A/N HELLO with my annual and traditional dirty, sexy, smutty, semi-PWP Mentalist story; it's a seuqel to "Red Ribbon", "Jolly Green Elf" and "Perfecting the art of gifting"; as they are mostly pwp, there's no need to read them to know anything too important; Just be aware than in 2011 I dealt off-screen with Red John, Jane never left and instead started to spend Chstistmas with Lisbon, and everything culminated in them getting married and pregnant...
"I'm not really sure I'm ok with that." Like many other times they were having a discussion., Teresa huffed and pouted, crossing her arms- knowing all too well how her husband would respond to those actions; Patrick had always been quite a goner when it came to her, but after they had gotten together, things had even worsened. On top of that, he was always hot for her, and couldn't have enough of his fresh bride's naked flesh impaled on him. He had thought that working together and having twins would have lessened his desire (especially because of the sleepless nights of the toddlers), but no. He always, always wanted her, and when she acted like that, it was even worse.
And she knew it, the green-eyed witch, and her grin was testimony enough. Teresa was aware that her pouting lips remembered him of all the times his cock had found pleasure and release just there, like when, on that Christmas night, she had revealed him she was carrying his children (and he had proposed in the throes of orgasm), and she knew that, when she crossed her arms just like that, her shirt would tighten around her body, and her marvelous breasts would show off, her nipples as hard as little stones, ready to be bitten and sucked and licked and then there, in the valley between her tits, there was that space, where he enjoyed very much put his hard cock, and then she would press her breasts together, and in the blink of an eye the friction would make him…
"What?!" He almost jumped, and was woken from his reverie, from her little, naked feet caressing his calf, moving closer and closer to his engorged groin; Jane gasped, eyes as huge as a sauces, and stared at the witch in front of himself biting his lips and tongue, trying very hard to not groan at loud. And not to come on the spot. Not an easy task, given his very erotic day-dreaming about his beautiful wife. AND now her action.
She fluttered her eyelashes with mock innocence. "Patrick…." She sing-songed his name, not stopping to play dirty; her small feet finally found his cock, and she pressed her flesh against the cloth-covered meat of her man, rubbing it up and down, while she bit her lips and moaned softly, and she resisted the temptation to put her hand on her clothes, where the lips of her sex were, and rub herself through her clothes. Jane wondered how long she would have resisted such a temptation: he knew her, and he was well aware that given him pleasure- despite it being a torture in that moment- gave her pleasure in return, got her exited. Wet to the knees. And he didn't need to sniff her sensual aroma- musk and sweat and Teresa and woman- to know that her panties were probably useless, completely saturated by her arousal.
"Reese…" he sighed, closing his eyes shout, barely resisting the temptation to hit his back against the table of the restaurant where they were having lunch. "Please, try to be reasonable." And he didn't mean just about the little foot-job she was giving him. He meant about the whole business. What had started the whole thing to begin with.
Suddenly, like a bucket of cold water had been thrown upon her, Teresa stopped to inflict the heavenly torture upon her husband's willingly body. "You know what? Ok, as you want, the almighty Patrick Jane wins once again! But don't think that you are going to get more of this now!" She hissed as she left the table. Jane sighed, and threw few bills to clear the check. Before leaving the table, though, he took his jacket off, and keeping it as nonchalantly as possible in front of his body so that his towering erection wouldn't be noticed, he went in direction of the baths to rearrange himself.
And to take care of his little "problem" with his own hands, as Teresa had been quite clear: she wouldn't have been there to make him come until he didn't agree that their move to Austin was final, and they didn't buy a home for their family.
A home… and the huge mirror she had seen in a store the previous day. He knew that Teresa had fallen in love with the piece of furniture at first sight, and that she had started to day-dream to build their room around it; he could have seen the whirls moving, could see her picturing the ensemble, and thanks to a few hints, and some meaningful glances, he knew what she liked. What she wanted.
And besides… he still had almost all his money from his psychic days. And then there was the poker game money he still made when he played every now and then. And he still had few vintage cars that he could have sold. It wasn't like he didn't have the money to make her dreams come true now that, on top of that, she had landed herself her dream job too, with a spot on a prestigious FBI team.
