JUST ON THE SURFACE
CHAPTER FOUR
She assumes that once they part later in the day, they'll go back to him shadowing her while they pretend to date, and nothing more. But a few nights later, after dinner and some pleasant after-dinner activities, she fights off sleep, her mind racing while he dozes next to her.
"People would find it hard to believe that we're not sleeping together," Castle had pointed out during dinner.
She'd glared at him, her nostrils flaring. "If you think I'm going to have sex with you for the sake of your fans' voyeurism," she'd snapped, "you are delusional."
Judging by the horrified look on his face, that hadn't crossed his mind. Good. He needs to remember that she's calling the shots.
"Oh, God, no, that's not what I meant." He'd leaned closer, lowered his voice so they couldn't be overheard in the busy restaurant. "But if we were seen going home together, for example," he'd explained, "that would fuel the fire. Obviously just because it looks like we're spending the night together, doesn't mean we actually have to have sex." His eyebrow had quirked. "Although I certainly wouldn't mind if we did," he'd added, his voice a low rumble.
She'd clenched her thighs at his words. No, she wouldn't mind, either. She hadn't climaxed that many times, or had a partner with that much stamina, in a very long time. Maybe ever.
Still, worry had lingered in the back of her mind. "I don't want them knowing where I live," she'd argued, "so if we're going to, quote unquote, go home together-" She'd ignored the quirk of that very talented mouth. "-it's not going to be my building."
Castle had nodded. "Understood." His cheeks had darkened along with his eyes, and she'd wondered if he'd begun to feel the same heat as she did. He'd taken a long drink of his wine, and she'd watched the bob of his throat as he'd swallowed.
She wanted to taste his skin.
She'd reached for her own wine to distract herself.
"Or," Castle had said after setting his glass down, "no buildings need to be involved. You know how the tabloids love pictures of couples kissing in cars."
Her eyebrows had flown up her forehead, but their food had arrived before she could respond. The rest of their meal had passed in silence, but as soon as they were in the car, she'd grabbed the lapels of his coat and sealed her mouth to his.
She shouldn't be surprised that they've clicked physically, she tells herself, turning to her side so she can watch him sleep. She briefly wonders if he would find it creepy, but then she realizes how often she catches him looking at her.
"Go to sleep," he mumbles, one eye cracking open and finding hers. He palms her hip, his fingers flexing against her ass, and she scoots closer, ignores the tugs of desire at his warm touch.
Despite a toe-curling round in her bed - and one against her door, and even a preview in the car, courtesy of his very talented fingers - she's full of unspent energy. But as Castle's eye closes again and his breathing evens out, she sighs, turns to her other side, and eventually drifts off to sleep.
"What are you doing tonight?" Castle asks a week later, as he tugs his jeans over his hips and fastens them.
Kate tears her gaze from his ass, feels her cheeks flush when she notices his smirk. He shouldn't be surprised that she harbors a physical attraction to him - they wouldn't be sleeping together if that wasn't the case - but he definitely seems amused at the attention she gives to his backside.
She can't help it; it feels good to dig her fingers into his flesh as he pounds and climaxes inside her.
She clears her throat and slides out of bed, reaches for her trousers that had been haphazardly discarded the night before. A glance around tells her that her shirt must still be in the living room, so she grabs a sweatshirt from her closet, ignores his disappointed pout when she pulls it on.
"I'm on call until 10," she says, "so I was going to just work on paperwork until a body drops."
Castle shakes his head. "No, you're not. You're coming over."
Kate pauses at her bedroom door and follows him with her eyes as he grabs his sweater from the back of the couch. She vaguely remembers throwing it in their frantic stumble to the bed, and she clenches her thighs together at the beginning tugs of renewed arousal.
The muscles in his broad back flex as he pulls the sweater over his head, and she lets her eyes roam down his body, following the hem of the sweater as it covers him. He turns before her gaze can drop to his ass, and her cheeks flush again when she notices the bulge pressing against his zipper.
God, if just being around each other gets them both going, it's a miracle they do anything other than fuck.
She lifts her gaze, meeting his eyes, and pushes herself from her door frame to step closer. "Why, Rick," she drawls, smirking when his eyes darken at the sharp pop of the k, "am I finally going to see your sheets?"
He leans against the back of the couch and grips her hips when she steps into him. "That's been the goal since I met you, Detective," he husks, his hands sliding around to squeeze her ass. "But we'll have to get through poker first."
She raises a sharp brow even as she leans into him. "Oh?"
"Poker night. I already invited the boys and Montgomery, but I'd love to see you on the table. At the table," he clarifies, his cheeks darkening. He pauses, tilts his head, a pensive look coming over his face. "No, I want you on the table, too. But that's when we're alone."
Heat blooms through her as she imagines being sprawled out, pictures her hands running through his hair as he feasts on her. He probably has a special, casino-style table and everything.
