Dean's back hit the door to his motel room. He fumbled with the key card as the delicious weight of his companion pushed against him. He groaned as their lips met, momentarily forgetting what his hands were doing. The 5'4" woman chuckled against his lips and slid a hand down his chest. She grabbed the key card and opened the door, using her body weight to push him inside.
Dean gasped as he fell backward, bouncing slightly when he hit the bed. He watched her crawl up the bed to straddle him. Slowly, she peeled her tiny tank top up over her head, shaking out the strawberry and chestnut colored hair that fell to her waist in waves. Dean grinned as he took in the tiny, almost non-existent lace that barely covered her perky porcelain breasts and the point of a tattoo peeking out of her skirt on the front of her hip. She leaned forward and crashed her mouth against his. At some point, her skirt had ridden up and Dean's fingers dug into her bare thighs. She wiggled her hips against him as their tongues struggled for dominance. With a frustrated huff, Dean flipped them so he was on top. He swept a hand up to the edge of her panties, briefly slipping under them to tease the soft flesh of her hip. His cock jerked when she moaned into his mouth.
He felt her hands on his chest…his stomach…trailing lower…pulling at his button, then she was pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down his hips. Dean moved his thumb just a little to the side and across the hardened nub of her clit. She hissed and threw her head back against the mattress. Dean drew circles with his thumb and kissed her jaw. She squirmed and his thumb slipped inside her.
"Jesus…"she breathed as Dean slid his thumb in and out, circling her clit on every fifth stroke. She used her feet to push his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his legs. Dean shifted his weight to his knees and stopped his ministrations just long enough to remove the rest of their clothes. The woman beneath him groaned as he did, only to sigh with relief as his index and middle finger scissored against her wet walls. His fingers stretched her wide. She writhed and gasped against his neck. Dean slid a third finger into her and pressed against the bundle of nerves just inside. She moaned and clenched around him as stars danced across her vision. Dean withdrew his fingers and placed the head of his penis against her slick folds.
"Look at me," he gruffed. She opened her eyes. Her mouth hung open as she tried to catch her breath.
"Do it…" she panted. Their eyes locked and Dean slammed into her until he was completely buried inside the delicious heat of her still trembling sex. His grunts grew louder with every desperate thrust until, at last he found his release. Dean ran his hand down her side to the tattoo he could now see…the anti-possession tattoo on the front of her hip. Dean's eyebrows rose in recognition.
"You're a hunter," he gasped. "What's your name?"
"Ali," She breathed. "Ali Singer."