And it was almost Christmas, so what better time of the year to spoil his angry little princess- aka the Queen of his bed? All those years, she had always been the one being naughty, giving him threats of various nature. Maybe, just maybe… he could do something special for her, for once.
Yeah, he thought. That was exactly what he was going to do.
And then… then, he couldn't wait to get his reward afterward.
A reward of the sexy, dirty, kinky variety.
Even if one of Teresa's brothers happened to live in Austin, there was just no way in hell that Jane was going to drop the twins at their uncle's at Christmas Eve; the 24th and 25th of December were, even for a non-believer such as himself, days sacred to parents with little kids such he and Teresa were.
But… but there was no saying about the 23rd, and Stanley was a good man- and his wife a romantic at heart, who had agreed to keep the children until the next day so that he could give Teresa his early present. Of course he hadn't told them about, ehm, what he usually expected at Christmas, but even if he had used the excuse of "there will be screams and shouts once she'll find out what I've done behind her back, even if it's exactly what she wants", his sister-in-law's giggles said that she knew all too well what would have happened once behind closed doors.
Well, he hoped that Teresa would have agreed, because maybe this gift in particular could have been considered… too much? Especially given that he hadn't asked her what she thought about the matter at hand. He had assumed what she wanted, had read her, and then…
Ugh. What had Teresa told him once? That she didn't want for him to take decisions for her and take control of her life- aka what he had done in this case.
Oh, god. What if he had been wrong? That could end in disaster. Maybe he still had time to turn the car over and just…
"So, where are we going exactly?" Jane lifted a perfect eyebrow and sent a quick glance in his wife's direction; sitting at his side with her eyes closed, Teresa sounded like a little girl, and her expression reminded him of the time he had given her a pony for her birthday. It hadn't been the last gift he had given her, and many of them had been of the childish dream variety, things that her father had refused for this or that reason. But not any longer: now that she was with him, Teresa was going to get everything she had always wanted. Included- and especially- her dream job with an FBI top team.
Yeah, he smirked, shaking his head as he silently chuckled. He was doing the right thing here.
"Ok… we are here." He said as he stopped the car, and helped Teresa out, guiding her with an hand on the small of her back, her eyes still firmly closed as he had asked her.
"Here… where?" She asked, biting her lips in that sinful way that turned him on in an unbelievable way. He groaned and sighed, for it wasn't the time yet for his triple X-rated fantasies to come true.
"Home." He said, whispering in her hear, his breath hot and burning on her skin, making her shudder every time like it was the first time, like she was a teenager in love for the first time, crazy stupid in love with the hottest guy in school (which she sort of was).
"Home? What do you…." She opened her eyes, and the breath died in her throat as she remained speechless. The place was amazing, a medium-sized (or so it seemed) house , with a living room and kitchen downstairs and a staircase that probably led to the bedroom; the walls were colored, and pieces of art of various times adorned them; it was even already filled with furniture; it wasn't to his or her taste, but a delightful and elegant mix of what they both liked. A bit like their house in Sacramento, and yet not quite like that, like the place that Jane had already had before getting together with her and where she could have just added to what was already there.
This place… it had been created with her in mind.
"Oh, Jane…." she sighed, turning to face him. Patrick had glossy eyes, his hands on her shoulders, and he was smiling of that smile she loved so much. "My answer is yet, Reese. I think… I think we should accept Abbot's offer, and work for him steadily."
She squealed like she was a little girl, throwing her arms around his neck, and he took her in his arms, lifted her and swirled like they were dancing and she weighted nothing at all, her lips busy every inch of his face available to her soft and yet electrifying caress.
"Oh, and you haven't seen everything yet, sweetheart!" carrying her, her legs around his hips, his hands on her hips, he quickly went upstairs, both of them laughing like they were doing this for the first time, like everything was new; Jane opened one door hitting it with his shoulder, and then he threw her on the king-sized bed, and stood at the feet of the piece of furniture with his hands on his hips, inspecting the place. He was acting cool, but Teresa known all too well his tells, and could see that behind the façade he was nervous.
She chuckled between herself. All this time, and even if he claimed to know her and be aware of every thoughts that happened to cross her mind…. He still was scared of not knowing enough. Of being wrong.
