WARNING: Rated M.
Fantasy Fridays
Chapter Eighteen: Biblioteca
Italian Mainland, one week later
Vincent Cardano's housekeeper (and second cousin, apparently) leads them through a hallway painted gold with sunlight. Annette Cardano's patent leather heels click on the marble, quick rata-tats restrained by her tight black pencil skirt.
"So how do you know Vinny?" the woman asks in a peppery Italian accent.
"Well, ah," Castle rubs his nose. "Our summer homes in the Hamptons are next door to each other, and he felt bad about his involvement in … one of the cases we were working, so he said we could stay here for a while as a favor."
"He doesn't like to owe anyone anything, our Vinny," she says. "He must feel very bad if he's letting you use the villa for the whole week. You will take care, won't you? It is a grandfather compared to your houses; some parts of it are over five hundred years old."
"Of course we will," says Kate. "It's an incredible house."
She looks up at the elaborately painted lintels that rest over twenty-foot windows. It's all a bit much for her taste, full of marble angels and scrolling golden crests, but she can't deny how impressive the house is. Beyond the glass, a field of perfectly combed fields stretch over the Tuscan hills. She misses the island already, and Rabbit Beach, but she's looking forward to sampling the wine and the food in this region.
"Here's the last of the rooms," Annette says. "The Biblioteca. Library," she adds with the hint of a sneer, and Kate nudges her elbow into Castle's side to keep him from telling Annette that he knew what she meant. He may not be as good with languages as his fiancé, but he does know how to say library in quite a few languages.
Annette pushes hard on one of the heavy wooden doors at the end of the corridor. It swings open to reveal an exquisite and very old library, dim and musky and almost movie-set perfect.
Kate steps in gingerly. Dust floats through the beams of light slanting through high windows. Every wall is lined with shelves, neatly filled with the maroon and forest green spines of hundreds of books. There's even a ladder on wheels.
She grabs blindly for Castle's fingers and finds them already reaching for hers. Something electric runs through their joined hands, a kind of Christmas morning excitement.
"We ask that you don't handle the books on the South wall," Annette continues. "In fact, you probably won't be interested in any of them, they're all in Italian and are mostly land records and non-fiction books on very specific subjects. Nothing like what you write, Signore Castle."
"Uh-huh," Castle mumbles. Kate can almost see him breathing in the scent of paper. She's doing the same thing. Books rank up there with The Flatiron Building and Coltrane on her list of things that are magical.
"Can we use the fireplace in here?" Castle asks, distracted by the looming hearth.
Annette looks at him like he's insane. It's scorching hot outside, and not terribly cool inside.
"I suppose. I'll ask my son to come start it for you after supper."
She clicks out on her heels. Before Castle and Beckett follow, their eyes meet, lit up with delight. They both instantly know this is where they'll be spending every one of their evenings in Tuscany.
"Okay, it looks like we have a choice of chocolate cake or tiramisu for - " Castle stops in the doorway. The dining room is empty.
"Kate?"
He wipes his hands on the dishtowel he used to wash their plates. Kate's wine glass is missing, so he picks his up and goes hunting for her.
The library is his first guess, and as the doors swing open on the fire-lit room, he knows he's right.
She's not immediately visible, so he delves deeper in, past a row of free-standing shelves, and sees her sitting at an ornate wooden desk, her back to him.
"Hey, you. Do you want me to bring dessert in here?"
Kate turns holds a finger up to her lips. "Quiet please, sir."
She's wearing glasses. Thick, black-rimmed reading glasses, perched on the end of her nose. God knows where she got them but his fiancé is nothing if not resourceful.
She closes the book in her hands. Heat Wave. It's the copy he signed for her. It gets him every time, to know that she's sentimental about very little but that she refuses to be more than a few miles from this book.
Castle sets his wine down and it sloshes over the side, onto the sleek wood of the desk.
"Oh, crap, I need to get something for that, or Annette's going to have our - "
Kate unbuttons her shirt and slides the navy silk crepe off her shoulders. She uses it to sop up the wine. Her skin glows in the firelight. Castle swallows hard at the sight of her in a bra. A shirtless librarian in an old-fashioned private library? He might as well start salivating now.
"You're lucky that was white wine, Mr. Castle. Now, what can I assist you with? Are you here to research your next Nikki Heat book? I do so enjoy them." Her eyes sparkle playfully.
"Ah, yes, actually. Miss …"
"Beckett. Miss Beckett, Head Librarian, at your service."
"Well, we can start with 18th century firearms." He actually does need to research them for his next book.
"Of course. Right this way."
She struts over to the shelves like she knows what she's doing, even though the books must all be about indigenous birds and how many crops were produced in the county in 1650.
