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𝑵𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑵𝒐𝒘 - (Catherine Zeta-Jones x Fem Reader)

catherine zeta-jones x fem reader | oneshot

smut warnings: car sex, dry humping, fingering, dirty talk, desperation, neediness, vocal, whiny!Catherine, teasing, praise kink, semi-public, mutual pleasure, power dynamics

for @cseynvak <33

smut, porn without plot, oneshot word count: 3k

Catherine's usually composed, polished and untouchable. But tonight, she can't wait any longer. Desperate, needy, and teasingly whiny, she takes what she wants in the car, letting herself unravel completely... with you. Read on AO3

𝑵𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑵𝒐𝒘

The studio lot was almost deserted by the time you rolled into the private exit lane, headlights sweeping over a row of empty trailers. You always came this way. Far from the street, far from the paparazzi who lingered like vultures at the main gate. Out here, the night felt sealed off, quiet except for the soft tick of your engine cooling when you parked.

Your fingers drummed the steering wheel, restless. She always made you wait a little while, she finished her goodbyes and wrapped up her last-minute notes with the director. You never minded. It gave you time to notice the details. The way the sodium lights buzzed overhead, throwing amber halos across the pavement, the faint smell of rain still clinging to the air after the afternoon’s storm.

The side food finally creaked open, spilling a slice of fluorescent light across the asphalt. Catherine stepped out. Not the immaculate star who smiled on carpets, but Catherine in black rehearsal clothes, her coat shrugged half over one shoulder, hair pinned up hastily with wisps falling loose. Even from the car, you could see how the exhaustion tightened her shoulders, how the heat in her eyes cut straight through it.

She crossed the lot quickly, her heels clicking in uneven staccato against the concrete. The second she slid into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind her, the air changed. Perfume clung to her, heady and warm, layered over the faint tang of sweat from hours under stage lights.

She leaned back with a soft groan, head tilting against the seat, then turned to you. Her lips were smudged, eyes dark and hungry, and for a long beat she didn’t speak. Just breathed, gaze roaming over your face like she’d been starved of it all day. When she finally did, her voice came out low and frayed at the edges.

“Drive,” she murmured, then paused, shaking her head. A hand found your thigh, fingers tightening suddenly, nails grazing just enough to make your breath hitch. “No–don’t. I can’t–”

She bit down on her lip, almost laughing at herself, though there was nothing light in her expression. “Darling, I’ve been thinking about you all night. Please. I can’t wait until we’re inside.”

For a second, you just stared at her, half-certain you’d misheard. Catherine Zeta-Jones, sliding into your car at half past midnight, eyes burning, voice wrecked, begging?”

“Right,” you said, a smile tugging at your mouth, “because what every actress dreams of after fourteen hours of rehearsal is a quickie in a Toyota.”

Her head tipped back, a throaty laugh spilling out, the tension in her shoulders loosening like a cord snapped free. The sound filled the car, warm and unguarded, and you found yourself grinning wider just to keep it going.

But when her laughter ebbed, she didn’t look away. Her eyes stayed on you, sharp and gleaming under the dashboard lights. That hunger hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it was brighter now, like the joke had only given her cover to keep staring at you the way she wanted to.

“You’re impossible,” she said, breathless still. “And terribly smug.” Her fingers were still on your thigh, and though she hadn’t moved them, the weight of her hand felt heavier now, deliberate. “You think I’m joking?”

The smile faltered on your lips, just slightly.

Catherine shifted, slow and sinuous, leaning toward you until the silk of her hair brushed your arm. Her coat slipped open, and you caught a glimpse of the thin tank clinging to her skin beneath. She inhaled, shaky as though she’d been holding back all evening, and this closeness finally cracked her restraint.

Her thumb began to stroke, back and forth over your thigh. Soft, absent at first, then firmer. She angled her body toward you, eyes hooded, voice sinking into that dangerous low register that always undid you.

