Criminal | By : LeylaChaz Category: WWF/WWE > Het - Male/Female Views: 1701 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not know CM Punk, anyone WWE related, or Britney Spears who owns the song "Criminal." No money is being made from this. |
Disclaimer: I do not know or own CM Punk, nor anything that is WWE related. I also do not own the song, "Criminal," that belongs to Britney Spears and respective labels. Absolutely no money is being made from this fiction whatsoever. It is purely free entertainment for all mature adult viewers. All OC's and original story plots that you see, belong to me.
So it's safe to say... we're taking a small interlude from my normal story, just for the sake of getting this one of my system. Don't worry, it's just going to be a one-shot. I've been listening to, "Criminal," by Britney Spears on repeat for over a week, finally I had enough and realized that my muse for this will die when I finally write about it. Now normally, I would have shot this down, and absolutely refused to write it. But after looking at some newly released pictures of Punk on his official website, that one of my girl friends sent me over to see... the match was struck, the fuse was lit, and BOOM. Unavoidable from that point on. In fact, check my profile for the link to the pics. You'll completely understand why... Oh Jesus those pictures are so effing nice.
Regular italics are flashbacks that provide the back story.
Bold italics is obviously the song.
WARNING: This one-shot contains adult themes, language, and content. If you are under the age of 18, you need to leave at once, as this fiction is not minor friendly. You have been warned. Thank you.
Now on with the show.
Criminal (A CM Punk Song Fiction)
It's sweltering in here, yet I can't seem to make my feet move from this spot. He warned me last time that this would happen. I didn't take him seriously, and now look at the situation I'm in.
The last time I saw him, we had run into each other at a bar after our respective shows. He actually had the balls to walk up to me and ask me for my name. His smirk was enough to send chills down my spine, and he had the face of a fallen angel. I smiled, and answered his question. From there, I had found out he was a professional wrestler from Chicago, he had found out that I was a professional singer from North Carolina. While his friends/co-workers and my backup dancers were getting smashed, we talked through the night, never once breaking conversation for anyone around us. Eventually, we both had to go back to our respective hotels, and come to find out we were both staying in the same one. As he walked me to my room that night, I couldn't help but note the tension that seemed to be cackling in the air around us. God, this man had it.
He had the charm, the looks, the tattoos that secretly has me biting my lips, the attitude that sets my world on fire, and I realize one scary and fucked up thought. I want this man, this absolute stranger, whom I've known no longer than five hours. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not some easy slut. Truth be told, it's been forever since I was in a stable relationship, even longer since I had gotten laid by that point. So to call me a slut for even thinking about ripping this man's clothes off, isn't very fair. If you were even thinking about it, you could fuck off.
You asked me for my side of the story why I'm now in the position that I'm in right now, which is being pinned down to this spot as he's silently approaching me. So the side note from you, is irrelevant.
As I look through my clutch for my room key card, I realize he's staring at me. Blushing a slight tinge of red, I act like I don't notice this, and keep searching for my card. After a few more moments, I find it and turn to face him to wish him a goodnight, and thank him. The second that I do, I'm not only shocked by how beautiful his eyes are (which are brown with speckles of green in them by the way), I'm also floored by the intensity in them. At that moment, I made the mistake of letting out a small gasp. It was all he needed to read my thoughts, as he dove in for a brutal and searingly passionate kiss.
My knees went weak as he pushed me against the door of my room. It's almost impossible to explain to you how amazing this felt. I swore to Jesus Christ above that if he just made this man mine for one night, I would gladly pay for my sins tomorrow, and go to church every Sunday. He held me against the door, as his skillful tongue snaked its way into my awaiting mouth. His hands were blazing a trail of fire from my shoulder blades to my hips that he held in his powerful grip. I let out a moan as his body pressed me harder against the door. The things he's doing to me, just by kissing me, takes me by storm.
His lips and tongue move from my mouth to my neck, as my eyes slip shut, and I lost track of time and space. Fuck its glorious just remembering it.
Suddenly, he stops sucking on my neck, and looks at his handy work. I whine at the loss of contact.
