slid up his shaft, gathering her spit and smearing it along his length.
Fuck, if this is how good her hand feels… Dean didn’t get to finish that thought before her mouth chased her hand, lips wrapping around the head. A strangled moan resonated through his chest as her cheeks hollowed around the tip of him. It took everything to not reach out and grasp her hair and buck his hips into her mouth. Instead, he gently gathered her hair, keeping it from her face, keeping his grasp loose. She let out an appreciative moan, the high pitched sound sending vibrations full the way down to his balls.
Her tongue laved up the underside of him, fully coating him in her spit and his precum. But when she slowly started to take more and more of him into her mouth, tongue cupping the shaft, he had to bite into his lower lip to keep from thrusting upwards.
It did nothing to stop the sounds that left him, though. Moans and grunts as she settled into a comfortable rhythm, pulling off until only the tip was left in her mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head before he was fully encased by her hollowed cheeks once more. Whatever didn’t fit into her hot mouth, she used a hand to compensate, twisting and moving up and down in sync.
That coil was already taut low in his belly just from hearing her moan and feeling her writhe under his mouth, so it didn’t take long before he was on that edge.
“Baby. I’m close.” He said, voice strained.
The warning changed nothing about her behavior, if anything it spurred her on. He couldn’t resist the shallowest of movements of his hips as each time she took him into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat shoved him that much closer.
He moaned a warning, trying to pull her off, but she gripped his hip, shoving her head down as far as she could as Dean came in hot spurts down her throat. His body shook, ab muscles contracting and easing over and over until the feeling subsided and he relaxed fully against the bed.
“Holy shit.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair which was slightly damp with sweat. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” She pulled off his cock, swiping a thumb across her lower lip to gather what little of his spend had escaped, rubbing it against her index finger. “So pretty I couldn’t resist.”
He tipped his head back once again, eyes on the ceiling as he took a moment. Curiously, he felt the bed shift followed by the rustle of fabric. Looking back up as she crawled up his body once more, settling her soaking wet pussy over his cock, he saw his discarded t-shirt in her hands.
“Do you trust me?” She asked, and it was so innocent he had a hard time responding as she held up his shirt she’d plucked from the ground.
“No.” He said, a little strangled as her pussy ground along his already sensitive cock, but he leaned his head forward anyway.
“Smart man.” She chuckled, placing the shirt over his eyes, tying it at the base of his neck.
He wasn’t a stranger to the kinkier side of things, but rarely was he on this side of things. It was odd, but not unwelcome. I guess this whole thing is finding out the things I like. Who’da thunk it?
But the fact that Dean could no longer see anything quickly became a non issue as he felt her lift off his lap, adjusting so her knees were on either side of his hips. Using a vague idea of where she was, his hands found her thighs, the blunts of his fingers denting the plush.
“Wait.” He broke through his lust filled haze enough to be logical. “I’ve got a rubber in my wallet. It’s on the table by my keys.”
“Already got you covered.” She assured him, grabbing his wrist. He could feel her lifting it up to what he felt to be her bicep. Against his fingers, just underneath the skin he could feel a small piece of plastic. “Nexplanon. And I’m clean if you are.”
“Got tested a few weeks ago. Haven’t been with anyone since.” He assured her, thinking back to the free clinic he’d run to while Sam was doing some lore research.
With that out of the way, his hands found their way back to her hips, giving the green light to continue on with whatever she had been about to do.
Her lips found his and he could taste himself on her tongue as she slowly lowered herself onto his cock. Dean’s eyes fluttered, rolling up a little as her hot pussy slid down, down, down, until the backs of her trembling thighs came flush against the tops of his. His cock twitched inside her, like it was excited to finally have her around him.
She felt amazing. He’d just cum but Dean could have sworn he could have again. The warmth of her palms smoothed across his chest, the sting of her nails chasing it. Both of them just sat there breathing with lips millimeters apart until she started to move. Half raising and lowering herself, half grinding her hips down on him. She pressed herself against him, and Dean could feel her nipples and the swell of her breasts against his chest.
“Fuck.” She whimpered right in Dean’s ear as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, teeth grazing the junction.
“You can say that again.” He grunted, grabbing onto her hips with fervor.
The grip was supposed to assist her movements, but as she found her proverbial footing, Dean was just holding on tight for the ride. He knew his grip was bruising, but from the way her breaths were tinged with whimpers and the lack of objection, she was enjoying it.
As her confidence grew, she pistoned her hips in an increasing speed, which only made it that much better. Dean kissed her bare, sweat lined skin sloppily, sucking more marks onto her.
“I wanna see you. Can I?” He whimpered as he bucked his hips up to meet her movements.
He felt her shake her head into the crook of his neck. “Not yet. In a minute.”
Groaning, he wanted to object but had the sense not to. Not as she started to tighten around his cock, up and down movements switching back to grinding against him. Abandoning one hand from her hip, he slipped it into the small space between their sweat-slick bodies to find her clit, making small circles around the bud before gradually spiraling to make direct contact and then back out again.
It didn’t take much longer after that for her to whimper his name, before he felt her teeth dig into the muscle of his shoulder as she came with a loud moan. Fuck. Her pussy clamped down so hard around him Dean was sure he saw stars for a second. Her entire body shuddered in his arms, her grinding becoming inconsistent until it stopped all together.
