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Pieces of the Night


“We’re gonna... go,” Sarah said, pulling against Kris’ hand as he moved in the direction of the hotel door. She looked at her friends as if willing them to be okay with it. “Anyone need anything from the room?”

Cary looked at Liz, who looked quickly at Sidney then at the ground. If the room was in use, she had nowhere to go. And if she didn’t want to go with Sid, she was about to be ditched by both of her friends.

“You can come with us,” Cary quickly offered, though she heard the sound of Jordan’s jaw clenching. “We’ll find something to do.”

“Or, er... um, want to go to a movie or something? I actually have to get some stuff for my new place so I could use a shopping trip,” Sidney said. Cary wanted to hug him for suggesting something so non-threatening, especially when Kris was about to drag Sarah to the nearest bedroom by her hair. Liz glanced at Cary nervously.

Loosen up, Liz! Don’t miss your chance to ride that train.

Cary gave what she hoped to be an encouraging smile, and the way Liz’s shoulders relaxed made her decision obvious. Sid beeped the remote for his car, then held a hand out tentatively. Liz took it and Cary admired Crosby’s ass as he led them away.

“I really do need to get you alone,” Jordan whispered, so close behind Cary she almost jumped. His hands settled on her waist.

“Okay, we get it. Everybody go get laid. I’m going to burn all my bedding,” James groused.

Geno smiled broadly. “Wanna watch Titanic?”


Jordan buckled himself into his car, turned the heat up and looked in the rear view mirror.

Shit Staalsy, you did have a rough night.

He had that definite morning-after look to him, fighting a hangover and having packed away four thousand calories to make up for it. His eyes were red and a little dark underneath. Come to think of it he was really tired. But the way Cary’s thighs slid across the leather seat of his SUV predicted his bed would be used for other things. She held her mitten-clad hands up to the vent like a little kid.

“Are you sure this is...,” she started.

Jordan leaned over, lips puckered and waited very patiently until she obliged him with a kiss.

“It’s exactly what I want to do,” he said, putting the car in gear. On the way across town he gave Cary the local tour.

“We got in just before the game last night, I haven’t seen much of anything.”

That gave him pause. It was only early afternoon and probably her only full day in the city. Maybe she wanted to visit the sights, ride the incline, visit the Warhol Museum. Maybe she hadn’t taken a guy home last night to spend all of today with him. Maybe she didn’t really want to do this after all. His fingers flexed around the steering wheel with a surprising amount of force. Jordan hated to be wrong but he really, really didn’t want to be wrong about this.

“Hey,” she said softly. He realized they were nearly to his place, he’d been quiet too long.

She’s too nice to tell me to get lost. Or too big of a Pens fan. She doesn’t want to be here.

Her brown eyes were almost golden in the wintry sunlight. The center of her bottom lip was a little dry, like she’d forgotten Chapstick in her drunken stupor last night. Jordan wanted to kiss it away. The force of that desire shocked him.

He cleared his throat. “We can go do the touristy stuff.” He even managed a cheerful tone.

"The botanical gardens are really nice, and four hundred and forty six bridges we could drive across.”

It sounded fake even as he was saying it. He’d settle for any of those things, hoping that some alone time would come at the end, but he’d rather cut to the chase now. They were almost to his town house. He had soft blankets and comfy couches, fluffy pillows and sweatpants and t-shirts and aspirin. All the water they could drink. It was less than a mile away.

Come on, we’re already home.

Jordan didn’t even think about sex, at least not right away. He could maybe even go without that. But he didn’t want to share.


Cary watched a hundred expressions cross Jordan’s face in the few minutes he was quiet. Disappointment, disbelief, frustration, embarrassment. Of course she hadn’t meant to cause any of those things. She wanted to be with him, preferably alone and comfortable. As the fatigue and soreness of a crazy night crept back into her body, comfortable sounded more like borrowed socks and a cup of tea on the sofa. But whatever idea her mind formed it definitely included Jordan.

“Jordan, I don’t want to go anywhere but your house.”

His blue eyes darted over to catch her gaze. “You sure?”

Cary let herself smile at his doubt.

Jordan Staal is insecure. That’s rich.

“I’ve seen you naked,” she pointed out. “What else is there?”

He chuckled and Cary snuggled back into her seat, a tiny glow warming her chest. Jordan was unsure of himself. Jordan really wanted to spend time with her. Even if it was just in the bedroom, Cary was sure he could simply roll down his car window and have a pack of women follow him home. But she was the one in the passenger seat, for now at least.

