100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra
By Dana Keylits
A/N: So, this is a big chapter. It's number twenty-five, which means we're one quarter of the way through the Kama Sutra. I felt I had to write something memorable, so I broke my own rule and went over the word count limit. I hope you'll forgive me. :-)
Big thanks to the fabulous Liv Wilder for helping me with the description of Kate's dress. I had to shorten it for the stories sake, but she did a beautiful job!
Enjoy.
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Plow
Castle had upgraded all of them to first class, so the flight to El Paso had been delightful. Sitting in the aisle seat beside him, watching him as he gazed out the window, Kate was reminded of the flight they'd taken to California a hundred years ago.
When Royce had died.
Had been gunned down in an alley.
Another alley.
Another loved one dead, taken too soon, for no worthy or noble reason.
Castle had insisted on helping her bring his murderer to justice; which they'd done, of course, in their customary non-traditional, rule-bending, style. Breaking only a few of the local laws.
She'd been dating Josh then, had been with him for several months, and until a few weeks before they'd left, Castle had been with Gina.
But, in that hotel room, that night, after dinner and a few drinks when they'd shared some intimate secrets, she'd seen Castle for who he really was, seen him wanting her, loving her. And she'd almost given in, almost broken through the wall.
But, there had been Josh, and her fears, and Royce, and that god damned impenetrable wall. And, so, when she'd opened her bedroom door only to find that he'd gone to his room, she'd quietly retreated into herself, ashamed, afraid, frustrated, alone.
And, she'd wept.
But, the next day, as though nothing had passed between them the night before, no shared confessions, no wanton glances, no chemistry or spark or magnetic pull that demanded they be with each other, she'd pulled herself together, and they'd solved the case.
And, caught the killer.
Just as she hoped they would do this time.
Except this time, Castle was with her.
Truly, completely, one hundred percent, with her.
"You brought it with us?" Kate asked, holding the book by its corner as she stood at the foot of the bed in their hotel room. They'd already met with the field office agents and first thing in the morning would be paying a visit to the secluded compound that evidently held the key to solving their case. After dinner, they'd checked into their posh accommodations in El Paso, courtesy of Castle since the NYPD and FBI were willing to only foot the bill for a night at a roadside motel.
He glanced behind him, stuffing the last of his underwear into the top drawer of the dresser. "What?" he asked, confused. "What's wrong with that?"
She tossed it back into his suitcase and he chased her, picking it up and crossing to the king sized bed with it. He plopped down, leaning against the headboard, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle in front of him. He flipped through the pages of the book until he came to what should be today's position. The Plow.
He liked that one.
A lot.
"We're here on a case, Castle. Not," she waved at the open book in his lap. "…vacation."
He laid the massive hardcover down on the bed, open to page 25, and then crossed to her, his arm snaking around her waist, spinning her so the back of her knees were against the bed. "Who says we can't do both?" He pulled her to him, her breath gusting past her lips in an unexpected whoosh.
His kiss was hard but his lips were soft, and she melted into him, her hips rocking against his pelvis, feeling the hard outline of his rapidly forming erection. "Castle," she mumbled against his mouth.
"Mmmm," he replied.
"Jordan,"
"Huh?"
She pulled away from his kiss. "Jordan is in the adjoining room."
He glanced at the locked adjoining door and shrugged. "We'll be quiet," he promised, nuzzling her neck. "She won't even know we're in here."
Kate arched her back, exposing the column of her throat to his tender kisses, her good sense sloughing off like skin off a snake, and she gave in to him.
Again.
As she always did.
"Turn around," he whispered, rotating her towards the bed while he stood behind her, his hands gentle at her waist. "Look at that," he pointed at the open book. "And, tell me you don't want to give it a try."
Through narrowed eyes, she glanced at the position and an adventurous smile bowed her lips. "Well," she said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind one ear. "It does look intriguing."
He molded her upper body against him, his pelvis tilted into her backside, the evidence of his arousal hard against her back. "Mmmm hmmm."
"And, I didn't really get a chance to work out today," she reasoned, loosening the sash around her wispy blue dress. They'd been warned of the heat in Texas, so she'd chosen to wear a simple button-through shirt-dress in electric blue chiffon, with filmy cap sleeves that ended just above the swell of her well-toned biceps. All they'd had on the docket today was to meet with the FBI field agents, so no need for clunky boots or blue jeans and Kevlar vests. She was in a girlish mood, so the dress seemed appropriate.
He smoothed his hands down her shoulders, over the rise of bone beneath flesh at her collarbone, and to the top button of her knee-length dress, his thick digits fumbling with the button. "Me either." He continued, halting his progress with the tiny buttons to quickly shift her hair to one side so he had a clear path to her Hepburnesque neck. With tender lips, he peppered her with quick wet kisses, his fingers resuming their course down the front buttons of her dress.
