And when, after a powerful prolonged orgasm, Castle removed his hands from her body, the white traces of his fingers remained on Kate's luscious buttocks: so hard, so prolonged and so insatiable. And with a shiver in his whole body, laying down on his back, Castle grinned to himself and his thoughts as Beckett, suddenly face to face with his lover, gently tugged at his earlobe.
- Castle? Wha... are you... smiling? What... your ego... ready to explode... from... unexpected... kush?
- I-I-I...? - Rick started, but Kate had already crawled all over him, so willing and passionate and hot, and she was pressing her lips against his. And she kissed her writer tiredly, languidly, tenderly, closing her lips over his mouth and preventing him from smiling, from saying a word. And in an indescribable fit of tenderness, she buried her fingers in his short, sticky hair, and still gently fidgeted over his body, wanting to evoke the understandable. However, this was not their first coitus (though who counts such things!), and Kate, grudgingly, knew that no matter how unrestrained and passionate Castle was, there was no going against physiology. And she relented: carefully detaching herself from the man's sticky torso, she sat down beside him, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. And she felt good, unlike anything she'd ever felt before. She wanted to sing and scream and drown her long-awaited writer in a hundred cups of latte, except... why was Castle smirking so mysteriously?
- What? - Kate inquired in a husky, incomprehensible voice, biting her lip as usual. - Did we... did we do something wrong?
- We... done... what we... should have... done... - and a blissfully exhausted Castle moved so that he could run his fingers along her entire thigh line: he was puffing and snorting like a stallion. - And we could... do even... more... You... believe me... believe me?
- No way! - Kate rolled her eyes skeptically and exhaled deeply, for a long time. - When a big boy... fucked... an equally big girl... and now he's smiling all over his... mouth, then, please, you should... ask yourself, is everything... is everything okay with him? Maybe he's... ...or is he finally getting what he wants and already dreaming... to switch to something else?! Hmm?
Rick was silent, his breathing was calming, but his smile became even wider and more mysterious.
- Castle?!
His palm rested on Kate's slightly damp thigh and moved lower, moving as gently as possible, and then his naughty fingers slid down to that luscious hollow and were now doing sacrilege there.
- Castle! - With a feigned frown on her brow, Beckett intercepted his hand, preventing him from moving. - Is there... anything you want to tell me?
- Tell you?- His eyes flashed with a devilish, gambling fire. - Wouldn't me rather do something?
- Ha... Even dabble... - Kate chuckled ironically, holding the man's hand and pulling back to break the distance. - Judging by the size of... Your "little mouse" size, he'll be in the... "hole" for a long time to come! What do you say?
Reluctantly removing his hand, Castle rose on his elbows to glimpse the fallen cock.
- He'll wait, for a while... However, if you think back... the background to current events, I... I think I'll tell you something. Do you remember that presentation... the first volume on Nikki Heat?
- That's where I wore that... incomparable R-Valège dress, and where you and I... practically had a fight?
- Yes, and after that, the success came upon us...
- What an unfamiliar word, not often used by cops... Why exactly do you bring up... that day? There have been so many, no less bright ones, afterwards and before...
- There was just one juicy moment, but we'll talk about that later... Can you lie down on your stomach? - He got up and sat on the bed, crossing his shins in front of him, taking a deep breath, and his smile became even warmer. - I promise you won't regret it.
- And I might, but I won't, - Kate replied in her usual contradictory manner, but she was nonetheless sprawled on her stomach beside Castle, with her hands under her head and her eyelashes closed meekly. - Thirty seconds, Castle! Well, I'm waiting!
And immediately she felt him gently and inventively stroking her sensitive ass. With his fingers outstretched, Castle gently slid their tips over the satiny, steaming skin of her beloved, and the effort was strictly dosed, no more and no less. And Kate liked it, without any false confession to herself. Many, yes, many had molested her ass (and a few even got it!), but only a few could be as gentle and inventive, as tireless and passionate as Castle. Perhaps his unpretentious act was akin to the consummate art of massage, and when Rick suddenly paused, Kate grudgingly hummed:
- Don't stop... Please... Where else are you going to find such... massage! It's relaxing... and arousing at the same time...
Castle nodded in agreement.
- Yes, it wasn't easy to learn... But it took both time and diligence... Just like what drove and drives... you forward, excites and clouds the mind. And I am pleased, Kate, to give... your pleasure, because... when I signed the book, I was dreaming... not only about you, but separately about another... ...another appetizing part of your body...
-...and it was, - Kate murmured sweetly, - and it was... my ass... Yes?
- Yes, Kate,- Castle swallowed loudly, and his sharp sigh betrayed a certain nervousness. - Because a heroine so incomparable... of my book could not have a less incomparable... ass, and that's exactly what stirred... and titillated my imagination... And now, - feeling another hot come, he rolled over to cover her with him, and his growing cock pressed between her buttocks, - let me in! Please...
Castle lifted himself up on his straightened arms so that Kate would move her ass up and back a little, spreading her legs, and the lovers again, for how many times during the night, floundered on the bed. And by the end of it, Rick caught himself thinking that this fierce fun would never bore them. Now they could and should throw themselves into each other's arms as often as possible, no matter what the situation or situation, no matter how inappropriate it might seem. Because they deserved their happiness, and they had to scoop it up with huge spoons...
