Rated MA/NC 17 as this one's a bit risqué.
For the lovely Crazy4Castle's Birthday!
And Caro, there's a line in here just for you. ;)
…..
Damn, he's going to hyperventilate.
Kate's standing before him in a short, tight black leather jacket that exposes 2 inches of her flat abdomen. It's wide zipper (which just begs to be unzipped) reaches just beneath her breasts, forcing them up and out, putting them on full display. The feminine, maroon sports bra she's wearing makes him lick his lips in anticipation. It tantalizes his oversensitive nerve-endings and seems to call out his name sensuously, "Cas – tle." The bold color highlights her rosy cheeks and full pink mouth.
But it's the matching leather skirt that has him drooling on the spot.
It's sinfully similar to a Catholic-school-girls-skirt, cinched tight at her waist and then flaring out at her hips but it's much, much shorter, - barely residing 6 inches beneath her derriere. He absorbs her Bar Refaeli legs and bites down on his knuckles at the suggestive, knee-high black boots that cover her shapely calves.
"Beck - ett," he purrs all seductive and wanton and him; his ocean-blue eyes gazing at her as if she's the rarest, finest dessert on the planet, and he definitely wants to eat her up from head to toe.
"Close your mouth, Big Boy," and her light tinkling laughter sends a jolt of yearning straight to his groin. "I told you once before that you wouldn't be able to handle the sight of me in leather."
Noo. Nope. Nada. Nuh-uh, he silently agrees as the front of his pants become unbearably tight. I can't handle the sight of you in leather.
"God, I concur."
He didn't know what to expect when Beckett told him not to ask any questions, just go out and buy a motorcycle outfit… and make it bad-ass, she'd teased.
Ohhh, he'd hoped… Ohhh, he'd prayed… That she was finally going to make his Harley fantasy come true, and as she stood before him now looking like a smokin' hot Dominatrix, he thanked his lucky stars that 5 years ago, Allison Tisdale's murder happened in Detective Beckett's jurisdiction.
He'd gone out per her instructions and bought motorcycle duds just for this occasion. He had to say that he looked like he belonged in a gang (minus the long hair and tattoos) with his slicked back hair wearing a tight black T-shirt, dark brown leather jacket with a white skull and crossbones on the back and snug leather pants. He noticed Beckett checking him out and Gawd, she moistened her lips with that sexy tongue of hers when her eyes dropped down to his - .
"You did good. Rea – lly Good."
The brown leather jacket emphasized his muscular biceps, ('arm porn,' Kate secretly called them) and she knew from personal experience that he could easily pick her up and hold her in any position… Easily.
"Mmm," she sighs as she admires his manly physique in the expensive leather and coupled with his slicked-back hair and 5 o'clock shadow, he's certainly emanating that 'Bad-Boy' vibe.
"Just what I was hoping for," she mumbles as she walks around him admiring the studded pants which made his ass look like the rock of Gibraltor.
"Come on Stud. I'm going to show you how to ride a motorcycle."
There are several sassy, sexual comebacks he can think of, but he feels tongue-tied from leering at her captivating body so he squeaks out, "I'm always a willing student where you're concerned, Beckett."
Her light, infectious laughter tickles his senses. "There's only one rule that you need to remember today."
His lower lip droops until it's a full pout. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like this rule?"
A saucy, flirty smile steals across her features, hinting that he'll definitely like what she has planned for them today. "Because you won't."
"Kaaate," he whines.
She brought her index finger up and wags it back and forth. "If you want to continue this adventure, there's no touching until I say so."
"Shit! I don't think I can agree to that."
"Well then, this outing doesn't happen." He took a look at her pursed lips and murky eyes and knew she wouldn't back down, the teasing vixen.
"Anyone ever tell you that you drive a hard bargain?" And her response has him at full mast in 2 seconds flat.
"I drive a hard Harley… Now follow me."
