What do you want?
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I'm not making anything off 'em.
I was cleaning out my files and found this old challenge response from another group that I realized I never posted here, so here it is...
It had been a long time since Stephanie Plum had worked a distraction job, and she had a feeling this one would be her last. With Ranger being out of town for a few months now, she hadn't been called upon to slut it up for the cause of bringing some slime-ball to justice, so when she'd gotten Tank's call, she'd known he was desperate. Without hesitation, she'd agreed and gotten dressed in her finest slut-wear. Too-short black leather mini-skirt, black lace push-up bra under a long-sleeve white cotton shirt that was so tight and see-through it left very little to the imagination, and 4" black patent leather FMPs. Her hair was big and her make-up heavy, and the skip didn't stand a chance.
Or so she'd thought.
The takedown hadn't gone smoothly by any stretch of the imagination. The skip had caught onto her distraction techniques and pulled a knife before the guys could take him down. Stephanie hadn't been hurt, thanks to some quick-acting Merry Men, but she was shaken.
With the help of a couple tequila shots from Johnny, the bartender, Stephanie calmed herself down enough to make her way out to the parking lot where they guys were loading the skip into a truck. She noticed the creep's nose was bleeding heavily and looked a bit more crooked than it had a few minutes ago. Lester walked to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
"You okay, beautiful?"
She nodded and leaned into him, grateful for the friendly shoulder, "You'd think I'd be used to having my life threatened by now."
"You're a ballsy chick, Plum. Any other girl would be bawling her eyes out after having a knife to her throat."
She shrugged. "I knew you guys would take care of me. Speaking of which," she said, taking his hand in hers and examining his bloody knuckles a little bit more closely, "this have anything to do with the guy bleeding all over the back of Tank's truck right now?"
A mischievous grin spread across Lester's face. "Don't know what you're talking about."
She smiled back at him.
"Want me to give you a ride home, Steph?"
"No, I feel like going back inside and having another drink. Care to join me?"
He gave her a wink. "Now there's an offer I can't refuse," he said, taking her hand in his and leading her back into the noisy bar.
On the way in, she couldn't help but notice how good he looked in his black swat cargos and skin-tight t-shirt. His dark hair had recently been cut into short, mussed spikes leaving his neck completely exposed. There was something about that few inches of dark, Latino skin rising from the neckline of his shirt that made her want to sink her teeth into him. Was it just him, she wondered, or are all men's necks this sexy?
They got a table and Lester ordered a pitcher of beer. It didn't take long for them to reach the bottom as they chatted and flirted along the way. He was a sexy guy and she knew that flirting was second nature to him, but she was a little surprised that, after a few beers, she found herself giving it as good as she was taking it.
Not that flirting with Lester was a hardship.
He was hot. Plain and simple. Although, truly, there wasn't anything plain or simple about him. He had devastating good looks and a body to match. If tall, dark and handsome is your thing, Lester Santos is your man. And she was willing to bet underneath it all, the hottest Calvin Klein model had nothing on him.
It was clear that she wasn't the only one who noticed. All around her, girls were tripping over themselves, thrusting their silicone-enhanced breasts in his direction, and casually trying to lure his gaze, but despite their best efforts, he never took his eyes off of Stephanie. And she had to admit, she really liked being the center of his attention…even if she knew it was just for that night.
At some point during their second pitcher, they found themselves on the crowded dance floor, grinding their bodies against each other in beat with the music. He was a good dancer, she mused. But, she was learning the more she got to know him, he was good at a lot of things, so she wasn't really surprised. His hands held firmly onto her hips as their bodies maintained head to toe contact.
"You're causing a riot moving like that in that outfit, beautiful."
She flashed him a mischievous grin of her own. "Don't know what you're talking about," she said, repeating his words to him.
"Every guy in here looks like he wants to punch me in the face and take my place."
"And you love it."
He laughed, "As a matter of fact..."
He slid his knee between her legs and she had to hang onto him to steady herself. His muscular thigh caused her mini-skirt to ride up just slightly and the feel of him between her legs nearly caused an orgasm right there in the middle of the bar.
Without even thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers. As their lips touched, his hands slid around and grasped her ass, pulling her even more tightly against him. She opened her mouth to him and his tongue snaked out…tasting her…teasing her. Evidence of his arousal was pressed into her abdomen and she felt her panties dampen in response.
"Dammit, you're so fucking hot," he practically growled.
"Lester…," was all she managed back.
Unconcerned that they were putting on a show for everyone in the bar, they continued to grind against each other. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this turned on and at that moment, all she cared about was getting him naked.
Apparently, he had similar intentions. He kissed his way to her ear and spoke in a deep, lust-filled voice, "I'm taking you home now." Then he grasped her hand and led her towards the door, throwing a few bills down as they passed their table.
He didn't break stride until they reached his truck, and she had to practically jog to keep up with him. He spun her around so that she was facing him and pressed her up against the side of the truck. He studied her through hooded eyes before his mouth crashed down on hers.
She pulled the t-shirt from his cargos and slid her hands up his bare abdomen, feeling the warmth that radiated from his skin. The muscles beneath had been worked to perfection and they seemed to respond to her touch.
He pulled back and smoothed her hair away from her face. "Not here."
She nodded and climbed into the truck when he opened the door for her. They made the ride in silence, but her heart was pounding. It had been months since she'd had an orgasm with someone else in the room and if she hadn't been a teensy-weensy bit drunk, she probably would have been scared out of her mind that it was Lester who was going to break her dry spell. Lester had a reputation and let's just say, she hoped she could live up to his standards.
Good thing she wasn't entirely sober or she would be hitting the hills running.
They pulled into her parking lot and made their way up the stairs to her second floor apartment. He'd opened the door before she could finish fishing her keys out of her purse. As soon as they were inside, he pulled her to him and brought his lips crashing down on hers. God, he felt good, she thought. The fire that he'd ignited on the dance floor was back in full-force with one touch of his lips. He brought his hand up and caressed her breast through her shirt. He walked her backwards into her bedroom without breaking the kiss.
He pulled back long enough to peel her shirt over her head and then removed his own. She ran her hands over his smooth, muscular chest, lower over his ridged abdomen, and lower yet until she found his belt. She worked the leather strap through the clasp until it was free and then quickly undid the button and zipper on his pants.
His mouth left hers and made its way to her neck, "Are you sure you want to do this? You've had a lot to drink," he said with little conviction as he continued raining open mouthed kisses all over her neck.
She slid her hands inside the waistband of his pants and grasped his tight backside, smiling when she discovering there was nothing between him and his cargos. She eased his pants down his waist. "I'm not drunk. Just a little buzzed is all," she said as his cargos slid slowly to the floor, leaving him standing there in all his spectacular, aroused, glory. Calvin Klein, eat your heart out.
He drew her to him and continued kissing her neck as she let her head fall back giving him more room to work. The sensations his warm mouth were causing were reaching all the way to her core. "I just don't want you to do anything you'll regret in the morning," he said, his thick voice sending reverberations down her skin.
With a hand on each of his shoulders, she pushed him down to a sitting position on the bed. "No regrets. I'm sober enough to know what I'm doing and to know what I want."
He looked at her through darkened eyes and his mouth tilted into a wicked smile. "Tell me what you want."
She straddled his him on the bed and as she did, her mini skirt rose up past her hips so that the only thing separating them was the thin layer of silk from her panties, which were now soaking wet. She leaned in, her tongue tracing a path up his corded neck. She nipped at his ear before whispering, "I want you to fuck me."