Casey took a seat at the end of the table, keeping a sharp eye on Ellie as she sat down, seemingly innocently, next to him, unfolding the crisp, white linen napkin and draping it over her lap. He did the same, clenching his teeth and barely suppressing an audible hiss as the starched cloth rested heavily against his still rock-hard dick. Shit.
He had to put a stop to this. Had he enjoyed flirting with Ellie and pushing the boundary of their asset/handler relationship to its breaking point? Absolutely. Had he behaved like a brazenly arrogant bastard by teasing her and seducing her sadistically slowly? Yep. No argument there. Did he want to send the dishes, cutlery and candles careening off the table in a single sweep? Affirmative. Instead of eating dinner, he wanted to eat her, starting by licking up the wet evidence of her arousal coating the inside of her thighs that he scented earlier when he had her pressed up against the door, those delicious, sky-high legs wrapped around his waist.
She was slingshotting him into madness by sitting there so quietly, her hands folded serenely in her lap, offering him an expectant smile as she waited for him to take a bite of the incredible-smelling food on his plate. She wanted to play it cool? Outstanding. Maybe she had come to her senses, letting their previous interlude slide, ignoring the reality that if not for Mrs. Reynolds' inopportune interruption, she would be, right now, clenched around his cock, riding him as he fucked her against the front door. He wanted to believe that with the entirety of his being as he returned her polite smile, picking up his fork. But, his gut and his engorged groin refused to allow him to swallow that neat little fairy tale. He was humped and he knew it.
At least his last meal before 'The Reckoning' would be a good one, he thought as he brought the utensil to his mouth. He didn't attempt to stifle his groan of pleasure as the slow-cooked beef brisket melted on his tongue. "Mmmm. Ellie, this is delicious," he said around a mouthful of moist, sweet, smoky meat.
She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling as she raised a forkful of sage and brown butter mashed potatoes to her mouth. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."
The fact that she had waited for him to take the first bite before digging in herself, didn't escape him. She was far too polite for a guy like him, but he didn't quite have the heart to tell her that her manners were wasted on him. Ellie had definitely carved a substantial chink in his armor, and it was imperative that he close the gap. He was a cold, mean, ruthless killer, whose only true love was his job. The sooner he made her realize that, the better off they would both be.
They ate in companionable silence for a while until he asked "So, you ready for the final mission briefing with Beckman tomorrow?" between forkfuls of brisket and buttery potatoes.
She took a sip of wine, the confident, relaxed look she had worn all evening suddenly gone, replaced by one of grave seriousness. It was the same look she wore when she was doing her damndest to yank patients back from the brink of death in the ER. John stopped chewing and placed his fork carefully on his plate, giving her his full attention.
"You know what, John?" she asked rhetorically, "If you had asked me that question last week or even yesterday, my answer would have been no." She removed her napkin from her lap, neatly folded it and rested it next to her empty plate.
He continued to cautiously monitor her every move. There was no mistaking her body language. She was a tightly wound coil. He had to be ready when she decided to spring.
"But now, now I'm ready for this. I'm ready to stop that sex-slaving scumbag and make sure he never ever ruins another woman's life by taking what isn't his." She spoke each word with cold, hard conviction, her steely eyes never leaving his.
"I'm finally ready to stop pretending that I'm the same person I was before I became a walking, talking computer." She stood from the table, neatly gathering her napkin, plate and silverware.
"The old Ellie? Well, bits of her are still there." She stood at his side, her soft words asserting a hard truth. "But, the new Ellie," she continued, "the new Ellie isn't afraid. She goes after what she wants and takes it." His entire body tightened and the tiny hairs along the nape of his neck bristled as her eyes swept over him with the look of a predator, before she calmly continued walking, setting her dinnerware down on the counter next to the sink.
Jesus. He was seriously humped.
John sighed wearily as he got up from the table and brought his plate to the counter, stacking it neatly under hers, piling the silverware on top. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his napkin on the floor, under the table, mocking him. He bent to pick it up, and as he rose, he was rewarded with the sight of ruby-red material stretched tightly across Ellie's delectable backside as she bent to retrieve something from the depths of the refrigerator. It was going to be a very long night.
