Title: With A Cherry on Top
Author: Scooter
Email:
Rating: Strong R. A lot of foreplay, a little actual sex. Don't read further if that bothers you.
Category: C.J./Ron
Disclaimer: Not mine, or Ron would be a regular. Please don't sue.
Summary: "I take it we're giving up on salads for a while?"
Spoilers: Mild through S5, to be safe. Helps to have read Hot Fudge Sundae first, though, in order to get the references.
Archive: Please let me know where, and keep my name attached.
Note: Sequel to Hot Fudge Sundae.
Feedback: would be lovely.
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It's nine o'clock at night, and the West Wing is emptying out. It was a light day, and a lot of people headed home early. Toby left at 7:00 to visit his kids, Josh sent Donna home at 7:30 and then left shortly thereafter. Even Leo headed out a half hour ago.
Not me. I don't have any work to do, but I can't leave yet. I want to talk with Ron.
I want to do a lot of things with Ron, actually.
My head's been swimming since I read his note a few hours ago. It was definitely more provocative than I would have expected from him. I can't believe he's interested. I can't believe I made such an utter and complete fool of myself this morning.
I'm headed down to his office now; I know he's one of the few people in the building working late, because I had Carol ask one of the agents downstairs about his schedule. One of the stranger things Carol has done for me, especially with no explanation, so I rewarded her by telling her to go home at 6:00.
So, now I'm outside his office, and the words in the note keep replaying in my head. 'Call me if you ever want a taste.'
I knock lightly on the open door. I'm really hungry.
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Ron looks up and sees me. If he's surprised or amused or anything, he doesn't show it. Totally straight face. A little bit nerve wracking, but he's put himself out there enough. My turn.
Without saying a word, I lean against the doorjamb and hold up the spoon I swiped from the mess.
He gets the message.
Ron puts down his file, walks around his desk and stops a couple yards away from me. I continue to hold the spoon, letting it sway between the index and middle finger of my hand, and wait for him to say something.
"I take it we're giving up on salads for a while?"
He sounds amused, and I can't help blushing. "Something like that, yeah."
"Good." He smiles, just a little, and my stomach flips. He could take me right now and I'd ... OK, wrong train of thought in the White House. Besides, I should probably apologize for being an idiot first.
"Listen, Ron," I begin. I lick my lips nervously, which seems to draw his attention, but I can't get distracted here, "I, uh, kind of made an ass out of myself this morning."
Ron shrugs if off, which is awfully generous of him. "Nothing that couldn't be fixed with groceries."
Cute. Still ... "Anyway, I wanted to say, I'm sorry, and I'm really embarrassed about that, and-"
"C.J." Thankfully, he cuts me off before I ramble into even bigger trouble. "Stop apologizing. I don't know when liking someone became a source of embarrassment, but it shouldn't be." He considers me for a second. "You surprise me, C.J. I wouldn't have expected you to be timid about these things. You're usually so confident."
I sigh. "In the Press Room, maybe, but that took lots of practice. With men ... I don't know, I always end up feeling like I'm thirteen again, tall and awkward and incoherent and-"
"C.J." I shut up again. Ron comes a little closer and rests his arm on the wall next to me. Even if I wanted to start blathering again, his nearness has me at a loss for words. "You're articulate," his tone is smooth, almost seductive "you're graceful," his eyes move down my body, which makes me shiver, "and from where I'm standing ... you're kind of short."
I can't help it; I burst out laughing, and Ron chuckles, stepping away from me. He was trying to break the ice, I realize, as I stop giggling, and it's worked; I can actually look at him without feeling self-conscious about this morning. Wow.
"Thank you," I say, and Ron nods.
"So," he starts, "do you have any plans for Saturday night?"
I tilt my head slightly and look him straight in the eye, finally feeling a little bolder. "Nothing yet."
"Can I pick you up at 8:00?"
"Sure."
"O.K., then."
"I'll see you then." I turn to go, but then pause. "Ron?" Now that I'm feeling a little less timid, I want to try to exert a little bit of control, give him a little something to think about between now and Saturday.
"C.J.?" He's smirking a little bit, almost as if he has an idea of what's coming.
I hold up the spoon again and let my voice get a bit husky. "Just so you know ... I want more than a taste."
At this, Ron walks over to me and leans his head down slightly so that I can feel his breath on my ear. "C.J.," he murmurs, "you can have as much as you want."
Sweet Jesus.
