This is the last goodbye, I feel it in my bones and I've only just said hello, but this look in his eyes. It's just for tonight, I can read that message clearly, and I barely even know him, but that doesn't matter, at least that is what this heat and ache inside tells me. Sell my soul for one night, I can do that now and worry over consequences later. Yes.

I remember the first time seeing him. It was a brutal fight, one that caused more damage than most people cared to notice. Not that he really minded that, the more pain the better, gave him even more of a reason to get off later as he pulled away the bandages to lick his own wounds and bite and pinch them back to life to feel the burn, the sting, again. Pain is a lover he's always on good terms with. That is the first thing I learned about him. The second, well, he will try anything at least once.

I'm new to this world, and I hardly agree with the damage these boys do just to earn a living and entertain horny woman, little kids, and fat oafs with nothing better to do with their lives. Most of the wrestlers are obnoxious, have major egos, and primp and preen and flirt mercilessly. I'd like to knock them out myself if I thought I could. God knows I am tempted to bring in chloroform just to knock John Cena on his ass.

Of course my opinion changed drastically the night I was cornered by some kid with a clipboard and headphones on. It was about ten minutes after the latest match, the tag team match, the Hardy Boyz verses Cade and Murdoch, and I prayed to every known deity and promised my soul to the very devil himself that I wouldn't have to touch Murdoch or Cade, since they liked my services. Being the recently recruited massage therapist brought in had its disadvantages, especially with pigs like Murdoch and Cade, or Cena for that matter.

As I was taken to a locker room, I saw that the devil does indeed come through. I was met by a man who towered over me by nearly a foot, his curly dark hair pulled back, and he looked me up and down, before he snorted and said, "Can't believe these assholes, appointing fucking massage therapists because of insurance bullshit. Fucking outrageous. He don't need you, lady, so just turn around and tell 'em you're done here."

I heard a groan and looked past the asshole standing in my way as someone said, "Christ Matt, she's just doin' her job. Ain't like I need her, but she can watch me workin' out my pain if she wants. I don't mind putting on a show."

I swallowed thickly and wondered what Jeff Hardy's idea of working out his pain was, when Matt walked past me, and it's a wonder he didn't try to shoulder past me as he slammed out of the locker room. I tentatively stepped further into the room and saw him, sitting calmly on the bench, looking up at me, his head cocked, hair hanging in sweaty, multi-colored curls around him, and I took in a deep breath. I could feel his eyes on me and it sent chills up my spine and I wondered what he saw, just some mousy girl with a little extra meat on her bones and too short brown hair, looking more like a guy than a girl, and then he smiled at me and reached for his fly.

My eyes widened in astonishment as he opened his fly and whipped out his dick, hard and ready for action, precum oozing from the tip. His hand wrapped around it and he moved his hand up, his thumb brushing over the head, nail catching in the slit and he hissed, and I swallowed again, heat pooling in my stomach as I tried to work it out in my mind whether or not this was actually happening.

He looked up at me with a cocky grin, and I sucked in a deep breath, pinching my mouth and shaking my head. "Mr. Hardy, what exactly do you think my job entails?"

He shrugged. "Touching me hard in all the right places till I feel better. Right now I'm a little sore right here," he said, using his free hand to indicate his dick.

"I am a massage therapist, Mr. Hardy. If you want a whore there are plenty of them out there to give you a good ride," I replied.

"Not a bad idea, but not what I'm looking for tonight. You look kinda uptight. Why not come a little closer and let me loosen you up?" he asked, his hand doing long easy, languid strokes, as if daring me to resist, and then he tacked on, "And stop with this Mr. Hardy shit. I'm Jeff, kay?"

"This isn't about me, it's about your needs as long as they don't involve me as far as sexual favors. I am here as a professional to help you in a medicinal sense."

"What's your name?" he asked, completely ignoring the point I was trying to make.

"Kaitlyn Anders, now are you going to put yourself away and let me get on with my job?"