"You're not ready for this right now, but you will be. The next time I see you Isabella, you'll come to me. Only then, will you be ready." He whispered against my lips, as his forehead was pressed against mine, and his eyes were closed. It's not dawning on me, that he's using every bit of restraint left in his body, not to throw my door open and take me to bed.
"Ready for what?" I asked in a dazed whisper.
He chuckles at me.
"Ready to see a world that only I can show you, through an entirely new spectrum." With that he slipped from my hands, turned around and walked away.
That was the night I met this man and he turned my world upside down, setting everything I thought I knew, ablaze.
The next several weeks, I continued to tour around the country and go to award shows and meaningless parties. I began to realize, that the world of Hollywood was so fake, people parading around each other acting like they were untouchable, and better than what they really were. Did these fucking dumbasses come up with a cure for AIDS or cancer? No. Did they come up with the solution to our country's growing debt problems? Hell no, if anything people like them added to it. Did a single goddamn one of them come up with an answer to our energy problems? Fuck no. So why is it we must praise these people again? Everything just starting getting on my nerves. These fake people and their fake persona's.
But there was one person who was never fake, what you see is what you got out of him. And I'll be damned if he wasn't on my mind constantly.
Soon, I became absorbed into watching professional wrestling every single week.
I was visiting my mother in North Carolina on a short three day break, and to tell you the truth, I missed her. Yeah, I know, it's lame that a 25 year old woman misses her mother. But still, whenever my world was going crazy, she knew exactly how to set me straight again.
As we sat down in the living room, I flipped my mother's widescreen television to Monday Night Raw. My mom's eyebrows raised high against her forehead, as she turned to look at me.
"Isabella, why are you watching this barbaric show? I didn't know you liked this sort of thing." She sniffed at me.
My mother Elizabeth came from old money, and was old fashioned. Her plantation home was surely a testimony to this fact. She had made sure that I went to the best schools, I was highly trained in music, dancing, modeling, and so forth. My mom made sure I was on the fast track to being successful and wealthy. She would tolerate no less.
"Actually momma, I know one of the wrestlers," and as I told her this, his music hit and came out to the ring. "In fact, that's him right there." I said pointing to CM Punk as he stood on the top turn buckle, his hands holding his championship title high in the air, and his gray CM Punk shirt riding up showing his sexy stomach. Much to my delight, and my mother's obvious disgust.
"Oh my Jesus, please tell me you are only friends with him Isabella. That young man looks atrocious! There is not one reason why anyone in this world should have so many tattoos on their skin! No class whatsoever! I declare!" She huffed in horror.
I say nothing as I turn up the volume on the television, and listen to him speak. God, that voice... it just does something to me every time I hear it. Maybe it just reminds me that this is real, and I didn't imagine him. Whatever it is, I'm realizing that I can't wait to see him again.
Little do I know, I'm not only biting my lip and smiling, but my mother is watching me the entire time. I'm like a puzzle she's trying to figure out. Suddenly she jumps up, and shuts the TV off.
"Momma! The hell was that for?" I ask her in shock.
"Isabella Edwards, if you curse in my home one more time." She said in her serious tone. My angry reaction, immediately comes to a halt.
"How long have you had feelings for that boy?" She questions me.
"Since I met him." What's the point in lying? It's gotta be obvious if my own damn mother can tell.
"I want you to stop talking to this boy immediately. He's no good, and he's not good enough for you. You'll be the joke of all of our friends if you try to bring him around here! He's disgusting, and a stray dog! A criminal! Bella, you can do way better than him. What about Bradley? I had your agent set up that date a few months ago! How did that go?" She said, trying to get my mind off Punk.
"He's not looking for anything serious ma. Besides, he's not even my type."
"Oh I remember your type alright young lady! If that boy from your band class in college was any hint on the matter! Tattoos, swears like a sailor, and a horrible attitude problem if I remember right!" She snaps at me.
Sighing, I realize I don't have the energy for this shit.
"Momma, I'm not doing this with you. I'm a grown adult. Good night." I said, dismissing her.
That was something you never do to my momma.
She walked over to me, slapping me clean across the face.
"If you don't heed my words, and you choose this boy, you are no longer welcome here until you clean up your act. Do you hear me Isabella? Think about that!" She said as she stormed off to her study.