Ellie withdrew a golden, sweet-smelling cake from the refrigerator, placing it on the counter as she reached in a drawer for the cake knife. "John, can you go in the fridge and grab the whipped cream, please?" she tossed over her shoulder as she cut the cake into thick slices.
He held the chilled ceramic bowl in the palm of his hand and peeled back the plastic wrap. She turned, catching him just as he swirled his finger through the pristine cream. He gave her his best 'aw shucks, ma'am' smile, hoping it would keep him out of trouble.
She took the bowl from him, setting it on the counter next to the cake, turning and capturing his wrist in her hand before the cream-laden digit reached his mouth. "I never did taste this after I whipped it."
He didn't protest as Ellie drew his wrist down, bringing his finger to her lips. "I should make sure it's sweet enough," she murmured. She ran her tongue up the length of his finger, licking a path through the nutmeg-scented cream, its sweetness coupling with the salt from his skin, in her mouth. She reached the top and flicked her tongue over the tip before encircling his finger with her lips and slowly sliding down the length.
John's eyes darkened to a deep blue as his finger sank deeper into the hot, wet depths of her mouth, her tongue continuing to lap at his skin.
"Ellie…" Her name left his lips as a harsh whisper. He wasn't certain if it was a warning or a plea.
She looked up, locking her eyes with his as she slowly slid his finger from her mouth. "Yes, it's definitely sweet enough. In fact, it's perfect."
He stared at his moist finger, still feeling the heat from her mouth and the touch of her tongue ghosting along his flesh.
Ellie continued tranquilly plating the cake and topping it with whipped cream, seemingly oblivious to the fire she had stoked in him with that little mouth job of hers. He was ready to explode and couldn't stop the images of her hot mouth sucking him like a piece of hard candy, from running on auto loop in his mind. He slowly and carefully sat down at the table and gripped the edges until the wood began to crack in protest.
"Here you go, John" she said, placing a generous slice of cake topped with more of the sweet and spicy cream in front of him.
Must. Regain. Control. He steeled himself, forcing his face to become a blank slate, to which he added a polite smile. "Thanks."
The tines of his fork sank into the soft cake, and he brought a whipped cream-topped bite to his mouth. It was moist and rich. The sweet taste of mangos filled his mouth, followed by the spice of the nutmeg whipped cream exploding on his tongue. For the love of everything holy! Between the mouthgasm her incredible food was giving him and her not-so-subtle seduction, she was slowly killing him. Death by sensory overload; it wasn't the worst way he could think of to go.
Yep. Must. Regain. Control. "Hey, Ellie," he started as he helped her clean up the kitchen, drying a plate and placing it in the drying rack. "The 'World's Greatest Tank Battles' is on the History channel tonight. Mind if I watch that after we're done with this?" he asked, nodding his head at the small remaining pile of dishes.
"Not at all, John; I have a few medical journals that I need to get caught up on before we go to bed."
Relief washed over him and he finally allowed his body to relax for the first time since she opened the front door for him earlier in the evening. Okay, good, he reasoned, some time and space to regroup and refocus. Nothing like a good, blazing tank battle to repossess one's calm.
Bright orange explosions lit the mostly darkened living room and the constant barrage of anti-tank fire shook the walls, but Ellie didn't flinch. She remained curled up in the armchair adjacent to the couch, the latest edition of 'The New England Journal of Medicine' open on her lap, soft light from the end table lamp spilling across its pages. She had read the same sentence eight times. If she didn't before, she now fully understood the effectiveness of using antimicrobial agents in treating bacterial meningitis.
The moment she had been waiting for all night—hell, ever since she inelegantly bounced off of a scrubs-clad Casey a little over a year ago, was almost here. They were about to share a bed. Excitement, dread and anticipation played ring around the rosy in her stomach.
It took every ounce of self control she possessed not to look at him. The one time she had taken a peek, his face was awash in the brilliant flashes from the TV. Chuck had spoken the truth when he said "Sis, your boyfriend's jaw was chiseled by Michelangelo himself." And, it wasn't just that rock-solid, strong jaw that was getting to her. No, it was his mouth, his lips to be exact. She wanted to feel them on hers again. Desperately.