He snorted and then winced, probably because he'd aggravated a muscle he'd already pulled. "I don't do massages. I kinda have this thing for pain. The more it hurts the harder I come. Stick around and you'll find out, I put on a great show. So how about keepin' me company?"

"Either you let me do my job, or I'm leaving. This wasn't in the contract when I agreed to this shitty job," I snapped.

He held up both his hands in a gesture of surrender, his cock still standing firm as he gave a little nod and said, "Fine, you got me. But I'm not gettin' somethin' as girly as a massage here. Got a rep to keep up. You're coming back with me to my room at the hotel. That's the only way I agree to this shit. Now you could say no and deal with Cena after his match, since I hear the locker room gossip and know how much you love the guy."

The man talked a good game, and I should have known from the gleam in his eyes as he put himself away that I was a goner. That he had me more than I had him. I found myself agreeing if only to avoid dealing with another asshole later. So it was that I found myself in a limo with both Hardys, and a few minutes later we reached the hotel and then there was the elevator and finally the top floor. Matt and Jeff parting ways in stiff silence, and I knew that there was something unsaid and full of anger and resentment between them, which was evidenced more when Jeff let me into his suite, and then headed straight for the bed, sat on the end of it, fell back and then groaned in pain.

I locked the door behind me, and went to him. He looked at me, letting his head roll to the side a bit, and then he smiled. "Knew you'd come around if I got you all to myself."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I tried to get him to sit up so I could get his shirt over his head and assess the damage, but his arms slipped around me and pulled me forward and down, so that I was sitting in his lap and pressed against his hard on, and that's when he sat up. "Now, ain't this nice?"

I tried to shove away from him, but by then his hands found their way to my hips and he was encouraging me to wiggle on top of his lap. The look in his eyes made my stomach burn with something that was more than usual desire. I cleared my throat, reached for the bottom of his shirt and began to pull it up and over his chest. He lifted his arms and I dragged the shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it to the floor. He lowered his arms and his hands went to cup my face as he shifted closer to me. I pushed firmly against his chest and pulled away, getting to my feet.

He cocked a brow at me, and said, "What gives? Thought you were gettin' into it."

My face burned with embarrassment, because he was right, I was getting into it, but this was my job, well not the sex, but tending to injuries, and I winced at the bruises along his chest and then I said, "I'm here to give you a massage, remember? Now roll over so I can get a good look at the damage you've done to your back and I know you took a hard hit on your knee, so I'll be taking care of that too."

"So you're serious. You got me all hard and laid out, ready to go, and you're just gonna tell me to turn over and give me a massage? Fuck that."

I sighed and mentally counted to ten. "Yes, that's about the gist of it."

"All right, I'll give you five minutes before you crack."

He rolled over and then I leaned over him, and winced at the bruises on his back, some fraying green at the edges, from old matches, but most were dark blue and angry purple. I took in a breath, warned him that it would hurt, he grunted in reply and then I began to work my finger's lightly over the damage to find where it was the most sensitive so that I could take that into consideration as I worked the muscles.

"That the best you got? I can't even feel it. I'm a big boy, Kaity, incase you can't remember what you saw earlier. Don't be scared. I ain't gonna fall apart and I don't bruise easy. I like it a little rough," he said, and then his hand shifted and I heard the sound of his zipper. I chose to ignore it this time as I set to work.

I started with his neck, working my thumbs deep at the base of his skull while pressing and circling my fingers along either side of the ridge of his spine. He gave a muffled groan and then I worked my hands down to his shoulder, and when he winced as I worked at the edges of a bruise I eased up, but then he made a comment that made me work my fingers in deeper, harder, and my face burned as I heard his breath hitch.