Her soft moans rose above them like shiny thought-bubbles, and she tossed her head back against his shoulder, her arms coming up and behind her, her fingers grabbing fistfuls of his hair.
"And," she reasoned, "…we won't have time for a workout tomorrow."
"True," he agreed, his voice a hoarse whisper, his fingers having skillfully released her dress all the way down to her naval, exposing her silky black bra, her sun-kissed flesh, the taut muscles at the plane of her abdomen.
She felt exposed, open, turned on. And when he inched his left hand beneath the soft fabric of her delicate dress, his right hand at her hip, a soft moan tumbled past her lips and she closed her eyes. Her life's breath rose from her throat like the gasping pants of an animal in heat.
While his lips and tongue traveled her neck, he slowly traced his fingers along her infused flesh, exploring her, teasing her, his touch a feathered tickle over her abdomen, strumming the spindles of her ribcage, his palm eventually cupping her silken-clad breast.
She shuddered beneath his roaming hands, leaning against his broad chest with all of her weight and he laved the shell of her ear, whispering, "We have a very long ride tomorrow, Kate." He plunged his tongue into her ear, goose bumps rising along her tepid flesh. "We need to be at the top of our game." He nibbled her earlobe, "…if we're going to solve this case."
She moaned, craning her head to capture his mouth, shards of pleasure coursing through her veins, infusing her entire body with heady anticipation as her wet, wanting lips pressed against his.
Her tongue delved into the warm cavern of his mouth, searching, teasing, engaging him in a frenzied carnal dance, all while his hands mapped her naked torso, his fingers pinching her nipples through the stiff fabric of her bra, his erection hard against her backside and she wiggled her hips, rubbing against him.
Their lips parted audibly. "It seems, Castle," she whispered, her mouth inches from his as she gasped for breath, her fingers clawing through his hair, "…that we have no choice but to take one for the team."
"Mmmm, yes," He scraped his fingernails along her bare collarbone, moving beneath the delicate fabric covering her shoulders. "I concur, Detective Beckett."
With agonizing slowness, he pushed her dress down her shoulders, exposing more of her flawless alabaster skin to him, and her head dropped forward, her soft chestnut curls fanning her face as he gently nibbled the warm rise of skin over bone at her naked shoulder.
The dress fell soundlessly to the floor, gathering in a delicate heap that pooled around her ankles. He quickly undid the clasp of her bra, his erection straining the boundaries of his jeans as her breasts fell free of their captivity. He greedily cupped them, his hands cool despite the Texas heat, and molded his palms against their perfectly curved shape, his fingers pulling and twisting on her hardened nipples as his lips traveled a path from the back of her neck to her cheek, to her jawline, leaving a hot, wet trail in their wake.
She reached behind her, grabbing whatever she could, her fingers fisting the stiff denim of his jeans as she pulled him to her. A series of incomprehensible sounds rose from her throat while his curious hands explored her softest parts.
She palmed his erection, rubbing furiously through his jeans, and he called out, a grunted moan of wanton need that filled the empty corners in the room and sent a bolt of electricity straight through her belly.
He quickly undressed, not standing on ceremony, not giving her the pleasure of doing it to him, and then stood behind her, naked, hard, his flesh practically vibrating, only the silken fabric of her lacy underwear between them.
"Kate," he whispered, his hands discovering her lacy behind. "God, you're hot!"
"Mmmm, you," She breathed, unable to form a complete sentence. She threw her head back again, making contact with the hard angle of his shoulder. Their bodies were rocking, swaying back and forth, pressed against each other like spoons in a drawer and she opened her eyes, surprised when she saw her naked image reflected in the framed picture of a cattle ranch that hung above the huge bed in front of them.
She watched through hazy, hooded eyes as his hand cupped her bare breast, his fingers kneading into her skin, pinching and pulling her nipple. His other hand appeared from around her side, his fingers splayed as he inched his hand below the waistband of her bikini, to the warm, wanting, wet place between her legs.
Her body was on fire and she feared she might shatter into a million sharp pieces.
She strained to keep her eyes open, wanting to watch as he expertly opened her wet folds, diving deeper, drawing her closer. He nibbled on her shoulder as his fingers worked their magic, and she covered his hands with her own, as though she were guiding him, a puppeteer to her puppet.
She was rising, glowing, her lungs filling with air and then gusting out, her body pulsing, humming, tilting towards him, moved by him.
She was wet, and warm, and ready, and she wanted him inside of her.
As though reading her thoughts, which wouldn't have surprised her because surely he had ready her body, he hooked his thumbs at the waistband of her underwear and yanked them down, his comforting hands smooth and warm over her flesh as he guided them down the long shapely expanse of her legs. He knelt behind her as she stepped out of them, and then, one at a time, he slipped her feet out of her stiletto heels. His fingernails scraping the arch of her feet, eliciting a pair of sharp breaths from her, as he tickled each one in turn.