I held my stinging cheek in my hand, as tears slipped down my face. My momma had never slapped me before. Not even when I was caught dating Ricky in college. It hurt like hell, but it also made my blood boil.
"Fuck this shit!" I whispered to myself, as I went to my room and packed my things.
I left that night, looking forward to getting back on the road and to the next city. A city I would be spending at least a week in: Miami.
Miami was beautiful. I had a few performances at some night clubs and a mall. Plus, my manager even managed to score me some Wrestlemania tickets, watching all the action from the chairman's sky box.
I hadn't made up my mind on whether or not I was going to find Punk and tell him I was here. I was scared to death to be honest.
While watching the show, the WWE Chairman officially invited me to the big Wrestlemania after party they had every year, which I gladly accepted.
As I stood in the corner next to Vince and his family while sipping from my champagne flute, discussing a possible appearance on their show, that was when I felt it. This unnerving sense of someone staring straight through me. Sure enough, Punk had made his way over to us.
"Nice to see you again Isabella." He smirked at me, as he kissed my hand.
Vince, looking mildly horrified, stumbled out an introduction.
"It's okay. I know who he is. Truth be told, he's the one that got me into your show in the first place." The line was out of my mouth before I even realized what I had said. Rolling out, with as much ease as melted chocolate.
Punk smiled at me, and I returned his smile.
"Mr. McMahon, if you'll excuse me I would like to catch up with my friend. Please contact my agent about this, I would love to make an appearance, and I'll make sure he makes it a top priority." I said, turning my attention back to the creator of the WWE.
"No problem Miss. Edwards. Have fun, enjoy the party, and anytime you want to see a show please contact me." He smiled, as he turned his attention to his daughter.
We walked outside to the balcony, over looking the ocean. His hand, on the small of my back and it send delicious tingles up my spine.
"Your resolve is a little stronger than I expected. You haven't once tried to get me to take you out of here yet." He chuckled in my ear. To anyone else, we looked like to friends sharing a laugh. To us, it was so much more than that.
"I'm in public. I'm highly trained and skilled to keep a good poker face, I assure you." I said back with a smirk of my own.
"But if you want my honesty," I began, "then here it is. You're all I'm thinking about anymore. All I want to do, is all I've wanted to do since you kissed me that night. I want to know who you are, I want to feel your body next to mine, and I am dying to feel your lips on mine once again." I whispered in his ear.
He's barely able to mask his animalistic growl, as he took my hand in his and lead me out of the penthouse room the party is being held in. We took the elevator down a couple of floors, and before I knew it, he picked me up and took me into his room.
Now here I stand, in a red backless dress, as he's approaching me like the hunter approaches it's prey. God, I've never seen anything so goddamn sexy in my life. Suddenly I'm nervous, as I swallow the lump that's formed in my throat.
Everything we have both been through has lead up to this point in time. It was, in essence, inevitable.
Suddenly I closed the distance between us and pressed my lips to his. I've truly missed this.
As I kiss him, I push his tuxedo jacket from his frame, and work on his tie. He's already unzipped my dress, and is sliding it down my shoulders. I push the offending dress off of my arms, not realizing my breasts are completely exposed, nor am I caring as I set back to work on that fucking tie. Once it's undone, I set to work on the buttons of his white shirt, and frustratingly rip it open. Exposing his beautifully tattooed chest to my hungry eyes. I let out a moan, and lick my lips. He uses my time of staring at him against me, as he dips his head and sucks my nipple into his eagerly awaiting mouth. It feels like a jolt of lighting courses through my veins, and settles in my nether regions. My temperature rises, as my hands fist into his gelled back hair.
As he's worshiping my chest, his hands reach under my hiked up skirt and feel me through my panties. I'm drenched. He clamps his teeth down on my nipple as he rips my flimsy thong from my body.
My mind is beyond made up. I want this man to fuck me until I'm seeing stars.
Taking his belt buckle into my hands, I undo it and set to work on freeing him from the confines of his briefs and pants. He takes the liberty of sliding my dress down the rest of the way, and off of my body. His fingers find my opening, as he slides two in and I let out a pleasurable groan.
His mouth is on mine once more, as he continues to fuck me with his hand. I can't take much more of this, and I have a feeling that the torture is only just beginning.
