Jump Journal: Into the Deep Chapter 1 / Jump Chapter 3.5
A/N: M-rated content for "Jump" will appear under this story. Picks up right where chapter 3 left off. Happy Birthday AC!
She was going to marry Richard Castle. Richard Castle was going to be her husband.
And she needed to pay attention, because the man in question's lips were moving and sounds were coming out, and she should probably concentrate on something other than how kissable those lips looked right now.
"Good, because I've never been so sure of anything in my whole life."
Her heart melted a little more, if that was possible. His words probably merited a response.
"I love you." She kissed the tip of his nose. "I'm going to have to start weight training my hand to hold up this ring." She held her hand up to let the light hit the diamond. "And I'm finally going to make an honest Writer-Boy out of you." She brought her hand to his chest and stroked up and down over his sternum. "You sensing any doubts?"
"No, I'm not, and that's making me want to kiss-"
She interrupted him with her lips, but he still tried to finish.
"Mmm-you again."
She giggled into his mouth. Still giddy-this ridiculous lightness of being wasn't going away.
He pulled back enough to see her eyes, and she was so glad to see the twinkle there in full force.
"Do you know how happy you just made me?"
His tone was light, but she heard the soul-shaking truth behind his words.
He really had no clue that she was in this just as much as he was. She should fix that.
"I think I might have some idea, yeah."
She took his hand and laid it flat against the center of her chest, let him feel her heart pounding out all of the joy unfurling inside her.
His smile widened, eyes flashed awe.
"Yeah, I guess you do."
Despite the late hour, he insisted on opening the champagne.
Her brain and her body were so keyed up now that taking a moment to settle, just to themselves, in the dark of night, seemed the right thing to do. Tomorrow would be for sharing this with the outside world. Tonight was for each other, and for discovering how to begin living out the promises they had made.
Accepting the glass from his hand, she immediately raised it toward him, waiting for a toast.
He tipped his head to the side, lips parted slightly, but no eloquent phrase was forthcoming.
"Really, Castle? Now you're speechless?"
A breath and a blink and really? His eyes were brimming again. Waterworks were contagious tonight.
"I can't help it if I have no words to describe a feeling I've never felt before."
A puddle. Her heart was a puddle of mush on the floor. But apparently she had to step up, since her wordsmith had suddenly lost his words.
"To making each other speechless."
They clinked glasses and sipped. The crisp, cold wine on her tongue snapped her out of her sappiness.
"This is fabulous. What are we drinking?"
He sidled up to her and slipped his arm around her waist, tugged her in to his side.
"Cristal."
"As in, vintage, French champagne, Cristal?"
He smiled at her and ran his fingers from the band of her bra to the top of the bow on her underwear, then back up again. She'd never put on any clothes, but he didn't seem to mind. Dora was going to die when she heard about this.
"1990."
"You just keep this sitting in your wine room?"
He leaned in to nibble her neck as he spoke.
"Well, I've kept this one, and a couple of others, squirreled away, for special occasions, well-hidden from my mother."
Damn distracting lips. She started unbuttoning his pajama top in retaliation.
"Do I want to know how much this is worth?"
He'd made his way up behind her ear. She was beginning to lose her focus.
"Not nearly as much as the occasion we're drinking it for."
When he pulled her ear lobe and the diamond still fastened there between his lips her knees wobbled.
"Think we could take this occasion to a horizontal surface?"
She slid the shirt off his shoulders.
"I thought you'd never ask."
He released her waist and grabbed the ice bucket, set it on his nightstand. She followed him to the edge of the bed.
The gravitas of this night kept hitting her at odd moments. She sat on the side of the bed, feet on the floor, contemplating one of the flickering candles and sipping her champagne.
She was engaged to Richard Castle.
He was topping off his glass and sat to refill hers. Adrenaline was still making her hands shake, and so a few drops spilled, hitting her bare thigh and startling her with their icy tingle.
"Oh, sorry. Sorry. I'm a mess."
"Yes, but you're my mess." He stopped her hand with his forearm as she moved to wipe away the liquid. "And I get to clean you up."
He put the bottle back away and dropped to his knees on the floor in front of her, eyeing the spill.
"We really shouldn't waste any of this."
And he proceeded to place an open-mouthed kiss over the bubbling drops. Warm tongue and cold champagne and…
"Mmm. Actually, I think it tastes much better this way."
Smiling up at her with eyes suddenly dark, he rose from the floor and leaned in for a kiss. It was a tight press of his lips to hers, hot and hard and determined. As she granted his seeking tongue entrance, his fingers wound into her hair, and he braced one knee beside her on the bed.
