Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly).
Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned.
Chapter 4
"So where are we heading now, Babe?" the hottest, sexiest man on the planet asked me as we ambled out of the gift shop and back into the lobby, his arm closed protectively around me.
I was still distracted, desperately trying to imagine how I was gonna fit an XXXL cock where it needed to be to make both of us happy--but hey, I was more than game to try! After all, it's not often a girl gets an opportunity like that, right? Not this girl, anyway: the Dickster wasn't terribly well-endowed, which I suspect was why he needed to prove his masculinity by boinking every female in his vicinity. And the few other men I'd been with before marriage to the horse's ass certainly hadn't needed extra-sized anything. Which was why the Drew Carey clone had been such a damned disappointment tonight: if I wasn't gonna get it, at least I wanted to be able to look at it. Only fair, I thought. Except that tonight--hot damn!--it sure looked like Stephanie Plum-no-longer-Orr was gonna get it! Omigod, was I ever: The Doomsday Orgasm I'd dreamed about for years was now well within my grasp! I wondered if I would spontaneously combust upon actual penetration?
"Earth to Babe," he repeated, his hand slowly stroking my forearm and causing my body to do a little happy dance. "You still with me, tiger?"
"I'm just trying to---" I admitted, biting my lip before I made a bigger fool out of myself. I could feel that stupid ear to ear grin splitting my face. "Trying to--you know--"
"I figured that out already," he laughed, "You have a very expressive face, Babe. Gorgeous, too. And don't waste another minute worrying about it: I guarantee you it'll fit just perfectly. Especially since I've got some plans of my own where you're concerned. Been making them non-stop since I first laid eyes on you."
"Plans? Omigod! What kind of plans?" Glub.
"You'd be surprised. I'm a very creative guy. And you inspire me."
"I don't do butt stuff," I blurted, as his hand slid down to cup my ass. "Not happening!"
That earned a full on wolf grin. "No butt stuff required, Babe. But you're okay with the handcuffs thing, right?"
I froze in position, my poor overloaded brain shorting out at the picture of me in handcuffs while he….did things to me. Very hot, very steamy, very intense and majorly pleasurable things that would no doubt cause me to go straight to Hell and burn for eternity. Still, it would probably be worth it--we're talking XXXL, after all! Omigod. Wait! Maybe it wasn't me he meant? Maybe he was gonna be the one in handcuffs? That turned me on even more! I could have him spread-eagled and at my mercy while I mounted him and used my tongue and my hands to…..Damn! I was going straight to Hell, all right. I was such a slut! And even worse, I was a messy one: I actually felt the drool pooling at the corner of my mouth. And I knew damned well I'd completely and totally ruined my panties this time.
"I was only kidding about the handcuffs, Babe. Don't have any with me."
"I knew that." I tried my damnedest to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
"I have a tie, though. And I'm willing to rip my shirt into strips, if you're interested."
I gave him my Burg girl death glare. "That's so not funny."
"That wasn't a joke, Babe."
Oh boy!
We started walking again, heading towards the elevator, in silence this time. We both had other things on our minds: XXX rated things.
"Just how creative are those plans, anyway?" I asked, finally.
"Pretty damned creative," he admitted quietly. "Am I scaring you off?"
"No. Were you trying to?"
"No. Are you going to tell me your name, Babe?"
"Does it matter? Honestly? It's just sex, right? Neither one of us is looking to get involved in a relationship. It's just a one night stand. So, that said, does it really matter what my name is?"
"To me, it does. Look, I'm just going to say this now, and you can take it however you want to. I've done this kind of thing before, more than once. I'm in town just for the weekend, then I'm gone forever. No staying in touch, no chance of a happily ever after. That's not in the cards. I came down to the bar looking for the kind of a woman who knew exactly what she was getting into. And instead I found you, Babe."
"And what? You think I don't know what I'm getting into tonight?" I was trying to figure out how the playful dynamic between us had shifted so suddenly. Was he telling me he wasn't interested in me anymore? Letting me down easy? Or just trying his best to be honest and warning me not to expect anything more from him than one night of hot sex? I honestly wasn't sure.
There was a long pause while he carefully considered my question. "I think you're the kind of woman I could fall head over heels for if I were at another time and place in my life. I think you're sexy and cute and innocent and endearing and playful, and any man in his right mind would grab you and never let you go for the rest of his life. But I can't do that, Babe. For a lot of reasons. And I'm very willing to admit that you deserve far more than I can give you. So I'm just going to give you the truth and let you make up your own mind what to do with it: do you want to be with me tonight, given how things are? Or would you rather walk away right now before you do something you'll regret in the morning? It's your choice, Babe. But make it now. Because I'm an opportunist at heart, and I don't know how much longer I can be noble about this."
I looked into his dark chocolate colored eyes and saw everything I needed to see. "I haven't done this kind of thing before, and I don't know what the rules are. But I can guess. So let me be as honest with you as you just were with me: I'm just coming out of a really lousy marriage with a guy who treated me like shit. I'm not exactly at a place in my life where I want to take a chance with another guy and find out that he's gonna start cheating on me too. I'm not certain I even believe in happily ever after--not anymore. I'm not looking to be your girl-friend. Yours or anyone else's, for that matter. But I am looking to share a bed with you for the night--if we can agree to keep being honest with each other. Keep it real between us. You don't lie to me, and I won't lie to you. No promises of happily ever after that neither one of us plans to keep. We'll spend a really fantastic night and then say goodbye and good luck and never look back. No one will ever know about it but us. It'll be like this never happened."
