Title: My Favorite Mistake
Author: Razorbackgal0225
Rating: M—For language, sexual situations and nudity. Three of my favorites
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, cars or situations from Supernatural, but I sure wish I did. Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me, including the title which comes from a Sheryl Crow song. Other songs included in the story are from the group Heart and Pat Benetar. I made no money off anything, I swear!!
Author's Note: For those who have read my other stories, this has absolutely nothing to do with them. This is just something that was running around in my head, screaming and refusing to rest until it was written down. So here it is, my first and I do mean first attempt at what I affectionately call smut. I have no experience with this, so please be gentle. This will be fairly short, only a couple of chapters and I am still working on Catherine's Shack. Enjoy!
She noticed him as soon as he walked in the door. Of course, she had the best view of the entrance, being on stage singing. Generally she didn't notice who came in or went out of the bar as she was concentrating on lyrics, but this guy was different. First of all, she didn't recognize him, which was odd. This was a bar frequented by regulars as it was off the beaten path and away from the other roadhouses on the interstate. Second, the guy he was with was about three inches taller than anyone in the room, which drew some attention. Last and most importantly, he was brutally hot. Not that normal pretty boy look that some of the frat guys from the next town over had, the ones that spent too much time on their hair. This was plain ole, purebred, he'd-look-good-in-a-potato sack sexy. So much so that she had to wrack her brains for which verse of "Magic Man" she was on.
He sauntered up to the bar; the tall guy going to find a table about 10 feet from the stage as he did. She tried to not stare at him as he walked across the floor, but couldn't stop herself. She noticed several other girls turn to do the same. He was dressed simply enough, in jeans, t-shirt and button down shirt over it. The sleeves were rolled back, showing strong forearms and wrists and tan skin. The shirt stretched over broad shoulders. His brown hair was cut short and he looked like he hadn't shaved since the morning before. He took two bottles from the bartender and joined his friend at the table. He positioned his chair so that he could see the stage and the door at the same time, just as her dad did when he came to see her sing. She knew from the glance she had got when he came in that he was good-looking, but that didn't prepare her for an up-close and personal view, when he turned to face her.
He was absolutely gorgeous. Golden skin, a strong jaw line, hazel eyes, sinfully long eyelashes and a mouth that should be labeled as illegal. His friend was cute as well, but she barely noticed. Thankfully it was time for her next song, so she had an excuse to turn her attention to the band. When she replaced the mike in its stand, she noticed he was watching her. Listening to the intro of 'Hit Me With Your Best Shot' playing, she picked a spot on the back wall to sing to, hoping that would keep her from being distracted. It didn't work. She kept looking back at him, and every time she did, he met her gaze. Even when his friend spoke to him, his eyes didn't leave her. When she reached the part about notches on a lipstick case, he smiled. And her mouth went dry.
His smile was full of heat, promise and sin. The smile reached up to his eyes, the same eyes that were giving her an extremely appraising look. He was exactly the sort of guy her momma had warned her about. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch and she was glad she was on the last song of the set. He was coming dangerously close to causing the reconsideration of her 'never pick up a guy at a bar' rule. Something no guy had done in a long, long time.
She finished her song, waved to the crowd and helped the band tear down for a few minutes. Then she headed to the bar for her traditional after performance beer. She grinned at the bartender, who had the bottle waiting on her before she even sat down on the stool. She was halfway through with her drink when she felt someone come up beside her. She didn't even have to turn around to see who it was, since her stomach started backflipping the minute he approached.
"Can a get another one?" his deep, slightly rough voice washed over her like a wave on the beach. It wasn't fair that men could sound that hot. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him place a hand on the bar as he turned slightly in her direction. Unable to stop herself, she tilted her a little to get a better view.
The smile was still there. She took another drink of beer, swallowing nervously as she did. She saw him make another gesture to the bartender and was surprised when Pete placed another bottle in front of her. That did it. She couldn't ignore him any longer, no matter how much she should avoid the temptation. "You don't have to do that," she said quietly.
"I know," came the answer. This time, she focused on him completely. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and she wished she could temporarily be made of glass. "But after a show like that, I thought you deserved a drink," he explained after swallowing.
She frowned slightly. "But you only saw two songs," she said.
The smile grew to a full-blown smirk. "So you noticed me?" he asked, although it was more of a statement of fact than a question. She ducked her head, a light blush spreading across her cheeks. This only lasted a minute, before she met his eyes again.
"I know everyone else in here," she answered, gesturing around the room. "You're a new face."
He lowered his body onto the barstool next to her. "I'm Dean," he said, holding out his hand.
She waited a good five seconds before placing her hand in his. "I'm Madeline."