She had to keep her cool. She was remarkably proud of how the evening had progressed after Mrs. Reynolds' ill-timed interruption. Instead of giving in to her desire to hop back on and ride John Casey for everything she was worth, she had served dinner with well-bred politeness. She had only slipped once when she caught him sinking his finger into the whipped cream. She couldn't resist stealing a taste.
Was it bad that she felt a little tickle of pleasure over keeping him guessing while perched upon arousal's edge? No, she decided. She'd been roosting there for months. She welcomed the company.
Praising capitalism for the commercial break, she rose from the chair, making a show of stretching her long limbs. "John, I'm going to start getting ready for bed." She walked over to where he was seated on the couch and ran her hand slowly over his shoulder and down his arm. "Come and join me whenever you're ready."
He watched her walk away and sighed as he scrubbed a hand over his face. He momentarily allowed himself to slump back against the couch cushions before reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. He had been so close to regaining his calm.
She had just finished lacing up the side of the champagne-colored teddy and was tying the top bow when she heard him come in and the bedroom door close with a soft click. Her hands were shaking just a bit as she nervously ran her fingers over the silky material. She swallowed hard and sank her top teeth into her lower lip, worrying the plump flesh as she reached out and slowly turned the bathroom door handle.
Ellie found John comfortably propped up on the bed, pillows behind his head, reading an issue of 'Guns and Ammo' that he had obviously brought with him. Black was definitely the color of preference in his wardrobe. He wore black sweats and a matching colored tee. She smiled. White athletic socks with gray-tipped toes still encased his feet. John Casey was a study in contrasts. He was exasperating, adorable and exceptionally sexy.
He heard her padding, whisper quiet, across the carpet toward the bed. He kept his focus, keeping his eyes on the printed page, never finding tips for periodic pistol maintenance quite as engaging as he did right now.
The mattress sank slightly beneath him, and his heart rate and respiration increased as he felt her slowly slide up his lower body, straddling him as she lowered herself onto her haunches and sat on his lap.
Ellie easily removed the magazine from John's loose grip and tossed it aside. His gaze was bright blue and unflinching as their eyes locked and he crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you expect to happen here, Ellie?"
"I expect honesty, John. I expect the truth." Her grey eyes bore into his, trying to make him understand, and the corners of her mouth turned down slightly as they did when she was impassioned about her subject. "I expect us to end this frustrating dance that we've been doing around each other since we met."
She was on a roll now, and he certainly wasn't going to interrupt. She deserved to speak her piece before he inevitably had to pull the rug out from under her.
Ellie tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and flashed him a brief, shaky smile before continuing. "My life has been turned upside down and spun around in the past year." She caught the sympathetic look in his eye, and she pressed a finger against his lips as he opened his mouth to speak.
"I'm not saying this to lay a guilt trip on you, John, or to make you feel sorry for me," she reassured him. "I just want you to understand that in the last several months, I've learned more about the preciousness of life than I've learned in all of the hours I've spent in the ER watching it drain out of people."
She continued "We're more alike that you think. We both know that life can be brutally short. I want to live right here, right now, with you."
No one had ever made him the focal point of their life, and he was having a difficult time dredging up a response.
He reached up and cupped her face in his hand, stroking the soft skin of her cheek with his thumb. His breath hitched as she nuzzled into his palm. "Ellie," he breathed, "there are so many reasons that 'we' simply can't be." Regret laced his words.
"While Walker and I don't, the government considers you property, an asset meant to serve the greater good, not an individual."
The look of sadness on her face was tearing him apart, but he forced himself to continue. "As soon as you become more adept at controlling the Intersect," and her skills were improving rapidly every day, "you'll no longer need a handler, and we'll be separated, permanently."
She had the Bartowski fire in her eyes and steel in her voice. "Tell me," she demanded, "what would have happened a couple of weeks ago, when you brought me my badge, if we hadn't have been interrupted and called into the hospital to run triage for that accident at the chemical plant?"
"I would have hoisted you on top of the counter and fucked you. That's what would have happened," he answered unapologetically.
