This chapter is a sequel to chapters 2 and 3 of Bringing Sexy Back (found under chezchuckles' page).
It's late when they finally manage to leave the party, and Kate leans into Castle as they wait for their coats, presses her cheek to his shoulder. The woman ahead of them in the line wraps herself in an elegant white fur coat and turns to leave; her eyes meet Kate's for the briefest second and narrow before she walks past them, her chin up in the air.
Rick looks down at Kate, eyebrows raised questioningly.
"What was that about?"
She gives him a look that means Are you serious?
"What?"
"Castle," Kate hisses, then smiles to the young woman handing her coat and purse. She waits until they're walking out of the building to add, "That was the woman from the bathroom."
He stares at her blankly - she sort of wants to hit him, because how can he possibly have forgotten? - but his confusion clears up soon enough, and he starts grinning. Before she knows it he's laughing, the good kind, the deep belly laugh that makes her skin tingle, and she can't help but join him.
He snakes an arm around her waist as they step out into the cold night air to wait for the limo. "So - safe to say she didn't believe you, then?"
"Apparently not." Kate can't hide her smile. Because that woman caught her hooking up in a bathroom with Richard Castle. Sort of. Well, she stopped it from happening.
"Dragging an innocent man into a bathroom to have your way with him? Very naughty, Detective Beckett." He gets that dangerous look in his eyes, the one that makes her shiver a little because his eyes are dark and focused and determined to get what he wants, and she's relatively sure at this point that *she* is what he wants tonight. If his reaction to her jumping him in the ladies' room is anything to go by.
"You think that was naughty, Mr. Castle?" She leans into him, so close her breath falls on his ear, and his arm around her tightens - "You have no idea how naughty I can get."
He doesn't even look a little scared; no, the look on his face is pure delight, expectation, shimmering in his eyes like stars in the midnight sky.
"I'm looking forward to finding out," he whispers with a wolfish grin.
A thrill runs down her spine; he can turn the tables on her so quickly. She should never forget it. And yet... She'll never be able to stop teasing him.
Too much fun.
"Yeah?" She breathes back against his neck, her hand curling around his hip, squeezing a little. "Remember those words, Castle. When you're sobbing my name tonight."
She hears his sharp intake of air, finds herself grinning. He's so easy –
- but then she gasps as his hand slips under her coat, hits her bare skin like a shock wave, and he slides his fingers over the base of her spine. His hand is warm. Too warm. Too good. Her back arches lightly, his fingers tracing her skin like a promise.
"You first, Kate."
She swallows, letting his lips graze her throat before he steps back. Their limo has just pulled up, and he steps aside, ever the gentleman, as the driver opens the door and hands her in. "Evening, Miss. Mister Castle. Where are we headed?"
Kate looks up at Castle, questions in her eyes. His place? Her place? Is his family home? Does he want more privacy? Where does he want to go now?
Castle reads her hesitation and calmly answers the driver, "To my loft, Justin, please."
Okay. Alexis is probably not home then. Martha is a night owl, anyway; always out and about. Kate's not sure what it would do to her, if this were her mother - but Castle seems perfectly fine with it, and she loves that about him. She likes the strange dynamics in this family, so different from her own experience.
Castle slides inside the car, takes the seat right next to her, which looks a little ridiculous since they've got all that space and they're not even using a quarter of it.
She arches an eyebrow at him, but he smiles a predatory smile, deep dark knowledge in his eyes, and her objections die on her lips. He has plans for her.
Or maybe – her mouth goes dry at the thought – maybe *she's* the plan.
The car starts; Kate feels the thrum of power, the vibration of the engine, Castle's hand on her knee. She glances back at the sidewalk and the well-dressed people from the awards ceremony – as if it could distract her.
They don't know what's going on behind the tinted windows, can't feel the slow burn of Castle's fingers, tracing the inside of her thigh –
Her head swivels back to him.
He's watching her, the street lights dancing on his face, there one moment and gone the next, highlighting the stubble on his cheeks, the rugged, handsome, deadly look that Paula always asks him to pull out.
Kate doesn't mind.
Something swells inside her, propels her forward, her lips brushing the shadows lining his jaw. Her hand rests flat on his chest, and she feels, before she hears it, the soft groan he lets out.
His fingers find her waist, the place where fabric meets skin, and they tease slowly, brush circles on her back.
She can feel the trace of heat, the warmth curling through her veins, light and hot and intoxicating. She leans in to nip lightly at his earlobe, feeling him draw in a sharp breath against her chest as she sucks lightly at his skin.
His hands leave her waist, pulling her coat off her shoulders, running over her bare skin. "Not sure why you decided to put this back *on,* Kate," he murmurs.
She lets him tug at it, presses a wet kiss to the underside of his jaw. "I knew you wanted to take it off."
He shakes with a deep rumble of a laugh, the vibrations running through her, delicious.
"Damn right I want it off," he agrees, and then he shows her exactly what he means by that, running his mouth and tongue along her collarbone, pressing lazy, luxurious kisses to her shoulder, to the curve of her neck.
She hums her approbation, her fingers pressing at the back of his neck, encouraging and a little needy.
