A/N: You're in for a wild ride: five chapters, four days. My muse went a little crazy - guess she didn't like being told I write too much smut? - but a bunch of my ideas have been a little nutty recently. Okay, a lot nutty...you just haven't seen them. Yet.
This one stemmed from conversations had with three of my favorite Twitter pals - JerkWinchester, BlondeHarvelle and ISwearInItalian - and they all contributed little things they may or may not have realized to the process.
I've been under the weather most of the week and my lovely beta, stephaniew, has been slammed at work. This is self-betaed. All mistakes are mine...and I'll be happy to fix anything glaring.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural...but I couldn't resist giving our favorite bad boy a birthday gift.
Chapter One: Man Eater
January 24, 2007
He stares at the amber liquid in the tumbler in front of him as if it holds the answers to all of life's questions. Of course it doesn't and he knows it, but he's desperate to avoid the two sets of female eyes boring into his soul.
If you know Dean Winchester at all, you read that last line and stopped to think, "Wait...what?" Dean loves the ladies and, hell, the more the merrier and the better his chances, right? Normally. But not tonight.
Tonight's answer is less expected than you would think: he's intimidated. Dean himself would tell you everybody gets intimidated sometimes, but this time it's not by the person you're guessing. Nope. Ellen Harvelle "went out for pretzels" almost 20 minutes ago.
You weren't expecting that, were you? You did get one thing right, though: one of those sets of eyes belongs to a pissed off Joanna Beth Harvelle. And Jo's got every right to be irritated. She's behind the bar, slinging shots of whiskey and tequila, while another woman flirts with her man.
They may not be committed and there may be a silent understanding that what he does when they aren't together is his own business, but this? This is her place. And she'll be dammed if he'll pick up other women right in front of her.
A tall brunette in a tight, red dress exposing entirely too much cleavage has been sending Dean drinks and smiling at him all night. The one he holds in his hand now is one she sloshed over a cocktail napkin in her fury over his smile of thanks.
When "Red" makes a show of crossing and uncrossing her legs, no doubt trying to give Dean a glimpse of her panties, Jo snaps. Turning on her heel, she unties her apron and thrusts it into Ash's grip. "Keep an eye on things, Dr. Badass," she instructs, rounding the bar. "No free drinks or Mom'll kick both our asses!"
Her friend does little more than grin as he watches Jo approach Dean, arriving seconds before the brunette can reach him. Jo takes his hand and pulls him from the stool, leading him toward the door. Catching the other woman's disappointment, she smirks softly before pushing through the front door.
"What was that?" Dean utters with a raised eyebrow.
Rather than answering, Jo grabs the collar of his signature leather jacket and tugs his mouth down to hers in a searing kiss. Her tongue whips against his and she whimpers as his arms surround her. Shifting gears she sucks on his lower lip, tugging it gently with her teeth before popping it loose. She kisses along his jawline and nibbles at his earlobe teasingly.
Making a path down his neck, she opens her eyes and notices Red standing at the window with her nose all but pressed to the glass. Unsure of what's come over her, Jo decides to give the woman a show. It's daring and unlike her, but she's fired up and feels the need to prove herself and her point.
Dean's legs quiver beneath him as Jo steps away. He licks his lips and watches as she takes his calloused hand in her own and crooks her finger at him. She backs slowly toward the Impala and he can't take his eyes off the way she pins her kiss-swollen lower lip beneath her teeth.
Releasing him, Jo sits on the hood of his car. Leaning back, she bites the tip of her finger and he catches a flicker of naked hunger in her eyes. It draws him in and he nestles himself between her knees, causing her denim skirt to ride up slightly.
Hand fisting in the silk of her ponytail, he angles her mouth beneath his. The kiss is a devastating exploration and his pace and grip are brutal. She's sure to have a bruise where he cups her thigh, his thumb strumming against her delicate flesh. It isn't until she shivers that he remembers they're outside...of her mother's bar, no less.
"Jo," he growls breathlessly.
"Dean," she moans back against his parted lips.
"Let's go somewhere," he murmurs, teeth nipping alternating with lips feathering against her jaw as he removes his jacket and wraps it around her. "Pack a bag."
Jo doesn't answer. Instead, wicked little fingers work his belt buckle as she coaxes him back to her mouth. She tastes the whiskey on his tongue and possession courses through her veins. Stroking playfully, he hardens even further in her grasp.
Pulling away, his eyes comb the parking lot and he reaches to still her touch. She's electrifying. He's scared he'll lose control. He's never seen her like this and it turns him on. Big time. "Come on," he pleads, his voice rich with want. "Ellen'll be back soon..."
Chuckling, she laces her calves behind his thighs and pulls him against her. Her voice honey-thick with desire she breathes, "You really think Mom would go out for pretzels an hour before close on a Wednesday night?"
Dean can't think with his big brain. Not with Jo wrapped firmly around him. His eyes slam shut and he gulps against the pressure of her hand as her mouth wanders his neck. His hands slip under the hem of her top, fingertips brush her sides. "'Going for pretzels' is code, Deano," he feels her smirk just before her tongue darts over his pulse point. "She won't be back before tomorrow."
With a groan, Dean slips a hand beneath her skirt and allows his fingers to snake into her panties. Two could play at this game. Her movements still, hands falling to the hood of the car as he strokes his fingers teasingly against her. Drawing back, he licks his lips thinking about taking her to the backseat as the wind whips icily around them. Gravel crunches as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he prepares to make his move.
A moan passes Jo's lips at the loss of Dean's thick fingers as her body pulses. She feels it in her fingers and her toes. Shifting almost to the edge of the hood, she seeks his mouth in a desperate kiss. His hands clutch at her thighs and she knows what he's thinking, so she shakes her head. "Take me," she whispers against his lips. "Right. Here."
He grins, he can't help himself. He pushes her skirt up her hips and her panties to the side as he positions them. Rocking into her, he mutters a curse as she engulfs him. They move in tandem; back and forth, slipping together, tongues dancing.
It's an intimate battle for dominance - each pushing the other, neither willing to surrender. Panting, Jo purrs Dean's name as she finds her peak. Enthralled by the beauty of her face as she climaxes, Dean follows quickly.
Cupping his face as he rights their clothes, she plucks tenderly at his lips. Smiling, her breath coming in frosty tendrils, she tells him, "Happy Birthday, Winchester."
And it is. A very happy birthday indeed. Dean smirks and pulls her closer for a deep kiss. When they come apart, he takes her hand and, together, they walk back to the warmth of the bar.