Endgame


"We should get it looked at," Cal whispered as her lips found his neck. He closed his eyes. He could taste her on his lips, was completely surrounded by her scent. She was taking him over, inch by inch, as her tongue trailed.

But it wasn't enough, and like an unquenchable thirst, he had to have more of her.

"I told you, it's fine," she reassured him, edged him on with the quickness of her kiss.

Her lips were smooth as they danced against him. It was as if they had rehearsed it a thousand times before. Each one knew the steps, knew how to fall into line, into the rhythm. She was perfect, he remarked quietly as her teeth found his earlobe.

She felt comfortable beneath him, as if his hands were meant to grace her shape. They fit perfectly over her breasts, held her sides with ease, gripped her hips. She wanted him to explore every inch, claim what she was giving to him.

She arched her back and looked down to his hand as if begging it to begin its work. She closed her eyes and moaned softly, "Well don't stop now."

His hands did not move and instead he stared down at her, sighed a little.

"Cal..."

"Yeah, love?"

"What the hell are you waiting for?"

He smiled, almost unsure how to answer, and his brow stitched together. "You're so bloody perfect," he said truthfully. "I want to drink you in and savour this."

"You've had long enough," she ordered. "I want ravishment, Cal Lightman. I want to be pressed against you. I want it raw, sweaty. I need you to take me, all of me, and soothe this ache I'm feeling."

His smile turned slowly, and his teeth appeared shiny and white.

"What?"

He shook his head slightly. "I can't tell you how many times I imagined this. How you would feel..."

"And..." She tucked her fingers under his shirt, made contact with skin.

"You feel fuckin' incredible." He kissed her quickly. "I've always wanted you. Ever since..."

"Since?"

He didn't have the heart to tell her. To say he always knew she'd be his. That since the first moment he saw her, that there was something, some spark.

So he dove upon her, crashed against her, taking her lips heatedly.

Their breathing quickened, thickened, and warmed. Tongues lashed, hands moved, grazed, tugged at clothing until he found the front of her blouse, pulled quickly at her buttons exposing a red laced bra.

Marcus was a bloody fool, he thought, and the grin widened on his face. She reciprocated the smile and as if knowing instinctively, as if reading his mind, she narrowed her eyes on him.

"You're goddamn gorgeous, Gillian," he said as he lowered his head to suckle, lick and nip. She moaned softly under him, continued to arch her back guiding him from one breast to the other. She would release a breath when he tugged at the red lace and found her nipple, and took it between his lips. His tongue left trails on her skin.

Her scent was intoxicating, and it flooded him with desire. Her moans only edged him onward as he dipped beneath her skirt in search of further pleasure points. Goosebumps rose where he touched her, as he trailed her inner thigh and found more lace. He knew instantly it had to be matching red lace.

His red laced Gillian Foster.

He gently brushed against her panties, pricked carefully until she ground her hips against his hand. He would hold her eyes as he dipped, dove gently, lovingly between her folds. She smiled as he found her perfectly and her eyes fluttered.

He brought his lips to her ear. "You're mine," he whispered, hot breath reaching her slender neck.

Her hands tucked under his shirt and it was over his head in an instant. She moved out from under him, grudgingly pulled his fingers from his careful work.

She climbed on top of him and wiggled from her blouse, tossed it carelessly to the floor.

There was an added enticement of the passersby, the steady footsteps that trudged the hallway on this busy afternoon. It added to the heat of his flesh, to prickling of her skin and the way her groin yearned for him, the way her gut tightened as his hands pressed against her flat stomach. She pulled her skirt up her legs, let it pool at her waist and she reached behind her to release the clasp on her bra.

Her hair fell in front of her face as the bra was released and tumbled to the floor. She could have spent hours defining all the love in his face, the lust in his eyes as he took in her aroused, freckled skin

She rocked her hips, pushed down against his jeans hungrily. He instinctively lifted himself and she pressed her hands to his chest, pushed him back onto the day bed. She continued to grind against him, dance above him. She brought her hands to her breasts, to her hair, pulled back from her face. He moaned as the pleasure hit him.

She was doing everything right. She was his perfect fit.

He sat up quickly, gripped her hips and lifted them from the couch.

He found her lips again, felt her legs wrap securely around his waist. He walked them across the floor, as their tongues played together, as they breathed their hunger into each other's mouth.

He placed her onto the angled ladder of his bookcase, lifted her high enough and parted ways with her mouth. He unzipped and lowered her skirt, her panties, from her long legs. She giggled as he trailed her inner thigh with kisses, and reached up to grasp the railings of the step for support as he found her hot center. Lips parted, and her scent flowed over him. She gripped his head with her thighs, draped her legs over his freckled shoulders. He licked and teased and drank her in, suckled until she began to cry his name. His hands flew to her breasts as she came, and he took her nipples with his fingertips, and tugged gently. He climbed up her body, suckled them until her breathing returned and she opened her eyes.

They shared a moment as their eyes met, and he saw a calm within her for the first time in a long time, the peace that coursed through her body; a peacefulness he had caused.

He smiled, pleased with himself and she returned it, wiped a hand across her brow.

She moved down a step, lowered the zipper on his jeans and tucked delicate fingers inside his pants. She was on him in an instant, wrapping her lips around and sucking with long tight strokes. He moaned, and pushed into her mouth slowly. He reached down and lifted her hair from her face.

His Gillian...

He grunted quicker now, felt the familiar tug within him, and pulled from her mouth.

She looked up at him, licked her lips.

"C'mere, love," he oozed as he helped her up to face him. She pressed against him and he lifted her, wrapped her legs around his middle. He positioned himself, gained his footing, and she back to brace herself on the handrails.

He pushed within her slowly until he filled her completely, found a rhythm. The bookcase rumbled, shook with each thrust. Several books dislodged and fell to the floor. They paused in their movements, looked toward the noise and giggled together.

"Cal..." she instructed.

He took her arms again, wrapped them around his neck and carried her to the floor. He lowered them together, pushed hard within her as her back was placed flush with the Victorian rug beneath them. He welcomed the relief he now felt in his knees, the strength he had above her. She kept her legs wrapped around him, hypnotised by the air that he pushed from her with each thrust.

"Oh God," he moaned, and he leant forward to sink his teeth gently into her shoulder.

The haze began to trace across his vision. The white blur of ecstasy threatened to take him under, but he waited, gritted his teeth, as he watched the passion rise in her face. Her brow furrowed and released with pleasure, and his name was the only sound that escaped her lips. She arched her back and he fell on top of her in a sweaty mess.

It was moments before he could roll from her, rest beside her, two lovers lying on their backs looking up at books, and mementos on dark wood shelving.

He smiled. "Still hungry?"

She turned into him, happily found a place in the crook of his arm. "Completely satisfied."

He looked over at her, took a strand of hair which was matted to her forehead and pushed it behind her ear. "I could listen to you all day, love. All your little noises."

"My what?"

"Right down to your breathing. The way you called my name."

"At least I got it right this time," she remarked.

"What's that?"

She chuckled to herself, shocked slightly by her own truthfulness. "Cal..." His name sang from her lips. "I'll tell you later."


~fin