"Can you do that, Babe?" He wrapped his arms around me, his hand stroking my back as we finished our unusual negotiations.
"I can. I want to." And I did.
"That's not the liquor talking, is it? I need to be sure."
"Excuse me?" That question had come out of left field.
"You tossed back that martini pretty quickly. And it wasn't your first. I don't want to take advantage of you."
"You aren't. Ever think that maybe it's me taking advantage of you?" I pointed out, "After all, I don't know the first thing about you, even your name. And I don't care. I'm only here for what you've got in that bag."
That got the wolf grin back, "The candy bars, you mean?"
"Fuck the candy bars!" I laughed, "You know damned well what I mean."
"You don't want to know my name then?" He didn't sound convinced.
"No--not especially," I insisted. Damn, the more I talked to the man, the more I found myself attracted to him. The more I wanted more than one night with him. But one night was all he was offering, and one night was what I planned to savor. Especially because of his honesty: I wasn't expecting that, not after all the shit I'd been through with Dickie Orr. I'd been ready to give up on men for good, write them all off as pond scum…then this guy came along. And I was realizing that he might have the total package: looks, sex appeal, humor, charm, and integrity. I actually liked the guy a lot, and not just because he was totally and devastatingly gorgeous. That made me feel better about my Slutdom: at least I had high standards. Hell, forget the XXXL; he'd have gotten lucky tonight if he'd been just XL!
"What if I told you I really wanted you to know it?"
"Why is that, pray tell?"
"Because when I make you come screaming, I want to hear my name on your lips."
Wow, that came out of the blue! I felt a rush down south and grinned in anticipation. "Well, if you put it that way, I guess I ought to know who I'll be thanking, right? So? What is it?"
"Yours first, Babe."
"Stevie."
"No way in hell am I sleeping with a Stevie."
"You have problems with that?"
"It's a guy thing."
"So call me Babe instead." I actually had gotten a nice squishy feeling in my nether regions at the nickname. On his lips it sounded special.
"What's your real name?"
"None of your business," I teased, "Come on, let's get where we're going, Mr. No Name. The longer we stand here in the lobby the more time my friends have to find me and drag me back into the party from Hell."
"These friends of yours--they actually call you Stevie?"
"Yep, they do. Have for years."
"What about your ex, the slimeball? What's he call you?"
"He doesn't call me anything; not since I kicked his ass to the curb publicly and taught him not to mess with me anymore. A lesson you should learn, Hot Stuff. So go ahead and spill it--I'm listening. What do your friends call you?"
"Superman."
"I'll just bet they do." I snorted. "In your dreams."
"It's true," he insisted, "I promised not to lie to you, remember? It's my nickname. Really. Like Stevie is yours. You give me your real name, I'll give you mine."
"More negotiations, huh? We'll see. Superman? OK, well that bodes well for the evening--that and the size of what you've got in the bag."
"You didn't answer me before. You hungry? I'll take you to dinner, Stevie. God, I can't bring myself to do it. I just can't, Babe."
"Take me to dinner, you mean?"
"Call you Stevie. The only Stevie I know is 275 lbs, bald and belches non-stop. I can't do this unless I have another name for you."
"Why not? You having some equipment problems there, Superman?" I chortled.
"That'll never happen. But I warn you: I have my ways of making you talk," he teased, leaning in to drop hot hungry kisses down my throat.
"Keep it up, that actually might work." Oh, yeah, it sure would!
"Before long, I'm gonna get your name, rank and serial number out of you, I guarantee it. Just wait and see."
"And here I was kind of hoping you were trying to get something else out of me…"
"That too," he laughed, pulling me closer and really turning on the charm. Hell, I was ready to combust right there in the lobby if he didn't stop with the kisses and the roaming hands. "So, answer the question. Are you hungry? Do you feel like eating something before we go upstairs?"
"What if I said yes?" Which I absolutely hated to admit. What I really wanted to do was to go upstairs and have non-stop orgasms all night long. But since Gladys had ripped our money off for the bachelorette party and the promised hot buffet had been instead nothing more substantial than finger food, I was actually more than a bit hungry. OK, so by now I was kinda starving.
"Then I'll take you out and feed you, Babe. Anyplace in particular you have in mind? Italian? Seafood? Chinese? I know a great little Cuban place---"
"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of McDonald's."
"That stuff will kill ya, Babe."
"It's quick, though: we can drive thru and grab a couple of burgers and some fries. Then get back upstairs and burn off the calories before they have the chance to do any major damage. Sound good to you?"
"Sounds better and better now that I think about it," he admitted. "They have salads."
"Or else we could just call room service," I suggested hopefully. That idea was sounding pretty good to me, too. No need to go out at all: we could go upstairs to my room and start fooling around right now. Then we could eat fast and get completely naked and sweaty for the rest of the night. I'd get my orgasms much quicker that way. And I really really needed that first orgasm just as fast as I could get it. McDonald's could wait: I had my priorities straight!
"Room service is good. And while we're waiting for them to bring up our food, we can spend our time eating something else."
"I'm not sharing my candy bars," I warned him.
"That wasn't what I was planning on eating, Babe."
Omigod. I think I lost consciousness for a brief minute.
"You all right there, tiger?"
"Room 407, Superman. And step on it."
There was a Doomsday Orgasm with my name on it--Babe or Stevie, it didn't matter which--and it was just waiting for me. And I intended to get it while the getting was good!