The townhouse was at the end of a row of houses at the top of a hill. It was borderline bachelor pad with the biggest TV Cary had ever seen, multiple video game systems, a dart board and huge, overstuffed couches. She walked right past him and threw herself down on one.

“Oh my God, leave me here forever.”

Jordan sat right on top of her. “If you’re talking about forever, you at least have to make it to the bedroom.”

She followed him upstairs, where the tour included two guest rooms and ended in the master suite. It was wide and brightly lit by large windows on two sides. A desk, a cluttered bookshelf, some photos, dirty clothes and shoes were scattered around like confetti. Jordan shuffled in and started collecting dropped items.

“If I’d know you were coming over....”

“If you’d remembered me at all...,” she offered.

“If I’d had enough sense to stay sober so I could seal the deal last night, you would have remembered that.” He dropped an armload of stuff and stood very close to her, looking down with those sky blue eyes. Cary felt a little wobble in her knees.

Chances are, Cary would not have remembered. But she liked to believe otherwise. With a smirk at one corner of her mouth she said, “I bet you’re right."


You bet your ass I’m right.

Without touching any other part of her, Jordan lifted the hem of Cary’s sweater. She held her arms up and he pulled it off. The plan had been to remove all of her clothes one item at a time without so much as brushing her skin. But seeing her breasts swell in her bra, the way her hair brushed her bare shoulders; he ditched his plan and went for the one that had apparently worked the first time.

He kissed her. The longer it went on the deeper it got - hands in hair, nails on skin, biting and grinding and whimpering - until Jordan was seeing stars behind his closed eyelids. The kiss broke only to let his shirt pass between them on its way to the floor.

“Jordan,” Cary said. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“Anything,” he replied, even if it wasn’t a question.

There was no more talking, only kissing. Only picking her up and laying her out on the bed, pouring himself over her and resuming the grinding and whimpering portion of the program. She slipped the zipper on his pants. He popped the clasp on her bra. Her eyes glimmered almost green in the glance he caught before taking his mouth to the delicate slope of her neck, where her pulse beat a rapid pace against his lips. It matched his racing heart.

Cary was down to her panties a second later. The silky fabric below her belly button was cool to the touch, but lower between her legs she radiated heat. His fingers spread that warmth, slipping beneath the scrap of material to coat themselves with her anticipation. She moaned quietly against his cheek as he pressed a long, wide finger inside.

The softness of her body was so inviting, the smooth skin endless and her breathing caught when a second finger joined the first. Jordan tried to memorize the feel of her, to match her gasps and whispers with exactly what he was doing so he could do it again later. And tomorrow. And next weekend.

I have to win this.

His cock throbbed so hard it felt like a stomach ache. Ditching his shorts was the only reason to leave her alone, sprawled on the bed like peanut butter waiting for the jelly. As he returned, Cary spread her legs for him.

“Cary.” His tip prodded her entrance, teasing her open just enough for every nerve ending to fire at once. Her lips parted and he brought his down on them, eyes still open, and watched her face as he slowly forced her body to take him all the way in.

Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come.

Cary clung to him and sobbed out a breath when he was nearly home, almost run the length of his shaft deep into her hot, tight core. Jordan pushed just a little further and felt the back of her thighs come to rest against him.

“Ohmygod,” she whispered.


Cary was about to cry. Or ask Jordan to marry her. They’d been together twice, frantically, and while she remembered the overwhelming sensation of having him inside her, she’d never taken the time to feel every inch of him filling her past bursting. It hurt and it didn’t, it was uncomfortable and it wasn’t - her senses were confused. And not just physical feeling; Cary was also thrown by how intent Jordan had been when touching her, by the strength of his kiss as he took her breath away in two ways at once. His intentions were surprisingly clear.

I must be crazy. I’ve got dick fever and I’m imagining things. But he’s totally worth it.

Her brain spun like a game show prize wheel trying to process it all. Finally it landed on trying to lighten the situation.

“How did your dick getting bigger since last time?”

Jordan laughed sharply. His head dropped to her shoulder and he squeezed her tight, laugh rocking both of them in a way that Cary considered still the best sex of her life. If Jordan never moved at all, she could definitely get off on this alone.

“You...,” was all he said.

... are crazy. Are lucky. Are really in for it.

“I know.”

With a roll of his hips, Jordan stroked against Cary’s body. It was like pulling the cork on a bottle of wine, then forcing a stopper back in. Bubbles quickly built in her stomach. Her body decided that every thing about him was pleasure over pain and that it missed the pain, just a little, so it started begging for more. She arched her bag, getting up into his lap as he pulled her off the blanket and body-slammed her back down on every stroke. Every time her body trembled but still she twisted and writhed, clutching at his broad shoulders for something to hold on to. She closed her eyes as if the only way to achieve this feeling was to pretend it was a dream. Then Jordan grunted roughly as he bottomed out on a hard thrust.

