WARNING: Rated M.
Fantasy Fridays
Chapter Sixteen: Lola
"Oh, Castle," she says, her voice full of soft, airy wonder.
She practically skips down the narrow cobblestone street, tugging him by the hand like an excited child. Another man might look down at her with a fatherly tolerance, but Castle's just as in awe as she is. Just as enamored with the tiny Italian village across the island from their strand of resorts and spas.
The houses here lean close and crooked against one another, each with a different sherbet-colored door. Intricate woodwork adorns the balconies, ivy crawls over the warm stone walls, and sprigs of red-orange flowers burst from every window sill. There are arches all along the descending path, and there's even a fat ginger cat soaking up the sun on someone's doorstep.
"You know, as much as being unemployed sucks, this is amazing." She nudges him with her shoulder and he nearly twists his ankle on the uneven stones. "Thank you."
"Anytime," Castle grins, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head so he can get a closer look at the movie-set perfection that is this slice of earth.
Audrey Hepburn couldn't hold a candle to the woman beside him, her long legs stemming from a bright, flirty dress, her shoulders bare and sun kissed. She's even wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, and it's such a contrast to the woman he sees every day in New York that he has to bring her knuckles up to his jaw just to feel the scrape of the diamond he put there. There's no steel in her today. No gun, no badge. Just Kate.
They stop to share a lukewarm orange soda at a tiny newsagent's on the corner, borrowing the edge of a raised flowerbed to sit on.
Kate stretches her legs out in front of her and crosses them, her toes wiggling in strappy wedges that match exactly the color of the soda and her dress. She holds out a hand for another sip, pursing her lips suggestively around the straw as she drinks.
Castle swallows hard and it makes her laugh, a bright cascade of joy. He's never seen her so happy.
She pats his thigh in mock pity. He relinquishes the soda for good and winds his fingers through hers. She's wearing a wide gold cuff on her wrist. When he saw her slip it on this morning in the hotel room, he thought it looked familiar, but he couldn't place it. Not until now.
He taps the metal.
"I remember this," he says.
She looks down at the bracelet, dances the fingers of her other hand over it.
"This? I've had this a long time - got it in a bazaar in Kiev. But it's not really the sort of thing I wear to work. Have I worn it around you before?"
"Yep."
She stares at him, waiting for the story. It doesn't come.
"What, are you going to make me guess?"
"Yep."
She twists it slowly around her wrist, looking off down the street as she thinks.
When she lights on it, her eyes snap to his. For a moment, there's a flash, something hot and wild, and he knows her imagination's gone exactly where his has gone. Because the very first time he saw her in a swimsuit, it went straight onto his list of fantasies.
"What do you say after we're done exploring over here, we spend the afternoon by the pool?" she asks.
"I'd say that sounds perfect."
He takes the stairs because he's too amped to face riding down to the pool in an elevator full of respectable tourists. It's no secret to anyone that he loves dressing up - just ask anyone who's been invited to one of his Halloween parties - but this is taking it to another level. Talk about dream-come-true.
Kate Beckett is role playing with him. And not just 'oh, it's undercover for the job.' It's full-on, definitely-gonna-end-in-sex role playing of the porn star variety.
But when he gets to the pool, she's nowhere to be seen. He scans the crowd of tawny Italian bodies for the olive-green of the swimsuit he's expecting her to wear, but he comes up empty.
And then he turns towards the beach and sees her. Her swimsuit isn't green, it's shockingly blood-red. If it can be called a swimsuit. It's more like a collection of straps connected to an enticingly small patch that barely covers the essentials. The sunlight glints off of her wet body so brightly that there might as well be a spotlight on her.
She's in the outdoor shower, the one where families are supposed to wash the sand off their flip-flops. It's definitely not family-friendly at the moment. Her eyes are closed, her body arched in ecstasy as the water falls over her, a gleaming coating over her breasts, her stomach, those endless legs.
She steps forward out of the spray and opens her eyes to stare directly at him.
That swimsuit was so not in the suitcase when he unpacked. She must have snuck out during one of his numerous post-coital naps to buy it from one of the hotel gift shops. He's not complaining.
He gapes like a fish as she sashays past him, and did she really just take a shower with four-inch heels on? She eases down onto a deck chair, puts on an enormous pair of sunglasses, and reaches for the rainbow bright drink on her side table.
Castle shakes himself, trying desperately to remember his character, his plan, anything, but she didn't even dry off and she's still glistening and he doesn't know how her nipples aren't showing in that thing, and she glares at him - oh - right - move, Rick, move.
He saunters over, his best impression of a Lothario. He's had years of practice but suddenly it feels like a thin disguise. She always has decimated him.