Blasted by a powerful orgasm Kate was still trembling all the body at his side, still clawing his hand that gently pressed her breasts, but every nerve endings Castle felt that his beloved falls asleep. Yes, so calm and peaceful, without fear or desire to crawl into her cocoon, but she was already his, Castle, and there was no doubt about it.
Rick waited for Kate's breathing to even out before the light blanket covered the curled up figure. And Castle... It was about time to start thinking and remembering...
A pleasant, sweet languor overcame her body, urging her to lie down and close her eyes, but while fresh, albeit a little chaotic thoughts were being born in her head, it was necessary to direct them in the right direction. And that would be just the right thing to do with that very remedy, well known and revered by them both, indispensable and accessible...
After putting on his robe and slippers, yawning and swaying slightly from the loss of strength, Castle went downstairs. Now, a couple of cups of coffee, stronger and without frills, would shake him up and cheer him up, and then, the writing thought process would have no limits...
...That women's "fifths points" attracted him for a reason, Castle had realized long ago. Even in his adolescence, visiting an art gallery, where the greatest sculptors of history exhibited images of their sitters, Castle was puzzled by the above mentioned topic. No, it was not just about animal urges, and not about belonging to a particular fetishist caste, rather, Rick saw in the outlines of the female pelvis a certain symbol of excitement. Well, why not? As long as he didn't have a girlfriend, and none of the ladies he knew were in a hurry to give themselves to him, all he had to do was fantasize, but for that he had to have tremendous powers of observation. Yes, and that applied to him, Castle. True, one could get punched in the forehead for taking too much interest in the naughty parts of women, but you had to admit that it was very hard to keep your cool when you had a young beauty sitting next to you. All ruddy, juicy - "blood and milk" - diva, smelling charming, with a minimum of makeup and carefully styled hair. So desirable, so hot and inaccessible, and it wasn't just a momentary crush: Castle was driven by a conscious artistic interest, firmly mixed with the rage of hormones and the impatience of a steady virgin. Steady, for the time being, but in the meantime, sneaking away from his mother and friends, Castle was building up a "data base" for the future, for the future. Having chosen an object, he secretly made pencil sketches of the very place, leaving the next step ("full-scale" tests) for later, but, in order to overcome excessive natural modesty, he involuntarily had to improve himself. Read smart books, act in school productions, mastered sculpting and drawing. Communicate with older, more advanced in the intimate plan peers, absorbing from them the techniques of approaches to the girls, unusual ways of seduction and the physiological nuances of carnal contact. And to believe in his stardom, which will fall on him as the vault of heaven on the exhausted titan.
Suddenly the hour struck: strangely enough, it was Myra, Castle's production partner, who took the first step toward him. She was a year and a half older than Rick, tall, pimply, and unkempt, but she had an angelic, melodic voice, cool, musical fingers, and an incredibly graceful waist. And her butt is just like her: it's neat and tidy - not big and not small - just right for the girth of a boy's arms. And to be honest, happiness (albeit half-hearted, as it turned out) did not come to Castle for nothing: during that performance, they gave 100 percent. And the audience applauded them, and the actors - adults and children - were holding hands on stage, and, stepping forward, bowed almost to the ground. He, Castle, was practically in the center of the stage, holding one hand to Myra's hand and the other to his classmate Ozzie's chicken leg. And experiencing a resounding success, Castle didn't immediately understand why Myra was holding on to him so tenaciously and unbreakably. And when their eyes met, Castle read something strange in her glowing gaze: a mixture of excitement, indecision, and desire. And as they secluded themselves in a secret corner backstage, Myra herself guided his hands to her waist. And Castle remembered how terribly his breath caught, how violently his hands shook, and how the gray matter of his brain turned to dough in an instant. And Rick didn't know what to do, because all his necessary knowledge was gone. At first Castle was stiff, then he hurried somewhere, impatiently fingering the folds of her skirt and at the same time trying to kiss the girl. Which, in principle, could not be called kissing: just hurried, frightened slaps of the lips, so unlike the real passion in adult films. Suddenly it was over: the bell rang shrilly, voices rang nearby, and Myra pulled away from Castle without any regret. She patted her chest, adjusted her underwear, pulled up her skirt, tidied her hair, and with a short laugh walked away. And Castle...
Rick stood dumbfounded, in his drenched underwear, his cheeks burning, and his fingers still remembered the firmness of her young buttocks. Yes, it was a tough bummer, but it was an unfortunate but first social experience, because Myra didn't approach him again. Only smiled demurely and from a distance, frowned her eyebrows up close, and ignored any questioning until she moved somewhere else altogether. He, on the other hand, was left with bitterness in his soul and humility, long after the infatuation had subsided, but the fleeting surge of emotion did not go away: eventually, Rick wrote his first essay, guided by a secret pencil sketch. And this story was about the play and the actors, about the anguish of creativity and public recognition, about the suffering of a rejected guy and the strange, incomprehensible girls who gave the protagonist strange and incomprehensible signals. And about love, which had no prospects ...
