AN: So grateful for all of you; your excitement and love for this story continue to amaze me. Thank you!
Happy Birthday, AC! (…one day early, but this'll go on a bit past your birthday… look at that, a gift that keeps on giving! ;)) Something sexy – as ordered! Thank you for your continued support; I appreciate you! xoxo
She rose into him, her lips open, seeking; warm and soft and eager on his. Her body so supple as she arched against him and he wrapped his arms around her back, her shoulders, drawing her closer, feeling the strength, the rippling energy beneath her skin. Her tongue slid over his lips, tasting and curling around his, a delicious tease and wow, she was so very, very hot, and gorgeous and fervent. He stroked his tongue inside her mouth, deep, greedy for more of her, all of her.
She tasted like coffee and spice and determination, and he sought her hungrily, couldn't soak in enough of her flavor, her softness, the tiny mewling sounds she made at the back of her throat that he remembered so well; that he'd clung to in long, sleepless nights when he'd been aching for her, when he'd missed her so much that his heart hurt with it. "Kate," he groaned her name into her mouth, "Kate Kate Kate." She sucked on his tongue, tugged his lips between her teeth, her nails sharp at the back of his neck.
Finally, oh god, finally, finally. He was finally kissing Kate Beckett and it was overpowering and perfect and brimming with yearning; the sweetest ache he'd ever felt.
He pressed her tighter to him, chest to chest, heat and friction and her sensuous curves. Pleasure arrowed through his blood, shooting straight to his midsection, his body rising with it. He ran his fingers down her spine, nudged the curve of her back. She helplessly rocked into him, her muscles clamped around his thigh, her slim skirt riding up, up, up. He could practically taste her moan on his tongue, her mouth voracious for more and he dove for her, his tongue sliding deep, stroking at the roof of her mouth, eagerly drawing from her.
He could barely think straight, his mind hazy, just so absolutely overwhelmed by her yet a warning signal blared at the back of his brain, getting louder with the rising ferociousness of their kiss, too fast, too fast. Slow, he'd promised her slow and instead he was bulldozing right over her with his desperate desire, this raw, devastating need.
He curved his palm over her cheek, his thumb caressing the contour of her cheekbone while he gentled the kiss, sipped at her mouth, his tongue caressing deliberately. It was a thing of beauty, the way Kate seemed to melt into him, a soft pliable thing in his arms and he kissed her with care, with longing, with his love for her infusing every touch and he was hoping, just hoping she'd taste it, too. Her lips were receptive beneath his; her fingers curled at his neck, caressing slow circles through his hair, her other hand trailing at his hip, his waist, teased over the curve of his butt, and shivers edged into his skin.
She was so soft, vivacious, beautiful, and he wanted her, oh, he wanted her so much; his heart was pounding with it, heat unfurling through his blood, curling along his spine. He just... he didn't want her to have doubts or regrets; he'd need to take his time, take it slow. He'd make it good for her, really very good. Worth it. One brick at a time. There'd be time.
He wanted her in that forever kind of way.
With a few soft kisses, mere brushes of his lips against hers he ended the kiss, slowly drew away. Her eyes came open, darkened with arousal, her mouth open and lips glistening. He wanted nothing more than to dive back in, couldn't get enough of her but he forced himself to stop, breathe, do the right thing. He drew his thumb along her lower lip, watched her eyelids flutter.
"I should," he croaked, had to clear his throat. "I should go." He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheekbone, her forehead. "Good night, Kate."
She stood frozen, her eyes widened as he stepped back, slid his leg out from under her, and then he slowly turned. It tore at his heart, his whole body screaming but no, it was the right thing; he kept telling himself, the right thing, Rick.
And then her fingers wrapped around his tie and she whirled him back to her. "Don't you dare!" Kate growled low in her throat and then her mouth was on his, drawing him into another kiss, fast and fiery, laying claim.
"Don't leave me," she demanded, fierce with it, pushing him against the kitchen island and no Kate, never, never, yet the words got lost in the wild spiral of sensation. His breath left his lungs; his arm came around her, his palm on her ass and she moaned, drew him closer, her nails digging into his chest.
And then she gentled the kiss, deepened it and he fell further into her, seeking her, needing all of her. "Don't leave," she murmured into his mouth, caressing his lips with her plea before she slowed down even more, pulled away with a final taste of his lips. His heart stammered with the look in her eyes, so sure and decisive, so purely Kate Beckett. Her fingers wiggled into the knot of his tie, loosening it ever so slightly.
"Stay."
He nodded, wanting nothing else but still, "Are you shhh..."
Her mouth closed over his on the last word as she kissed him again, nipped at his lips with her teeth while his tie came undone under her talented fingers. She slowly drew it from around his neck, popped open the top button of his dress shirt, and pressed her lips to his Adams apple, leaving a smattering of soft kisses that made his knees go weak.