He can't keep his eyes off her ass. The leather fits like a second skin around her butt, highlighting each round cheek to perfection. She walks confidently, swaying her hips, knowing full well what she's doing to him.
When they walk into the elevator, Kate stands in one corner with Rick in the other, openly appraising her.
"I love the outfit, Beckett." His eyes travel up the 4 inch heels of her boots, up her divine legs and over the 2 inch expanse of exposed skin at her midriff. They drift further up to stop on the swell of her breasts, showcased in the feminine maroon bra.
"And why is that?" she asks dryly with a twinkle in her eye.
"It screams, Undercover-Police-Officer-Posing-as-a-Prostitute."
"And here I thought it reflected Bad-ass-Biker-Chick or possibly Rockin-Harley-babe."
"That too, or - " Please don't kill me for thinking this, "Put a whip in your hand and you'd outshine Lady Irena in that sexy number."
She smiles, remembering the case in their second year where they visited Lady Irena's House of Pain and she'd made 'Ricky' squirm by playing his domineering girlfriend.
Mmm, we may have to visit there one day soon now that we're officially a couple.
"Would I Rrrick?" She purposefully spread her legs further apart and grabbed the elevator handrail behind her, leaning back seductively, - those beautiful, expressive eyes burning into his soul.
"Mmm, and what would you call me? Mistress Marshall perhaps?"
He grins, all dorky and adorable at the same time, while continuing to undress her with his eyes, - making her want to throw 'the rule' right out the window and maul him here in the elevator.
"No, there's only one name for you dressed like that, and it's Mistress," his voice drops to a dashing French accent, "Femme Fatale."
"Hopefully, not for you today," she purrs and he releases a heavy sigh as the elevator doors open onto the parking garage. She sways past him all tempting, luscious curves encased in very heady leather.
She walks over to her older silver Harley which she obviously treasures… It has gleaming, shiny chrome and top-of-the-line parts, and he can't help smiling at the NYPD logo sticker prominently displayed. She opens up the saddle bag and pulls out a black helmet and tosses it to him.
"Put it on, Bad-Boy."
He lifts it to put it on his head but stops mid-way and openly gapes at her. He doesn't move a muscle as if he's been turned to stone.
Kate hiked up her skirt, … hiked up the barely-there-pleated-leather-mini-skirt so she could throw one lean leg over the bike. He'd caught a quick flash of red lace before she straddled the massive machine.
S-t-r-a-d-d-l-e-d the bike like he wants her to straddle him.
Oh hell, and the vivid imagery of her riding the machine just like he wants her to ride him almost undoes him.
His heart stutters and his groin unbearably aches as he takes in the sexy siren owning that Harley. She looks like she's posing for a motorcycle commercial with her never-ending legs, toned stomach, perky breasts, creamy neck and smoky eyes. Eyes that are staring right back at him, giving as good as she got.
She smiles devilishly and crooks her index finger, curling it over and over, beckoning him to come to her. His legs move under her Witchy spell.
"You've got permission to hold onto me around my waist, and only my waist." She winks at him before pulling a brick-red helmet over her straight hair. She motions to him to put on the helmet and get on the bike.
There's no way he can refuse such a temptress so he immediately obeys.
The roar of the engine fills his ears and the vibrations of the bike surely don't help his already aroused state and Gawd, now he's touching the silky skin at her waist and pressed against her divine derriere.
….
Kate's hyperaware of his every movement. His long arms snake around her midsection; his fingers slice over the bare skin. His large, warm palm causes a wet warmth to seep between her legs.
When they approach an intersection, his fingers delve into her hipbones, gripping her tightly. His thumbs lazily draw over the smooth skin. Her breathing quickens, fogging up the glass inside her helmet.
At every stop, his feet hit the road and he adjusts himself so his pecs are melded into her back. He rocks his masculine hips into her butt and she can sinfully feel his arousal.
Fuck, it's tantalizing feeling his large thighs cradle her ass, how his manhood presses intimately against her.
