The woman hesitated, so Dean put his hands on her shoulders and firmly pushed down. She went down to her knees and looked up.

"This is going to sound stupid, considering the circumstances," she said, "but I don't even know your name. Do you have a name?"

"It's Dean," he said as he freed himself from his jeans. "And now that you now it, I expect you to scream it."

"My name is Wendy."

"I don't care," Dean said.

He pulled her head forward and watched as she slowly took him into her mouth. She picked up the pace a little, but Dean wasn't ready for that. He wanted to draw it out, so he put his hands into her hair, grabbing a fist-full in one, and slowed her movement.

She pleasured him for several minutes before his hips jerked forward as he fought to keep control. Wendy whimpered, and the sound sent a vibration through Dean that hit him hard. He held Wendy's head still and started to thrust himself into her mouth, in fast, short strokes, until he let himself go. Wendy held onto his thighs, still wrapped in his jeans, to steady herself.

Dean pulled away and tucked himself back in, but Wendy didn't move. Dean reached out his hand and, when Wendy took it, he pulled her into his chest so hard that the impact forced air from her lungs. He kissed her as he moved her toward his motorcycle, then lifted her up to sit sideways in the seat. Wendy opened her legs to allow Dean to get closer, and he wrapped his arms around her tight as his lips moved down her neck. His hands slipped beneath her shirt and squeezed her breasts through her bra.

"You've got on too much clothing," Dean growled against her neck.

In one swift motion, he pulled his hands from under her shirt, grabbed the neckline, and ripped it down the middle. Wendy let out a gasp, and a grin tugged at Dean's lips. He licked his way down to the swell of her breasts, and pulled the cups of her bra down. Wendy moaned when he took one of her nipples into his mouth. She tried not to think about the fact that they were on the side of the road. An almost deserted road, but still a road that a car could drive down at any moment.

Dean gave each breast equal attention before he pulled away. He brought his lips back to hers, just lightly touching, unmoving. Wendy leaned in, but Dean pulled back. He smiled when she whimpered.

"There we go," he whispered, and his lips crashed onto hers.

Wendy's hands slipped beneath Dean's leather jacket and gripped the shirt at his back. Her hands slipped down to cup his butt and pull him closer. Dean's lips moved down to her neck, and she took the opportunity to catch her breath.

"Oh, yeah," Dean said against her skin. "You want me don't you?"

"Yes," she said. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she squeezed his rear for emphasis.

She heard Dean snap his fingers, and she was suddenly in a bedroom, on a large bed, with Dean on top of her, still kissing her neck. In a panic, she tried to sit up, but Dean held her down.

"Relax," she said. His voice was smooth and deep.

"Where are we?"

"My place," he said. "I wanted a nice, soft mattress to pound you into."

Wendy's eyes flew open wide, and Dean laughed. He pulled off her bra. "You'll love it," he said, and flicked his tongue over her breast.

He slowly undid her jeans as he suckled at her breasts. He pulled them down just enough that he could get his hand between her legs, and he firmly rubbed back and forth over her panties. Wendy moaned and thrust her hips toward his hand. Her hands went into his hair, but Dean grabbed her wrists and shoved them away. She felt her wrists pinned to the bed, but Dean wasn't touching them. The panic began to rise again, and she tried to sit up. She could barely lift her head. Her arms were glued to the spot.

"Why can't I move?"

Dean looked up from her breast. "One of the perks of being a demon," he said with a grin. "I can pin you down, and still have my hands free to make you feel real good."

He applied more pressure between her legs, and she moaned. Her eyes closed and she let her head fall back into the pillow.

"Good girl," Dean said. "Or are you a bad girl? Making a deal with a demon... and you're so wet for me."

Dean kissed his way back up to her lips, but his hand never left its task between her legs.

"Are you a bad girl," he asked.

She seemed to think about it for a moment. "I guess so."

"You guess so? Well, I guess I'll just have to make you sure, won't I?"

He practically growled as he spoke. He sat up so fast that Wendy barely had time to register that he was pulling her pants from her. Her underwear followed. She watched, unable to move, as he stripped off his own clothes before climbing back up her body. He stopped for a moment to lick at her core. She let out a yelp as her hips bucked up, but they were soon held down by the same invisible force holding her wrists. She struggled against it, whimpering and moaning.

"Please..."

Dean ignored her plea.

"Oh, shit. Please... I'm a bad girl," she said breathlessly.

Dean kissed and licked back up to her mouth. "That's what I thought," he said.

He plunged into her and freed her hips and wrists. There was no waiting for her to adjust to the intrusion. A stream of moans and cries came from her as her nails dug deep into his shoulders.

"Bad girls like it rough, don't they," Dean growled.

"Yes... Yes..."

He made good on his promise to pound her into the mattress. He didn't stop until she screamed his name several times. His eyes went pitch black as he gave his final thrust, and he landed on top of her with a grunt.

Dean rolled onto his back and took a deep breath. He looked to his side and saw Wendy with her hands in her hair, still trembling with aftershocks.

"How do I get back to my car," she asked.

"I can pop you back, the same way we got here." He turned over and fisted his hand into her hair. "But who says I'm done with you? The deal was all night. You're still mine."