A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support and endless patience! And special shout out, to my lovely Guest Reviewers, I see you and appreciate you!

Story Warnings: Strong Sexual Situations and Coarse Language

Please, enjoy!

Cabaret with Chardonnay

Chapter: XII

O-Oh…Oh my…Stars and garters…

Hot, panting breath tickled her heaving chest, while long, deft fingers and calloused palms, caressed a feverish path over her bare skin. Stoking the fire that had already pooled slick heat, between her quivering thighs.

"Derek," she whined, tilting her head – giving him more access to nuzzle the smooth column of her neck.

His response was a mumbled grunt, as the strong muscle of his tongue lazily lapped at the spongy flesh over her shoulder, only to trace the peep of collarbone, and then sneakily sink his teeth into the firm indent.

A surprised hiss escaped her lips, as her nails scratched at the taut, smooth skin of his waist. Having already yanked his cotton shirt free, but only managing to unbutton half of it, as the man before her was quite distracting.

He smirked, using his tongue to tenderly soothe the reddened flesh, while his large hands held her hips in place, as she squirmed against him.

"Der-…" she breathed out, reaching her hands up to fumble with the stiff fabric – itching to touch more of that beautiful mocha skin – only for him to secure both of her wrists and slam her palms down onto the piano top, as he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"What did I say?"

"Huh?" blinking her heavy-lidded eyes several times, searching for lucidity.

"No touching," his reminder was harsh, lacking his usual playfulness.

She huffed, and then cutely pouted her bottom lip in frustration. "Not fair!" she whined, wiggling her hands free, though her fingers barely grazed over his belly button, before they were held back down. This time with a firmer grip. It was rough, brooking no argument, and she couldn't deny the titillating fervor that had her clit pulsing with need.

Their relationship always held a hint of Dom/sub dynamics. Derek was a pure alpha male. He was humble, but persistent, and his presence alone commanded attention. He was a natural born leader, who stuck to his values. His strength was unyielding, which was evident from his rippling muscles and the challenging gleam in those lovely amber eyes.

Yes, Derek was, without a doubt, an alpha male. And luckily for Penelope, he was one who knew how to treat a lady.

He had been showing her just how equipped he was for the job since the day he accidentally called her Gomez. It was one of her favorite memories of him, since it was the first moment that she had been struck with how handsome he was, and had fallen in love with that disarmingly cute, dimpled grin. She knew then, that she couldn't stay mad at him. Though, she had regrettably let her petty insecurities blind her from the fact that he absolutely adored the floor she walked on.

And if she wasn't so busy trying to get Derek to give her what she wanted – that scorching, earth-shattering pleasure, which she had been ardently craving all week – then she would of facepalmed herself for not having recognized sooner, what his simple, everyday gestures meant.

Like how he would hold doors open for her, help put her coat on, and had no problem carrying her flashy and frilly, overstuffed purses when they were out in public. Now, granted, he would grumble just a little, but if any one gave him a sideways glance, he would straighten his shoulders – silently telling them to mind their own business – as he stood proudly next to her.

Or the comforting way that he would place a firm hand on her lower back, guiding her through a crowd, as his eyes cautiously glanced around for any threats. He was always on high alert around her. His top priority was making sure that she felt safe. For instance, if they went out to a bar with the team, he would situate them so that her legs were between his, while his arm draped over the back of her stool – squashing anyone's hopes of getting near her, by letting everyone know that she belonged to him.

And now, thinking back on it, it all made sense. Her Hot Stuff would be on the dance floor, getting his groove on with some lucky, little thing, but the minute some random stranger approached her, Derek was back at the table in an instant, with a fresh, fruity drink in hand, and a dangerous glint in his eyes. She had thought that he was just being protective, like he had grown accustomed to being after she had gotten shot. Though now, as Derek stared back at her, with a devouring gaze, she realized just how foolish she had been.