As a rule, handshakes didn't turn her on. But when his strong, warm hand clasped around her much smaller, she couldn't help but notice, one, her breath caught in her throat. It didn't help that he held on longer than socially acceptable or that he ran his thumb over the back of her hand. The warning bells in her brain started ringing loudly and she slowly extricated herself from his grip. This was beginning to feel like a pick-up, and she didn't know if she could say no. Maybe she should have gotten her beer to go.
"You really do have a great voice," he commented, scooting his chair closer to hers. "Is this what you do for a living?"
Uh-oh, step #2 in the picking up process. Compliments. She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes before she replied, "No, I just do this for fun. I'm not nearly good enough to do this for real." She finished her first beer. She hated to drink in a hurry, but she needed to get out fast.
"Really?" His voice was filled with genuine disbelief. "You sounded good enough to me. Anyone that can sing Heart has my vote."
She laughed. "Well, if I ever need a reference, I'll be sure to send them your way." Three more sips and you're leaving, she told herself.
"What do you do when you're not singing?" he asked.
"I work at the bank in town. What about you? What brings you here of all places?" Okay, maybe four more sips.
He jerked his head towards the guy still sitting at the table. He was flipping through a notebook of some sort, oblivious to everything around him. "My brother and I are on this bonding, road-trip kind of thing. We just stumbled upon this place and thought it looked interesting."
"So is it?" The question left her mouth before she had fully processed what it sounded like. One day, she would learn to think before speaking. Like that hadn't sounded like an open invitation.
She risked glancing at him when he answered. "Oh, I don't think interesting is quite the word I'd use." The grin was back and causing her to flush in places that weren't polite to mention in public. Damn it, she had to leave now before she did something extremely foolish. Like staring into his eyes, as she was doing right now.
His eyes were beautiful, she decided. And filled with heat and lust and the promise of an extremely good time. A promise she was fairly certain he could deliver on, in spades, but unfortunately, she just wasn't that kind of girl. So she did the only sensible thing she could do.
"Thanks for the drink, I appreciate it," she said, sliding to the floor as she did. "I've got an busy day tomorrow, so I'd better get going." She almost cringed at how obvious her brush-off sounded, but she was in flight mode now.
He frowned slightly at her announcement, then stood as well. "Let me walk you to your car, then."
She paused a minute before replying, "That's alright. I actually live two blocks down, so I walked here. It was nice to meet you, Dean." She hated being borderline rude, but this was about self-preservation.
He threw a few dollars on the bar before following her. "You're going to walk home alone at this time of night?" he asked, rather reproachfully. "Let me tell Sam where I'm going and then I'll walk you home."
She opened her mouth to protest, completely sure she was capable of getting home. But when she saw the look on his face, one of actual concern for her safety, she melted a little. He didn't know that she had lived in this town all her life. He didn't know she had every crack, bump and split in the sidewalks of the city memorized. He also didn't know that with the mysterious disappearances that had happened lately, she had taken to carrying a gun in her purse. Either he was really worried, or he was a fantastic actor. So she silenced her protests and turned off the warning bells in her head for a few minutes.
When he saw that she didn't disagree with his idea, he walked quickly to his brother. After a small discussion, he smacked the other man on the back and returned to where Madeline was waiting.
They silently left the bar. He walked close enough to her that their arms brushed as they made their way down the sidewalk. Madeline didn't have any idea what to say to him, so she chose to not say anything. It took about five minutes to reach her house. At the front gate, she stopped.
"This is me," she said, placing her hand on the gate. As she started to push it open, he placed a hand on top of hers. She looked down, surprised by this action. He took that opportunity to step closer to her until only inches separated them. His thumb resumed the suggestive stroking on her suddenly sensitive skin. He used his other hand to gently push her hair behind her ear, then ran his finger along her jaw. She looked at his eyes, which had darkened in the last few minutes, and were now a deep brown. He was staring at her mouth.
"So, this is goodnight?" His question was loaded with meaning. Every silly, feminine part of her was shouting for her to answer 'No, no, no, don't go, don't go!' But the sensible, grounded, common sense part of her knew this was not the best idea. Her two halves warred for a minute and she finally answered.
"Look, it's not that you're not extremely tempting, because, trust me, you are. But I'm really not that kind…" her response was effectively stopped by his lips covering hers. The devil on her shoulder gave a standing ovation. The angel on the opposite sat and pouted. His hand that had been resting on hers moved to the small of her back. The other took up residence on her neck, tugging on her hair enough that she had to tilt her head back. He tasted of beer and danger, a heady combination. His lips moved confidently over hers, as his tongue began a delightfully thorough exploration of her mouth. Her arms, of their own accord of course, lifted and wound around his neck, pulling him even closer to her. He groaned, a sound she felt more than heard, and deepened the kiss. The devil started the wave.