The blindfold was tugged from around his head and Dean blinked. She pulled back from his shoulder, her mouth finding his once more.
His arm snaked around her waist, easily flipping them without breaking the kiss or pulling himself from where he was still fully seated inside her. More or less given free reign back, he nipped at her bottom lip once before pulling away much to her disappointment.
Her mouth dropped open as if to object when he pulled his cock from her, but her readying protests were quickly cut off as he took hold of her hips, lifting her with little effort and putting her on her stomach.
“Such a view.” Dean muttered as he leaned forward to grab a pillow to shove under her hips, putting them at the right angle. A finger traced her lower back, circling the twin divots on either side of her spine.
She looked back at him over her shoulder and Dean had to suppress a moan at the look in her eyes. “Are you gonna do something about it or just keep staring?” Her taunt was emphasized by a wiggle of her ass in his direction.
He pressed a kiss to the base of her spine, peppering them up as he draped himself over her back. A forearm braced by her head he guided himself back inside her. This angle had him hitting different spots inside her as he began rocking his hips at a steady pace.
The sound of skin slapping joined their combined breathy moans and grunts as his hips increased their rhythm. He couldn’t get enough of the way she felt around him, so wet and warm.
“Takin’ me so well, baby.” Dean whispered to her as he kissed the spot behind her ear.
Her hips ground back against him, but also against the pillow he’d so strategically placed in a spot where it created friction against her clit. “Fucking me even better, pretty boy.”
Dean groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he fucked her just a bit harder. The pace stayed the same, but each time he drove his hips home, they came in that much harder. Each time he bottomed out, it pulled little whimpers and moans from her kiss-swollen lips, and each one was a click in the gear that was tightening that familiar coil in his belly.
“Gonna cum for me again, Sweetheart?” he grunted into her ear, feeling her start to shake beneath him once more.
“Uh huh. Keep fucking me like that.” She pleaded, turning her head to kiss him, tongue bullying its way into his mouth.
Dean gathered her hair in his hand, tugging on it slightly as he felt her walls start to flutter. With a moan mostly swallowed by him, she came again, grinding her clit into the pillow below them. He wasn’t very far behind her, with the way she tightened around him, the way she moaned his name into his mouth.
Hips stuttering their pace, his climax rocked through him. He gave a good few thrusts as he felt himself spill hot into her, waiting until it stopped before pulling his quickly softening cock from her.
“Where are you-” She said, words slightly slurred as she came down from her high when Dean pulled away and shifted down the bed, his hands squeezing the backs of her legs on his way.
Her words were quickly cut off by a high pitched moan as his tongue lapped up his cum that had started to leak out of her. His hands latched onto the swell of her ass as she tried to squirm away from his tongue assaulting her core.
“Can you handle one more, baby?” His voice reverberated through her as he used his index and middle finger to scoop out his spend, curling them down to brush against the spot within her. “I think you can.”
The babbling that was mostly muffled by the pillow she’d buried her face into was incoherent as he eased his fingers in and out of her. His tongue found her clit, kissing it once before suckling on it. Her moans became more and more desperate as he coaxed another orgasm from her body. Once he’d worked her through the high, he pulled his fingers from her pussy, licking a mix of her arousal and his cum from them when he was done.
Feeling the effects of exhaustion, Dean climbed up the bed to lay beside her. She barely moved when he pulled the pillow from under her, tossing it to the ground. She let him wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her to him as they laid in the bed, easing into the comfortable silence. As he drifted off, Dean tried to concoct an excuse he’d give her in the morning—why he had to leave, no he wouldn’t be back, it was him, not her—but before he could get very far, sleep washed over him.
Consciousness came slow the next morning. He was vaguely aware that he was sprawled out on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow. Breathing a deep sigh, Dean blinked his eyes open sleepily. The dingy curtains looked even worse in the warm morning glow and did next to nothing to hinder the rays from shining into the room.
He smiled to himself as he recalled last night's activities. On instinct, he reached out to feel her body next to him. But confusion furrowed his brows as his hand met sheets. He popped his head up, and sure enough, the covers were pulled back and the woman was no longer in the bed.
Groaning, he checked his watch. It was way earlier than he expected her to be gone. As he got up to check and see if she was just in the bathroom, he noticed her clothes were gone from where they’d been haphazardly strewn across the room.
His heart dropped to his stomach, frantically starting to pull clothes on when he noticed his wallet and his keys missing from where he knew he put them last night.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He muttered, each expletive getting louder and louder as he fumbled getting his boots tied.
He was sure he awoke every person in the motel with a single utterance of the word ‘fuck’ when he barged outside to find Baby gone.
It was a different walk of shame as he rushed back to the bar from the night before. He burst in the door, the few day drinkers already belly up at the bar giving him dirty looks. Dean spotted one of the bartenders that was on shift the night before. It was odd, seeing a bar in the daytime.
“Hey, the woman that I went home with last night, she come in yet?” He asked, the last vestiges of hope burning lowly like a dying ember.
The man gave him an inquisitive look. “She quit last night. Sorry man.”
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