**Author's Note** This is my first fanfic, and of course I had to choose an M rated one... So obviously kids, this is not for you. This fic was inspired by the song Girl Crush. There will be no lyrics or references to the song, but it fits the scene well. Credit to Scriptline for the dialogue of The Limey.
**Disclaimer** If I owned even half of a percent of the rights to Castle, oh what a wonderful day it would be! Alas, I do not.
I am waiting impatiently with Lanie when they pull up. My breath hitches as I see my world crashing down in the form of a stunning blonde woman. Her infectious smile and strawberry lips bring my heart to a stop. She practically jumps out of the passenger side and rushes around to where he is exiting the car. Castle holds open the door for her as a lover would. His smile matches her own, as he caresses her face and then starts to walk my way. He hesitates, takes one last look at his newest goddess, and weaves a tapestry of promises for what is yet to come. So maybe he only said he would call her. But I know where that call will lead. My pulse is pounding and my soul feels set ablaze with a mixture of regret, passion, and jealousy. What does she have? What am I lacking? Why does he look like he just walked off a Red Eye? I thought we were heading towards something great together.
After she peels out of the parking lot, he meanders over to me as an afterthought. "Hey there," is his gruff acknowledgment of my existence.
My pride gets the better of me. "I feel like I just walked into a bad episode of Miami Vice..." I regret my acetone statement as soon as it leaves my lips.
"Okay, first, there are no bad episodes of Miami Vice. Second, who died?"
"You, from the looks of it. You look like you just got ran over by a truck." As if continuing to drag him down is going to make the bimbo waiting at home for him less attractive. Smart move, Kate.
He laughs as though this conversation is merely a pastime, "Yeah, a truck delivering a shipment of awesome. Nah, I just, uh, flew into Vegas for the weekend. Just needed a little change of scenery."
"And you won the blonde in a high-stakes poker match?" I cannot stop myself from getting as much detail about this woman as possible. How long have they known each other, really? Did she stay with him in Vegas? Was she a choice he made with a clear conscience? Did he...
"No, I met her on the flight back."
His reply assuaged some of my fear. But I had to keep going."And you just gave her your car?" I notice him shift his weight. He looks around, clearly annoyed with my candor.
"Jacinda happens to be a very trustworthy person. She's a first class flight attendant. It's not like I gave her my social security number." I inwardly snort her name... Jacinda. Of course her name would be something a teenage girl would pick out.
"Castle... Is everything okay?" I finally muster up the courage to put some depth to our exchange. I search his face for some sign that the man I am in love with is still here, with me. I find nothing but a hollow grave where his bright eyes once were.
"Never better."
C*******************************************************************************************************B
"Never better... fun and uncomplicated" the words are venom in my mind. I down my second shot of whiskey. Colin, ever the gentleman, dropped me at my door hours ago. A swift kiss on the cheek and the sentiments of "perhaps one day..." left unsaid. He knows I am spoken for. I spent the first hour tossing and turning in my bed. I replayed each awful encounter with Jacinda. Castle looked so alive every time they were together. I shook the thoughts away and decided that being vertical was a better idea. I walked into the kitchen and reached for my collection of anti-depressants: liquor. I took a swig of vodka first, but it didn't feel right. My old standby, Jack, waited patiently for his turn. And so, here I am, clad in purple yoga pants and Castle's old shirt drinking alone. The sting in the back of my throat barely registers, but the sinking feeling in my gut remains. I was too late. I lost him. No matter how hard I tried to be a better woman for him...for me... it wasn't enough.
She apparently is enough. My mind keeps circling back to her. Her long blonde hair. The way she touched him with ease and expectation. Jasmine fills my olfactories... her smell was as mesmerizing as her laugh. I am flooded with the image of kissing her. I can taste him on her lips. I know she has been all over him. For the first time in decades I am filled with the juvenile desire to be someone else. Why can't I be her? One more shot.
I leave the bottle open on the counter and make my way back to bed. I close my eyes, but my mind is alight.
I see her in his arms. She giggles as he backs her into his office, stops him short of kissing her by reaching for the hem of her blouse. She bites her lip and wastes no time unclasping her bra. His eyes rake over her body with desire. He knows she is an easy conquest, but he no longer cares. Fun is all he demands of her. "Come on Ricky, I didn't come here to play with myself you know."
He takes two large steps forward and winds one hand behind her head through her hair. She thinks he will kiss her, but instead he pulls her head back and to the side to access her neck. His free hand goes straight for her breast. Her nipples are already hard with anticipation, as is he. She moans and presses her hips further into his. The groan he releases travels directly between her legs. Her panties are soaked. She pushes him back again, this time to unbutton his pants. He stands there as she works the slacks down his hips, dragging his boxers down with them. She kneels. My hand drifts beneath my waistband without my consent. My body is a traitor. I have spent so much time fantasizing about him that replacing myself with that bitch makes no difference. I want him. I want to get myself off thinking about him, even if he is fucking her.
She licks the drop of pre-cum off of his tip and then surges forward, taking all of him in. He moans and leans forward, bracing himself against his desk. The next thing he feels is her hand on his ass, imploring him to thrust into her at will. He is compliant and lets himself go. As though she can sense that he is almost there, she digs her nails into him and pulls back, letting him fall out of her mouth. "Uh uh... you have to give as good as you take." She turns around, hikes her skirt up and bends over, revealing the extent of her excitement to him. He crowds her against his desk and places his hand between her thighs. My hand strokes my folds like his would. Fast and greedy, up and down the slit. My wetness spreads fast as I buck towards my own hand. I avoid my clit, I don't want to come too soon.
A few strokes and he nearly has her undone. But he stops and rips her panties off. Without warning he thrusts into her. Hard. My fingers dive into my core. She screams his name; he says nothing. He pumps into her over and over again. Within minutes the contents of his desk start to find their way to the floor, the force of his thrusting knocking down pictures and pencils alike. She reaches between her legs and begins to touch herself.
"No." He pulls her hand behind her back and uses his other one to replace it. The crash begins as his fingers touch her. The pulsing grants him his own release. She says his name over and over again. I circle my clit with my free hand, the familiar clenching signals that my body has been satisfied.
He pulls out, and backs away. "You still have some clothes on there," he notes.
"So do you," she reaches for his hand and leads him into his bedroom.
I fall asleep with my hand still between my legs, thoughts of her intertwined in his bedsheets torturing my subconscious the whole night. No peace. Just images of the way he would look, sated and happy with another woman.