As the years went by, Rick grew up, and that shy virgin in his soul is no trace left. Now he himself could give master classes in seduction, and his drawn collection of female forms grew by the day. And he didn't just sketch his sleeping girlfriend from the back: Castle supplemented the drawings with descriptions of his tactile sensations, his visual perceptions, and sometimes wove these sketches into his books. And thanks to the skillful writer's flair no one knew about this piquant passion of Richard Castle: neither friends, nor family, nor exes. And one more thing: to give pleasure to women he was helped by massage, which even in a month could not be mastered, and here the writer's imagination has already turned around for a hundred miles. Sleepless nights of lovemaking alternated with days on the laptop, eventually turning into chapters of novels, and without all his skills, Rick would not have become the man he eventually became. Yes, it was a hard road to the top, to recognition and wealth, but the result was worth it: endless women in his bed and their asses on the pages of the intimate album. Rick no longer remembered many of the ladies by sight, but by the outlines of their hips and their accompanying sketches he could describe his mistress in the smallest detail.
Well, take at least the partners in the longest relationships. Paul, for example, has a luscious chest, a non-scandalous character, and an ass worthy of a feather, though it is a bit loose. Gina, on the contrary, is as dry and muscular as a horse's croup and as unemotional as a bronze sculpture. Who certainly couldn't be called responsive, and in principle, Castle thought, with the passage of time and the amount of data, his childhood fascination could be written off into the archives, if only... If not for his encounter with Beckett.
And Rick himself didn't understand why at first, but Kate was careful not to turn her back on him, much less in a half-sitting position. Yes, face, in front and in profile, but apparently she suspected something of him, since she was playing some kind of role of her own. And it wasn't about the mother's case: as Castle had once suggested in his drunkenness, it was all about his publicity and dubious, in terms of women, reputation. Yes, it was so, and only after a couple of years of their cooperation he realized it, when a pain in the heart was already digging in, not letting go anymore. And the way Kate's pants stretched enticingly over her rounded ass as he examined the corpse made Castle, changing his approach to the old-fashioned craft, mutter something inarticulate and suddenly leave, without explanation.
And at home, with a glass of whiskey in his hand and that very album in front of him, Castle experienced a real shock: that was whose mouth-watering and incomparable ass he had never painted before! It was akin to mindlessness, but Rick scribbled and scribbled feverishly on the page, breaking the pencil lead every now and then, eventually using up the whole stack of them. And the drawing, which had been born in the groggy state and then redrawn, occupied a place in his pocket for a long time. And on occasion, for comparison, Rick looked at it furtively, to memorize the angle and to sketch something else again. Yes, you could tell he was mad, out of love and unfulfilled desires, and increasingly he caught himself staring not at the timeline but at Beckett's beguiling roundness as he watched Kate at the blackboard. And since Kate continued to strut exclusively in her pants, unwittingly teasing the writer's imagination, only crumpled cups of coffee were aware of the strength of the author's fingers.
While Beckett was unavailable, Castle had to fantasize in his handling of couch cushions, imagining Beckett's bodies. Then write something down in the margins of the drawing, draw something again, and wait again for encouragement if nothing came out. Yes, he had to contrive the situation, and what a moment in an abandoned house was worth it! Yes, he wasn't kidding when he talked about mysticism, but all his unfounded fears flew away as soon as Kate asked him for a ride. And honestly, he just couldn't help himself. With such lust and passion he squeezed her previously inaccessible buttocks that Beckett cried out pitifully. And as he pushed Kate up, Rick felt her cheeks flaming with fire. And this intemperance of his could have cost him - Beckett could have simply broken off the distance and fended off forever, but fortunately that didn't happen. Probably mindful of his confession, she laughed so loudly, so freely, so infectiously at the skeleton that had fallen out of the closet and at his, Castle's, genuine consternation, that he was relieved. He didn't have to explain himself, but he couldn't get the paint out of his face. And that moment, the moment of their full, deep penetration was coming closer and closer... But all the cards were almost spoiled by the chase, which Beckett recklessly got involved, and only his majesty of chance allowed them to connect.
And that night would be remembered for a long time: soaked through, disappointed in herself and in need of support Kate rushed to him without any calls. And he couldn't help but accept her forgiveness, for life made no sense without her. And then there was the lingerie strewn about the bedroom, and the passionate, insatiable, sensual embrace. And in person, up close, so to speak, her ass was far more appetizing than she had previously imagined. And while Kate, clutching her hands to the back of the bed, was thrusting his pelvis intensely, he was crushing and squeezing the roundness with his hands, and beating and beating his groin into them as into a pillow, feeling an indescribable thrill, but that was only the beginning... Rick did not even count the number of times they cuddled during the night, and after another, deafening wave of pleasure, he tried not to let go of her hand, and the gentle shaking of her fingers signaled the peace of mind and body. And then later, when they, hiding from Martha, moved to Kate's apartment, Castle started the foreplay exactly from Beckett's "heel." And Rick didn't lie to Kate: yes, he used the opportunity to master such a gentle massage, but who was the model in the process - let it remain behind the scenes. And so will the album, which will have its turn..