His arm moved a little more eagerly after that, and then I needed leverage to work up and along his spine, and since I didn't have a table, the best way to do that and have it be effective was to straddle his waist. I took a breath and then shifted, moved my leg over him, and lowered myself slowly, my hands kneading at the small of his back and working back up the muscles in his back that I'd just worked down. He groaned and shifted beneath me, and I leaned into my hands, to apply more pressure to work the tissue deeper, and he groaned again, and then in a move I never would have expected from someone as battered as him, he twisted and in a blur of motion and confusion I found myself on my back with him straddling me, his cock peeking eagerly from the open fly of his pants.

He bent down, his hair falling around his face in purple tipped edges as he drew closer to me, and then his lips were pressed against mine, followed by teeth nibbling playfully on my bottom lip. I gasped and his tongue snaked its way inside my mouth, tracing along my teeth and then he encouraged my tongue to play along, and I whimpered for lack of anything better to do, because this was too much, too fast, and the devil really did deliver. He delivered in spades if Jeff Hardy was anything to judge by.

He pulled back, his eyes dark with hunger, and I wondered how he could be hungry for me, but I was too far gone to really care as his lips moved to my jaw, his teeth grazing my skin as he nipped his way down my throat and I gasped as my body arched as he found the sensitive spot just over my pulse. He pulled back and whispered huskily, "This all right?"

I nodded and then he continued, his hands slipping under my shirt and working it up over my head. I swallowed thickly, my eyes squeezed shut because this couldn't be real. Someone like him couldn't possibly see something he wanted in me. He peeled the shirt off of me and lowered his head again, his teeth a little rougher as he got further down, nipping possessively, little nips of almost pain that left enough of an ache and burn that made me want more. He jerked my bra straps down my arms, actually ripping one, to reveal more of me, because apparently he didn't have the patience to reach behind and work against the clasps.

He lowered his head; his eyes locked with mine as his tongue circled my right nipple before he bent down further and nipped it. The other breast he massaged roughly, a moan tearing free from my throat as he sucked and the heat pooled in my stomach, and then he worked my left breast as eagerly with his mouth as the right before he continued his descent of tongue and teeth.

He worked open the button and zipper on my black slacks, and there was a smirk on his face as his fingers curled over the edge of my pants and panties and he jerked them down my legs and nuzzled his nose against my crotch, before his tongue flickered out and made me squirm as it slipped hot and wet between my folds. He finished tugging my pants and panties off and then he shifted, bringing my legs over his shoulders as his arms wrapped around my legs and his fingers spread me open further as his tongue ventured deeper, his teeth nipping and grazing my clit, and making me jerk with the jolt that lit up my spine. He chuckled and the vibration sent chills through me, and his facial hair tickled as his tongue worked inside of me, flickering and dancing.

I looked down my body, my hands tangled in his long hair, and I wrenched his head back, because I wanted to see that hunger in his eyes. He grinned at me, continuing to work his tongue inside me, wiggling efforts and playful laps inner mixed as his eyes stayed fixed on mine, and then he worked a finger inside me to join his tongue, and crooked it just right, my head fell back as my body shuddered and a moan escaped me, a moan that almost sounded inhuman.

He worked his finger in and out of me until I came down from my orgasm, and then he shifted, my legs slipping off his shoulders as he worked his way back up my body, and his lips were against mine. I tasted myself in his eager kiss, and felt his hard dick against my thigh. I moaned and arched up into him, and my hands in his hair pulled tightly against his skull in wordless need.

He reached for the nightstand by the bed, pulled open the drawer, rummaged around, and then grumbled, "Shit!"

He heaved a sigh, and then smiled as he finally found what he was looking for and pulled out a condom. He leaned back down and kissed me again and then his lips were against my ear as he said, "You want it, you put the rubber on my dick."

My eyes narrowed at the challenge and I snatched the condom from him, tore it open with my teeth, and then I found one of the larger and more sensitive bruises on his side and gave it a good jolt with a press of my fingers and thumb, then I maneuvered so that I rolled him over, and he was the one on his back and I was on top of him.

