A/N: As you might have guessed from the title (not to mention the summary), this story is smut, smut and nothing but smut. I started writing this in Nov. right around the episode that shall not be named and then lost interest in it for obvious reasons. Now that I'm writing Careese again, I happened upon it and decided to finally finish it. I hope you all enjoy!
As always, thanks to my awesome beta PiscesChikk. This fic is dedicated to the wonderful ladies in chat, but especially carolinagirl919 who's been wanting me to write some smut for a while now. I hope I lived up to your expectations. :)
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
The bag sat with quiet innocence on the heavy oak nightstand, its contents hidden from view by opaque red paper covered in stylized black lettering.
As the breath rushed from her lungs and her muscles quivered with glorious fatigue, Joss weakly lifted her head from the downy pillow, trying but failing to catch a glimpse of her current tormentor. Not the one that was presently being used to carry her to the heights of blissful ecstasy, but the one birthing the devices being used so effectively against her by her charming, highly-skilled lover.
As she'd expected, whether done with the express purpose of keeping her guessing or because his snowy white shirt was blocking her field of vision, she could glimpse nothing past the breadth of John Reese's wide shoulders.
Not a sharp corner, or a bulging side, or even the thin, graceful curve of a braided onyx handle.
It didn't matter that she wouldn't be able to see what he'd secreted away in there. Her innate desire to know, to keep pushing until she'd learned its secrets had been a constant, irritating tickle at the back of her mind since she'd walked into his loft well over an hour ago. But the fact that she couldn't, that John wouldn't let her, was both frustrating and incredibly titillating.
"Joss, you're holding back." As if punishing her for her lapse in concentration, the large hand nestled between her bare thighs slowed its steady rhythm to an unsatisfactory crawl. The hard, slick object that was being held there cruelly followed suit.
She whimpered in dismay, hating that he knew her so well.
"Stop holding back," John murmured, his mouth close to her ear. His lips brushed lightly against the delicate rounded shell causing goose bumps to rise on her skin. "Come for me."
"I have," she panted. "Three times...already..." Her words were strained and broken, a long, low moan replacing whatever else she'd been planning to say. At the moment, she couldn't remember.
She couldn't remember anything.
He didn't answer her, but she could feel the upward tick of his lips against her cheek. If she wasn't so delirious with pleasure, she would probably deck him. But so far this evening, John had been the one running the show. He'd done a masterful job of keeping her in the proverbial dark, only allowing her to see what he wanted her to see and feel what he wanted her to feel.
He'd pounced on her the minute she'd walked through his front door, innocently swinging the red bag's handle from one of his long fingers, a lascivious smile wreathing his handsome face. Before she could even utter a word, he'd stripped her bare and gently laid her across the rich, deep-blue comforter spread across his oversized bed
Ignoring both her questions and her appeals for him to join her in her nudity, he'd merely tossed her his sexy trademark smirk as he'd rolled up his shirtsleeves and placed the bag on the nightstand farthest from her. All the better not to ruin his surprise, she'd supposed.
And she'd been right.
As he'd dug his first prize out of that bold crimson bag and held the adult toy aloft, her eyes had widened in disbelief, her mouth had fallen open in shock and her mind had raced with a thousand and one questions. She'd managed to give voice to one or two before he'd cleverly shut her down, distracting her with a kiss that had curled her toes and given her a temporary case of amnesia.
Still fully dressed in the black suit pants and expensive white dress shirt that made up his vigilante uniform, he had lowered himself onto the bed beside her, his eyes devouring her, his countenance all business, his concentration absolute. As he'd kissed her into oblivion once again, tasting like John and mint and his favorite dark coffee, he'd rewarded her with a buzzing, concentrated pleasure that was so potent she'd sworn she was going to die from the sheer hedonistic decadence of it all.
Now here she was, three mind-shattering orgasms later, a blubbering, trembling mess.
And still he wasn't done with her.
Writhing under his single-minded focus, Joss moaned, the sound loud and piercing in the stark quiet of the apartment. Her back bowed off the bed in a deep arc as pleasure, sharp and demanding, shot from her groin and traveled outward, suffusing every nerve-ending in her body. Overwhelmed by pure sensation, she tried to move both closer to and further away from the source of pleasure at the same time.
"No more...I can't..." The words tumbled from her mouth, spoken almost as a plea. Fingers twisting the thick material beneath her, her words faded into an incoherent string of sighs and curses that would have embarrassed her if she wasn't currently out of her mind with John-induced lust.
"Yes, you can." John's voice was low, sensual, commanding. "And you will. For me." Pressing closer to her, he molded himself to her side, trailing that incredible, troublesome mouth across her cheek and down the curve of her neck to dip his tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat. "Won't you, Joss?"
Hand nestled possessively between her parted thighs, he kept up the pressure, kept up the pleasure, egging her on in that voice. That sinful voice that could make even the most mundane word sound erotic and dirty when spoken in his hypnotic, husky timbre.
