Author's Note: Short but smutty ;-) Don't worry, we're working up to some relationship plot and eventual resolution. (I promise it's not just smut for smut's sake).
He was going to pay for this later, in some yet unknown way. Because the universe wasn't so benevolent as to allow him this much pleasure without balancing it out with a whole lotta pain. The question was whether that would be facing off with a particularly nasty baddie on a case in the near future, or whether the inevitable hurt would arise from the woman currently giving him so much pleasure he thought his head might implode.
What was it about Meredith Brody that was so intoxicating, so addicting that he just couldn't stop wanting her?
Chris had been with women who were physically similar to her before, slender yet sporting delicious curves. Full breasts, a slim waist, round hips, a delectable backside and shapely legs. She was beautiful. And she felt even better. Warm and silky and -oh- so unbelievably tight. How was such a self-proclaimed promiscuous woman so goddang tight?
"You like this, Chris?"
Merri leaned down, the palms of her hands flat and electric against his chest, and pinned him with the wanton gaze of her pretty, pretty eyes. God, they were beautiful. Maybe it was her dark brown eyes, round and expressive and soulful that made her the sexiest woman he'd ever encountered, let alone bedded. Maybe it was her feisty, impassioned soul itself.
He groaned, a proclamation of the pleasure building within him and the desperate hunger for its culmination, and all for her, because of her, -unh- inside of her.
She rolled her hips in an undulating fluid movement that was more sultry than any dance of the seven veils ever performed, all the while her hands and eyes teasing the rest of him. Her lips were soft and lush and greedy against his, her tongue insistent and playful as it demanded entrance to his mouth. And even after the kiss as intoxicating as the rest of the bewitching woman ended, the taste of the sweet red wine she'd drunk with dinner lingered like a drug. She was like a drug. The most addicting one ever conceived. And he was hooked.
And god help him, she knew it.
Her big brown eyes flashed mischievously at him, her grin the pinnacle of 'vulpine.' Or maybe it was more 'wolfish.' Either way, the woman was certainly a wily and wild creature beneath that self-erected cage. Once she let you in past the gates... heaven help you, you would be pounced upon and devoured before you even realized you'd gained entry.
"Tell me," she said.
"What?" Like he could follow any train of thought -especially one not originating in his own brain- with such distractions as her lush body straddling his hips, moving in a simultaneously mesmerizing and exhilarating way.
"Tell me how it feels."
Oh, fuck. Tell her? Tell her that it was like heaven? No. Too sinful, too carnally blissful to be heaven. It was like having his soul forcefully removed and set free into the wilds. It was glorious. Intoxicating. Liberating. Captivating... It was... It was... There were no words to adequately describe how it felt to be with the woman, surrounded by the heat of her body, the scent of her, the sound of her lust-roughened voice and low moans, to be captured by her eyes, by her passion, by her flesh.
"Tell me what you want."
Her fingernails bit into his chest like a retriever sinking its teeth into its prized toy, a little rough, a little affectionate, but all stubborn possession. Her eyes bored into his, scouring every inch of him, demanding every part of him, and accepting nothing less.
When he could only lie there, reveling in her, entirely captivated by her, she suddenly stopped moving, the heat and friction of her flesh claiming his rapidly ebbing away. Instinctively, he thrust his hips upward, but she was quick and shifted, denying him the satisfaction of plunging deep into her once more. Instead, he felt the comparatively cool bedroom air caress him rather than her hot flesh. Her hands ran tenderly over his chest, but her eyes were all steel.
"Tell me what you want."
Maybe she meant for him to tell her some dirty scenario, but there really was only one reply, one thing he wanted.
"You."
He grabbed her as determinedly as she'd been handling him and pulled her face down to his, kissing her more aggressively, more possessively than he ever had. Honestly, before this time, he had played the dominate partner with her, but only at her will, and always, always kept the possessive urges he'd felt at bay, knowing her independent nature, the fact that they'd made no real commitment, that they in fact had agreed there would be nothing of substance between them. But she'd fucking asked for it. She'd shown her desire to claim him, to make him submit to the claim. And the gloves were off.
"You're all I want, Merri," he said, locking eyes with those intense, deep dark pools of hers.
Her hands and then her body rewarded him for his submission to being claimed by her. And god help him he'd surrender it all -his flesh, his life, his soul- for her. And not just for the way she made him feel, the way she felt, or a touch, a kiss, a caress. But just for a single such look from her beautiful eyes like the one she gave him when she climaxed atop him, staring down into him with a look of pure primal satisfaction.
Chris LaSalle was hers.
But Merri Brody had another thing coming if she thought he wouldn't claim her as his own in return. Although, admittedly, she'd be much more difficult to capture than he was.
The question was how to make her want to submit to being possessed by him?
A/N: Whoops, looks like their 'casual thing' has turned into something more serious than they'd ever imagined. But how is Chris going to convince his independent-minded lover that she wants to be his?