You Shook Me All Night Long
She spotted him at the end of the bar, swirling what looked like scotch. He was bedraggled and scruffy as ever. Not for the first time she wondered what his appeal was. So many women drooled and swooned over the guy but she just couldn't figure out why. Sure, he was relatively attractive… if you went for the dirty, grungy type. His hair was always a mess, his clothes usually hung half-hazardly on his lanky frame. It was rumored he didn't shower often or wash his mucky hair. As her eyes swept slowly over his hunched figure, she could believe that there was some truth to it.
Yet…there really was something about him…
"Bartender," she called in her soft, husky voice. When the bartender came over she instructed him to serve her 'friend' down at the end another of whatever drink he had in front of him.
She watched as the drink was placed in front of him, watched as the bartender gestured in her direction.
He looked up and his eyes locked with hers. They were barely visible under the brim of his baseball cap, another trademark of his, but from what she could see, they looked wary.
Probably wondering if I'm another crazy fan about to jump him, she thought. The thought made her chuckle and she turned back to her drink, breaking away from his gaze.
It was with surprise that she looked up to find him standing next to her a moment later, his drink in hand.
"Thanks," he said simply, sitting on the stool beside her.
She nodded, and then took a sip of her drink. "You're welcome, Mr. Pattinson."
"So you do know who I am," he said.
"I wondered for a moment when you didn't come over. Most fans don't keep their distance. They'd be more likely to bring the drink themselves… and offer themselves with it."
Her brows drew together sharply. "Who said I was a fan?" she asked dryly.
A look of confusion passed over his face. "Well, I thought…"
"Oh, I can imagine what you thought," she retorted, chuckling to herself.
A flush stole over his features and he had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry if I offended you…" he started.
She waved away his apology. "It's okay. I imagine it's hard to believe that there's someone out there who doesn't want you when you have all those crazy fan-girls chasing after you day and night."
He took out a cigarette, lit. He blew a long stream of smoke out in front of him, watching it curl as he answered. "It does get tiring sometimes. But it's part of the job so…I deal with it. Don't really have a choice."
She nodded, gesturing for the bartender to touch up her drink. She glanced at his. "Can I get you anything else…Rob?"
He looked over at her use of the familiar. "No, thanks." He waited until the bartender left before he continued. "You know my name but I have yet to hear yours."
She shrugged. "Names are hardly important. 'A rose by any other name is still a rose.'" She flashed him a cheeky smile.
He grinned. "Rose it is then."
They exchanged pointless banter for a while, the dark, understated atmosphere of the shabby bar affording them privacy. Eventually, 'Rose' decided that there'd been enough pleasantries and it was time to get down to business.
"So, can we move onto the next part of the evening now?"
His eyes widened momentarily before narrowing in suspicion. "I beg your pardon?"
"Cut the crap, Rob. There's no reason for a guy like you to come to a dump like this unless he's trying to escape. You've had your drink, your smoke, and more than enough mindless conversation. What better way is there to end the night than with some skin-on-skin? What better escape is there than fucking a stranger?"
He blustered at her blunt words even as she saw intrigue light his eyes. His eyes…they were one of the few things she could honestly say she liked about him. They were quite beautiful, striking even.
"If you think I'll expect sweet words and roses on the bedside table in the morning, you're sadly mistaken. I've got a plane to catch in," she paused to glance at her watch, "three hours so I'll probably be gone before you're awake."
He continued to stare at her in shock. He'd received all sorts of invitations, had been quite disturbed by most of them, but never had it been proposed in such a business-like fashion. Maybe it was her clipped tones or no-nonsense attitude but he found himself wanting to strip her of her cool façade as surely as he was about to strip her of the black cocktail dress she wore.
Throwing his head back, he downed the contents of his glass and stood. She rose and led the way out of the bar and up the steps to the second floor. Like the bar, the hallway left a lot to be desired. No doubt the room would too.
"How come you're staying in a place like this?" he asked as she stopped in front of a door and pulled out a key-card. He was surprised the place was updated enough to even have the technology for it. "You seem like a classy woman. I'm sure you're accustomed to more luxurious surroundings than this."
She walked into the room and stood beside the bed, throwing her purse on a nearby chair. It was a lot better than he would have thought. It looked clean, at least. It was simply furnished: a queen-sized bed, chair, bedside table with lamp, small closet, television and the adjoining bathroom.
She kicked off her shoes and reached behind to unzip her dress. "It's close enough to the airport without my having to hear every plane that lands or takes off. I wasn't really planning on sleeping, wasn't looking for company either. Just waiting for my flight." She hooked the straps on her fingers and tugged, letting it slither to the floor at her feet.
He gulped as his eyes traveled the length of her scantily clad body. She really didn't plan on wasting any time.
As if she heard his thoughts, she goaded, "Come on, Mr. Pattinson. You've got three hours to prove to me whether you deserve this studly reputation you seem to have."
His eyes tightened and his jaw clenched. He was at her side in two short strides, his hands gripping her waist as he pulled her roughly to him. He knew she was not the sort of woman to appreciate tenderness so he didn't even try. His lips were bruising as they crushed hers, his tongue forcing her lips apart as it plundered and conquered her mouth.