Ellie didn't flinch at his crude admission, nor did she back down an inch. Still straddling him, she glided up the remaining length of his muscular thighs, aligning her center with his, lowering herself atop the rock hard erection that was poking through his boxers and tenting his sweat pants. "That was then. What happens now?" she asked.
His breath hissed through his clenched teeth as she settled atop him. The silky negligee molded to her curves and shimmered warmly in the low lighting of the bedroom. Her hair hung in loose, dark waves cascading down her back and a blush stained her cheeks from the heartfelt speech she'd just delivered. Christ, all he wanted to do was hold her and bury himself inside of her.
Her eyes never left his face as she felt him untie the bow at her side, unlacing the negligee. John parted the whisper-thin fabric with his fingers, caressing his way up the satiny skin of her side.
"There's the rub, Ellie," he said.
She gasped as he trailed his knuckles along the side curve of her breast.
"Now? Now, I still want to fuck you. I want to bury myself so deeply inside of you that I feel us fuse together when you clench around me as you come."
The tip of his cock jerked against the thin fabric covering her core, the drenched silk rubbing against her swollen clit. She arched into him as he palmed her breast, the tender bud of her nipple hardening as he rubbed it with the calloused pad of his thumb.
"Now? Now, I want to take you and run. I want to keep you, but I can't. I'm a killer," he whispered. "You're a healer."
She cupped his face in her hands and leaned down. "I don't care," she murmured against his lips before taking his mouth with hers.
John Casey was a drowning man. He was fighting against what he knew was wrong, struggling not to take what wasn't his. The longer she kissed him and the closer he held her, the weaker his resistance became, until it snapped.
He ate at her mouth and their tongues played as he slid the barely hanging on negligee from her body and ran his hands slowly down her back and sides, savoring every inch of bare skin as she moved against him. She was silk under his roughened palms.
His hands stilled at the two tiny, shallow hollows at the small of her back, his fingertips swirling in the delicate divots. "John," her breath whispered against his lips as she pressed against him, seeking unification.
The rounded flesh of her bottom filled his hands as he rolled them over, drawing her underneath him, pinning her to the bed.
Ellie instinctively bowed up against him, her arms encircling his neck as he took her mouth hard, their teeth colliding and his stubble creating a delicious burn across her skin.
No words were necessary as she tugged at the top of his shirt. He responded immediately, detaching his mouth from hers, yanking the shirt off and throwing it hastily aside.
She placed her palms against his chest when he began to lower himself, returning to her. "No, John."
Confusion clouded his blue eyes as he arrested his downward motion.
Ellie smiled up at him. "Tonight, I drive."
"Mmmm," he growled low in his throat.
She felt the rumbling vibrations trail down her fingers and settle against her palms.
"Yes ma'am," he said, obligingly, before flipping her back on top of him, resting his hands on her hips.
She leaned down, her dark hair curtaining them as she kissed him, taking several long, slow draws from his mouth before kissing her way across his chiseled jaw and nipping at his chin.
Continuing her way down his throat, she licked the warm skin at the hollow, smiling when she felt his Adam's apple bob against the tip of her nose.
Casey allowed his hands to trail lightly over her body as she worked her way down his, but other than that, this was her show. He didn't relinquish control easily or often, but for her, he would.
She was doing insanely amazing things to his nipples with her teeth and tongue, and he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as she bit down, drawing a pebbled brown nub into her mouth.
The coarse hairs of his chest tickled her nose, cheeks and chin as she continued to kiss and lick, trailing her way lower. She loved the salty taste of him and the hardness as she outlined each of his abdominal muscles with the tip of her tongue. His breathing registered slow and deep and was incredibly controlled as his abdomen rose and fell against her mouth, the muscles contracting slightly each time she traced them with her tongue. She loved exploring him, tasting and touching him, giving him pleasure.
His cock rose full and thick, twitching to attention as her mouth drew closer. He was hard for her, had been all night. Hell, he was hard whenever she was near him or whenever he was thinking about her, which was pretty much constantly.