And it was exactly why he was so damn adorable.
"So… what do you say about our new bedroom?" She mimicked his actions and looked around; she liked the room, it had that classic feeling and it looked like a princess bedroom- a grown-up princess who didn't live for pink, at least- and there was… there was even the huge mirror she had seen few days before in a window, the one she had fallen in love with. The one she had wanted to build their new home around. This very home. The home that Jane had given her as an early Christmas present.
"I think…" she purred, going on her knees on the bed and taking off her shirt from the head. "That I'd like very much to spend the night here in this room." The piece of clothing discharged somewhere, she went closer and closer to Jane, and grabbed him for the lapels of his jacket; she brought him down, and immediately his lips sought her out, their bodies melting, fitting perfectly like they were two adjacent pieces of the same puzzle. "Thank God." He said, breathless, between groans and moans and kisses, his gaze desperate and full of desire. "Because, honey, I was scared to death that you would me mad with me, and I couldn't keep my hands off of you any longer…"
She laughed as she fell back on the bed, bringing him down with her, his lips still firmly locked with hers, his hands busy caressing every inch of skin he could find, his weight on top of her petite body arousing, a constant memory and reminder of what they had together.
She reached for him buttons, still kissing, and pushed shirt, vest and jacket off his shoulder at once; he was wearing a white undershirt underneath, and she put her hands under the thin fabric, her hands around his ribs; he felt hot- hotter than hell, he made her wet just thinking about the things that they were going to do, remembering everything they had done so far; even after all these years, sometimes she found still hard to think and accept and believe that Patrick Jane had taken her as his woman.
She dragged her nails along his skin, and he jumped; she laughed in the kiss. "Ticklish, aren't you?" she repeated the movement for emphasis, and he had the same reaction once again. It was her little vendetta because he kept saying that she was ticklish, while she assured that everyone would have done the same in her feet.
They worked together as he took his t-shirt off, his moans muffled by the cotton as she tasted the heat on his chest, her teeth gazing his sensitive nipples as she hummed around the tissue, making him jerk. She parted from him, chuckling, and looked at him shudder under her scrutiny, still feeling the power of her touch all over his body. "I told you that everyone can be ticklish."
He shook his head, and smiling attacked Teresa once again; they kissed for a while, hands roaming each other's body, but despite his desires and his plan, she wanted this to be about her; Teresa parted, and kept exploring his body with her lips in earnest, her mind focused on the erotic feel of the crisp hairs on his chest; Jane felt… weird, a little like their first time together, when he had felt like a piece of meat. And right now he was going through the same ordeal; he was even shaking and gasping and jumping because his wife- his wife!- was pressing her hands, her burning touch, on his sides. What or who was he? An inexperienced teenager?
Teresa chuckled. "Oh, you are so cute when you behave like that… do you have any idea how much you turn me on when you do this?" Yeah, I do, but I'm not doing it intentionally! he thought as he gasped, Teresa's hands busy unbuckling his belt and popping open the buttons of his pants, slowly, one button a time. Teresa sighed satisfied, dreamily, eyeing the bulge in his briefs. She licked her lips, and, her mouth on his neck, she put her hand beneath the waistband, making him jump.
"Mmm…." She moaned against his sensitive skin, her fingers barely meeting around his shaft. She had been partly lying: below the belt Patrick Jane wasn't cute- he was glorious, the finest specimen of men she had ever met.
She stroked him, and he turned his face and kissed her, one hand palming her face, the other grasped her breast through the thin fabric of her silky bra. She stroked him again, kissing him harder when she felt the slick wetness at the head of his cock, rubbing it down over his shaft and making him groan in her mouth.
"Wait, wait, wait, wait…" he managed to say between each caress and every touch. He was close, and so was Teresa, and well… maybe she had spoiled a good part of his plans, but it didn't mean that he wanted to cum in her hands, if there was (and indeed there was) that he could the same in other very welcoming places inside her body.
He parted from her, and looked at the huge, tall bed grinning; he helped Teresa stood, and helped her out of her clothes; once she stood in her birthday suit in front of him, Jane chuckled victorious, and, ducking down, he drew her nipple into his mouth without any hesitation at all; all she could do was threw her head back and just feel.
