Well, this is awkward.
First off, I am, in fact, alive lol. Thanks for all your patience. Life's been weird and hard, and I just haven't had it in me to write. I do plan on finishing Lovely and The Beginning. I just couldn't commit to something so I jotted this down to get back into the writing habit. It's short, but I hope you like it.
Oh, and sorry about abandoning Twitter. That place makes me sad. Too much politics, too many keyboard warriors. This 1998 vault of erotica is my safe space.
Never change, fanficton net!
Lovestruck
Stephanie wouldn't have categorized herself as inexperienced before sleeping with him.
She had had two long-term relationships in her life. Well, one was during adolescence so she supposed that didn't count. The second had lasted from her freshman to sophomore year in college. That ending had hurt. It had been on his terms. Hindsight being 20/20, she knew it was for the better. She'd enjoyed being single her last few years in Boston.
There were some experiences afterwards. Positive ones. And not so positive. Nothing negative. A few awkward nights with a young man who just didn't seem to know what to do or how to do it.
Since her very first time, she was always the one in control. Her personality lent itself that way. Even during the best of her experiences, she'd been the one to switch positions or initiate a different act. Which was fun. She hadn't ever disliked it. On the contrary, she always found sex enjoyable.
And she wasn't obnoxious in her dominance. Masculine fragility lived and breathed within her childhood home. She knew how to subtly steer the ship without offending the captain.
The few lucky gentlemen loved it. Having only been let go by one of her past lovers, she'd admit that the rest would have tagged along indefinitely had she not cut them off. Tequila was the only known stimulant to her confidence, however. Though she would never admit that to anyone in the sober light of day. McMahons were confident. She wouldn't break tradition.
As she sat beside her father, in the spacious suite he'd reserved for all the writers to meet within, she wondered briefly if 5:30 counted as daytime. And would they be paid overtime for this ridiculous debrief?
The others might. Fat chance Vince would throw anything extra her way.
She made eye contact with Shane. He was across the room, stirring his coffee and scrutinizing her. She narrowed her eyes at him and fought the urge to stick out her tongue. He smirked, rolling his eyes. She breathed a sigh of relief when he refocused his attention on Vince.
What had he been looking at?
He had always been the protective type. She loved that about him. But paranoia darkened every interaction she had with her family since allowing Triple H into her bed.
Hunter.
His name floated across her mind like a balloon. The memories followed like a gust of wind. His hands; pushing and pulling her. His voice deep in her ear. The way he moved so fucking perfectly.
She cleared her throat.
Not this again.
No wonder Shane had been looking at her. The past two weeks were a blur. This all consuming role as her father's shadow passed like a rollercoaster, twisting and turning, jolting her from one place to the next.
The pause in between drops were crystal clear. Him and her, together and alone. Those moments stopped the world. She couldn't remember the date. She wasn't even entirely sure which day of the week it was.
But she knew she'd been locked in Triple H's arms tweleve times since New Years.
She remembered every moment. She could pause and replay every memory. The details were not lost. The hardness of his abdomen, the feel of his lips, the absolute agony of waiting for him to ditch the boys and sneak into her room.
"Steph."
She jolted. Her eyes quickly scanned the room until Shane repeated himself.
"Jesus," laughed Gerald Brisco. "You gotta let the poor thing sleep, Vince."
Heat pulsed in her cheeks.
"Sorry," she groaned, rubbing her eyes. They had been burning since awakening just 40 minutes beforehand.
Her father's inner circle was kind. Almost all of them had known her since childhood. It didn't help her embarrassment though. And Vince would be irritated either way. He expected more from her.
"You alright," Vince asked in an annoyed tone.
"Yeah."
"We'll get you some eye drops," Pat Paterson said. "Baby blues like ours can't handle this vampire's schedule."
The thumb he prodded into Vince's arm was swatted away by the chairman.
"Didn't get enough sleep," interjected Shane with a cock of his head. "You made it back here pretty early I thought."
Stephanie fought the urge to roll her eyes. Shane was always last to leave the arenas but that was only to make a fashionably late appearance to whatever club was considered most elite in the city. He partied all night almost every night. No doubt he had enjoyed just about every bit of fun Atlanta had to offer the previous evening.
But he was judging her bloodshot eyes.
Asshole.
"I'm fine," she assured, ignoring all of them. "What was your question?"
"Do you know if Hunter and Mic have worked out the Hell in a Cell yet?"
"Why would I know that," she shot back to her brother.
Shane's eyebrows raised.
"Cause you're with him every day," he laughed.