She didn't respond immediately, just held herself still as if to further incite him. But it wasn't long before her hands were gripping him, pulling and tugging at his clothes. She found herself being flung face down onto the bed. He was on top of her in an instant, tearing at her panties and bra. She could feel his skin against hers, feel his erection prodding her thighs even as he wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her to her knees.
Again, he was not gentle. He was not gentle when he drove himself deeply into her, filling her to the brim. He did not waiver when she cried out, her back arching from the suddenness of his thrust. He was not gentle when he bent her over 'til her face was pressed into the mattress, gripped the hands that supported her in his own and started pounding, his hard thighs slapping against softer ones. He didn't let up even as her breathing became labored, her back straining against the weight of his body on top of hers. He pressed his lips into the side of her neck and nibbled before whispering, "How am I doing so far?"
He heard her growl low in her throat but the sound cut off as he felt her tighten around him, then spasm after spasm seemed to tremble through her body. He gritted his teeth against the urge to explode, her orgasm threatening to spur his. No, he wasn't done with her yet. He'd make her eat her words.
Or so he thought…
No sooner had the words passed through his mind than she bucked him off with one backward shove of her ass. He had no idea where she got the energy from but she was a strong little monster. She glared at him and pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips.
"Bet you thought you had the upper-hand, didn't you?"
She gripped his wrists and pressed them back against the pillows. He could have resisted, of course, but he was curious. Suddenly he felt his hand being tied to a bar on the headboard. He jerked his head up to see a scarf being secured around his wrist. He swung his surprised gaze back to her triumphant one.
"Where the hell did that come from? I thought you said you weren't expecting company?"
She smirked as she reached behind him and pulled another scarf out from under the pillow to tie his other wrist. "I didn't but it never hurts to be prepared."
For a moment fear clogged his throat. What had he gotten himself into? She'd seemed genuine when she said she wasn't a fan but heaven knew some people were natural born liars.
She caught the fear in his eyes and grinned, a feral expression on her small face. She looked like the cat that ate the canary…or was about to.
She shifted, reached down and gripped his hardness as she lowered herself onto him. Her eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile on her lips. She moved slowly at first, seemingly lost in her own world. He looked at her, which was all he could do, taking in the flush that spread across her pale skin. Her teeth bit down on her bottom lip as one hand reached up and caressed a breast. When he saw her tweak one taut nipple, his hips bucked involuntarily, his hands pulling against the ties that bound him.
She had completely turned the tables on him. He ached to touch her, to put his mouth where her finger tugged at her unresisting flesh. When her other hand came up to caress her free breast, he closed his eyes and imagined it was him. His hips rose to meet her downward movements as she rode him, their quickened breaths loud in the quiet room.
Suddenly, he felt her hands on his chest. His eyes flew open when he felt her pinch first one nipple, then the other. Her eyes caught and held his as she grazed the flat discs with the sharp points of her nails. He winced but that only served to urge her on. She held the little points between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed while simultaneously increasing her rhythm, grinding her hips into his in deep, exaggerated movements. It wasn't long before his head was twisting against the pillows, fighting against the explosion that he knew was inevitable.
Again, she seemed to be reading his mind because she lifted off until he was almost completely released from her body then sank back down, squeezing her muscles as she did so. He couldn't hold it off any longer. His hips thrust upward and a fierce moan tore from his throat as he peaked. She was seconds behind him, riding him as she rode the waves of her own climax.
When it was over, she collapsed on top of him. She didn't have the strength to reach up and untie him, didn't even have the energy to roll off, so she just lay there. Eventually, their ragged breathing eased and she was finally able to speak.
"Okay…maybe you do deserve your reputation."
He laughed, feeling a lightness in his heart that he hadn't felt in a long time. "Glad you approve."
Midday sunlight was streaming through the windows when he finally opened his eyes. He instantly knew that he was alone, couldn't feel any heat in the bed beside him. He marveled at the fact that she was able to even move after the night they had shared: the many things they had done and the many ways in which they did it.
The room was still and quiet with the exception of the television droning on in the background. He couldn't remember it being on the night before. She had probably turned it on when she was getting dressed and had forgotten to turn it off. Something the reporter was saying caught his attention and he rose up on his elbow to look at it, at the same time reaching for the remote on the bedside table to turn up the volume.
"Spotted: Kristen Stewart arriving at L.A.X early this morning to catch a flight to New York. As seen in the photo, Kristen wore an AC/DC tee, completed with customary side-knot, jeans and Converse. Her only accessory: the worn, blue baseball cap suspected to have been worn previously by rumored love, Robert Pattinson. Pattinson has been seen wearing a similar, if not identical, cap several times, but so has Stewart. It's curious that they have never been seen wearing a hat at the same time."
"Perhaps they're playing their own little version of 'tag'," another reporter joked.
"Is it in fact the same cap?" the first reporter asked. "You decide." Two pictures appeared side-by-side of him and Kristen wearing what seemed to be the same blue cap.
Chuckling, he rolled onto his stomach and closed his eyes. "I guess I'm 'it'."