"I love that you are o sensitive, Reese…" he said softly, his breath like ice over her nipple; he kissed her nipples once again, her stomach, his breath and his touch burning, and like every time, she felt burning, getting redder and redder like a shy girl- so many years, and she still doubted her own beauty, wondered what he felt attractive in her at all.
Then… then he turned her around, and she blinked in surprise, her pupils dilated, as he put an hand between her shoulder-blades and he gently bent her down, her thighs against the edge of the bed; he pushed and pushed, gently, like he was asking for permission, and with a small smile gracing her lips, Teresa leaned over the bed, her hands close to her head, fingers wide; she bit her lips when she felt Jane taking her panties off, pulling them down in one easy motion; she groaned when she felt his lips, first on one, and then on the other feet, as he took off her shoes as well; the breath died in her throat at the realization that she was completely exposed to him now, naked, open in front of him- both with her body and her feelings. Her heart beat so hard she could feel it like a drum in her ears. Beyond that pulsing rush of blood, she heard the faint shift of fabric, the soft thump of his shoes hitting the floor, the rustle of a condom wrapper- because he didn't need to talk with her to know that it was way too soon to conceive again, maybe even too dangerous at her age, too stressful with a new home, a now job and two babies that were barely one and an half.
And then… then his hand gripped her hip, and Teresa closed her eyes and laid her cheek flat to the bed, blushing, a content smile on her face making her feel like a naughty girl once again; despite the impersonal position, she felt… she like it was personal with them, both because she knew how much Jane liked to take her like that, and because… because deep down, every time they did it like this, she felt incredibly vulnerable, waiting for him to have her, at his mercy; she could be the woman she couldn't afford to be on the job, not the hard-assed cop in command, the one who behaved too much like a man, but just a damsel in distress- his damsel.
She expected him to simply push into her and braced herself for the shock of it, but apparently he had different ideas. She felt his fingers slide along her, tracing a slippery path to her clit. She gasped at the touch, her eyes fluttering open, then widening as she saw what was right before her eyes. She was stunned to find herself staring right at an erotic picture…no, not a picture: her mirror.
And there she was, bent over and helpless, half her face hidden by the deep red comforter. Jane stood behind her, totally nude, cock standing thick and proud. She expected to meet his gaze in the mirror, but apparently he hadn't noticed it. His head was bent, his eyes narrowed at the sight of her, as his hand kept working her pussy without any mercy, sensually and yet like he was a predator, or maybe an artist deeply concentrated on making a portrait of his muse.
"Ah," she cried, watching her own face go tense as he slid two thick fingers inside her. His face went tight, too, as he slowly worked his fingers in and out, in and out. Teresa watched it like a movie, amazed to see her own face, her own body, being used like this, and wondered why the hell they had never done so before, looking at each other fucking in the mirror, or maybe taking pictures, or a movie… it was so strange, but maybe it made sense. They weren't exactly… temperate, but this extremely wild and kinky side of them seemed to come out only at Christmas time.
His fingers slid out, and Teresa held her breath as he reached for his cock. He wrapped his hand around it, pushing the condom farther down as he eased closer; she felt the nudge of his head as she watched his grip spread wider over her hip. He dragged himself along her sex, sliding against her clit in one slow, delicious stroke, and she couldn't help but bite her lips to keep watching and avoid closing her eyes because of the immense pleasure he was giving her, she gripped the comforter, digging her fingers into the down, biting her lip furthermore until it went numb.
Jane never once looked up. He was busy watching his shaft work against her, her hips jerked when he pressed against her clit again, and she imagined what she must look like, so wet and swollen… she had looked at their bodies joined few times, when they had done it sitting, but like this, she could only imagine what she could look like, how he could look like when he did her with the deepest penetration available, the best angle he could ever wish for.
Finally, he notched the head against her and pushed in slowly; his jaw jumped with tension, the skin over his cheekbones was tight and flushed. Teresa let her breath slowly out, as if her body needed to make room for his- a feeling that would never get old, a sensation she would never get accustomed to. He stretched her until she was filled up with him, uncomfortable in the most perfect way. Long seconds later, his hips were snug against her ass, and she was panting against the pressure.