Cursing her stubborn, fierce independence for having her waste all these years, especially since she secretly loved being doted on. She swooned, biting her inner cheek to keep from uttering a desirous whimper, every time he affectionately kissed her forehead. Or how he would stay late at work – eyes drooping with exhaustion, and smiling at her with a warm, goofy grin – to keep her company, before he walked her to her car. But the way he would text her goodnight. Every. Single. Night. Making sure that she got home safe and sound, was the reason she had fallen in love with him.

Yes, Penelope was far from being a little submissive. Though that didn't negate the fact that she loved handing over the reins, and letting him take charge, with those magical fingers and that oh-so-deliciously-powerful tongue.

She moaned, thinking about the stiff fullness that was bound to happen, when he finally entered her. She had been wondering about that feeling for years. Had fantasized about them joining and rutting like sexy rabbits on a nightly basis. Had been dying to drive over to his house all week, admit that she had overacted, and then fuck him. Fuck him in the entrance way to his beautiful home. On that luxurious sofa in the living room, or that sturdy oak dining table. Then again, on the staircase and finally, if they made it past the hallway, on that sumptuous four-poster bed.

That bed deserved to have people rolling around in the throes of sex on it. It was a huge, dark mahogany canopy frame, surrounding a California king sized bed, with navy blue, high thread count, Egyptian cotton sheets, and a matching white, fluffy comforter. Oh, that bed was definitely made to be fucked on. And Penelope hated any woman, who had had the fortune of experiencing Derek in all his glory on it.

A small frown pulled at her lips, when she thought of all the times she had perched herself on his bed. Mostly on Saturday mornings, playing some RPG game on her laptop, happily chatting away, as she secretly watched Derek fold his clothes. He had been unable to shake off his law enforcement training, and now had a strict regime over certain things. Like the way he perfectly rolled up his socks and hung up his favorite denim jeans.

She would often zone out, becoming fascinated with the way his long fingers had moved with such precision and ease, it made her want to snuggle up against him. And on top of him. And underneath him.

Feeling his hands press roughly into her soft skin, and seeing the way that he was balancing on the precipice of control, which was barely holding him back from ravishing her, instantly squashed any festering bouts of jealousy – reminding her that Derek wanted her.

And oh, did Penelope want this. She wanted Derek to fuck her with all the pent-up frustrations from missed chances that had underlined years of their friendship.

Shivering, feeling her nipples tighten underneath the intense gaze of her best friend turned lover.

"I didn't get to touch you," he growled; eyes dark and swirling with heat – bringing her mind back to the present. "While you were prancing around stage naked."

"I wasn't naked-naked!" she shot back, measly attempting to shake off his sturdy grip, only to lick the plump cupid's bow of her lip, as her face bloomed scarlet. His doubtful look, told her that she had never been a good liar, and she mumbled. "Okay, well…I might have been just a little, teensy bit…naked-ish."

He arched a brow.

And she gulped.

Then his hands came up to caress her bare breasts, only to let his thumbs sneak through those opulent pearls, and pointedly drag over her tightly furled nipples. Her eyes drifted closed, and she bit her bottom lip, as he began to tenderly circle the pink, puckered flesh.

"Unhook your garter belt," he growled, letting his lips quirk into a knowing grin when her eyes lit up with excitement.

Nodding her head eagerly, she dropped her weakening grasp on his toned tummy, and fumbled with the snaps on her stockings. Releasing the last strap on the back of her thigh, she yipped in surprise at the force Derek used to yank her pretty panties down to her knees.

The cool air kissed over her exposed skin and her hips unconsciously rolled forward.

His nostrils flared, eyes darkening even more, as he took in the glistening, swollen folds between her legs.

"Oh, Garcia," he hummed in approval. "Lay back for me, baby," leaning forward, he took a deep, heady whiff, and licked his lips.

Frick! He wasn't gonna do what she thought he was gonna do, was he? Right here. In the open. On top of a piano!?

Her bright smile faltered, and she tried to clamp her legs shut, but he stopped her.

"Oh, no you don't!" placing one hand on her soft, rounded belly, he forced her down until she was flat on her back. And before she could grasp what was happening, he lifted her knees and spread them wide, ignoring the restriction of lace, and leaving her exquisitely vulnerable.