Muscles tense, body straining, Joss gasped and prepared to step into that heady space where the physical and the spiritual met; a place reserved solely for feelings and sensations that were too profound to be contained in the mortal realm. She could feel herself climbing higher and higher, could feel the wave cresting and she knew her climax was coming. It was barreling toward her, relentless, determined, bringing her closer to an inevitable conclusion that would end in something wondrous.
John was right there with her, telling her how beautiful she was, reminding her how much he loved her, encouraging her to trust him with the one thing that bared her soul to him every single time.
And she did, helped along by the steady pull of his warm lips wrapped around an aching nipple and the solid length of his erection pressing with insistent ardor against her frantically rocking hips. Eyes shut so tightly that white spots danced in the darkness beneath her lids, she didn't try to hold back her thunderous, elated shout as her body stiffened and her orgasm seized her.
Surge after surge of pleasure made her entire body shudder and John, determined to wring every last ounce of ecstasy out of her, didn't let up until she had slumped back against the mattress in exhaustion. Head lolling to one side, perspiration dotting her flushed skin, it occurred to her hazy mind that although it seemed far outside the realm of what could possibly be real, that last orgasm had been way more intense than the others.
As she lay there breathing deeply, body twitching with small, pleasant aftershocks, she was amazed at how sensitive her skin was. The soft fabric of John's pants where his leg was draped heavily across her slack thigh, his now-empty hand lovingly stroking the large scar on her side, his lips pressing soothing kisses against her temple. All of it felt heightened somehow, and impossibly, she felt a stirring in her lower belly that signaled just how much she wanted this man.
How much she needed him.
As her breathing and heart rate began to return to normal, Joss arduously began to make the slow, steep climb back out of the chasm she'd so willingly hurled herself into. When she finally came back to her senses, she opened her eyes and sought out the one person who could reduce her to this.
The one and only person she'd ever let reduce her to this.
John.
In the dim illumination, his eyes were glittering down at her like precious gems; a gorgeous, inky sapphire she was pretty sure some poet somewhere had once written a sonnet about. They were brimming over with love and wonder, all for her. Without shame. Without reservation. Without fear.
Unable to resist a second longer, she reached up and ran her fingertips across the sharp slash of his cheekbone, marveling at just how exquisite he truly was.
"Told you." His grin was full of blatant male pride tinged with a touch of self-satisfaction.
"Where'd you get the goodies?" she asked with a languid, indulgent smile. Her body felt wonderfully heavy and sated and she doubted she'd be able to keep her eyes open for much longer. She didn't even have enough strength to lift her head anymore, but if she did, she knew she'd see the red bag staring back at her smugly, secure in its superiority over her weak, human flesh.
"Our latest number."
Her smile grew wider. "Oh? Do tell."
John brushed his lips across hers before pulling away and sliding to the edge of the bed. Her body lamented the loss of his warmth, but immediately grew heated again as he watched her. His eyes were hungry as they roamed over her, his hands impatient but graceful as he began to divest himself of his clothes.
"Not much to tell," he said as he carelessly tossed his shirt on the floor then pulled his white undershirt over his head. "There was a nice old lady with a greedy, no good son-in-law who didn't want to wait until she died of natural causes to inherit the family business."
"And that business happens to be...?" she wondered aloud even though she already knew.
He smirked at her as he slid his pants and plain gray boxers down his long legs. "Use your imagination, Joss."
She wanted to tell him that she would if it wasn't currently already being occupied by the sight of his now naked body, all sleek, long muscles and beautiful, battle-scarred skin.
Without uttering another word, he stepped over to the nightstand and reached into the silent, waiting bag. Though Joss hadn't completely forgotten about it, she could admit that it had been pushed to the back of her mind while it had been otherwise engaged with more pleasurable pursuits. Now she stared at him curiously, feeling a crazy urge to bolt on a pair of legs that were much too rubbery to get her very far.
With a flourish, John pulled out one of the most interesting contraptions she'd ever seen. It was large and blue and looked like it could lay waste to a woman in the best possible ways. With a wicked grin, he turned it on, his eyes glittering with roguish intent as he watched the bulbous tip twist and twirl in blatant promise.
He held the vibrating, dancing toy up for her to see, that exasperating, irritating and ridiculously sexy smirk back in full force. "Ready to try for number five?"
"I hate you," she whispered, her words belied by the fact that already, her body was opening up for him.
"No, you don't," he responded, his tone tender as he climbed back into bed and stretched out next to her.
"Payback's a bitch, John."
Any bite Joss had intended was rendered null and void as he leaned down to nuzzle her neck and she released a helpless moan. Her fingers gravitated to the soft, short hairs at his nape, holding him tightly to her as he drew wet patterns on her skin with his tongue.
"I know." John lifted his head and pinned her with those amazing eyes. "And I can't wait."
As he descended on her yet again, she was completely vulnerable, at his mercy, having relinquished all vestiges of the precious control that had become her hallmark.
But she'd learned the hard way—by bomb vest and separation and bullets and near death—that if it meant she couldn't love John Reese and be loved by him in return all the control in the world meant absolutely nothing.