Her right hand has nothing to do. Such a shame. Can't have that. She moves it, slow and deliberate, trails it up his thigh before hooking her index finger in his belt.
He gasps at her touch, his mouth briefly leaving her shoulder, and he reaches down to catch her hand, though she doesn't let go. "Oh. Slow down there, Kate."
"What's the matter, Castle? Can't take the heat?" She tugs playfully, letting her hips press against his, watching, fascinated, as his eyes go darker, his throat moves as he swallows hard.
Reason battles hard with arousal on his face, and she follows that struggle interestedly, unable to predict the outcome.
Well. She can't predict it, but she *can* influence it.
Leaving her hand in his for now, she brushes a few kisses up his neck, tracing the way back to his mouth, and presses her lips to his, soft and wanting at the same time. She can never get enough of it, his mouth, rich and intoxicating.
She forgets about anything else, loses herself in the deep, gut-wrenching feeling, Richard Castle kissing her, Richard Castle wanting her. Loving her –
She gasps at the thought, and he deserts her, his forehead resting against hers even as his lips break away. "Ah, Kate," he sighs in a tortured, breathless voice.
She tries to hold on to what they're doing, the teasing, the thrill of the chase, to push away those encumbering feelings.
"Asking for mercy already, Castle?"
"Never," he murmurs, brushing her hair back, kissing her lips softly. "Drive me crazy."
He's asking for it.
She slides her knee over his legs, steadying herself with arms on his shoulders as she straddles his lap. She watches him, the dazed, heated darkness in his gaze, like he can't believe this is actually happening, his hands hesitating.
She doesn't want him to hesitate.
Kate lets her body sink into his, sleek and long and warm, feeling the deep groan that rumbles through his chest as her thighs settle onto his waist, her knees pressed into the seat beside him.
"Oh – Kate – "
She doesn't know what she's doing – the cab is probably nearing his place by now – but Castle lets out a soft sound of utter need, his eyes shutting tight like he just can't take it, like it's too much happiness, and she just *has* to hear it again.
The awe, the helplessness in his voice – it's addictive. Better than any drug.
She undulates her hips against his, unhurried, excruciating, watching his face closely for that wrinkle between his brows, the shaky sigh that parts his lips.
And instead of what she expected, instead of it sending stronger waves of arousal rushing through her veins, it moves her, the tight control he struggles to exert, the lines that effort puts on his forehead, on his temples.
"Rick," she murmurs, running her mouth along his skin, easing her grip on his shoulders to a gentler touch. She feels the slow exhale he lets out, the way his body relaxes, his muscles releasing under her. She feathers delicate, open-mouthed kisses over the line of his jaw, his throat, her fingers slowly massaging his scalp.
It takes him a few swallows before he can speak, and when he does, it's shaky, like he can't control his voice. "You only call me Rick when you're angry at me."
She can't help but smile at that. Because it's true. "Well, I'm definitely not angry right now."
She traces her tongue slowly over the little hollow behind his ear, delighting in the groan it elicits, the sudden tensing of his fingertips on the bare skin of her thighs. "Uh."
"In fact – " she gives in to whatever wickedness is possessing her tonight (making out in a limo? seriously?) and runs her hands over his shoulders, to the first button she finds, and undoes it as slowly as possible – "I'm very happy to see you, Rick."
She starts on the second button, watching the flicker of arousal over his face, his wide eyes, as she *accidentally* shifts her hips against his. "Kate – oh – "
The second button's open, and she slides her hand inside his shirt, tracing over his chest, the muscles taut under her light touch. He takes in a shaky breath, his eyes starting to glaze over.
"I think you're happy to see me, too."
She punctuates her words by pressing her lower body to his, to the part of him that all his blood, if she's not mistaken, must be running to. He whimpers and she laughs, low, exhilarated, dizzy with her power over him.
A distant part of her notices that the car's not moving anymore. She braces herself for a hasty retreat, in case the driver comes to open the door, but nothing happens. She waits a couple seconds more, then relaxes.
Traffic. They're probably stuck in traffic. Could last for hours.
And she knows just the perfect way to pass the time.
Enough with the teasing, she decides, her heart pounding against her ribs, her hands drifting lower. Her control is running away from her, like a horse given its head; she wants more.
She *needs* more.
She feels Rick's erratic breaths against her neck, hears the thin thread of his voice calling Kate, Kate, trying to make her see reason. His voice breaking on her name erases every inhibition, drives her to the cliff's edge.
She captures his mouth, stealing his words with her needy and impatient tongue. She finds herself rocking against him and can't comprehend the layers of clothes still separating them, tugs on his pants in the hope that he'll understand, help her out.
She needs-
He breaks away with a gasp, his eyes wide, dark, mesmerized.
"Kate?"
And always this tinge of disbelief in his voice. The haze burns clear for a moment; the awe on his face lights fires inside her, makes her want nothing more than to touch that awe, make it permanent, taste it. All of him. Now.
"Thought you were supposed to be the adventurous one," she challenges.