He slowly ended the kiss, giving her lower lip a nibble as he did. For a few seconds, Madeline tried to remember where she was and what her name was, but failed miserably. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" he whispered, his mouth now having moved to her ear. His lips brushed the shell of her ear and she shivered. She was fairly certain she had been talking before he had kissed her, but she couldn't remember what it was. Oh yeah, she was going to say she didn't do this sort of thing. As he continued on his journey down to her neck, she finally harnessed her thoughts.
"I'm not really that kind of girl," a decidedly breathy voice that sounded nothing like her answered. Her statement wasn't very convincing, especially when followed by a gasp as Dean grazed her neck with his teeth, before soothing the skin with his tongue.
"I know," he murmured against her skin. Her hands gripped his shoulders reflexively as the vibrations from his words ran through her. It had been forever and a day since a guy had affected her like this. He lifted his head and suggested, "Maybe we could go in and I could try and convince to change." He followed this with another slow, drugging kiss. The devil jumped to the other shoulder and kicked the angel's ass.
He deftly used the hand that wasn't holding her up to unlatch the gate and started guiding her to her front door. All this while still kissing her. She was surprised she could walk on her own, much less find her keys in her purse and unlock the door, as his busy mouth had returned to her neck by this time. The man certainly had talent. She pushed the door open and he followed her inside.
Two seconds later, she found herself pinned to the wall by six foot of solid muscle. For about half a heartbeat, she reconsidered her decision, seeing as how he was a complete stranger. That didn't last long. He continued his assault on her mouth, one she eagerly welcomed. His hands began to roam over her body, lighting fires that had long been dormant. They finally rested on her breasts, his thumbs circling tantalizingly around her nipples. She whimpered in the back of her throat and arched her back, encouraging more contact. He smiled against her mouth and gave her what she wanted. The pressure he applied to the tips of her breast shot sent an electric current from her head to her toes. She moaned and gripped his shoulders even harder than before. Her nipples quickly grew hard and aching as he worked them.
Her hands skimmed down his arms and went on search of her own. She tugged the hem of his t-shirt up and was rewarded with warm, silky flesh. In the corner of her mind that was still working, she was surprised how soft his skin was. The muscles of his stomach clenched and tightened as she stroked him. Suddenly, her hand was trapped between them when he released her breasts and pulled her body flush with his. She gasped and he growled when his hard planes met her soft curves. With one roll of his hips, she was tearing her mouth away from his to breath, as the evidence of his arousal was pressed against her cleft. He buried his head in her neck, biting softly as he did.
"Oh, God, please tell me I can stay," his plea was ripped from deep in his chest. The chest that felt like iron against hers. He ran his hands down her side and grabbed her ass, picking her up slightly as he did. This caused her to reflexively wrap her legs around his waist. Now she was supported by only the wall behind her and Dean. "Please," he reiterated. Madeline shook her head in response before he took her mouth again. The movements of his tongue now matched the movements of hips, thrusting at the same time. All of the sensations were causing bells to ring in her ears. Except that the ringing wasn't in her ears.
"Fuck," he muttered as his mouth left hers. Still supporting her, he reached into his back pocket and brought out his cell phone. He glanced at the caller ID and cursed again, "Fuck, Sam." He threw an apologetic look at Madeline and answered harshly. "What do you want Sam?" Since she only heard half the conversation, she had no idea what was going on, but it didn't sound good. "You're kidding, right now? Well, I'm kind of in the middle…" his explanation trailed off. "Alright, alright, I'll be there." Hearing that, she unwound her legs from around him and began to right herself. Letting go of her for the first time since they left the bar, he scrubbed a hand across his face and then his hair. "I'm sorry, baby, I've got to go. Something's going on with my brother." He smiled sadly at her. "I really, really wish I didn't have to go."
She swallowed hard, wanting to regain her bearings. "No, that's okay. He's your brother," she agreed, pushing her hair out of her face nervously. He reached up and dragged his thumb across her mouth. Her lips parted behind this action and it as all she could do to not lick him. He stroked her cheek tenderly and leaned in for another kiss. It was soft and sweet, nothing like the ravenous, hungry kissed from before.
"Maybe, if I wrap this up, maybe I could come back?" he asked shyly, his tone quite at odds with his aggressive actions from before. She paused for a minute, unsure of what she should say. "If it's not too late, that is. I know you have a busy day tomorrow." He grinned at her, remembering her excuse earlier. She laughed at herself and smiled back.
"Yeah, that would be alright." This response gained her another kiss.
"Okay. I'll do everything I can to be back, I promise," one more peck on the cheek and a brush across her breast and he was out the front door.
Madeline gave up standing on her own and slid down the floor. Covering her eyes with her hands, she concentrated on breathing evenly. Even if he didn't come back, she would remember this night for a long time. Plenty of fantasies had been born in the last hour. She finally rose from her seat and headed to the bedroom. Maybe she could get a little sleep tonight. Her skin flushed as she recalled the feel of his hands on her body. Okay, maybe there would be no sleep.