Teresa edged her feet a tiny bit wider, and Jane pulled her hips back, tilting them up, arching her back a little farther. He eased slowly out of her, then plunged deep. When she cried out, her eyelids fluttered shut, but she forced them back open. She didn't want to miss a second of this, so she bit her lip and clenched her hands and watched as the Patrick Jane just fucked her. He was a gorgeous machine despite the age, all tightening muscles and tanned skin as he steadily drove himself deeper and deeper, each thrust turning his jaw to granite. And the whole time, his eyes blazed as he watched himself fuck her.
For Teresa, little Catholic girl, it was a like a movie. A filthy, pornographic movie, except that it was her starring in it. Her. And she could feel everything-every stroke, every thrust. She wanted to scream, but she only whimpered and held tighter and tighter.
His hands slid higher, shaping her waist for a moment before he steadied his grip on her hips again, his fingers digging harder as his movements grew more brutal.
"Oh, God," she whispered. "Oh, yes. Harder."
His gaze flickered up to her face, and his expression grew even fiercer. It was all too much. The sight of it so wrong and so arousing. Teresa felt everything inside her curl tighter and tighter, and her clit felt so hard it hurt. She'd never come like this, from just sex-no touching, hardly any foreplay, just her being used like a sex object… even with Jane… well, he was the king of foreplay, after all, a master with his fingers and his tongue.
"Jane…" she whimpered, as pleasure grew close to pain for one endless moment.
"Yes," he urged, his fingers digging in, adding to that pleasure-pain until it all broke open with a wrenching shift that made her scream and scream until her voice turned to a rasp.
"Oh, God," she panted. "Patrick… Oh, my God."
"I can't…" he groaned. "Reese, I…"
Her eyes cleared just in time to see his grimace of awful pleasure, and then he was coming, his muscles pressing against his skin as he drove himself into her. Afterward, he held his body perfectly still, his grip easing by slow degrees. Teresa allowed her body to relax as she stared in stunned exhaustion at their reflections.
His eyes finally opened, and he watched her for a long while before his brow furrowed and he followed her gaze to the mirror. Their eyes locked and Jane's jaw dropped.
"You've got to be kidding me…," he breathed as he lifted his face and saw their reflection.
"Yeah," she whispered with a smug expressions. "I know."
He looked down at her body, then back at the mirror once again, astonished and yet incredibly amused- and turned on. Maybe not in body, but in spirit? Definitely. "Why the hell didn't you tell me there was a show going on?"
Teresa began to laugh. She shook so hard that Jane finally let her go so she could sink into the mattress; her sex felt cold and void without him, like every other time they had done so.
"Okay, we have to do that again. Not fair, Reese."
"It looked like you had a pretty good view from where you were." Surprise flashed over his face, chased by a cute pink blush as he got a glimpse of her smug expression in the mirror.
"Yeah, you're right." He grabbed a tissue to ease off the condom, then collapsed onto his back next to her. "Forgive the harsh language, but you, my dear, you are fucking amazing."
She poked him with her elbow. "Shut up."
"I'm serious. That was… That was hot. And given our history in the bedroom department, it says a lot."
Teresa turned toward him, easing her knee up his thigh, pressing her body to his side. Jane tucked his arm beneath her head and she settled tight against him. His messy hair called to be touched, so she ran her fingers through it, smoothing it until it sprang back into wild waves; she repeated the gesture again and again, just like she had always wished to do when she was… when she wasn't his. "You've changed everything for me, Reese, and I'll never be able to repay you enough for having taken a chance on me. I mean it."
His eyes didn't hold a hint of laughter when he met her gaze. She knew that his sea-green eyes almost always danced with amusement, but now they were dark and serious; she kissed his shoulder, and then eased her head on his chest.
"I know." she said, eyes closed, "and you've done the same for me."
They fell asleep like that, whispering promises of eternal love to each other once more, not carrying of their nakedness on the covers, nor of the temperature; they had each other and their personal little world, after all.
And in few hours… the next morning they would have seen their kids, and the world would have complete once again.