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He'll be here in about fifteen minutes. I touch up my lipstick and grab my shoes – red, strappy sandals that go perfectly with this dress. It's red and sleeveless with a V-neck, and it flows to the middle of my knee. The warm weather means I can dispense with hose, so my legs are bare.
And smooth. I actually made an appointment and had everything waxed today. It's an indulgence, but I want to feel sexy tonight.
I want to sleep with him.
I've been aroused pretty much since I left his office the other night, when he turned my knees to jelly by promising me 'as much as I want'. Getting through work the past couple of days has required incredible focus on my part, and the evenings home have involved some pretty graphic fantasies.
I spray on some more perfume and fix my hair again.
Condoms. I don't want to be unprepared. I grab three and shove them in the zippered compartment of my purse. I wonder if three is enough.
The buzzer sounds.
OK. Relax. Breathe.
I walk to the door.
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The restaurant that Ron takes me to is small and cozy. We're seated side by side in a circular booth, and we've been quietly talking since we came in. He asks me a lot of questions about my life and tells me a good deal about himself, too. It's pleasant surprise that everything he tells me makes me like him even more.
I'm telling him about my disastrous time at Triton Day as we finish our cocktails. There's a cherry in my rum and coke. As I reach for it, Ron lightly pushes away my hand and grabs the cherry by the stem. Meeting my eyes, he holds the cherry in front of me, so that it's brushing my lips.
Damn.
I moisten my lips slightly and pull the cherry off the stem with my teeth. Ron watches me wordlessly as I slowly swallow.
"Thank you," I murmur. I'm sure I'm a little flushed.
"My pleasure," Ron responds quietly.
The waiter brings over our appetizers: a duck confit for Ron and a goat cheese salad for me. As I start to eat, I see Ron smiling slightly. "What?"
"I thought you were giving up salads, C.J."
He's teasing me. I can only think of one response. Leaning over, I whisper in his ear, "I want to save room for dessert."
I can see him blush a little bit. A few minutes later, after he finishes his duck, his hand moves under the table and slides onto my knee.
Mmmmm.
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We're walking through Georgetown. After dinner, Ron had suggested taking a walk through the neighborhood. I was a bit surprised at that; after spending much of dinner with his hand lightly stroking my knee, I'd figured that he'd want to go be alone somewhere. But there's something very deliberate about how he's pacing this evening, and it's rather exciting.
After a few more blocks, we reach his car, and Ron stops, turning towards me. "C.J.," he begins, "would you like to come back to my place for a while?"
He's asking? That's precious. He has to know the answer, though. I raise my eyebrow a little. "Do you really have to ask?"
Ron nods faintly. "I would never assume anything C.J., and you shouldn't feel obligated. You had the chance to get to know me better tonight. You get to decide if you still like me enough to come home with me."
Wow. He really is a gentleman. I'm impressed that he gave me the chance to get to know him and make sure I really wanted him, when he knows he could have gotten sex anytime in the last few days.
I move closer and play with his tie. "Yes. Yes, I still like you. Yes, I want to go back to your place."
Ron leans forward now, cups my cheek and lowers his head a little bit. I realize what he's doing and close my eyes. It's a nice first kiss – soft, a little chaste, but then we are standing in the middle of a street. Still, I want more.
So does Ron, from the looks of it. He pulls away slowly and takes several deep breaths, as if steadying himself. Looking at me, he smiles sheepishly, silently admitting what's going through his mind. Finally he moves a hand to my back and guides me to his car.
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Ron ushers me into his condo and closes the door. "So, C.J.," he begins, "can I get you some ice cream?"
Ice cream?
Ignoring my confusion, Ron continues, "I have a pint of Ben and Jerry's in the freezer."
Is he kidding me? I don't think I've ever had a date where the guy has offered me ice cream...oh. Oh. I finally get it. OK, I'll play along.
I smile wickedly. "Do you have any whipped cream?"
"Freshly made this afternoon." Ron grins, seeing that I've finally caught on.
"Hot fudge?"
"Just needs to be heated."
"Cherries?"
"As many as you want."
"O.K., then."
Ron leads me into the dining room and offers me a seat. "Just give me a few minutes to put everything together," he says, and I nod. Before heading to the kitchen, he walks over to the CD player and presses a few buttons, and some slow jazz comes on.
I lean back in my chair and take a deep breath. I don't know if he's deliberately trying to make me crazy by moving so slowly, but it's certainly effective. I feel completely seduced, and we've barely even touched...