As the machine picks up speed, so does Kate's heart and it isn't just due to the thrill of being in control of a fast Harley, but due to the irresistibly fast man behind her.
Castle.
She can feel his strong fingers exploring the lining of her thin leather jacket. They slowly rotate, catching and lifting the hem as he searches for more skin.
The thrum of the engine causes a tremor that shimmies upwards from the heated metal to the center of her body. She can feel it cascading through her thighs, her lower abdomen, her stomach, her ribcage, and he's magnifying the sensation 10-fold.
Castle.
Kate takes a turn too quicky which causes him to squeeze her tightly. His muscles close like a cocoon around her, his thighs clenching like a vice-grip.
Bless him for knowing exactly how to get her all hot and horny and seriously thinking about pulling the bike over in the first alley they come across so she can fuck his brains out.
She's a master of this hard Hog, but she trembles at the knowledge that she's now a master of his hard hog.
She revs the engine again, swearing she can feel his body quake through the vibrations of it, swears she can feel his member jerk against her, seeking relief.
She guns the motor as soon as they're on the outskirts of the city and within 15 minutes she finds their destination, a rural dirt path that leads to an abandoned park.
She slows the bike down and Castle clings to her curves as they hit a pothole the size of Texas. His laughter can be heard through the helmet and it does delicious things to her already over-stimulated nerves.
She pulls the Harley under a clump of trees and cuts the engine before forcing down the kickstand. He watches (and it seems to happen in slow motion) as Kate gets off the bike, pulls the helmet off her head and shakes out her shiny straight tresses. She throws him a, 'hang-on-writer-boy-as-your-fantasy's-about-to-com e-true-look.'
He about topples off the bike.
She's exquisite. - The perfect motorcycle ad. - Every man's fantasy.
In a move he doesn't expect, she's whipped her long leg back over the seat again and she's facing him… All bright eyes and shiny cheeks and eager hands. Ohhh.
His helmet is off in a flash and dropped somewhere on the ground and then her lips are on his, - sensual, dancing, - her too talented tongue starting a samba that makes his cock jump to the rhythm.
Her hands cascade over the supple leather jacket, reveling in the smoothness beneath her fingertips, but it's not the 'supple thing' she wants to be feeling right now.
Her hands slip under the leather of his jacket, beneath the straining T shirt and finally find flesh, - his tantalizing, supple flesh.
He feels so good, - solid, strong and hard beneath her fingers. His muscles tense and contract as she slides around to his abdomen. Her deft fingers fiddle with the zipper on his pants, longing to get a hold of his throttle.
A chuckle escapes his chest, deep and boisterous. He asks, "Does this mean I can touch you now?"
She doesn't acknowledge his stupid bedroom eyes and stupid cocky smirk, just quirks one eyebrow and grabs both his hands, planting them firmly on her ass.
"Mmm," he breathes her in and yanks her towards him, hauling her beautiful, right leg over his thigh.
Her eyes shoot fire as her left leg lifts to land on his other leather-clad thigh. A groan that's primal in nature reverberates through his chest, rumbling through him and searing into Kate, exciting her beyond belief.
He excruciatingly drags her towards him and lifts her at the same time… She settles right on his erection, fitting perfectly against him like a hand-in-glove.
Her lips never leave his as she gyrates in slow circles and presses down hard against his manhood.
Shit, he's already close to bursting as her toned legs link around his ass and her pelvis moves erotically… Her tongue tackles with his while she moans sensuously into the back of his throat.
He wants this leather-clad Beckett so badly, wants to hear his name burst from her lips as she breaks apart above him, for him, because of him.
She's drowning in lust, in the pads of his fingers and his hot palms as they fondle her ass… His manly scent engulfs her, surrounds her, and combined with the scent of the heavenly pines, it skyrockets her desire even further.
The pulsing between her legs calls his name and she can't bear not being one with him any longer.
"Castle," she breathes, "Fuck me."