He then picks me up, as if I'm feather light, and tosses me on the bed. Punk then yanks me to the edge of the bed as he settles down on his knees on the floor. Before I realize it, his tongue is taking a long, luxurious lick on my dripping wet center. I cry out, and arch off of the bed. My hands searching out for his head, grabbing his hair between my fingers. I can feel his tongue ring ever time his tongue swipes across my swollen clit.
"Oh fuck! Don't stop!" I cry out as his fingers enter me once more, while he continues to lick at away at my clit.
Soon, my eyes are slipping shut, as my breathing speeds up. In a matter of moments, I'm coming, and hard. His finger are pulled from my entrance, only to be replaced by his mouth as he sucks up my essence.
I want this man in mouth, I want to make him feel like he made me feel.
As he stands up, I slide off the bed and onto my knees, surprising him as I lick at his long and thick length. He lets out a low hiss, as I close my lips around his cock and suck him into my mouth. His skin is so soft, yet he's so hard. He smells masculine too, a mixture all his own and completely indescribable. While I continued to suck him off, his hips start to flex, as he continued to fuck my mouth. I'm not giving up until I fucking taste him, and it's become priority number one on my list.
Several minutes later, he's pulling himself out of my mouth and smirking at me.
"If you don't stop that, this is gonna be over sooner than you and I would like." He warns me.
He picks me up once more, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
My back slams against the wall, as I feel his length enter me for the very first time. My eyes widen and my mouth falls open into a perfect o shape. His eyes are locked on mine, as his mouth falls open as well. We both feel it. That spark. The connection. We both know that this isn't going to be the last time this ever happens, and I for one am glad for it.
He starts to pump himself in and out of my body, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. His pace turns into a brutal one, and I'm loving every pleasurable and enjoyable second of it. Soon, I'm screaming out my pleasure.
Not missing a beat, or breaking our connection, he turns back to the bed. We land on the bed more gracefully than I expected, as he continues to teach my body new sensations that it's never experienced before. I would do anything to make this feeling last forever.
Sensing this, he slows the pace down, as my back arches off the bed once more and I arch into his body. Leaning his head down once more, he takes my nipple into his mouth, and alternates his attention between the two. Soon after, he's back to kissing me and I him. His tongue in my mouth, his length pumping in and out of me at a slow pace, is doing things to me. My body explodes around him, as I toss my head back, look into his beautiful eyes and moan.
He stops moving long enough for me to catch my breath, and to take me in.
"Wow..." It's all he can say as he continues to look into my eyes. Suddenly I feel self conscience.
"You're fucking beautiful when I make you come." He whispers to me as he kisses me once more.
Getting lost in him once more, I am nothing more than a hopeless slave to the pleasure that he is giving me.
Sitting up, he tosses my legs onto his right shoulder, and sets a faster and deeper pace. It's shocking and deliciously welcome at the same time. He's driving deeper and deeper inside of me, as he hits my g-spot. I scream out. All we hear around us is the slapping of skin, heavy breathing, and moans, grunts, growls, and screams of pleasure.
Then out of no where, he sits down on his legs, and pulls me up into his lap. Encouraging me to ride him however I damn well please. I decided to slow it down some, as my arms wrap around his shoulders, and I kiss him. Soon, we've broken our kiss and we look into each others eyes, as I continue to ride him. That connection making itself known once more, and I lose myself in my passion for him. Only then do I notice that his eyes look more green, it's like the speckles inside of them have intensified. Making me stare at them in complete awestruck wonder.
"Yes Bella, that's it..." He says, as he draws me in for another kiss. His lips then move once more to my neck, as his hands feel my their way around my body. His hands are the conductor, and my body is the orchestra, and right now he's playing a sinfully seducing tune with them.
Pushing me back against the bed, he braces one hand against the headboard, as my nails rake themselves down the length of his back. He's slamming himself into me once more, and I love it. I love when he goes slow, and I'm loving when he's losing control.
As I kiss and suck at his neck, he hits a particularly erotic spot inside of me, and I bite down on his neck. It must have done something to him, as he slams himself on that same spot again, eliciting a scream from me. Soon, my eyes are shutting once more, sensing myself reaching my peak again. He continues to fuck me just the way I like as I feel myself slip over the edge, and stars burst behind my eyelids.