Ron re-enters, and my eyes widen at the bowl he's carrying. I can barely see the ice cream under the sea of hot fudge sauce and mountain of whipped cream. Several cherries are scattered on top, and a single spoon is stuck in the sundae. Ron sets the bowl on the table in front of me, and then pulls up another chair so that he is sitting right beside me.
I raise my eyebrows. "Wow. I hope you were planning to help me with this."
"I am." Ron grabs the spoon and lightly grazes the sundae, collecting ice cream, whipped cream and fudge. Looking at me intently, he holds the spoon up to my mouth.
He's going to feed me? This could be fun.
Meeting Ron's gaze, I consume the offering slowly, taking the time to lick the last remnants of hot fudge from the spoon, which earns me a sharp breath from Ron. I then grab the spoon from him and reciprocate.
This continues for a few more turns as we slowly feed each other.
"Good?" Ron asks, although I'm sure he knows the answer.
"Very," I whisper, as I take another taste. This spoonful has a lot of whipped cream, and some of it gets on the side of my lip. I reach up to wipe it away, but Ron grabs my hand.
"Let me," he murmurs, leaning in. Very carefully, he licks the whipped cream off of my mouth, and then stays, letting his tongue caress my lips.
Oh my God.
Opening my mouth is an automatic reflex, and just like that, we're kissing deeply.
It feels incredible, kissing him like this; it's every bit as sensual as I'd imagined. As we break apart for air, Ron gazes at me silently and then, resting his hand on by back, guides me out of my chair and onto his lap. We immediately start kissing again.
As I move to kiss his earlobe, I feel something warm against my throat. It takes me a minute to realize what's going on, but when I feel his tongue against me, I realize that he's smudged a bit of hot fudge there and is now licking it off.
Oh, wow.
I respond in kind, running a finger through the whipped cream and spreading it over his lips before kissing it away. When I start to lick the excess off of my finger, Ron intercepts me, taking my finger in his mouth and sucking it clean. I can't help groaning at that, and Ron responds by running a hand through my hair and kissing me hard.
I feel the warm stickiness of the fudge meet my inner arm, followed shortly thereafter by Ron's tongue. God this is good. He has a slight advantage over me though; my dress exposes much more skin than his dress shirt and pants do, so there are many more places he can lick. Time to fix that.
Shifting slightly in his lap, I loosen his tie and pull it over his head, then start in on his shirt buttons. As he realizes what I'm doing, Ron helps me along, untucking the shirt and pulling it down his arms. He's wearing a white T-shirt underneath, but he quickly removes that.
Much better. I treat Ron to a naughty grin and then smear some hot fudge on his bare shoulder. With one hand, I brace myself on his arm and start to lick the chocolate off of him, while I let my other hand move down his chest, exploring his nipples and abdomen.
"God, C.J.," he gasps against my ear. I lap a small bit of whipped cream off of his collarbone, and I'm about to go for some more, when I feel his hand moving under my dress, slowly sliding up my bare thigh.
I groan loudly, and Ron moves his mouth to my ear, as he continues to caress my thigh. "C.J.," he whispers, "if anything about this is not O.K., I need you to tell me, all right?"
God, what a gentleman. "I will," I assure him, "but right now, all of this is very O.K."
Nodding, Ron slides me off of his lap and back into my chair and then kneels down in front of me. Reaching up, he picks up a bit of whipped cream with his finger and dabs it on the inner part of my knee. Parting my legs slightly, I slide forward in my chair, making it easier for Ron to lick off the whipped cream. He then dabs another bit slightly higher up my thigh and moves to lick that off as well.
Oh, my goodness. He really is quite attentive. I figured I'd enjoy myself tonight, but this is something else.
Ron continues to dab and lick his way up my thigh, while his other hand travels up my other leg. As his mouth reaches about halfway up my inner thigh, his hand makes it all the way up, and he moves it between my legs, gently stroking me through the lace of my panties.
I gasp, and Ron moves his head away to meet my eyes. "You're soaking wet," he observes, and I nod, because I don't have to tell him how I got that way. Nevertheless, I can tell how much that arouses him from the look in his eyes and the way his breaths become shallower as he continues to lightly touch the lace between my legs.
Such a gentle touch wasn't at all what I was expecting, but it's more than effective. He's just teasing the nerve endings, and I can't help arching into him. I close my eyes.
"Look at me," Ron entreats, and I open my eyes to meet his, gasping as he continues to stroke me.