That brings back the Rick Castle she's used to. His eyes light up, his mouth twisting into a smirk she wants to devour. "That is a dangerous thing to say, Kate."
"What are you going to do about it?" she murmurs, her need overriding all else.
He pulls her closer, her breasts pressed against his chest, her breath coming fast. And he whispers five words into her ear.
She gasps, heat flooding her cheeks. Oh. Oh.
He kisses her fiercely, his hands on her thighs, pushing her short dress up (finally, she can't help but think, her body instantly remembering the desperate near-miss up against the bathroom door) and she fumbles for his belt, undoing the buckle, finally getting the button undone and tugging down his zipper.
The throbbing heat robs her of conscious thought for a moment; the only thing she can hear is her own heartbeat, just as urgent and compelling.
Castle's hands slide under her silk panties, and she arches without thinking, lifts slightly to help him as much as she can. He drags them down along her thighs, so infuriatingly slow, and she hisses his name, a prayer and a warning both. Tangled up, trying to hang on by shoulders as he maneuvers her - oh, any way he wants, just get -
He digs the nails of his thumbs into the soft skin of her inside thighs, and she jerks and trembles, catches his earlobe in her teeth in an attempt to retaliate. The desire is coiled so tightly in her belly, burning –
Just then, the car starts again, and the momentum has her crashing into Castle's chest. She didn't think there was any space left between them, but it seems there was; their hips collide; a strangled cry escapes her at the feel of him pressed against her, mingles with the his growl.
It's too - too – she needs him.
Now.
"Rick," she pleads, urges, begs. "Please."
His hands are stroking the inside of her thighs, climbing higher and higher. She's feverish, her skin buzzing, as she pushes his shirt aside, tugs at his pants down, and reaches inside.
Her fingers close around him, the pulse hot and strong against her palm, and as she touches him his body goes rigid, his hands on her thighs squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. She can feel his thigh muscles tighten beneath her, sending a wave of pleasure rolling through her.
She runs her hand over him slowly, and he groans, his eyes snapping shut, his hips bucking violently against her. "Oh – shit, Kate – unnnhh – "
His incoherence gives her a strange feeling of completion, even though her body is telling another story. She kisses him, deep, dirty, and rolls her body against his, a little breathless with how much she wants him.
"Castle," she sighs, and she *finally* lets herself sink down on him, her lips parting on a soundless gasp of pleasure as he lets out something that sounds suspiciously like a sob.
She closes her eyes and rests her forehead against his shoulder, not sure whether it's her body or her brain that needs to adjust.
This is not their first time – so what the hell? How can it be so intense?
She doesn't know how much more of this he can take, but she knows she's too close to take it slow, or even torture him a little. When she lifts herself up, grinds their hips together again, she feels him move with her, feels his imperious fingers marking her back, and she breathes out in delight. "Oh, God, Castle – "
He tightens his hold on her, gritting his teeth as his hips rock into hers, changing the angle, and as he thrusts into her again her head falls back, her whole body tensing, her helpless cry muffled against his mouth as he kisses her, hard, desperate, his tongue battling hers as she lets out a ragged moan, his hand gripping her neck to keep her there.
The coil of heat in her belly is tightening, white hot, every one of her muscles contracting as she sinks onto him again, sweat making her thighs slick.
" – Kate- "
She's close and he knows it, his hands on her backside pulling her closer, pushing into her at a rhythm more and more erratic, his breaths coming hard and fast against her skin as he growls against her, his teeth at her neck, her blood singing in her veins at the hot primal thrill. Her skin is burning and she can't breathe and she's so close –
She feels the tight knot of pleasure in her center, feels it start to spread, her body tingling, and she tries to ride it out, tries to hold on just a moment longer.
Suddenly her eyes meet his, startled and wide and dark and hot and dangerous, and she can't look away, can't blink, can't breathe –
He pulls her back into him, slow and intent, and she's gone, everything spilling out of her, everything in shreds. She shatters in a million pieces, her body thrumming and trembling like it's trying to get away from her, seeking a life of its own, independent from her mind.
She sinks her teeth into Castle's shoulder because she's afraid the limo driver will hear her cries (they sound loud enough to her ears); Rick makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat, and she knows his own body is giving way, succumbing just like hers to that dark, overwhelming wave of release.
Time stretches, infinite, like the darkness behind her closed eyes. She never wants it to stop.
When she feels both empty and satiated, exhausted and content, Kate sags into him, utterly unable to hold herself up. She rests her forehead against the crook of his neck, the storm in her lungs refusing to settle down; after a moment, she feels Castle's hand on her cheek, his fingers light and reverent.
"Kate," he murmurs, and she doesn't really need anything more than that. The caress of his thumb along her jaw, her name in his mouth – his tender, grateful, stunned mouth.
She hums against him; his lips brush the crown of her hair.
She vaguely registers that the car's moving again, and that she probably should get decent. No doubt they're close now.
Just one more minute, she tells herself, lulled by the slowing rhythm of Castle's heartbeat, the warmth of his arms. Just one.
"Forget about the pony," Rick breathes in her ear, elation in his voice. "I'm so getting you a limo for your birthday."