“I’ve spent the entire night pretending I wasn’t thinking about this. About you.” Her lips hovered near your ear now, warm breath feathering your skin. “And now I’m in this car, and you’re right here, and if you make another joke instead of touching me–” She broke off, catching her own laugh in her throat, shaking her head as if annoyed with herself. “I’m trying to resist, darling. I am. But god help me, I don’t think I can.”

You opened your mouth to answer, some half-hearted tease about her patience, but the words died as Catherine’s hand slid lower, squeezing hard enough to make your breath catch. Her eyes were locked on yours, burning, her jaw tight like she was holding herself back with the thinnest thread.

And then she snapped.

With a sharp inhale, she dropped her hand from your thigh and reached down between the seat and door. The familiar click of the lever releasing made your pulse leap. She shoved the seat back with practised force, giving herself space, and for a second, you just froze, staring, heart pounding at the sudden clarity of what she was about to do.

She didn’t wait for permission.

In one fluid moment, she shrugged her coat off her shoulder and climbed across the console, the cramped car groaning under the shift of her weight. Her knee brushed the gearshift, her perfume enveloped you, and then she was straddling your lap, her thighs pressing firm against your hips.

The space was tight, awkward, the roof low enough that she had to duck her head. She didn’t care.

Her hands framed your face, desperate, greedy, dragging you into a kiss that was all heat and pent-up hunger. No slow teasing, no careful composure, just Catherine, mouth hot and urgent against yours, the sound of her breath rough between gasps.

“God, finally,” she whispered against your lips, the words half a groan. Her hips shifted restlessly, grinding down against you as if she couldn’t stop herself. She kissed you again, harder, biting gently at your lower lip before pulling back just enough to look at you. Her eyes were glassy, wild, nothing of the polished star left.

“I told you,” she breathed, voice trembling but fierce, “I can’t wait until we’re inside. I need you now.”

The kiss dissolved into something frantic, teeth knocking, her breath coming ragged as she pressed her forehead against yours. Catherine’s hips moved before you could even steady your hands on her waist– a hard, desperate grind that dragged a broken sound from her throat. The denim of your jeans rasped against her, friction sharp and messy, and she chased it like a woman starved.

“God, yes… that–fuck, don’t you dare stop me,” she gasped, voice raw with need. Each thrust of her hips was sharper, her breath hitching every time she found the pressure she craved. Her nails dug into your shoulders, anchoring herself as she moved against you, grinding like she’d been holding herself back for weeks.

The car was already fogging up, every window glazed with heat. The console dug into your hip, the seatbelt buckle bit into your side, but she didn’t give you the room to care.

Catherine’s mouth was everywhere. Your jaw, your throat, your lips again, biting kisses that bruised. All while her hips worked harder, faster, messier and relentless.

“You feel that?” she panted, lips dragging across your ear. “That’s what you do to me. I can’t–I can’t even wait to get home. Christ, I’m losing my mind on you right here.”

Your hands gripped her tighter, guiding her movements, but she only rode harder, her voice climbing higher. The rhythm of her hips grew almost frantic, a low moan spilling from her every time she pressed down.

Then suddenly she shifted, one hand sliding down between you, fumbling impatiently until her fingers slipped beneath your waistband. The shock of her touch made you jolt, breath tearing out of your chest, and her answering moan was shamelessly loud.

“Oh fuck, yes–there you are,” she groaned, her hips never stopping their rhythm as her fingers found your clit. She was still grinding, chasing her own friction against your thigh, but now every movement dragged her hand harder against you too. The dual sensation lit her up; she gasped, eyes fluttering shut, her control cracking with every sound she made.

“God, you’re wet… you want this as bad as I do, don’t you? Say it.” She bit down on your neck, moaning through her teeth, her voice wrecked and breaking. “Tell me you want me to ruin you right here.”