He tried to reach around her back with his other hand, forgetting they were both still juggling glasses. With a grunt of frustration, he released her lips and leaned away to set both flutes on the floor.
Kate leaned back on her hands to keep herself upright, swaying slightly with a fresh and nearly overpowering wave of wanting.
Rick returned to her lips briefly, but then trailed warm, wet kisses down her neck and across her chest, skimming his lips just above the lace of her bra. His fingers were barely brushing the satin covering the underside of her breasts, and she couldn't help arching her back to encourage his hands. He thumbed her nipples through the lace, and she let out a moan as she felt herself harden painfully.
When he released her, wrapping his hands around her ribcage to unfasten her bra, she whimpered at the loss of warmth. After sitting forward to let him slide the straps down her arms, she grabbed his hands and placed them back where she wanted them.
She loved those hands, and how she fit perfectly in his wide palms.
He cupped her gently, then pulled away and flattened his palms so that they were barely brushing her dusky peaks, circling, teasing, giving just enough to tighten them more. When she thought she couldn't stand another glorious second, he pressed his hands firmly against her again, making her hum in approval.
He placed a gentle kiss in the center of her chest, over her scar, and then whispered against her skin.
"I'm the luckiest man in the world."
Her heart clenched, knowing they had both been lucky to make it to this moment, together and whole.
Her moment of contemplation was brief. Replacing one of his hands with his mouth, he laved at her nipple, sending sparks of arousal directly to her core.
Through heavy-lidded eyes, she saw him reach for his champagne glass on the floor. Seconds later, he released her and took a sip, looking up into her eyes as he returned to her breast.
When his warm lips attached to her again, she felt a sudden rush of cold bubbles and cried out.
He swirled his tongue against her nipple with the champagne, confusing her senses and intensifying the connection.
His swallow left her bathed in warmth again, but only momentarily, because almost immediately he was taking another sip and returning to her other breast. Pleasure swamped her and she couldn't hold herself up under the onslaught.
She threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him with her as she lay back on the bed. He leaned over her, resting one hand on the mattress and letting go of her breast.
Champagne in his hand, Rick tipped the glass to trickle a stream of bubbly down the flat plane of her stomach and into her navel. He followed the chilly trail with his hot mouth, tongue lapping at her skin, raising goose bumps as he went.
The tip of his tongue dipped into the hollow of her belly button and made her muscles clench.
"I don't think I'm going to be able to drink Cristal ever again without getting you naked."
She raised herself up on her elbows to look down at him, tried to get her voice to come out without squeaking.
"I'd be fine with that, really."
His fingertips found one end of the bow on her single remaining piece of clothing. He tugged, teasing apart the ribbons and tickling her hip with the rustle of satin.
Ridding himself of his glass yet again, he used his index finger to trace the edges of her now-untied underwear, teasing by not nudging the scrap of fabric away.
"Did I mention that I like your evil underwear?"
"Castle if you don't get rid of my evil underwear right this second, you're going to find out how evil I can be in the bedroom."
His eyes shot up to meet hers, slightly shocked and somehow even more aroused.
"You mean I haven't already met Evil Temptress Kate? You've been holding back!"
Her growl seemed to spur him into action, and her underwear joined her bra somewhere behind him on the floor.
She reached out to tug him up over her, but he placed her hand back on the bed and grabbed her hips, pulled her to the very edge of the mattress, and knelt on the floor at her feet.
Okay, then. He apparently had a plan.
He kissed her kneecap, then nudged her knees apart.
Why was that so hot? Might be how inordinately attracted she was to him at this moment, and really, at any moment, and oh, she hoped he wasn't going to tease any more.
He spread her thighs wide, opening her up before him. She found purchase for her heels on the edge of the bed frame, a point of contact that kept their shaking from being so obvious.
She was about to come out of her skin, and he wasn't in any hurry.
In fact, as she angled up on her elbows again, she saw him take another sip of champagne. Oh, frack. She might not survive this.
He pressed his lips gently to her center, teasing her clit with just the tip of his tongue. And then she felt the wash of tingling cold against her heated flesh. Bubbles teased her nerve endings, alternating with warm swathes of tongue. She couldn't hold in her reaction.
"Ah… Rick… Fuck… "
He slid one finger along her slick and swollen folds, then pressed it inside her. A second followed immediately, and they splayed wide, spreading to fire all the nerve endings at her entrance. He flattened his tongue against her, and her hips pressed up into his mouth without her permission.
When he sank his fingers deeper, found her sweet spot and pressed hard against it with their tips, she sobbed.