"Just a little longer," I whisper, and Ron nods, his fingers gently exciting me. A few more seconds, and my thighs start to clench, and then I explode, throwing back my head and grabbing the seat of my chair for support. Jesus.
As I relax, I feel his hands on my hips and then his mouth kissing me slowly, bringing me back to earth. I break the kiss and meet his eyes. There's no need for either of us to say anything – he knows I liked that.
After a few minutes, Ron stands and helps me to my feet. "C.J.?"
"Yeah?" Now what?
"Would you please come to bed with me?"
Does he really have to ask, I wonder, but I remember our conversation from earlier. He's not taking anything for granted. It's kind of sexy.
"Yes," I breathe, leaning against him. He kisses me again before guiding me down the hall.
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Ron turns on a small table lamp in the corner of his bedroom, which gives the entire room a sensual glow. Perfect. Coming back towards me, he pushes me against the closed door and kisses me deeply. I take the opportunity to explore him, letting my hands roam over his bare back and shoulders, and I can feel from the way he's pressed against me just how ready he is.
I want to touch him.
Sliding one hand down his chest, I move past his belt buckle and lightly touch the zipper on his trousers. As Ron groans, I lightly caress him with the tips of my fingers. I move my other hand to his belt buckle, but he stops me. "Wait."
I look at him quizzically, as he turns me away from the wall. Then he turns me around so he's standing behind me. One hand rests at the back of my dress, his fingers on the zip. Ron leans in and kisses my neck. "May I?"
"Of course," I respond. Carefully, Ron lowers the zipper, then pushes the dress down my arms and lets it fall to my feet. I step out, removing my shoes in the process, and turn to face him.
"Wow," is all he manages, and I can't help blushing. I know he'd figured out the lace panties from touching me earlier, but he'd probably not seen that they were red, and there was no way he could have known about the matching bra. Thank you, Frederick's of Hollywood.
I start in on his belt buckle again, and this time, he doesn't stop me, instead helping me along by removing his shoes and socks. When I push down his pants, his arousal becomes apparent, and I gently fondle him through the silk boxers. Ron gasps, and moves me to the bed, gently pushing me down. I find my back against a soft down comforter, with Ron on top of me kissing me again.
Through a series of moves and turns, we get under the covers, and somewhere along the line, our underwear ends up on the floor and Ron produces some condoms, which is good because I don't really want to have to go back down the hall to search for my purse. Kissing his way up my body, Ron positions himself between my legs and slowly pushes.
Oh, God, yeah. That's good.
Kissing me again, Ron begins to move slowly inside me. And that's another surprise. By this time, I would have expected him to be so wound up that it would be fast and frantic, but he seems intent on moving torturously slowly.
"Oooooh," I moan. We're both breathing heavily, and the slow pace makes it even more arousing. I'm still very wet.
Ron gasps above me, slowly sliding in and out of me. For several minutes, we both concentrate on the wonderful feeling of our bodies slowly moving together, accented occasionally with gasps and sighs. God, this is great.
I've just come for the second time, when Ron raises himself up on one arm and looks down at me, breathing hard. "C.J., I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on."
I grin wickedly. "Then let me help you let go." Pushing him onto his back, I straddle him and start to ride him hard. It only takes a minute before he's screaming in ecstasy, and I collapse on top of him.
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"Wow," I murmur, kissing Ron's shoulder.
"Yeah," Ron agrees, pulling me closer. The sheets are in hopeless disarray.
"I mean really ... wow," I stammer, as I rest my head on his shoulder. I'm not feeling very articulate right now.
Ron tips my chin up and meets my eyes. "Yeah. I know."
I smile and curl up against him, feeling perfectly content. Neither of us says anything for a few minutes, and then something occurs to me. "Ron?"
"Yeah?"
"The ice cream's probably melted."
Ron chuckles. "Yeah, probably. Don't worry, I have more."
I raise my eyebrows. "I can have more?"
Now, he turns to look at me, his expression so serious that I swallow nervously. "C.J., when I said you could have as much as you want, I meant it."
Wow. I can't think of any response to that, so I just nod and lean up to kiss him. After a few minutes of kissing, something hilarious crosses my mind, and I burst out giggling.
Ron looks at me strangely. "C.J.?"
Laughing, "I'm sorry." I take few deep breaths and manage to control the laughter. "I just realized ... I'm never going to look at a hot fudge sundae the same way again."
Seeing the humor, Ron laughs and whispers in my ear, offering several other suggestions to make ice cream arousing.
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END