He kissed his way back up her body, his tongue, and lips, his hands mapping a path as he ascended her Amazon figure. Then he stood behind her, the hard press of his penis urgent and ready against her backside.
He whispered, his breath hot on her ear, "Ready?"
She rocked against him, her hands stretched behind her, exploring the delicious curves of his backside. She opened her eyes, seeing them in all of their glory through the reflection of the dark painting. Naked, chiseled, panting - infused by lust and love and carnal basic need.
"Yes, Castle. I'm ready."
She crawled onto the bed, shoving the book further up the mattress to give her room, and waited; her knees on the mattress' edge. She heard him gulp and a kittenish grin graced her lips. Enjoying his enjoyment of her.
She felt him at her wet entrance, hard, insistent, and she wanted to tell him not yet, they weren't in the position yet, when he suddenly withdrew and then she felt the inexplicable sting of his hand slapping her ass, an audible whack slicing through the silence.
"Ahhh!" she yelled, surprised but not displeased. "Fuck, Castle."
He smoothed the burn with the palm of his hand. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. You're," he fumbled for words. "Your just," he caressed her some more, his fingers slipping briefly between her folds, a sharp flicker of pleasure radiating through her, "you're right there."
He spanked her again, the smack echoing in the air around them, and she closed her eyes, moaning. She dropped to her elbows, jutting her ass further into the air.
"Do it again," she ordered.
He hesitated, unsure, and then:
Smack!
She rocked forward, moaning. "Again," she hissed.
Smack!
She rocked again, sucking air through her teeth. "God, Castle, one more."
Smack!
"Fuck!"
She was spiraling, unsteady, she had forgotten where they were, why they were there. She didn't care, didn't care about anything but this moment, him, her, together, fucking. "Now, Castle. I swear to God, I need you right now."
He growled, his eyes scanning the growing red blotches on her ass. "Okay, here we go." And, he lifted her legs, his hands braced beneath her thighs. "You okay?"
She straightened her legs as he held her, perfectly executing The Plow position. "Yes," she replied. "Ugh. God. Yes."
He held her firmly, and then eased into her, her body stretching to accommodate him, her inner muscles contracting against him. He pulled his thick arousal almost completely out of her, only to immediately thrust into her more deeply, encouraged by her soft moans and shuddered breaths, the rise of goose bumps on her sun-kissed flesh.
He moved like that over and over, soon establishing a punishing rhythm, the sounds of their bodies slapping together filling the silence around them. He looked down at where they were joined, his penis glistening from her wetness, and he loved seeing them this way, their joining, their arousal, her willingness to be vulnerable, to trust him. He would whisper these words to her later, as they drifted off to sleep, how much he loved her, how much he trusted her, how grateful he was that they'd broken through the walls that had separated them.
Her head felt like it would explode. She didn't know if it was because of the inverted position she was in or from the incredibly erotic way he was taking her.
She didn't care.
It took all of her core strength to remain in the position, her body suspended in mid-air. And, she thanked the universe for whatever genius it was that had invented the plank pose. She'd practiced it every day during Yoga, completely unaware of its lusty rewards.
Until now.
It didn't take long for the familiar pressure to build, her muscles contracting, preparing for the tsunami of pleasure that was about to wash over her, and she closed her eyes. Trying to remember to breathe.
Sometimes, when she exercised, especially while engaging her abdominals, she would inexplicably orgasm. The first time it had happened to her, she'd been in tenth grade gym class, climbing the rope for the Presidents fitness test. She'd been embarrassed then, confused, unsure of the pleasure her body was giving her, but as time marched on, she came to embrace them, invite them, enjoy them.
She lovingly referred to these experiences as coregasms. And she was about to have one now.
"Oh, fuck. Oh, God. Castle. I'm coming!"
In response to her strangled cries, he increased his pace in and out of her, gripping her tightly, his hands digging into the firm muscles of her thighs, supporting her, supporting himself.
And, she exploded around him, her inner muscles contracting and gripping, halting his momentum as he stilled inside of her. She panted, moaning, her body shuddering, her knees bent, the heels of her feet pressing painfully against his back. The pleasure was so sharp, so fast, it practically stabbed. "God," she moaned. "God, that was. God, Castle!
The aftershocks, almost as intense as the initial waves of the orgasm, surprised her and her arms trembled, her body quaked. She was unsure if she could hold the position much longer, feeling like a sweaty mass of flaccid muscle and brittle bone.
He must have sensed this because he wrapped one arm around her middle, bracing her, allowing her to rest her abdominals while he continued to move in and out of her, more quickly now, urgent, unrelenting, his breath gusting on her spine with each thrust.