She's wearing heels and a skirt, yet another thing that he hadn't noticed she'd packed. Woman has a Mary Poppins bag of dress up clothes. Not that he's complaining.
Kate hums a little tune as her finger dances over the spines of the books.
He moves in behind her. He touches her hip, then draws his finger up her side, and then along the line of her arm as she reaches up to grab a book.
His hand closes over hers as he brings his body in to crush against her.
"Mr. Castle," she whispers. "I - I don't think this is appropriate activity for a library."
"Are you going to make me leave? Or pay a fine?"
Kate shivers as he uses his free hand to slip her bra strap off her shoulder. He licks her, from her shoulder up to just behind her ear.
"No," she says. "You're my favorite author, so I suppose I can let this slide."
"I'll be the one doing the sliding, Miss Beckett."
He spins her, keeping her arm pinned above her, then drives his hips into hers until her ass meets the hard edge of one of the shelves.
Her mouth is soft and pliant when he comes down on her. She's making noises he hasn't heard before, gentle purrs and hums and sighs, and he realizes it's part of the act. The quiet librarian, the good girl. But he of all people knows you can't judge a book by it's cover, so it doesn't surprise him much when she runs her hand down his back and squeezes his ass.
"I'm so sorry, sir. The cardboard cutouts always made it look so firm - I've always wanted to do that."
Did she now? He'll have to file that away for later. Sometimes when they're role-playing he'll learn something about Kate through one of the characters she plays.
He kisses her again, this time working his palm up under her bra, cupping one of her breasts as he slides into her mouth. She arches and draws a leg up, hooking her knee at his waist.
He's worried about the books, respects their age and fragility, so he draws her other leg up and, in one fluid motion, has her clinging to him.
He walks them across the room and lays her down on the couch in front of the fire. Then props himself up above her, takes a moment to smooth her hair back. The glasses are strange - sexy, but they keep jabbing him, and it makes her look younger, somehow.
"Are you a fan of my books, Miss Beckett?"
"Mm. I recommend your novels to anyone who comes to the library looking for crime novels."
He lowers his mouth to her collarbone, sucks. She arches, trying to move herself under him to get him to her nipples faster. He takes his time, though, the hot, velvet path of his tongue stroking along the lace edge of the bra.
"Well, I'm a fan of librarians. I'd like to make love to you, Miss Beckett, but you can't go bragging about sleeping with Rick Castle," he adds.
"Oh, I wouldn't. You can trust me."
He crawls down her body, divesting her of her skirt and panties, but leaving the heels. When he crawls back up, he lets his chin graze the inside of her thigh, the soft skin below her belly button.
Her eager hands find his fly and draw him out, hot and heavy in her palm. They kiss again, mouths fused in a perfect dance, one that they've always been good at.
He rubs against her, skin to skin, and feels himself slip between her thighs, between her folds and against the slick, damp apex of her legs.
"Oh, Mr. Castle," she purrs. "The rumors are true, then."
Castle chuckles at the devilish glint in her eyes. He teases her with his 'rumor' until she's panting his name, until he coaxes that flash of impatient, kick-ass Kate out.
"Rick, seriously."
And then he impales her. Drives into her, over and over, graceful, flowing strokes that have her clutching at his shirt, her mouth open and her eyes squeezed shut against the intense pleasure. Her legs tremble around his waist as he takes her over the edge.
He gasps as she clenches around him. She bites her lip, trying to stay quiet, but her body is so expressive that he can't help himself. When her eyes roll, when her body arches and tenses, when she flushes pink with ecstasy, he follows.
"How did you know this was one of my fantasies?" he asks after he's rolled her on top of him on the couch, both of their eyes drifting sleepily closed.
"Oh, come on. I see the way you look at Belle," she laughs.
"Belle?"
"Yeah, from Beauty and the Beast? You love her little blue dress and they way her little nose is stuck in a book all the time."
"Hmm." Castle calls up the image. "I never knew exactly why that was my favorite Disney movie, and now I do. Thanks." He doesn't have to move to kiss the top of her head, she's plastered onto him on the chaise lounge, draped as limply as a blanket.
"And then there's the fact that you flirt with every librarian you ever talk to. And the clerks at most bookstores," she says.
"I most certainly do not flirt," Castle says. "I'm engaged!"
"Don't worry, Ricky. I know you can't help it. You're just so charming," she says, and pinches his bicep. "Besides, it's not really flirting. You're just in famous author mode, flashing that devastatingly handsome grin around everywhere."
"Maybe. I think part of it is sucking up. Librarians have power, you know."
"They certainly do," she murmurs.
A/N: I'm having way too much fun with Caskett abroad. Next week might see us back in New York, or possibly en route ;)