Oh, she better decline the invitation. This is not a fantasy she should entertain when she's going to be around her boss.
"What will you give me when I win?" she finds herself saying, looping her arms around his neck and pulling her body flush against his. She can feel his erection digging into her lower stomach, and she lifts herself to her toes, rolls her hips in a slow, teasing search for friction.
A curse falls from his lips on a low groan, and he bends his head, captures her mouth with his. His tongue parts her lips immediately, and she curls her tongue around his, meeting his heat with a fire of her own. She buries her fingers in his hair, keeping him to her even as his hands slip inside her leggings and he kneads her ass.
He crowds her against the back of the couch, slipping his leg between hers as his insistent hands encourage her to grind against his thigh. He tears his mouth from hers, trails his lips down her throat, pausing to nip the tender skin just below her ear.
"I'll give you whatever you want," he murmurs against her skin. He grabs her waist and lifts her to the back of the couch, then gathers the bottom of her sweatshirt and pulls it over her head.
She grips his shoulders to keep from falling, and he bends her back, his mouth drifting down her chest, his lips fastening to her breast. She gasps when his teeth scrape against the already hard nipple, her hips rolling against his belly, seeking relief for the throbbing need between her legs. She manages to slide her hands down to his jeans, and she makes quick work of the button and zipper, slips her hand into his boxers.
He bucks into her touch, and before she can react, he pulls her off the couch, drops to his knees, and yanks her pants down. She frees one leg from the confines of her pants moments before he swipes his tongue through her arousal.
She gasps at the feeling of his mouth on her, of his tongue dipping inside her entrance before swirling through her folds, exploring the path to her clit. It's been just over a week since they first had sex, but even in that short time, she's discovered just how much he enjoys going down on her. He's more enthusiastic than all her previous lovers combined - and surprisingly good at it, having shown patience that would be infuriating if he didn't regularly make her come so hard that she forgets her name.
She buries one hand in his hair, holding him to her, the other reaching blindly, finding purchase on the couch cushion to keep her upright. As her fingers dig into the leather, he buries two fingers inside her and fastens his lips around her clit, drags his tongue along her, his moans of pleasure reaching her ears. His fingers curl as he thrusts, stroking her just right, and really it shouldn't surprise her that he's just as observant with her sexual tells as he is with their cases.
He twists his wrist so his thumb can join his mouth at her clit, and with some well-placed pressure, she breaks, her heel digging into his back, lets him hold her up as she shatters above him. He doesn't move from between her legs, not while she comes, simply licks harder, drawing out her orgasm until she can't tell whether it's one long one or several small, moves his hand from her just long enough to help guide her to the floor when her knees lose the ability to keep her up.
She's still trembling with aftershocks when he finally lifts his head, when he quickly strips and moves to hover over her.
She's back on the pill, so he doesn't bother with a condom, enters her fully with one hard thrust. They both groan, their mouths meeting, their cries of passion echoing through her aparment. His hips are relentless as he pounds into her, his arms trembling with the effort to hold himself up.
Soon it's too much, and his movements begin to falter when she arches off the floor and cries out, her nails scoring his back in a desperate effort to keep him close. She feels him swell inside her, but before he follows her over the edge, he pulls out and kneels back.
She manages to open her eyes, is about to ask him what the fuck when she notices the look on his face. His eyes are dark, darker than she's ever seen, but his brows are pinched. She's seen this look before he comes several times now, but there's something different in the creases on his forehead this time. He looks conflicted. Almost…
Pained.
His fist curls around his cock and he clears his throat. "Turn over," he rasps, his voice almost a growl. When she hesitates, he grabs her waist and flips her, ignores her yelp of surprise when she lands on her hands and knees.
His hand cups her hip, squeezing gently in a silent apology before he enters her again, propelling her forward with his initial thrust. She drops her forehead to the cool hardwood as he grips her hips to keep her in place, tilting her ass up, pounding into her with a ferocity she hasn't yet seen.
It should worry her, at the very least have her on edge, with him completely in control, his fingers digging into her hips and holding her still, his skin slapping against hers with every rough thrust. But she's not; whatever went through his mind when she came, whatever's going through it now, his way to deal with it is to fuck her senseless. And she is absolutely okay with that.
She turns her head, and if she presses her cheek to the floor she can see him, his face contorted in pleasure, a sweaty sheen on his torso. He throws his head back and shouts, curses flying from his mouth as he buries himself deep and climaxes.
Even as his cock pulses inside her, he reaches around to find her clit with his fingers, her slickness aiding him as he rubs frantically. She doesn't think she can come again, not so soon, but between his fingers, her wetness, and his cock, the pressure between her legs grows, and within moments she's pushing her ass back against him and crying out as a final orgasm rips through her, her hips rolling, drawing it out, her entire body trembling.
