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Stephanie sighed and turned over for the umpteenth time. Her eyes snapped wide open, however, as she knew it was a futile effort. Try as she might, she knew there was no way she was getting any sleep that night.
The young woman lay there for a beat, then raised her arms to cross them over her chest. She gazed up at the intricate, impossible and imagined patterns on the ceiling through the darkness. Her mind was working well part overtime.
She couldn't stop thinking about him... How had it been that he'd been in the exact same diner she'd been in, in the same exact town in the same exact city? It was all such a mystery to her. Yet, at the same time, Stephanie had always thought Sean O'Haire to be a mystery.
She couldn't deny it, least of all to herself - she'd thought about the burly, dark-haired man a lot over the last two years. Most especially after that one night, she hadn't been able to truly rid her mind of him.
Hot, moist, skin-to-skin they pressed, their bodies moving together in perfect, synchronic rhythm. His lips were so sweet, so demanding, and they absolutely set her on fire. She clung to him, her long, manicured nails digging into his perfect, firm butt, a wanton cry emerging from her lips as she tried desperately to pull him even more deeply inside of her. Her head shot back, blue eyes squeezed shut as she gave in, a wail of pleasure bubbling forth. This was ecstasy the caliber of which she'd definitely never known until now...
Stephanie groaned, kicking the blanket off her body as she uncrossed her arms, one of her hands coming up to shove back some of her sweaty long blonde hair. God, she needed to get a grip. And more importantly, she needed a decent night's sleep. Of course, this wouldn't be the first sleepless night she'd experienced.
Closing her eyes again, she willed slumber to come to her. Damn it, she was weary. On average, she would guess she got about six hours of sleep per night at most. That wasn't enough.
Stephanie wondered if he thought about her over the course of the two years since he'd been gone from the company. She wondered if he was haunted by the memory of that fateful night - much like she was on nearly a nightly basis.
She mentally answered her own question... 'Probably not,' she thought with resignation. As was her custom, a deep loneliness gripped her in its cold clutches.
She kicked the covers off her feet and rose from the bed, meandering her way to the window. Using one hand to push the drapes aside, she climbed up to sit, as it was an extravagant bay window in her bedroom. Again, she had to acknowledge that being Vince McMahon's daughter *did* have some benefits. Although she'd been born into the multi-millionaire family, she still enjoyed a decent measure of her own success and notariety. She hadn't purchased this luxurious home until she'd deemed herself independent. She liked to think the money she'd spent on it had been her own that she'd earned in her position as head writer in the WWE, rather than from her inheritance.
The blonde sighed wearily. Sometimes, she really hated who she was. Oh, she loved her family - her mother, Linda, older brother Shane, and yes - even Vince, despite their strained relationship. However, at times she felt as though the name "McMahon" and nearly everything it entailed was a curse.
She stayed there in the window, her legs curled under her Indian-style, back against the wall, staring out
into the dark night for several minutes. Before she knew it, she became extremely sleepy again, her eyelids
beginning to feel heavier. With Sean O'Haire still in her thoughts, she pushed down from the window and
returned to the comfort of her bed.