Her words spilt without filter now, desperate and filthy, her accent slipped raw with every thrust of her hips. She was loud, unashamed, filling the car with gasps and groans that tangled with the squeak of leather seats and the frantic slap of movement.

Her head tipped back, dark hair falling loose around her face as she moved against you, hand working harder, mouth spilling everything she usually kept under tight control.

“Oh god, yes–yes–don’t stop, don’t fucking stop–”

Her rhythm faltered suddenly, hips jerking once, twice, then stuttering as she caught herself. Catherine groaned low in her throat, forehead pressing into the crook of her neck as if she could hide the sharp edge of her desperation. Her hand inside your waistband stilled for a beat, trembling against you, before she forced herself to slow down.

“Christ–no, no… not yet.” Her voice was wrecked, broken in a way you’d never heard from her before. She kissed your skin hard, teeth grazing, breath hot and ragged. “I want to come with you. Do you hear me? With you, darling. Don’t make me finish without you.”

She dragged her hips slower, rolling against you in deep, grinding circles now, keeping herself perched at that unbearable edge. Her fingers slipped lower again, stroking you in time with her movements, coaxing you toward her urgency.

“God, you’re perfect,” she whispered, her lips brushing your ear, words tumbling out hot and unrestrained. “So wet for me… let me feel you fall apart. I want to hear it, I want to taste it. Come on, give it to me.”

Every word shivered down your spine, her accent thickening with need, each moan punctuating her filthy encouragement.

The car was an oven now, windows dripping with condensation, seats squeaking under the press of your bodies. She never stopped moving against you, her own breath spiralling faster with every thrust, but she held back, barely, trembling as she whispered you closer.

“Come with me, love. Let go for me. I’ll be right there, I promise. I’m so close–oh, fuck. I’m so close–”

Her fingers continue against you, her hips slam down harder, messier, losing rhythm as her control shatters. She cried out, sharp and guttural, body bucking against yours as the climax ripped through her. At the same moment, her hand dragged you over the edge with her, your release flooding her fingers as she gasped your name, loud and shameless.

The car shook with it. The sound of your breath, the squeal of the leather, the desperate cry she couldn’t bite back. Catherine clung to you through the aftershocks, still grinding, still wringing every last shudder out of both of you until she finally collapsed forward, chest heaving against yours.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your panting, the sharp beat of your hearts, the oppressive heat fogging every window into secrecy. Then Catherine’s lips brushed your jaw, soft now, her laugh breathless and wrecked.

“God,” she murmured, her voice husky, “you see what you do to me? One night without you, and I lose every control I’ve ever had.”

Her body softened against you slowly, the frantic edge ebbing into shivers and ragged breaths. For a while, she just stayed there, draped over your lap, her cheek pressed to your shoulder. You felt the weight of her, warm and grounding, her chest still rising and falling in quick bursts. Then she stirred, lifting her head just enough to find your mouth again.

The kiss was different. Slower. A little messy still, but gentler now, as though she wanted to savour the taste of you between gasps. Her hands, though, hadn’t moved yet. Her fingers were still nestled inside your pants, slick with your release, stroking faintly as if she couldn’t quite let you go.

When she finally drew them back, it was deliberate. You felt the wet drag as she pulled her hand free. She leaned back on your lap just enough to hold her fingers up in the glow of the overhead lights, glistening. Her lips parted, eyes locked with yours, and she drew them into her mouth one by one, groaning low in her throat at the taste. “God…” she whispered, eyelids fluttering as she sucked the last of you clean. “You’re… addictive.”

She didn’t give you time to react before she was kissing you again, needier, deeper, her tongue sliding past your lips like she needed to share the taste with you. It was clumsy, urgent, and when she pulled back, her pupils were blown wide, her lips swollen.

You couldn’t help it; a laugh escaped you, soft and disbelieving. “You’re insatiable, you know that? Can’t you wait until we get home?”

Catherine’s mouth curved into the faintest grin, though her eyes stayed heavy, greedy. She leaned back in, brushing her lips over yours with a teasing graze.

