Author's Note: TVD's season finale sure did get us Klaroline fans screaming with unexplicable happiness, eh? So, while we're waiting for season 5, here's a bit of full story smut for you guys to snack on. This is a sequel to Stray Cat. It would be better if you read that first. Without further shit, here's the first chap. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I put the "fan" in fanfiction, so, no, I don't TVD.

Chapter 1. The Sexually Frustrated

2:56 AM, the clock on her bedside table indicated. But she was too busy to care what time it was. She was too busy to think about anything else other than this man.

Her mind was drifting back to that night, to that glorious night when the sexual satisfaction she never thought she could achieve in some petty one-night stand was impeccably given to her. Several freaking times.

Covered in the darkness of her room, Caroline is sprawled out on her bed, her panties and boxer shorts scattered on her bedroom door. Her legs were spread wide, her feet flat on her queen-size bed, and her heavy breaths barely audible.

One of her hands was gripping her pillow tight. God, this is tough. And by tough, she meant I-can't-believe-I'm-fucking-doing-this kind of tough.

She let her mind wander off to that night, back to when she under his muscled built, his musky scent adding to his already-oozing sex appeal, their hips clashing together in a smooth motion and perfect rhythm.

With her other hand between her legs, Caroline continued sensually touching herself, imagining a certain set of long, dexterous fingers coaxing her pussy into climax.

She thought about how good his pulsing cock felt grinding against her walls, how euphoric it felt when he started sucking on her nipple while simultaneously ramming his huge dick into her dripping wet sex.

Her fingers are already soaking wet. She could feel her juices dripping down from her hole to the sheets. She continued playing with her wetness, her fingers dancing along her opening to her clit in a back and forth manner.

His huge girth. His incredible precision to hitting all the right spots. His perfect rhythmic yet strong thrusts.

Caroline bit her lower lip, and started thrusting two slim fingers into her pussy.

"Fuck," she moaned out.

She drove her fingers into her hot weeping core, and while continuing her reminiscing of hers and this stranger's sexcapades, she increased the pace. She was imagining it was this stranger's cock, pounding her hole, pulling her into the unimaginable bliss of euphoria.

She was still not quite reaching it, so she added another finger, making it three digits fucking her. She imagined the several climaxes he gave her, how high she felt she was every damn time, how he never let her come down from her high, but instead brought her to new heights with his animalistic fucking.

She's already close, she drilled in and out her three digits faster, harder. Her thumb caressed her clit, trying to squeeze a release out of her sexually frustrated self.

Harder, her fingers go. She bit on her lip harder, drawing out blood. The other hand gripping the sheets crawled to her chest and started touching her boob, pinching the already hard nipple through her white tank top.

So close. She kept on playing flashbacks from that night – him, fucking her from behind; she, trapped against the hotel's wall and her legs wrapped around his waist while he was ramming her cock into her; her, sitting on his face, while he was too happy to oblige in cleaning up her juices; her, straddling him while his hands were on her waist, setting their pace; him, cumming inside her with a strength of a tsunami, as she also came on that instant, while he was still spurting out waves and waves of semen inside her womb.

Her body was closing to twisting and breaking. She picked up her fingers' pace and with one last moan, she came.

She was a sweaty heap of soft limbs lying on soiled sheets. She took a couple more breaths to calm her pumping blood vessels down.

She looked at her fingers covered with her sticky cum. Having a release was good. But not good enough.

She stared up one her ceiling, and with a few more calming breaths, she thought, What the hell is happening to me?

After fixing her bed with some new beddings and taking an incredibly satisfying long shower, she perched herself on her balcony, and lit a cigarette stick, letting the trusty smell of the intoxicating smoke, and the polluted air of the city, somehow calm her overly bothered mind.

It has been nights since the night. Sure, she had a couple of fucks here and there, but nothing seemed to be in the least significant bit satisfying. Just like this night. There was release, but she wasn't satisfied.

She was craving for more.

And he was more. He is more.

That fucking bastard.

It's been so long since she yearned for a specific man. She has always been fine with emotionless fucking with random guys whose names she never even bothered to ask. This feeling for craving for a certain albeit nameless someone feels new for her. And quite frankly, it kind of scares the shit out of her.

She puffed a couple of smoke rings. Funny how in her profession, she always tell people how bad smoking is to one's health, but she couldn't possibly apply the "no smoking" rule to herself.

And maybe, just maybe, the "no second fucks" rule must be broken as well.

Or else, sexual frustration might just kill her.

A/N: Now, give me some lovin'! Reviews please. :3