She collapses to the floor, not bringing herself to care that she's probably going to hurt like hell later, simply lies there as Castle flops down next to her.
"What-" she pants after she can form words again. "What the hell?"
He turns to look at her, his face back to being unreadable. He swipes his hand down his face. "Good or bad?"
She tries to chuckle but it comes out as a huff, and when she tries to push herself to a sitting position, her arms fail and she lands on the floor again. "Jesus Christ. What did you do to me?"
He lifts the corner of his mouth in a cocky smirk that she'd push between her legs if she didn't already think she needed to take an ice bath after that. After a few moments he sits up, pulls himself up using the back of the couch, and she grins when she notices the wobble in his steps as he disappears in the direction of her bathroom.
Good, she's not the only one.
By the time he returns, she's managed to sit up, although she does have to lean against the couch to keep herself from sliding back to the floor. He grins down at her and holds out his hand, pulling her up when she takes it, wrapping his arms around her waist until she can stand on her own.
She tries to ignore how good he feels, how they fit together so perfectly, how they've developed such an easy physical connection.
As she leans back and looks up at him, she notices the soft look in his eyes as he gazes at her, and her mind flicks back to the look she saw earlier. The tension in his jaw, the conflict in his eyes.
What the hell was on his mind?
She opens her mouth to ask, but he speaks first, breaking their comfortable silence.
"I better go," he says, his hands drifting down to gently smack her ass. "Think you can stand on your own now?"
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, pushing his chest as she steps out of his arms. "Asshole," she teases, bending down to retrieve her clothes.
They dress in silence, and she walks him to her door, pangs of regret hitting her as he slips into his shoes. She wouldn't mind if he stayed longer, had breakfast with her, or if they spent the day exploring each other until she caught a case.
But that's a desire for a life that isn't theirs, she realizes when he opens the door and steps through it. It's for a different version of them, one where she doesn't still live in her tragic past, where she's willing to be vulnerable and have a real relationship instead of this weird fake-dating-acquaintances-with-benefits thing they have going on.
Castle pauses, one hand on the doorknob, and he turns back to brush a kiss to her mouth. "See you tonight," he murmurs.
She blinks as he walks towards the elevator. "Tonight?' she calls out.
He turns back to her with a crooked grin. "Poker," he reminds her. "Starts promptly at eight. The earlier you come, the more time I'll have to make you co-"
She shuts the door before he can finish his suggestive comment, but his laughter reaches her anyway, and she can't help but smile.
It's tempting to get to his place early enough for a round or two, but there's no way she's playing poker with her captain and partners right after having sex. Instead, she falls into her usual on call routine - with an extra thorough shower and some painkillers for the ache in her body from their exploits on the hardwood floor - and heads to the precinct to wait for a murder.
"Call."
Her brows lift when Castle throws a handful of chips on the table and leans back in his chair, cocky pride written all over his face. He's been bluffing all night, wearing the same expression with every hand, and she hasn't been able to figure out any tells.
Unfortunately, that means that she's losing.
She glances at the cards in her hand and the four cards in the middle of the table, hoping that her expression remains neutral. All she has is three of a kind, and it would be easy for Castle to beat her.
"Come on, Beckett," Montgomery pipes up next to her, having already folded, along with Ryan and Esposito. "I'll let you take the captain's exam early if you beat him."
Castle's eyes flash with excitement. "Yes, Detective, feel free to beat me. Or spank me," he adds in a low voice, wiggling his eyebrows.
Kate rolls her eyes. Pervert. She looks down at the miniscule pile of chips she has left and pushes them towards the middle of the table. "All in," she announces, mentally crossing her fingers that Castle takes mercy on her and folds.
Castle calls her bet and nods at the woman he'd hired to be the dealer. Everyone at the table holds their breath as she turns over the final card, and Kate yelps when it gives her a four of a kind.
"Four Kings," she announces, raising her hands in the air when Castle simply shakes his head and pushes the pile of chips towards her. The others cheer along with her, and she can't help herself, stands and dances around the table until she's behind him. "You can get back at me later," she murmurs in his ear, feeling heat rush through her bloodstream at the dark look he gives her.
Oh, he wasn't kidding earlier when he said he wanted to fuck her on the table, was he?
She starts to reach for his cards, still facedown, to see what he had, when the sound of her phone ringing grabs her attention. She manages to answer it before it goes to voicemail, and after she speaks to dispatch, she turns back to the group.
"Sorry guys, fun's over," she says, tugging on her coat and bending to put her shoes on.
Castle pushes himself away from the table, his expression entirely too chipper for someone who'd just lost. "We have a murder? Hold on, I'll get my coat."
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head when Ryan, Esposito, and Montgomery join her at the door. "He does realize that someone's dead, right?"