His broad hands are at the skimpy piece of lace in an instant and he rips the fabric away as easily as if he was ripping up a piece of paper.
His hand pulls out his thick, stone cock and she chokes on a breath at his magnificent size, knowing that he'll fill her (almost painfully) to the hilt.
Their eyes lock, - his a stormy blue, hers a murky brown, - as his hands clasp her waist. He lifts her and she squeaks at his strength. Her eyes sway and her neck lolls back as he lets gravity do the work and she slams down onto his length.
Gawwd, it feels fantastic. It's always sooo fuckin good and her teeth pull on her lower lip as she absorbs the sensation of having him fully inside her.
He doesn't move as he takes in her gorgeous face, those eyes that reflect lust and desire, her swollen lips that testify to their mutual attraction.
"There's only you, Kate," he murmurs against her neck as she begins sliding up and down his member.
Passion is rolling off her skin in waves of pheromones, intermingling with his own raging testosterone, making his blood pop and boil like scalding water on a stove.
She can't seem to get enough… Enough of his smell, enough of his hands, enough of his slick cock… She cants her hips forward, taking more of him into her and he in turn rockets his thighs upwards.
He's somehow coherent enough to find the zipper on her jacket and roughly unzip it.
His hot palm covers her belly button and his thumb swirls in the sexy orifice before he drags his hand up her quivering stomach… She bites at his shoulder as his hand glides under her sports bra. He finds warmth and sweat and raw naked flame, and he throws fuel on the fire with the press of his thumb against her straining nipple.
"Ye - sss," she moans in that suggestive voice of hers that tells him she's close and bloody hell if it doesn't bring him right to the edge of oblivion knowing he can do this to her and so unbelievably fast.
The texture of the leather beneath her core and the jab of the metal zipper hitting her in that delectable spot has her seeing starbursts behind her eyes, - for just a moment before he's lifting her up and away from him again.
His hips pick up speed, and her abdomen coils with delicious addicting tension, sending liquid nourishment to her loins.
His already elevated heart-rate kicks another notch higher and then his mouth is on hers again, harsh and devastating, - every purposeful thrust of his tongue sending a sexual message of unsurpassed need.
She's gasping for air and she's feeling lightheaded as her body drifts on the cusp of orgasm and then, - then…
He does that unusual, magnificent trick that sends her flying… His fingers flirt with her anus and she's gone… Drowning in bright light, fireworks bursting behind her eyelids in vibrant colors, - yellow, blue, orange, purple; she's screaming his given name while being blinded by new-found heights of ecstasy that devour and consume her entire body.
Fire engulfs her; flames licking everywhere they touch and she sets him alight with every contraction of her sugar walls.
His mind is ablaze, an erupting volcano that causes him to shudder under the insurmountable heat and pressure.
He pushes up once more and a gut-wrenching groan leaves his lips as his orgasm hits and he shoots his hot seed into the heart of her womanhood.
Her arms slump around him and she takes deep, cleansing breaths as his body slowly sinks into the Harley's cushioned seat. His eyes start to focus once more as he comes down from the unbelievable high of their coupling.
Kate's legs are noticeably shaking from the exertion. He runs his hands over their lean muscle, soothing them.
"That was, - " she pauses, looking deep into his blue orbs, "Absolutely incredible."
"I'm going to have to have this Harley bronzed."
Her melodic laughter fills the breezy air. "You would."
"Or possibly have it encased in plexiglass so I can display it like a beloved trophy."
"And what about this 'Undercover-Police-Officer-Posing-as-a-Prostitute- outfit?" She asks demurely, kissing along his jawline.
"This unbelievably sexy outfit is going into my Fantasy box where I can easily retrieve it for future use."
"Not quite yet," and she adjusts his leather jacket back into place. "I already have a place in mind where we'd be heartily welcomed dressed like this."
Ohhh, and he thanks his lucky stars once more that Harrison Tisdale decided to use his murder / mystery books as inspiration.