"I don't play games, and I learn fast, Jeff," I hissed, and then I kissed and bit my way down his body, biting down hard enough over his hip to leave a mark, my right hand on his cock, working him slowly.

I dragged his pants and underwear down his legs, mildly surprised that he wasn't commando, and tossed them across the room before I made my way back up his legs, reaching behind me and removing my bra and tossing it away in the process. I bent down at his crotch, my tongue circling along the head of his cock before I flickered it across the head and slit, and then lowered my mouth, my tongue tracing the vein along the underside before coming back up and descending again, and then back up, humming along the way.

I glanced up, my eyes locked with his hazel gaze and then I smirked as I pulled back and tore open the condom wrapper with my teeth before rolling the rubber down his hard cock. I shifted and then lowered myself down on him, my muscles clenching around him as I leaned forward, my mouth meeting his in swirling tongues and playful nips as his hands found their way to my hips and encouraged a rhythm that had the both of us moaning, his hips thrusting up, causing a whine to escape my throat.

"So tight, uptight everywhere, Christ, God, almighty," he groaned as I continued to ride him, rolling my hips with every rise and fall of my body.

He pulled me down roughly, his teeth digging in at the base of my throat as his body stiffened, and one hand went to my clit, pinching and working it fast and hard as he gave a good thrust up and I shuddered for a second time as he came hard, his teeth clamped down against my throat so tight he drew blood, and I threw my head back crying out his name.

Darkness flooded my vision as I fell against him, my breathing as erratic as his, and I picked up on the grunt, and moved to the side so I was more on the mattress than on him, considering his injuries. It took a while for my breathing to even out, and the darkness slipped in and pulled me under as a large hand ran up and down my hip, blunt fingernails occasionally grazing along my flank.

When the light chased away the darkness I awoke alone in the bed, warmth on my bare back from the sunlight slipping in through the curtains and aches in all the right places. I brought my hand up to my throat as I sat up, my fingers tracing along the throbbing bite mark there. I swallowed thickly, heard the shower going, and quickly dressed.

Once I was dressed, I stepped into my shoes that had been discarded somewhere along the way in Jeff's suite, and then I slipped out of the room. I looked up with a start at a door opening at the end of the hall and my breath froze in my throat as Adam Copeland flashed me a wolfish grin and retreated back to his room. Hell I thought he lived in Florida, so what in the hell was he doing in a hotel room? But really it wasn't any of my business at all, and what difference did it make if he'd seen me?

I lifted my head high and found the elevator, pressed the button, found my way to the lobby, had the concierge call me a cab and within twenty minutes I was at home, in the shower, my mind racing with thoughts of Jeff Hardy and the night before.

So now, a couple of weeks later I find myself once again in the locker room facing Jeff, he's subdued, obviously in pain and turned on, but he's guarded, wary of me. I take in a shuddering breath, my mind swept up in two weeks ago when I was with him in his suite, the marks he left on me, the phantom traces of that bite mark on my throat still lingering. Things are awkward now, and I know he won't let me give him a massage. He's Jeff Fucking Hardy, he doesn't do massages.

I take in a breath, and a hesitant step forward and he cocks his head at me, and I pause and close my eyes as he rises from the bench. A hand pressed to his side, more than likely aching from the impact of him breaking one of the announcer's tables when he landed on it.

And I just know it, know that this time is goodbye. I've already given my two weeks notice, because this job isn't what I thought, even if the money's good. Some things just aren't worth it, no matter how much you want it to be. And I know this, know about paying the devil's dime.

This is the last goodbye, I feel it in on my bones and I've only just said hello, but this look in his eyes. It's just for tonight, one last time. I can read that message clearly, not in him, in me, but that doesn't matter, at least that is what this heat and ache inside tells me. Sell my soul for one more night, I can do that now and worry over consequences later. Yes, the devil can wait to settle his deal later, because I'm all grown up now in this world of pain and pleasure, and I pay my debts. Even the devil gets his due.

End.