"Yes," she hummed into his skin, shattering him with just one word, and then she pulled away, looked up at him, her fingers skirting beneath the collar of his shirt.
"Let's tear down that wall, Castle."
His heart stumbled in his chest, thumped hard against his ribcage before it sped up, leaving him lightheaded, though more likely this was due to the extraordinary woman in front of him who'd just given herself to him, laid her fragile heart into the care of his palms and why was he waxing sappy poetic instead of touching her, kissing her, making her scream and arch and forget her own name, and was he still just staring?
Her eyebrow quirked up, the trademark Beckett teasing arc when she knew she had his rapt attention. She lifted both hands to the back of her neck, and then the sound of her zipper reverberated loudly in the breathless silence between them.
"We can still go slow," she hummed, turning gradually until she had her back to him. "If you really want."
She swiped the tumble of her hair over one shoulder, threw him a red carpet-worthy over-the-shoulder look that would make any celebrity pale in comparison to her graceful beauty. His breath caught in his throat. Her eyes were beckoning him, seductive and shimmering with quiet need and he stepped forward, drawn to the small vee of skin revealed by the zipper she'd opened only a couple of inches.
He leaned in, placed a lingering kiss to her top vertebra, swirling his tongue over the visible patch of skin, tasting her, a little salty and a lot sweet and she shivered against him, her head falling forward.
Yeah. He really, really wanted slow.
He wanted to savor, sample every patch of skin, sip at the long planes and sinewy curves of her body; wanted to taste her, roll her flavor around on his tongue. He wanted to explore, map her until he knew which spot made her whimper, made her moan, shiver, arch in pleasure while her nails dug into his shoulder blades; discover everything about her because she was the most remarkable, challenging, amazing person he'd ever met.
He slowly opened the zipper of her dress, going almost tooth by tooth as he followed the line of her spine with his lips and his tongue, reveling in the low whimpers that fell from her lips, in the way her hips canted when he swiped at the low of her back. The dress opened all the way down to her tailbone, exposing an edge of dove gray lace that caressed her hips. He snuck a finger underneath the fabric, scraping his nail right and then left of her tailbone. She hissed, a trail of goose bumps erupting on her skin.
He hadn't even noticed that she'd wiggled out of the sleeves but suddenly the dress fell, pooled around her feet and he was staring up at the lithe, pale lines of Kate's naked skin, interrupted only by the shimmering strips of her bra and panties. It was ethereal, just how absolutely gorgeous she was, the slender curves of her hips, the brackets of her waist, the sinewy muscles that defined her body. He was aching with it, want burning through him, setting him on fire but he focused, let it simmer down, holding himself on a low, delicious burn. For her.
He ran his index finger all the way up her spine, then back down, finally able to explore the enticing line that had fascinated him beneath her dress all evening. He felt her skin ripple, her back arch, like a cat following his every touch. He put his mouth to her lower back, nipping, licking, kissing his way back up, making note of the most sensitive spots. Lingered where she'd shiver or tremble; where she'd whimper, mewl sensuously and it was so sexy, the way the sounds tumbled from her lips, the way he could make her feel nothing but this.
With his hands curling low on her hips, he sipped at her nape and she spun in his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him, her mouth hot and eager over his. He trailed a line of kisses along her jaw and down her neck, his tongue swiping at her collarbone; she moaned and he fell to his knees before her, his face pressed between her breasts where her scar lay half-hidden by her bra.
He took a moment to soak her in, the fact that she was alive, so alive and vibrant in his arms and he gripped her hipbones as he pressed a lingering kiss to the mark. Kate curled her fingers through his hair, her touch gentle with understanding. They stayed like that for long moments, her chest rising and falling with every breath, her heartbeat rapid, alive, and then he moved, inexorably drawn; his mouth traveling to her right breast, his fingers to the left. He breathed onto the fabric covering her nipple and she groaned, her knees buckling; he wrapped one arm around her lower back, holding her steady.
With his mouth he nudged the fabric away and playfully whirled his tongue over her exposed nipple. Her reaction was immediate- fingers tightened in his hair, head falling back, mouth open on a moan. The rosy flesh puckered, darkened and he could not wait another second; he wrapped his lips around her, sucking the nipple into his mouth, tasting her sweet, sweet flesh. His name stumbled from her lips, rough with yearning; he tightened his hold on her, savoring her.
He played her left breast with his fingertips, tweaking, rolling, teasing the nipple through the lace of her bra while he curled his tongue around her, flicked and nipped; sucked again, hard and then soft, teeth scraping the tender flesh. Her moans grew in volume, her fingers tight in his hair and her hips in motion, undulating fervently and wow, she really, really liked this. He kept at her, suckling ardently, worshipping the soft mounds, over and over; her whole body tensed, quivered in his grasp and he wasn't letting up, going going going until - to his absolute awe - she came.
Hard.