"Kate!" He cried, his booming voice bouncing from the walls as they both forgot about the FBI companion staying in the adjoining suite. "Fuck!"
He spilled into her, exploding like Old Faithful with every measured thrust, her name ghosting his lips like an ancient prayer, a Gregorian chant.
"Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate."
When the orgasm finally subsided, he carefully pulled out of her, lowering her legs safely to the mattress and they both crawled lazily up the bed and collapsed, their heads hitting the pillows in unison, their laughter a chorus that spiraled above them and weaved itself through the room.
Their bodies tangled together, lips gently pressed in a post-coital kiss, they caught their breath.
And, their senses.
Suddenly remembering Agent Shaw next door.
Kate held her hand over her mouth, her body shaking with laughter as Castle tried to temper his baritone laugh by plunging his face into the pillow. His muted guffaws heard only by Kate.
"Oh, God, Castle," she finally said, her laughter having finally abated. "You know we're going to hear about that tomorrow."
He kissed her forehead, one last chuckle passing his lips, and said, "Ya think? Really? I bet she doesn't even mention it."
She rose up and pushed the fluffy white duvet and crisp clean sheets down, and then crawling under the covers, her skin having cooled in the temperate air conditioned room. He followed her.
"How much do you want to bet?" He challenged.
She smiled, her arms and legs coiling around him as they resumed their previous embrace beneath the warm covers. "Really? You want to bet?" She glanced inquisitively at his baby-blue's.
They sparkled like blue topaz in the half-light, and he nodded.
"Okay. Five bucks."
"Boring," he accused, his fingernail scratching a lazy circle eight on her shoulder. "How about we make it interesting?"
She cocked her head to glance up at him again. "Yeah? How?"
"I win, we do the next three positions in one night."
She searched for the book.
"Without knowing what they are, Beckett," He admonished, closing his fingers around the wrist of her hand just as she was reaching for the large volume.
"Fine," she agreed. "But if I win, you bring me breakfast in bed for the next three mornings." She blinked. "After we get home, of course."
He held out his hand, "Deal."
She accepted it and then quickly pulled away, "Plus, five bucks."
He chuckled, "Plus five bucks," he agreed, and they shook.
And, then they kissed.
And, then they slept.
Up early, dressed, and already in the lobby awaiting Agent Shaw, Castle handed Kate a large cup of coffee, steam rising from the small opening in the disposable lid.
She held it up as if in a toast, smiling, "Thanks." And, then brought it to her lips, holding it like a lifeline with both hands, taking a generous sip. She closed her eyes and savored the rich liquid as it trickled down her throat, warming her from the inside out.
The elevator pinged open, and out walked a smartly dressed Jordan Shaw, blue pencil skirt, professionally pressed white blouse, and custom issue blue FBI windbreaker. She scanned the lobby, finding the pair by the coffee stand, and headed in their direction, her gait confident, an amused expression lighting her face.
"Good morning Mr. Castle, Detective Beckett," she greeted curtly, acknowledging their returned greetings with a broad smile. She turned away from them, picked up the pot of coffee and poured a generous amount into the black travel mug she'd brought with her. Capping the mug, she turned to face them. "Are we ready?"
"Ready," Kate answered.
Castle nodded, "Yup."
The trio headed for the front doors, where the large SUV was already idling, a barely graduated FBI agent standing outside of it. He nodded at Agent Shaw as she made her way around to the shotgun seat; Kate and Castle clambered into the backseat, Kate settling in behind the freckled-faced driver. They buckled up, and Junior put the car into gear.
Just as a satisfied smirk was gliding up Castle's face, Jordan turned around, her eyes darting between the pair. "Well, you two certainly had an entertaining evening." She grinned, a knowing look in her eyes. "Very acrobatic by the sound of it." She turned to the driver, finally noticing his tender-aged appearance, and frowned. "Son, are you sure you're old enough to be in the FBI?"
Kate blushed. And, then grinned. And, then held out her hand, palm up, towards Castle.
Castle reached into his pocket, pulled out a five, and slapped it against her outstretched hand. "Damn it!" he complained, sulking.
"I prefer waffles to pancakes," she whispered, leaning into him. "And, don't even think about making me one of those God-awful smorlettes!"
A/N: If you would like to see what this position looks like, just do a Google search of "100 Sex Positions of the Kama Sutra," or PM me and I would be happy to share the link. Or, you can follow me on Twitter ( krdaniels).
I'd like to pause, on this quarter-way through mark, to thank you for your overwhelming response to this story. I am truly appreciative of all of your kind words and encouragement. This story has been so much fun to write, and it is heartwarming to know that many of you find it fun to read. Thank you so much!