Chapter Twelve
The water cascaded over their heated bodies and the slow, sensual dance of arousal continued in the shower. Sara reached for the bar of soap first and began to work a thick lather of suds into her hands. She started washing him at his shoulders and began to methodically travel from his shoulders to his chest and down to the patch of hair that began just over his navel and spiraled lower. He had sucked in a deep breath and hissed when she allowed her hands to separate at his hips and continued to travel down his legs, completely avoiding his groin area. His shaft was achingly hard and the visible part of the head of his cock was a deep red color as the blood flowed to it relentlessly. Looking down and seeing Sara on her knees swirling soap suds did nothing to lessen his excitement. If anything, it became more pronounced as his entire body was starting to feel overly sensitive to the slightest touch of her hands, the slightest feel of the shower spray and the echo of the circulating air from the bathroom fan.
He reached for her shoulder. "Sara, please…" he said.
She grinned in his direction and cooed, "Something wrong, babe?"
He laughed and pulled her up by her shoulders. He threaded one hand through her hair and tugged her mouth to his. His kiss was bordering on ferocious as he turned them around so that he was now under the flow of water. He shook his head when she reached for the shampoo. "I want to wash you," he said as he took the shampoo from her and quickly washed and rinsed his hair. He took the bar of soap from her hands and began to make his own lather. She shivered once and he realized it was not from arousal but from the fact she was cold, wet and exposed. With some more maneuvering she was again getting the brunt of the water.
He was planning to quickly soap up his cock and consider himself clean before washing her, but the moment he touched himself and pulled his foreskin away from the head of his cock he trembled. A couple of quick strokes with his right hand and he was using his left hand to support himself against the wall of the shower. His breath was coming in fast gasps and when he opened his eyes Sara was watching him.
Sara's eyes were hooded with desire. "It is amazingly arousing to watch you do that to yourself," she said throatily. "For as long as I can remember whenever I pleasure myself, you are the only person I fantasize about."
His resolve was gone and fortunately, so was hers. He quickly handed the bar of soap to Sara and they both proceeded to wash her with remarkable speed. They barely took any time to dry off before they tumbled onto the bed. The residue of water from their hair and bodies would make it impossible for them to sleep comfortably on his bed tonight.
She was on top of him and she could feel his cock against her leg. She had her hands on his chest and she squeezed. "Pectorals." Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind the urge to correctly name the muscles popped to the front of her consciousness. "These are Grissom's pecs."
"I like your chest," she said right before she leaned to capture one of his nipples in her mouth. She suckled and then bit down lightly, feeling him tense and rock his cock against her leg and she increased the pressure of her teeth around his nipple.
"Not half as much as I like yours," he said. "Sometimes at work, in the early morning hours if we are processing a crime scene outside, I can see your nipples get hard in the cool air. When the size and the shape are visible through your clothing it reminds me of gumdrops. During those times I have to hide my own hardness."
Sara released his nipple with a final, sharper nip and he jerked. "OH. MY. GOD," she said dramatically.
"What?" he asked.
"Just last week Brass and I were talking about the fact that at times after much of a scene is processed you'll whistle. It's always the same song and he was complaining about listening to you whistle for twenty minutes when he drove with you back to the lab. The song stuck in his head for the rest of the shift and he was ready to strangle you," she said.
"I'm certain I never whistle," he replied seriously.
Sara reached behind her and between his legs and gently held his testicles in her hands. His eyes twinkled at the point she was making even as another surge of desire flooded through him. "Ahem," she cleared her throat loudly. "Exactly how certain are we that we never whistle?"
"So, discussing this hypothetically…if I do whistle, which I don't think I do, what song do I whistle?" he asked.
"The Candy Man."
Grissom blushed and stammered. "Yyy-ou know, this is Vegas. Sammy was very popular here." He hooked his leg over one of hers and flipped both of them over with ease. Both of his thumbs flicked her nipples. "Your nipples are so hard now. I can't help it if they remind me of gumdrops. This seems like a good time for a taste. Personally, I like gumdrops."
He moved himself to one site and sucked one nipple into his mouth. His hand stroked her ribcage and outlined each rib on its journey. He stopped to play with her navel before he gently stroked the sparse thatch of hair on her mound. His palm pressed against her clit and her lips as he splayed his fingers and rhythmically moved his hand back and forth. Sara's eyes were closed, but her mouth was open and a tortured look crossed her face as he teased her. He released her nipple with a loud 'pop' and sat up and positioned himself to use both of his hands.
He slowly slid two fingers inside of her steamy crevice. She began to moan continually as he started to stroke them in and out of her, picking up the pace and she began to thrust with his strokes. He felt the muscles of her began to squeeze in fingers in no particular pattern.
Maybe people change as they get older, but some things stay the same. Grissom seemed to remember her body language from those many years ago. He could read her reactions to his ministrations and when it clicked in him that she was teetering on the edge of the orgasmic precipice, he brought his other hand to her clit and deftly moved the hood away and flicked it, just once. A keening wail echoed through the room and his fingers were subjected to her wildly gyrating body and muscles that now had his fingers in a vise-like clamp. He continued to stroke her clit in a pattern and it was difficult for him to tell if she was having one long orgasm or a series of multiple orgasms.
Finally she reached to stop his hands. "Please, Griss…please, Gil. Part of me wants to give you the same pleasure right now," she jerked as he removed her hands and winced at the loss. "But I really need you inside me." Her eyes were lust-filled and her tone was bordering on panic.
"Whatever the lady desires," he said gallantly. His flippant attitude disappeared when he positioned himself and felt the heat and wetness of her on the head of his cock. He was supporting himself on his hands and he leaned forward to kiss her and he slowly inserted the head of his cock into her passage. The further he pushed himself into her the more their tongues tangled. He was about halfway inside when she grabbed his ass and pulled him into her completely.
The intensity of the connection almost caused him to lose his balance and lay his full weight on her. In that split second, he didn't see his life flash before his eyes, but he did vividly recall every time they had ever made love-or so he convinced himself. In the moment they joined together, he remembered exactly what had happened in her apartment when he had been drunk. The feel of her walls caressing his cock was one that he had never forgotten. He groaned as he withdrew himself only to plunge deep into her again and again.
A/N: This is the end of the smut for a couple of chapters. Next chapter will be done before next Wednesday.
Additional author's note: My house sold and this story is on temporary hiatus until after August 5th. Shh...I hope to have a new chapter by the 2nd or 3rd, but I wanted a couple of days as a cushion!