"Yeah, but we don't talk," she shot back, instantly regretting it. "About what's next I mean. We focus on whatever we're working on."
"Mm," hummed Vince, looking around the room. "Love that kid."
Nods bounced around the room. Only half were genuine. Stephanie was well aware that her lover was a polarizing figure.
Shane's attention was still on her.
"Well have either of them mentioned anything to you? We need something big."
"It'll be big," she smirked.
"So you have talked to them."
"No."
"Then, what -"
"You saw the Rumble. They're magic. They'll do it again."
"Yes," continued Shane, annoyance creeping into his voice. "But-"
"We have to trust the talent," she said, looking towards Pat, "Like you always say. And Triple H is an asset."
"Unlike Mic?"
The bite in her brother's tone was not missed. Stephanie dismissed it.
"No one's underestimating Mic, Shane. Calm down."
"You and that ECW shit," piped in Vince.
Chuckles echoed throughout the room. No one appreciated Shane's passion for the indie scene in Philadelphia.
Stephanie did, actually. She supported anything her loved ones cared about. But not while her brother was being a little shit. She refused to give up the best sex of her life on account of him being nosey. He was one more irritating comment away from her bringing up his stripper proclivities in front of their father.
"I'm sure whatever they got planned will be great," added Gerald, inadvertently saving Shane.
"I'll give Hunter a call later today," said Vince. "Now let's discuss Mania. I want us all on the same page."
Her father launched into a monologue. It was routine. He began every meeting by recapping the last one.
In the beginning, she had counted on his opening reviews. The world of wrestling was ever changing and far more complex than the general public would ever know. More recently, she found it annoying and unnecessary. She suspected the others did as well.
Usually, she would dip her head and take notes on the various points Vince made throughout his speech. Periodically looking up to acknowledge a new speaker and nod her head to indicate that she was paying attention.
This was serious stuff. Their ratings were in the sky. Steve Austin had just left on account of a serious injury. Wrestlemania was only a few months away. Dwayne Johnson's success was about to spill onto Hollywood.
Every person in the suite was focused on the chairman, determined to play a pivotal role in further launching the WWF into the stratosphere.
Except for Stephanie.
Today, she couldn't be bothered. Her pen and pad lay before her as props.
Her eyes were glazed over as she feigned focus for the duration of the meeting. She listened to the conversation as though it were taking place in the next room, far away and muffled.
She could hardly think of anything but him. It was equally maddening and wonderful.
He had had her folded and twisted, speechless and mewling. It was embarrassing. Humiliating.
But fuck, so good.
The previous evening may have been the best night of her life. It was the antithesis of an out-of-body experience. She had never been more intune with her body. She was aware of every muscle and nerve. Each shiver and spasm wracked her core, rippling down her legs and up her spine.
They were usually a great match; something that made her heart skip during the day. At night, heart palpitations would better describe their compatibility. Slow, fast, hard, or soft. It didn't matter. They matched each other's energies without thought or hesitation. When he was buried inside her…
Stephanie sighed.
Shane looked across the table and cocked his head at her.
'Headache,' she mouthed, taking a sip of water.
Girl, get it together.
Gerald was talking. She looked towards him, nodding at whatever he was saying. Her brother dug into the backpack hanging behind him, and passed her two Tylenol. She genuinely smiled towards him then.
'I love you' she mouthed to him.
Shane made a show of puckering his lips towards her before offering the pain reliever to Bruce Prichard beside him. Stephanie decided that her sore thighs and shoulders could use some relief and downed the medicine.
God, he's gonna fuck me to death.
She then pressed two fingers between her eyes and wondered if a man's dick had her addressing such filth to her higher power, was that not proof of his deviousness. Because she still hadn't asked about his ex.
She'd been meaning to.
It was on the list.
She'd get to it.
This is worse than the script.
Bruce was talking then. She nodded again to appear focused, her thoughts returning to four hours prior.
They were usually a great match. Not last night. He had pulled rank. She'd asked for it, of course. Taunting him in the ring and daring him to unleash himself later. He did.
From the moment he snuck into her hotel room, he'd dominated her. Pushing her against the wall, she was naked before he'd even removed his jacket. She was on her knees within minutes.
Then she was in his arms, gasping as he bounced her onto his dick and simultaneously carried her to the bed.
A first. Obviously. Because who the fuck else would have been able to do that.
He even stopped before the bed to prolong the experience. Showing off his strength and laughing at her squeals. Her fingers clutching onto him.
'I got you, baby.'
Stephanie shifted in her seat.
"The tag team match has potential to steal the show."
"Oh my boys will definitely steal the show," piped in Michael Hayes.
