Lady in White
They had spent the day on the beach, wandering the shore as the waves nipped at their toes. She kept stopping, picking up shells and slipping them into the pocket of his shorts as they walked. Each time, he tugged on the skirt of her dress, bringing her up against his side and earning a little smile in return before she tugged away to push aside sand to reveal another bit of shell. He emptied the shells onto the light wood of the coffee table, a collection of pearly pink and whites and swirled blues decorating the living room.
Her toes push at the shells now, rearranging them as his fingers twirl patterns onto her thigh.
"You're smiling," he murmurs into her ear.
She pushes her nose into his neck, dropping a kiss and tasting the lingering sunscreen and tang of his cologne. "I'm happy."
"Yeah?" he asks. She can hear the disbelief in his voice, as if he's still not sure she's going to be here with him when he opens his eyes.
She wants that hint of skepticism gone. She knows that she's not going anywhere and he has got to know that too. So she plucks the glass of lemonade from his hand and sets it on the coffee table next to the pretty collection of shells before she swings her leg over his lap.
"Yeah," she sighs, brushing a kiss over his lips. "I'm happy." Another soft kiss, teasing at his jaw. "With you. Here."
His hands coast up her sides, twisting into her hair and angling her mouth back toward him. "Good. I'm happy you're here too."
She lets her hips fall into his, rolling slowly and drawing a groan from his lips that vibrates along her throat. "I can tell," she teases, biting at the strong muscles of his neck. His fingers bunch up the white fabric of her dress, digging into her waist.
Her knees tighten against his thighs when he pulls down the thin straps of the sundress. They hang against her biceps until she shakes them off, looping her arms around his neck.
"Get your shorts off," she says into his ear a moment before she leans back, dragging his t-shirt over his head.
He shakes his head, lips blazing a trail down her neck to her chest. "Too much work." His fingers are skimming over her breasts, swallowing her gasp. She arches forward, putting her weight on his shoulders so that she can reach down and fumble with the button and zipper on his shorts.
"Didn't say that yesterday when you had to fight with my knotted bikini top," she growls. Her fingers push down, finding the slit in his boxers. He's hot, heavy against her palm as she strokes him.
Castle shoves at the loose skirt of her dress so that he can tug aside the damp material of her underwear. "Now," he speaks into her breast, teeth closing around her nipple lightly until she groans into his shoulder, body going limp enough that he very nearly slides into her.
But she pushes back up, breasts pressing into his chest as she touches her lips to his teasingly. "Ah ah ah," she murmurs with a grin. "Not yet."
He mutters a string of curses, head thrown back onto the cushions of the couch as she drags his tip through her arousal. "Fuck, Beckett," he moans until she kisses him, stealing his words.
With her mouth over his, she sinks down. He breaks off, head falling to the side even as she whimpers into his cheek. Her lips smudge sloppy kisses along his jaw as she rises back up so that he nearly leaves her body all together.
His hands grip her sides, yanking her back down. It's her turn to curse, biting the words into the curve of his shoulder as her toes curl against his knees.
"How long have you been this worked up?" he demands, pulling her back down just as she twists her hips.
"Since you pushed me up against that rock and did that thing with your fingers," she gets out on a whine.
One hand leaves her side, ventures up to cup her cheek, tugging her back to him for a kiss that is wet and a little frantic. She takes his thumb into her mouth, nipping at the soft pad. Her fingers wrap around his wrist, bringing his hand back down to where they're joined. She arches forward as the new pressure of his thumb against her clit joins the sensation of him inside her and the scrape of his teeth against her breast and the nearly bruising clench of his fingers on her waist.
The same fingers that move from the curve of her hip to the small of her back, helping her keep her rhythm as she starts to tense up. It forces her forward, her head falling into the crook of his shoulder.
"Castle, please," she begs, turning to scrape her teeth along his jawbone.
The speed of his thumb against her quickens along with the force of his thrusts upward.
When she breaks over him, around him, her mouth open at his neck, he's right behind her, continuing to move under her until she shudders a breath out. She rolls off him, sinking into the cushions next to his body even as her legs stay tangled with his. The wrinkled white of her dress falls back around her knees, the bodice hanging from below her breasts.
"You have no right to be wearing white after that," he manages on a gasping breath after a few minutes.
She laughs, low in her throat, the way she knows makes him crazy. "Didn't hear you complaining." She stretches her legs out, flexing her toes. "We didn't even have to get undressed," she sighs, standing on legs that still wobble. "Now we can go get dinner." She wiggles her fingers at him, helping him to his feet.
His arm wraps around her back, bringing her tightly against him so that he can capture her mouth hotly. "Minx."
Beckett shrugs, getting out of his grip so that she can pull the straps of her dress up. "Dinner, Castle. Then round three," she says with a wink on the way to the front hall to slip on her shoes.