"Der-Hot Stuff…wait…you don't have to-…" she frantically squirmed against him, only to gasp when his tongue delved into her opening, and then languidly traced a path up to her bundle of nerves. "Do th-that! Oh, fuck!"

Her head slammed back, as her hips bucked up into his face. Nails scratching desperately at the sleek wood of the piano, which was cool against her overheated skin, while her other hand gripped the back of his head and held him in place.

"Oh…O-Oh," she whined, as fiery, electric pinwheels shot down her spine.

His teeth gently closed around her swollen, pulsing clit. Slowly, teasingly sliding over it, only to suction his full lips around the sensitive nub and greedily suckle. The stubble of his goatee scratched at her creamy thighs and plump inner flesh, creating a titillating contrast that pulled a sharp scream from her lips.

"Morgan," she panted. "P-Please!"

Every nerve ending was tingling; winding her body up like a tight coil. She had been ready to go after having discovered how much she had affected Derek during her performance. It had put her well past the point of needing foreplay, as she was already hot, sopping wet and achingly empty.

"Hmm?" he purred happily between her legs; the vibration sending a shock wave to her core.

"No more…teasing," swallowing hard, trying to quench her parched tongue.

He released her clit, and blew hot air directly onto it, making her arch her back and wiggle away. He chuckled, and did it again, holding her hips in place. Wiping her matted bangs out of her face, she raised herself up onto her elbows to look down on him, and frowned.

Lifting his gaze from the pretty pink flesh, that stood out strikingly against her smooth, alabaster skin, he smirked.

"You taste delicious," his voice was gruff, and shamelessly filthy.

She blushed, and then gave him a cute, little pout. "That's super-duper great and all, but this Oracle needs to get this show on the road," thrusting her hips in small, jerky movements – hoping he got the point.

He stared at her, and stared some more, until a dark, lecherous grin spread across his face.

"I'm not done," he stated, and then spread her legs just a little wider, making the elastic of her panties dig into her soft flesh, as he pushed her knees into the piano top.

She hissed, realizing the only way to breathe, was to drop back down, and the minute he plunged his tongue fully inside of her, intricately swirling, licking, lapping at her slick heat, she did just that. Crumbling into a heap of pleasurable moans and whimpering cries, as her head lolled back-and-forth.

"Oh, fuck yes…right there!" her body felt like a furnace, and each tongue lashing was fanning the flames of her desire and clenching her inner muscles.

Smiling at her vocal reactions, he slid his hands down her stocking covered thighs, only to drag his blunt nails into the bare skin of her perfect ass. Squeezing, parting her cheeks, letting the sticky, tangy essence of her arousal drip into the crevice, and right over her puckered entrance.

He pressed, and then glided his thumb over the tempting spot, making her whine and drop her legs so that when they fell around his shoulders, her panties wrapped around the back of his neck, entrapping him.

His other hand began to lazily stroke the smooth, freshly waxed mound above the dripping heat between her thighs, causing her breath to hitch when he lowered his thumb to tap her clit. She trembled, carefully digging the sides of her stilettos into his back – seeking purchase to grind her hips upwards – only for him to press the calloused pad roughly against it, and quickly contrived a frenzied rhythm.

"Fuckity-fuck!" she blurted out, one hand shooting up to squeeze her own breast – pinching, tugging at her nipple – as her other hand grabbed his head and pushed him closer.

He got the message, and lowered his mouth to tease her entrance. Spearing his tongue inside, he curled it slowly, perfectly, but when he flicked it quickly side-to-side, her hips undulated and her body began to quake.

Babbling nonsense, mixed with naughty words of encouragement, as she was getting ready to hit that glorious climax. She just needed a little more…

Yes! Right there!

Oh…oh, shit!

The first fluttering wave hit, but before she could fly over that precipice, the friction disappeared and her body stuttered, as he abruptly stopped.

"Derek!" she barked – catching her breath, eyes blazing with fury – as she bolted upright. "What the…fuuuck!?"

Swiftly untangling himself from her legs, he took several giant steps back.

"How long will it take you to gather your things?" using his finger, he wiped off the obscenely wet trail across his chin.