“Yes,” she panted, though he’d nearly run her through. “God yes.”

Cary opened her eyes. Jordan was right there, holding her face close and pressing the words he wasn’t saying against her lips in a kiss. Her trembling doubled to see his perfect, beautiful face, the one she felt she knew so well before ever arriving in Pittsburgh, straining to hold it together over little old Cary Sullivan.

Some things must be seen to be believed.

“Look at me,” Jordan said when her eyelids fluttered down again. As she focused on him, he pulled up on the hand beneath her back, sat up and tipped her right into his lap. She cried out as the new angle drove him past anyplace she’d ever been.

“Does it hurt?” he asked with genuine concern.

Cary shifted her weight, feeling like she was spitted for the barbeque. “Try it.”

The light strokes were almost as devastating as the heavy ones. Jordan raised and lowered her gently along his hard shaft, the soft round of her ass dented by his firm grip. Cary threw her arms around his neck to keep from falling backward. The head of his cock brushed her g-spot and she jumped.

“Ooh,” he said with a devious smile. Then he did it again, just a slow drag, and bells and whistles started ringing like they were opening the stock market.

“Jordan.” Her voice was raspy, sexy.


Please don’t ask me.

Jordan wasn’t in the position to be denying anyone anything, unless Cary asked him to stop. There was simply no way.

One giant hand splayed at the center of her back held Cary upright against him. Her breasts bounced against his chest as his other hand guided her hip, keeping her within stroking distance. She got her feet wrapped around behind him.

It was perfect. He could see and feel and kiss every part of her in some way. He reached around and stroked the instep of her foot, making her squeal and twitch. He traced the round bone of her ankle and the hollow next to it. She watched his face closely.

“I’m glad it was you, Jordan,” she said as his fingers feathered the sensitive skin behind her knee.

His smile was crooked as he tried to cover up just how happy that made him. It didn’t work - he got harder as she rocked firmly, their stomachs meeting. Cary had to fight to get all of him on every stroke. The way her fingers gripped at his muscles, the tiny roll her eyes did every time he reached that faraway place turned him on like nothing else. It didn’t take much encouragement to increase their speed, until Cary was bouncing in his lap like a rag doll and he was fighting his orgasm off with everything he had.

She was close. Jordan didn’t know her tells yet - the secrets that were hers alone, that he hoped to have the time to study and perfect. But the signs were there: breath catching, chest heaving, tiny delicate strings of colorful curse words like beads on a necklace. He caught her in close, kissed her hard and threw them both down onto the mattress.

On top he was in control. Of himself at least. And it was easier to use all the momentum generated by his giant body to pin her to the mattress with pounding swings. Cary’s back arched so hard only her ass and her head touched the blanket. Jordan forced her mouth open beneath his kiss and swallowed her scream.

Oh thank you God yes.

Cary’s body locked, then started pumping hard against his shaft. A hot wet flow coated him. She rode right through the orgasm and snatched every last bit of pleasure Jordan had to give before refocusing her gaze.

“Come on, baby,” she said.


Five minutes. Maybe three.

Cary came so hard she learned Latin. Like being plugged into the Matrix, she’d just downloaded straight from Jordan’s dick what sex should feel like. What an orgasm really was. The heights that pleasure could reach.

And she was spent.

It had apparently been a long night, and a very interesting morning that had already stretched much longer than she expected. She’d been soundly fucked three times in a way that would give her lots of new ideas the moment she could regain her senses. And the perfection that was Jordan Staal was still wrapped around her and working himself to the grand finale. If she could stay awake that long.

“Come on, baby.”

Cary was incapable of giving Jordan what he had given her. He probably nailed a new girl every couple of days, ruined her for all other men and paid her cab fare home so she could doodle #11s for the rest of her life while soaking her entire underwear collection. But she wanted to know that he at least got what he came for.

So from some deep reserve, she found another burst of energy. Bucking her hips up to meet him, she gave Jordan a target to swing at and he took a few swings before he hit one out of the park.

“Fuck,” he grunted, tearing open and pouring into her. She felt him throb hard and deep, his wide shoulders shaking with the force. The second he was still, Cary gave up and went down beneath him.

Jordan’s mouth was at her ear. They were tossed across the bed, a twisted pile of bare skin, and his heart hammered right through them both.

“Cary,” he said in a drained voice. “I’m glad it was me.”



Loved it but what did he print off and stash in his locker??? Sequel please!!!!!!!!!!!!
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