She lifted herself off of him, repositioning herself between his legs and continued to feast upon him, removing his sweats, boxers and socks, casting them aside. He groaned as her tongue circled around the tip of his cock, dipping into the slit and licking away the salty droplet crowning the top. She kissed her way down his length, stopping when she reached his sack.
His sucked in a harsh breath and grabbed handfuls of sheets as she tongued the line running down the middle of his scrotum. He lost his mind as she sucked at the sensitive skin, tracing an infinity symbol around his balls before gently drawing them into her mouth. Sweet holy hell!
He couldn't think as a wave after wave of pleasure boiled over him at the feel of his balls enveloped in the heat of her mouth as her tongue caressed them.
She released him softly and licked her way up his shaft, savoring every inch of velvet-covered steel. Swirling her tongue around the still-salty tip, she slowly engulfed him with her mouth, sliding down until his tip touched the back of her throat.
He knew she had taken in as much of him as she could, and he struggled against the overwhelming urge to thrust in further. Just as he was on the verge of cracking and allowing his sanity to seep out, she formed a tight ring around him with her mouth and began moving up and down, sucking harder when she got to the top and lightly running her teeth along him as she slid back down.
He was both in heaven and in hell. His Ellie, yes, 'his,' there was no point in denying it any longer, was loving him, making him feel more pleasure than he ever thought possible. Love and desire mixed with naked lust and was pouring off of her in intense, nearly palpable waves. It surrounded them. While he found this intensely satisfying and even calming, to a degree, she was doing unreal things to him with her mouth.
"Ellie, sweetheart, that feels so good," he managed to husk out. "I'm. Going. To . Come," he concentrated and managed to utter each word with extreme difficulty. "Want. To. Be. Inside. You."
She unfastened her mouth and straddled him again, gliding up his body. Her eyes were smoky with desire as she looked up and met his. He kept his gaze linked with hers as he gripped her hips, lifting her slightly, guiding her as he sheathed himself inside of her body. It was a perfect fit.
He slid his hands up along her back and held her as she rode him, dismantling the remainder of his armor, piece by piece. She was magnificent, moving above him with grace and assurance, taking what she wanted and giving him what he needed.
He was bewitched as hot, wet silk gripped his cock and her skin glowed under a fine sheen of sweat. He licked his lips as he watched her high, rounded breasts bounce, wanting desperately to taste the beaded, cherry-red tips. Instead, he skimmed his hands over her skin and up her rib cage to her breasts. He cupped her heated flesh in his hands, tracing circles around her areolas with his thumbs and rolling her nipples between his fingers. This made her moan, and she arched, throwing her head back, the ends of her hair reaching past her backside, brushing the backs of her thighs.
Until now, he'd barely moved, resisting the urge to thrust and bury himself deep, not wanting it to end, never wanting to leave the sanctity of her body. But, he couldn't wait any longer. He slid his hands down her torso, pausing briefly at the middle of her back to unbend her, guiding her upright.
As John brought her back up, straightening her, she felt the blood rush back down her body from her head. She had never felt so wild and wanton. She had never felt so wanted. She had started riding him slowly, allowing her inner walls the time to stretch and accommodate his substantial length and girth, buying him some extra time.
But, as he grasped her hips and looked at her with desire-darkened eyes, they both knew it was time. He thrust upward, holding her tightly as he bucked up into her, plunging deep, over and over, embedding himself inside her.
Ellie gripped his thighs with hers and her breath came in short pants as he lifted her hips and pulled her back down, slamming up into her. Time dilated as he thrust a final time and they remained suspended, locked together as they came. Her core clenched around his cock, milking him for every last drop as he erupted inside of her with a roar.
Her muscles shook as she lowered herself and lied on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her, still buried deep as their chests heaved against each other, forcing air into their lungs.
Next Day, 0800, Castle
General Diane Beckman's stern face filled the screen. "Agents Walker and Casey, Dr. Bartowski," she addressed the team sitting at the steel conference table. "There has been a change in plans. Major Casey, you will no longer be accompanying Dr. Bartowski on the Jaeger mission." The general turned her piercing gaze to Sarah. "Agent Walker, you will be going instead."
TBC…