Giving into his basic nature, he joins me in going over the edge. Coming deep inside of me.
Punk then settles himself, next to me, and I lay my head on his chest. Both of us trying to catch our breath. Before I know it, I'm fast asleep, and for the first time in my life... truly happy.
As I awoke the next morning, I realized he was gone. He left me a note on the nightstand, explaining that he had to leave due to the show, but he really enjoyed the night before and to call him. Leaving me his phone number.
I frowned. But if there was one thing I knew about him, he always meant what he said. If he wanted me to call him, he meant it.
Not knowing what this meant or where we even stood anymore, I slipped from the bed and put the paper in my purse. As I got dressed, I looked in the mirror, and saw the hickey that he left on my neck.
Smiling, I continued to get dressed and fix my hair as best as I could, before making my way back to my room and possibly freaked out agent.
A month went by, and I was set to release my latest single on iTunes and stores all over the world. Criminal. It had been on radio stations the world over, and was getting a huge pop from fans everywhere.
Somewhere along the lines, it slipped out from someone that I had in fact, wrote the song about the infamous CM Punk. Radio DJ's, MTV reporters, and all other various media outlets everywhere were constantly asking the same question: "Did you really write this song about WWE wrestler CM Punk?"
I would of course, smile coyly, and refuse to give a direct answer. Instead I answered diplomatically. Which annoyed them all, including excited fans, to absolutely no end.
While tweeting to fans to request the song on their local and national radio stations, I received quite the shock.
CMPunk: So I heard that IsabellaEdwards wrote a song about me. I listened to it. Maybe she should call me & we can work something out. #PMA
I smiled as I read the tweet, and decided to respond back as well.
IsabellaEdwards: So CMPunk heard my song huh? Awesome. He may like to know, I'll be guest hosting #Raw on Monday ;)
With that I shut down my twitter application, and sat back in the private jet with a smile on my face. Maybe we could make some new memories while we were in England.
Until then he could stew that over, just like he made me stew it over since the first night we met.
As for my mother? The hell with her. I hope she likes the song, after all, she did inspire a lot of it.
He is a hustler, he's no good at all
He is a loser, he's a bum, bum, bum, bum
He lies, he bluffs, he's unreliable
He is a sucker with a gun, gun, gun, gun
I know you told me I should stay away
I know you said he's just a dog astray
He is a bad boy with a tainted heart
And even I know this ain't smart
But mama I'm in love with a criminal
And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical
Mama please don't cry, I will be alright
All reason aside I just can't deny, love the guy
He is a villain by the devil's law
He is a killer just for fun, fun, fun, fun
That man's a snitch and unpredictable
He's got no conscience, he got none, none, none, none
Oh-aaall I know, should've let go, but no
'Cause he is a bad boy with a tainted heart
And even I know this ain't smart
But mama I'm in love with a criminal
And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical
Mama please don't cry, I will be alright
All reason aside I just can't deny, love the guy
And he's got my name
Tattooed on his arm
His lucky charm
So I guess it's okay
He's with me
And I hear people talk (people talk)
Try to make remarks
Keep us apart
But I don't even hear
I don't care
'Cause mama I'm in love with a criminal
And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical
Mama please don't cry, I will be alright
All reason aside I just can't deny, I love the guy
(Oh-aaall I know)
Mama I'm in love with a criminal
(Should've let go)
And this type of love isn't rational,
(But no)
It's physical
(Oh-aaall I know)
Mama please don't cry, I will be alright
(Should've let go)
All reason aside
(But no)
I just can't deny, love the guy
Please note: The song "Criminal," is written by: Max Martin, Shellback, & Tiffany Amber. "Criminal" was produced by: Max Martin and Shellback. The song is actually performed by Britney Spears, whom happens to be signed to the labels Jive Records & RCA. The following is an APA 6th edition style source citation to better credit the song.
Spears, B. (Performer) (2011). Criminal [Radio series episode]. In Max, M. S. (Executive Producer), Femme Fatale. Jive Records, RCA Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Criminal_(Britney_Spears_song)
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