"Miss Black," he says. "Delighted to see you again. And looking so well."
"Mr. Castle. You're looking very well yourself." She waves a hand to the deck chair beside her and he sits, accepting a matching drink from a poolside waiter.
"I understand that you've acquired some more stock of the merchandise we're interested in," Kate - Lola - says. "I'm authorized to offer two million, for the entire lot, and I can have the money here within the hour."
"Unfortunately, I can't part with all of it for less than two and a half," Castle says, settling back into his chair and slurping on his cocktail.
"We aren't willing to compromise on the price. You and I both know the market value."
"There's no market value for a product as … unique as this. But it's not a problem," Castle says. "There's another bid already on the table, for the asking price. Your loss, Miss Black. And mine too, as I so love … closing deals with you."
Kate's mouth thins, presses into a line.
"Perhaps we would be willing to bend a little. Say, two-two. Whoever else has offered hasn't been as loyal a client as my firm, and it might do you well to consider future business prospects. And as an incentive to choose me as your buyer, I'd be happy to take you up to my room and personally show you the … payment."
"Hmm. You drive a hard bargain, Miss Black."
Kate almost rolls her eyes. Any minute now she expects him to lapse into a German accent whilst tenting his fingers together like a super villain.
"A hard bargain, indeed," Castle says. "But we have a deal."
She's stony on the ride up, all her hard edges showing, and Castle marvels at how very good she is at this. She was in Vice, after all, and from what he hears she pulled off some amazing stings.
She struts down the hotel hallway and shoves him into her room without preamble.
He tries to turn the tables on her, to pin her up against the door, but she swings him around, pushes her thigh between his until the heat of her leg is stroking against his balls. When he goes in for a kiss, she turns her cheek, lets him fasten his curious mouth to her neck instead.
"You know the rules, Mr. Castle."
"Oh, Lola Black doesn't kiss, does she? I'll have to see what I can do about changing your mind."
She spins him fast, knocks him hard onto the bed and has him pinned under her in seconds.
She takes a moment to ripple her body above him, to take a bit of her own pleasure as the damp of her swimsuit presses into his abs in an absolutely filthy little undulation. She brings her hands up to her hair, tangles her fingers into the wet strands. He can't help it, her nipples are begging to be released, and the merest flick of his thumbs moves the straps aside. She looks like some trussed up goddess, only she's the one with all the control.
Even through his t-shirt he feels the sharp pricks as she rakes her nails over his chest, and then she dives for his waistband. With her mouth.
She comes up with the end of one drawstring in her teeth and tugs. Her fingers are fierce and ruthless as she rips away his clothes to find him rock hard and ready.
"You know what I like most about dealing with you, Mr. Castle? You've got balls," she husks, in that strangely formal, unplaceable accent that comes along with Lola Black.
She scrapes her nails from his navel to his knees and has him flinching in pain.
And then she cups his balls with feather-light fingertips, and his eyes roll back in his head.
"Oh, fuck, K- Lola."
"Miss Black," she scolds him.
She tugs on the soft skin of his sack, looking at him like some sort of prize, then, when she's sure he's watching, she goes in for the kill, sliding her mouth over him, swallowing him whole in one smooth glide, burying her nose in the downy hair when she reaches his abdomen. He feels himself pressing down her throat. It's so much, so quickly, but he grits his teeth, determined to handle it.
She starts working him like a professional, sucking, licking, throwing in the occasional scrape of teeth just to keep him alert, to keep him on edge. He's trapped in a kaleidoscope of bliss. He wants to touch her, but she's so powerful that he can only lay back and watch as she takes complete and utter advantage of him.
He's forgetting something - oh yeah, how to be a gentleman - and he really should stop her before he comes in her mouth, stop her before she sucks him soft and can't return the favor, but then he thinks fuck it. He'll get her off three times to make it up to her before his man parts are ready for another round.
She comes off the end of his cock with a pop, swirls her tongue around his tip like a vixen.
"Payment, please, Mr. Castle."
And then she descends again, a raging vortex that he can't escape. He loses control and pumps into her until he collapses.
She rises from him moments later. Flinty and serene, she tucks him neatly back into his swim trunks, tying the strings into a bow with a domineering jerk.
"Mr. Castle. As always, it's been a pleasure doing business with you."
She rises to her feet and adjusts her swimsuit, covering the rosy pink terrain he'd rather leave exposed. She sways on her heels for a moment, dizzy with her own need. But it's not what Lola would do. Her pleasure wasn't part of the deal.
When she turns to go, Castle growls. "Oh no you don't."
His hand shoots out like a striking snake to grabs her wrist. He pulls her down onto the bed beside him and crawls over her like a predator.
"You're not going anywhere. Kate."