Title: Dirty Little Secret
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with the WWE or any of it's wrestlers. I do not own any other wrestlers that I decide to use.
Author Note: This story was actually written a few years ago, but was in desperate need of a revamp. It may seem a little outdated (old wrestlers), but they were necessary to the story a couple years ago if that makes sense. Hope you enjoy.
Los Angeles, California
She knows exactly what she's doing. She's knows it's wrong, but for the first time in her life she doesn't care. She's spent so much time being alone, and now she'll take anything she can get. She knows for a fact that the man, lying next to her in bed, will never be hers. His heart belongs to another, but he still graces her bed occasionally. Some habits are hard to break. She wishes that saying no to him was easier, but her heart speaks louder than her head sometimes.
Tomorrow she'll wake up to find him gone, but for tonight he's still hers. Rolling onto her side, she looks at this man who's become such an important part of her life. She would like to believe that his ego and attitude to match would send her running from this man. However, it seems to only add to his appeal. His sex appeal.
SEX. Sex is definitely the best adjective to describe their relationship. Relationship, however, would not be a good word for what they have. He already has one of those. A girlfriend to be exact. A girl friend who he's about to return to in a little over an hour. Stacy Keibler. God how she hates even hearing that name. She's not stupid. There's no room to be jealous either. She knew what was going to happen going into this. An affair is exactly that, just an affair. They start and they end. Simple as that. But sometimes, like right now, she wonders…
They never talk about what they're doing. Most of the time they have together is spent horizontally. She smiles. They definitely work well in that position, which doesn't leave room for a lot of talking. Except for the occasional, "Fuck…" and "Oh God…right there", the room is usually filled with the sounds of panting and moaning.
She wonders how they can work so well in the bedroom, but can't seem to form coherent sentences when outside of it. The only conversations they've had are usually work related and include other superstars. Half of the time they pretend not to even notice the other. But sometimes, in the very early hours of the morning, he'll come to her. He never speaks.
He knocks only once and waits. She wishes that she could just pretend to not of heard it. It would make her life so much easier. But she knows that she won't. She'll open the door and look up into those blue eyes. All of her barriers come down. She steps back allowing him to enter, before letting the door swing closed behind him. It's dark and all she can hear is the sound of their breathing. She waits. Not sure whether tonight will be their last night. She finds herself, more recently, worrying that he's come to tell her that it's over. That it's not going to continue.
He relieves her fear, when he pulls her into his arms. He lowers his mouth to hers and takes possession with this kiss. Possession is the only way to describe his kiss. This man takes ownership of everything that he does. His lips only leave hers to remove his t-shirt and toss it aside. He kisses her again, and starts moving them back towards the bed. When she feels the back of her knees hit the bed, they both topple onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Their kiss turns frenzied as they struggle to remove each other's clothing. They can't get close enough to each other any faster. He rips her night gown over her head, ripping the strap in his rush.
It doesn't matter to her. She can only think about needing more skin. She craves the feel of his warm skin against her own. Her nipples tighten at the thought. He smiles and lowers his head to her breast. He sucks her right nipple into his mouth and nips gently, causing her to let out a low keening sound. Her head thrashes back and forth as he gives the same attention to her other nipple. Her skins feels hot and her pussy so wet. All she wants is for his mouth to never leave her body.
His head lowers as he trails kisses down her stomach, circling her belly botton with his tongue, before dipping down towards her sex. The first flick of his tongue on her clit sends her hips bucking off the bed. He pushes her hips back down and lowers his head back between her thighs.
"Ah…god…" Her moans fill the silent room. He reaches up to tweak one of her nipples which causes her to moan even louder. She can't control it. She feels it building inside. Her head is thrashing and her hips keep lifting. Just one more… He suddenly pulls back and slides up her body. Her disappointment is short when she feels him pressing against her sex. He's so hot and thick. It feels so good, she doesn't think it can get any better. He slips inside her, and she knows it can!
He sets a fast and rough pace allowing her to wrap her thighs around him. He's bucking wildly into her, but she can't seem to focus. It feels like nothing else in the world. It's building slowly inside of her, going from a low sizzle to full boiling point. She's about to come any minute when…
"Fuck…" He moans as his release comes right on the edge of hers. He falls atop her breathing heard. Neither of them speak. Their labored breaths the only sound in the small room. She's tempted to say so many things to him, but what is there to say? She knows she's just the woman he uses. Later, she'll find herself in the same position as she is now. He'll be fast asleep, holding her tight, but not speaking.
Tomorrow night will go just as it always does. She sighs reluctantly, and tries to hold back the tears begging to escape. Slowly, she rolls from his arms and sits up in bed. Reaching across to the floor she pulls his forgotten t-shirt over heard, and climbs from bed. She crosses the room, and slides open the sliding door to the balcony. As quietly as she can, she slides the door shut behind her. The city of LA lies brightly beneath her, and traffic is minimum. There are lights sprinkled across the city, but her mind is miles away. She curls up in a patio chair tucking her feet beneath her. She gazes out towards the horizon hoping against hope that the sun isn't beginning to rise. She doesn't even realize she is crying, until tears are streaming down her cheeks. Within minutes, the sliding door opens, and his husky voice drifts out onto the balcony.
"Trish...what are you doing out here?" Trish quickly wipes the tears from her cheeks, and forces a weak smile. 'Never let him see you cry.' She scolds herself mentally, before speaking.
"I couldn't sleep." She lies, and turns back to look at him. His hair is messy, and somewhere along the line, he must have pulled on boxers. He leans against the door frame, his arms crossed against his tanned chest. He doesn't look like he believe her words entirely, but nor does he want to press the issue.
"Come back to bed..." His lips whisper, but his eyes tell a different story. 'I'll make it worth your wile.' She has every intention of saying no, but those blue eyes were hard to turn down. She only nods her head, and allows him to carry her back to the bed.
The room is dark and quiet once again...no words. Just silence and breathing. He's fast asleep, and she's still right back where she started. Trish can feel his soft breathing against her neck, and the tears on her cheeks. She has him for now, he'll soon return to Stacy. For tonight she has him, but tomorrow she'll remain Randy Orton's Dirty Little Secret...