Wrap it up, please.
Maybe if the meeting finished before seven, she could make it back to her room. She'd left him there. Perfect body stretched and displayed with the sheets only partially covering him. He could sleep in. The wrestlers' schedules were far more lenient than that of Vince's goons.
It was only recently that Hunter had begun lounging in her room once she'd left. The first few weeks of their affair, for lack of a better term, he had left as soon as they'd finished their little rendezvous. Today, if by some miracle Vince let them go on time, there was a possibility of a midmorning fuck, followed by a nap with the WWF champion.
Come on, let's go.
But Michael kept talking and Vince kept asking questions. So Stephanie slipped back into a far more enjoyable strain of thought.
She recalled how Hunter had her flat on her stomach, face pressed against the mattress, with her hands pulled behind her back. He fucked her senseless. His big hands kept hers in place at the small of her back as he all but bounced against her ass. Their skin slapped together and echoed throughout the room. He didn't hold back. Leveraging all of his weight against her, crushing her, and filling her to capacity.
Mortifying sobs left her open mouth. Sounds she didn't recognize. Sounds she'd never made before. Hunter continued, never letting up and keeping his brutal pace. Her walls shook, an orgasm so powerful, it was pleasurable before it even hit.
'Ohh,' she gurgled, squeezing her eyes shut and gasping.
He said nothing. Low, strained grunts left the back of his throat as he worked her.
When she climaxed, she sobbed. Turning her neck to stuff her mouth with the sheets, she prepared to pass out. It was too much. All of it. Her body spasmed. Pussy tight around him, her walls clenching. Her legs and toes shook from the pleasure racking them. Her fingers squeezed his.
Everything was warm and wet. Her whimpers continued as she felt a liquid pool beneath where they were joined, soaking the bed. Then he collapsed on top of her, exclaiming 'fuck' as he rocked against her one, twice, and finally surging forward until he was groaning loudly into her ear.
Hunter emptied himself into her. Completely. It had happened before, but not often. They tried to be careful. Not this time. She didn't know why she was so addicted to it. The feel of it, the thought of it, coaxed powerful aftershocks. Her hips wiggled beneath him, squirming and finding that last bit of elevation.
Her mouth still filled with cotton, she tried to stop crying. Embarrassed but unable to move and still reeling from the internal explosion he'd just caused.
'Shh,' he cooed. Moaning as he gently withdrew from her and lifted himself above her. He released her hands to sneak his fingers up to her face and pull it from the mattress. Palming her chin, he kissed the tears running down her right cheek and whispered the most loving filth she had ever heard.
In an instant, her shame was cured and her sole purpose in life was to be his. Because she was such a good girl. And she deserved it. And she had the perfect little pussy that he wanted every night. On and on, his deep voice soothed her whimpering. Until -
'Let me see those eyes.'
She took a deep breath before opening the red-rimmed baby blues. Looking up at him over her shoulder in complete eroticism, she watched his hungry gaze roam her face. His thumb swiped her bottom lip and briefly pulled it down to expose her teeth.
'You're fucking amazing,' he said before kissing her with a moan. His dick twitched against her back. Their tongues rolled against each others' until he moved downwards to the crook of her neck, kissing and licking her skin. She leaned her head to the left, granting him better access but it wasn't enough for him.
Hunter lifted himself just enough to roll her onto her back. She wrapped her arms and legs around him immediately, pulling him close as he nuzzled her neck once more.
'I can't get enough of you,' he said.
Stephanie sighed again. It was more subtle this time. She sat with her chin in her palm absently looking towards her father who was now speaking animatedly, gesturing in a way that signaled this was the meeting's concluding peptalk. Her notepad lay blank before her on the table.
I can't get enough of you either, her inner voice cooed to the memory. Her eyelashes fluttered, complete lovestruck.
Shane frowned at her.
Then Vince ended the meeting.
All the men, with the exception of her brother, began pushing away from the table, gathering their folders and things.
Stephanie mimicked them a moment later. Not bothering to push in her chair as she followed everyone towards the exit.
"Steph," her father called.
"Hmm," she answered from the doorway, powering on her cell phone at the same time.
"I thought we agreed you're able to contribute more in meetings."
"Mhm."
Vince's eyebrows raised.
"Well then I expect you to contribute a bit more in these meetings," he said condescendingly.
"Okay," she practically sang, looking at her phone.
1 Text Message.
"You alright," asked Vince.
"Yeah, of course."
Come back. I want you again.
"Okay," said Vince, a bit dumbfounded and looking towards Shane.
Her brother looked severe.
Stephanie all but floated out of the suite.