Over six months they had learned so much, found so many ways to please each other, but despite all their practice, he'd found a new one tonight. It was somehow appropriate for their relationship that engagement sex should involve a twenty-two-year-old bottle of French champagne.
He was intensifying his attack on her body, sucking, flicking his tongue, swirling, pressing, curling his fingers so deep.
Her head fell back toward the mattress, unable to cope with the intensity.
Warmth enveloped her as he swallowed the wine and concentrated on bringing her to her peak.
Such directed intent made her dizzy; her breath was coming in shallow pants, timed in synch with the movement of his fingers against her front wall. When he pressed hard against her clit with the flat of his tongue, it set off the first tingles low in her belly.
"Oh, don't stop, please."
He seemed in no danger of doing so, as he reached up with his free right hand and twined his fingers with her left, circling over her ring.
She breathed out an "I love you," and he hummed against her.
The vibrations and his simultaneous increase in pace pushed her to the point of no return.
He must have felt her first contractions against his fingers, because he responded with firmer pressure there, ratcheting up the fierceness of her pleasure. The climax exploded through her, colors streaming behind her eyelids.
He eased her through it, gentled his movements, gripped her hand again as she got control over her breathing.
When he slid his fingers from her and pulled his warm mouth away, all she could think of was replacing those with other, more substantial parts of his anatomy.
"Now. I need you inside me now."
He rose from the floor and slid off his pajama pants and underwear, then propped himself on one hand to hover over her as she lay draped half off the mattress. He positioned himself at her entrance and stilled, met her eyes.
Without more prompting, she raised up on her elbows to watch him enter her.
His eyes stayed on her face, and she felt heat creeping up her cheeks at the scrutiny.
As he parted her folds, began to stretch her and press inside, she inhaled sharply and forced her lids to stay open. As his length disappeared inside her, she could feel her body adjusting, shifting to accommodate the invasion.
His hips finally closed the last inch of distance between them and met hers, then held. Her eyes met his, dark and deep and warm, and then he began to move. A few long, slow strokes and she could tell from the strain in his shoulders and the restraint in his hips that he was already fighting to hold on.
"If we keep this up, I'm going to embarrass myself. You need to get on top of me."
She knew with this angle she would take a while to ramp up again. Not enough of her was in contact with him. Never one to turn down the chance for another climax, she nodded.
He slipped out of her and they took down the covers, climbed up to the headboard.
She shoved pillows against it and motioned him to sit up against them.
As she climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs and placing her palms on his broad shoulders, he reached out and brushed a fingertip over the diamond still hanging around her neck.
"I think I could get used to you in nothing but these, bathed in champagne, flushed and sweaty in our bed."
He was grinning at her, looking proud of himself and his ability to form coherent thoughts. She smirked back.
"Why just the bed?"
And she sank down to take him inside her again.
Oh, now this angle was all contact in all the right places. As she began to move, his hands stroked over her back, palmed her hips, pulled her in tight against him. He brought one back up to cover her breast, used finger and thumb to tweak her nipple. He didn't have much leverage to move against her sitting up, so he slid down slightly.
"Not… not going to take long, here, Castle."
He paused in his trail of lips and tongue down her collarbone to answer.
"Good, then we're even."
She sped her pace, but kept her movements small. She could feel his length pressing deep, could picture just how much of him was inside her as they rocked together.
He reached for her hand, interlaced fingers, attached his lips to that perfect spot on the side of her neck.
Her rhythm began to falter as she felt the first stirrings of her climax. He took over, then, driving up against her, releasing her neck to focus on breathing instead.
She let out a little hum from the back of her throat as he tightened his hold on her hips. The friction set her off, and she stiffened, cried out, pulsed hard around him. He thrust harder and then called her name as he spilled inside her.
Their foreheads met, faces pink and glistening with sweat, as they eased through the aftershocks.
"I love you."
Her old self could not have imagined how their love-making could get more intense than it had been in those first days of their relationship. Now she knew better. Every new intimacy, every response built on what went before, and all of it was amplified by what they felt for each other. Their love was stronger every day, and with it, so went this physical incarnation.
"Hey."
He snapped her out of her thoughts with a kiss on her cheek.
"Hmm?"
"You're thinking pretty loudly."
"Just thinking about how sex keeps getting better with you."
"I was thinking that, too."
"Really?"
She smiled. They were both being ridiculous saps by her usual standards, but somehow tonight, it seemed like the thing to do.
He pulled her left hand up to his lips, kissed her knuckles.
"That, and I was imagining how much better it's going to be when I'm making love with my wife."