She blinked; mouth opening and closing like a guppy fish.

"Sweetness, I need you to focus," he purred, slowly buttoning up his shirt and tucking it back inside his trousers. "Did you drive your car here?"

"But I-I wasn't done!" she wailed, using his own words against him, and then scowled. "And the only engine you should be worrying about revving is mine," she snorted inelegantly. "I know you to be quite the gentleman, Angelfish…but I kinda feel like you parked this Lamborghini out on the street, with an empty tank of gas, while it's raining outside and-" he cleared his throat and she huffed. "Um…I took the train."

"Good," tapping her cute, button nose. "How long?"

Her manicured brows knitted with indignation. "You are fully aware of the fact that I can completely destroy your credit score with a few keystrokes, right?"

He pulled up his zipper and slipped the button into place.

"I am this close…" holding her index finger and thumb closely together, she then dramatically squinted her eyes through the little sliver of space. "To wiping your firm, mochalicious ass off the grid. For eternity."

Chuckling; eyes dancing with merriment, he looped his belt through the buckle and loosely secured it.

A challenging glint flashed in her now nearly chocolate tinted eyes. Pulling her feet up to rest on the edge of the piano, she spread her legs, and dropped her hand to her throbbing sex.

"Garcia," came his low, warning growl.

"Morgan," she mewled softly, while charmingly batting her thick lashes and pouting out her bottom lip, attempting to do her best puppy-dog impersonation.

He grunted, and tapped his wrist – indicating she was wasting valuable time.

She gasped, frowned, and then raised her nose in the air in defiance, as her middle finger slid between her slick, swollen folds and vigorously began circling her clit. Desperately trying to find that release that he had stolen from her.

Her eyes drifted closed and a small smile appeared on her face, but before she could quench that painful ache, he stepped forward and snatched her hand away.

"Look, hard-head," tightly grasping her hand against his chest, as his hot breath cascaded over her shivering form. "There is nothing I'd rather do more, than to bend your little ass over this piano, and fuck you until you're begging me to stop," he gritted out, eyes narrowed with pure, animalistic fervor. "But I've waited years to do this. And the first time I sink my dick deep inside of you-…"

Yes! God, yes…that's exactly what she wanted!

Licking her lips in anticipation, though her brows furrowed in confusion. "Derek," she pleaded, scooching closer to him.

Raising his free hand, he tenderly tilted her chin to look up at him. "I want it to be you, Penelope," his voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't want to fuck you while you're Miss Jubilee," holding her in place when she tried to look away. "I want it to be all you. No crazy, sexy outfit. No gimmicks. Just my sweet, silly, Baby Girl," releasing her wrist to drag his hand over those revealing pearls.

"Oh," feeling her heart thud in her chest, as unshed tears blurred her vision.

"I dreamed about being with you for so damn long," lowering his head to pepper her face with delicate, little kisses. "When I fuck you. And I most definitely will be…so you better get ready, Miss Hot Stuff," giving her a quick peck on the lips. "But when I do, it's gonna be under my house. In my own bed," unable to resist, he traced her bottom lip, only to suck it between his teeth.

His lips were velvety smooth and intoxicating. She was about to wrap her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, but he was much faster.

"Now, how long do you need to pull your panties back up and get your things, so we can go home?" suggestively waggling those dark, expressive brows.

Home? Did he just say home? Like home, meaning their home? Oh, he was giving her that look, that totally said 'yes, girl I said home'.

Oh, my god!

Giddy excitement coursed through her veins, as a beaming grin revealed her perfect, pearly white teeth.

"Ten minutes," nodding her head absently, she shimmied into her panties – ignoring the slick heat that had pooled between her thighs – and let him help her off the piano.

Her legs felt like a wild combination of cemented jelly. Needing to find some semblance of balance, she reached her hands out to clutch his shirt, and took a heady whiff of that woodsy cinnamon concoction that could only belong to Derek.

She lifted her gaze, staring into the warm amber eyes of her best friend, and smiled. "Promise?"