“Just one more, sweetheart?” she breathed, her voice husky, pleading in a way that cut through every ounce of composure she usually carried.

You smoothed your hands down her sides, still trying to catch your breath, still laughing at how wild she looked. Hair mussed, lips red, eyes gone dark with want. “You’re impossible,” you murmured against her mouth, kissing her once more before pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “Back seat. Now.”

Something in your tone must have cut straight through her haze because Catherine shivered, a visible tremor that ran down her spine. For a heartbeat she looked like she might argue, still clinging to that control she carried like a second skin. Then, her lips parted on a shaky laugh and she slid off your lap, fumbling for the handle.

The two of you tumbled into the back together, the cramped space thick with heat, your knees bumping awkwardly against the seats. Catherine barely managed to shrug out of her tank top before your mouth was on her, pressing her back against the leather. You kissed her like she was oxygen, tongue sliding against hers, catching her moans as your hand slipped between her thighs.

She was already soaked, her body betraying how close she’d been earlier. When your fingers brushed her, she let out a sound so broken it punched straight through your chest.

“Fuck–oh god, yes… please, don’t stop, sweetheart.” Her hips jerked up into your touch, whiny now, every bit of poise stripped away. “My sweet girl, my clever girl… you always know what I need, don’t you? Christ, you make me feel so good–”

You slid two fingers into her, curling just right, and at the same time your mouth latched onto her breast, teeth grazing before you soothed it with your tongue. Catherine nearly sobbed, her head thumping back against the window, one hand clutching at your hair like she was drowning.

“God, I can’t–fuck, I can’t handle you,” she gasped, voice breaking on every word. “So perfect, darling, so perfect for me… oh, please, harder–please.”

Her thighs trembled around your hand, her hips chasing every thrust, the whines spilling out of her constantly now. She tried to keep giving orders–”faster, right there, don’t you dare stop”–but they kept turning into moans, into desperate little praises that tumbled free without filter.

“My girl, my love, oh god–yes, yes, you’re making me lose my mind–”

She writhed beneath you, every inch of her undone, her need spilling over into shameless cries as you worked her toward that breaking point again.

Catherine’s body was a live wire under you, every muscle taut and trembling, every sound tumbling out louder than the last. Her thighs clamped around your hand but kept jerking open again, unable to decide if she wanted to trap you there or spread wider to take more.

“God, yes–don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck–” The words came out high and broken, her accent thickening until it tangled with each whine. She dragged her nails down your back through your shirt, arching up into your mouth as your tongue flicked over her nipple in time with your fingers driving deeper.

Her hips started to lose rhythm, bucking unevenly against your hand. She gasped, head knocking back against the fogged window, completely breathless.

“Oh fuck–oh, please, darling, I’m so close, I can’t–” The end of the sentence dissolved into a sharp cry as your fingers curled just right again, pressing into that spot that made her shake. “Yes, yes, there, don’t stop–please, please, let me–”

Her voice broke into a sob of pleasure as she came, thighs clamping tight around you, her entire body shuddering violently. She wailed your name, shameless and raw, back arching off the seat as the orgasm tore through her. Every squeeze of her body around your fingers dragged another sound from her throat. Moans, gasps, fractured praises tumbling out without thought.

“My baby–oh god, my sweet, perfect girl–fuck, yes, yes–”

You held her through it, fingers working her down as your mouth soothed over her skin, kissing her collarbone, her jaw, anything you could reach while she fell apart for you.

At last, she collapsed back against the seat, chest heaving, hair sticking damp to her temples. She was wrecked–beautifully, utterly wrecked–her thighs still twitching around your hand, her lips parted on shaky breaths. She turned her head toward you, eyes glassy but locked on yours, and let out a wrecked laugh.

“You’re going to kill me,” she whispered hoarsely, pulling you into a sloppy, desperate kiss that tasted of sweat and need.

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