Derek whirled her around, and quickly plastered her back against his front. Firmly holding her waist, as she teetered precariously on her heels, he dropped his head into the crook of her neck, and whispered. "You have spent years promising me a good morning, afternoon, and night," he softly cooed, only to rock his hips against the rounded flesh of her ass. "I promise that I'm not going to let you break those promises to us."

Penelope was getting ready to slump into his comforting arms, only to be pushed forward, as he gave her a swift, firm slap on the ass.

"You got like eight minutes left."

Penelope giggled, as she grabbed her cellphone and pretty flowers off the piano, and quickly made her way backstage. Sliding into the dressing room, she quickly unhooked the swishing pearl top, kicked off her stilettos, and then hopped around from foot-to-foot, as she rolled off her stockings and garter belt. Deciding that it was best if she took the panties home and cleaned them herself.

She then went potty, only to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Yikes!

Cringing, she headed towards her vanity, pulled out a wet wipe from her purse and scrubbed off the red smeared lipstick only to artfully reapply some lip gloss. She then took a moment to spruce up her hair, but hit one too many tangles and gave up on looking presentable. Shrugging her shoulder, she threw on her long-sleeved, emerald green wrap dress, leopard print, lace-up ankle boots, and a grey, faux fur vest.

Doing one final check in the mirror, she sucked in her belly and scrutinized her ass, only to laugh at how ridiculous she was being. After what Derek had just done to her, and was planning on doing when they got…home, she needn't worry.

Twelve minutes later, she was walking out the door and into the crisp night air towards Derek's large SUV. Spotting Mallory and the tech crew hanging out by the box office, she waved goodbye.

They erupted with whistles of approval and teasing remarks about how the new lovebirds obviously christened their nightclub, as they all made their way inside to set up for tomorrows show.

"Make sure you name your first kid after me!" Mallory hollered from across the parking lot.

Penelope was beet red with embarrassment and had tucked herself safely into Derek's side, who was walking proudly next to her. He gave her temple a gentle kiss, as he opened the passenger door.

"Hmm, Mallory Morgan…" slowing rolling the name off her tongue. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" she teased, wrinkling her nose as she squinted up at him.

A warm smile crossed his face, and his eyes lit up. "So does, Penelope Morgan."

Giggling to herself. "Aww, imagine! Her initials would be M&M! And she would be like a little, squishy, but strong, sparklin' wearin', caramel mini version of -…whoa! Wait! What?" she froze, and to her absolute horror, she then squeaked, as her arms started to flail around her.

He chuckled, placing a finger over her lips before she could fill her lungs with air. "Hush. When we're ready, we'll talk about it."

"When we're ready…" repeating the words, as if it was the first time she had ever heard them.

He nodded, rubbing a soothing pattern on her lower back.

"We'll talk about it," unable to hide her wide grin of total elation.

Derek started putting all of her belongings in the back, and was getting ready to help her up into the passenger seat, when a thought struck her.

"Wait a minute!" she shrieked, nearly tripping over a chunk of loose gravel as she spun around. "Does that mean…that you and I…" pointing at him, and then at herself. "That we are…I mean are we…"

"Dating?" arching an amused brow.

"Which means…"

"We're Boyfriend," wrapping her into a tight embrace. "And girlfriend."

"O-Oh!" she panted, out of breath.

She felt all warm and fuzzy on the inside, as those nervous butterflies danced around her tummy. It was as if her world had tilted on its axis and suddenly everything seemed clearer. And it was perfect. She was just about to give him a simple, adoring kiss on the cheek, when something caught her attention.

"Do you hear that?" not waiting for an answer, she wiggled her way out of Derek's grasp, and made her way around the vehicle.

The obnoxious, sniveling cries sounded like a wounded animal, though there was something very familiar about it, that had her heart plummeting to her feet.

It couldn't be…could it?

Looking to her left, she gasped.

Sitting on a rusty, metal folding chair, with his elbows resting on his knees, hot pink boa wrapped around his neck and shoulders, which were shaking with each miserable sob, and a nearly empty bottle of cheap liquor dangling in his hand, was none other than…

Kevin Lynch.

To be continued…