A/N: Here's the last chapter of this short one! Enjoy!

Private Fantasies Chapter 3

Before Sara could respond to his compliment, Grissom lifted her up with arms locked around her. Her legs wrapped around his hips as his hands slipped to her butt. He carried her swiftly through the kitchen and into their bedroom where he put her down on the wide bed. He lowered himself alongside her.

Gently, cradling her with an arm, his hand found its way underneath her shirt, and his bent leg worked its way between her thighs to snuggle his knee tightly between her legs. As her hand caressed his face, his fingers played and stroked and circled on her skin until his hand rested on her breast. He pushed her bra up, lightly cupping her breast and using his wonderfully soft thumb to circle her areola. A second later, she felt the firm thrust of his erection pressing against her thigh. Her belly rippled in excitement causing her pelvis to rock against him.

"Too many clothes," she said with a smile. Her hands were tugging at his belt.

His hand slipped from her chest to where his knee had been slowly moving. "What's happening here?"

At one time, Sara had been embarrassed by her response to him—the sudden wetness between her legs, the way her nipples became hard and erect, the rise and fall of muscles across her pelvic area—when he looked at her with obvious desire. Today, she was more than a little self-conscious by what he felt; the hot dampness practically pulsated through her pants.

His hand cupped her, moving, pressing from front to back. Her eyes closed, her breath irregular, at this stimulation. He smiled. "Definitely too many clothes." He rolled beside her, quickly removing his pants, sitting up to take off his shirt.

Sara watched, his smooth back muscles inviting her hand to feel the unblemished skin before he turned back to her. She let him undress her, hurrying with her clothes at times, slowing when he got to her crimson colored panties. She squirmed and giggled as his teeth closed on the band of her underwear and his thumb traced along the high-cut leg opening before stopping. His palms slipped under the fabric, one hand removing her panties, the other remaining on her triangle of darkness.

For years she had worn the simplest of bikini briefs purchased in packages of five at Target until one night Grissom gave her a "gift" he said—from him for him, he added.

His gift was one of delicate lace and expensive but washable fabric and fit in a way that felt like warm hands covered her butt. To her the most astonishing part was the way they stayed in place—not riding up or slipping down or bunching in the wrong place. She had not purchased or shopped for underwear since that night and within a week, Grissom had replaced every pair she had with similar ones—all in bright colors of a Crayola box.

"Why?" She asked.

He had grinned with the sexy smirk he reserved for her, "because I'm a panty man," he said. "And every day I can watch you walk around knowing what's covering a certain delicious part of you!" And he had proceeded to kiss her in areas no person had touched since her mother had bathed her in childhood.

Now she felt his tongue against her skin, felt his hot breath as he buried his face into that triangle of hair between her legs. She lifted her hips in an involuntary contraction of muscles. Her hands tangled into his bird's nest of curls as he lifted her legs over his shoulders.

"Gil," she whispered, "I—I want you—now!" She felt the intense heat of his erection as he moved between her legs. She wiggled her hips but he gently pushed her back, bent over her, slid his hand to her butt, and kissed her inner thigh.

Gently, he settled himself and inhaled the exquisite, delicate feminine scent he knew so well. He could live the rest of his life on that drugging fragrance, he thought. He found the swollen, sensitive bud and began to kiss, suck, and blow while sliding one finger into her, probing gently, carefully stroking an especially sensitive area with the pad of his finger.

He heard a moan and felt the increasing contractions of muscles against his finger; he slowed his actions, giving Sara time to recover. His hand glistened with wetness as he grasped his erection and pressed his fingers against his perineum—a technique he had learned to slow his own orgasm. Discreetly, he wiped his face before he moved upwards. He knew, never spoken, but he knew Sara could feel uncomfortable by the amount of fluid her body produced when sexually excited. He grinned; he loved it and proceeded to cause rolling laughter to come from her as he "tickled her body"—a game they played to prolong actual love-making. His mouth moved across her stomach, touching, tasting, gently sucking, his soft beard adding a dimension of sensation. When he found her navel, he wet it with his tongue, blew it dry and kissed it which caused Sara to twist and giggle—one of his favorite erotic places on her body.

He spent more time at the spot where her breasts swelled from her body—another place he loved for arousing and prolonging desire. Grissom was always tender, gentle with love-making knowing Sara's life had been too often affected by brutal violence and their passion for each other would not be one of force, never cruel.

As he moved across her chest, she said, "Get up here, Gilbert! Now!" Her hands searched for his smooth, firm penis but his quick movements kept it away from her hands. He knew those long slim fingers circling him would cause a quick orgasm and he—one of the flaws of being male—needed a longer time to recover than this woman did.

Reaching her breasts, he circled one with his fingertips and used his mouth on the other. The taste of her flesh was slightly salty, smelled of citrus and faintly floral; her dark areola was already firm and responded to his ministrations as he sucked, kissed and gently touched it with his teeth.

She squirmed underneath him, attempting to bring his erection nearer; he grinned and leisurely moved to the other breast. He managed to move one hand to her rear and slid a finger into the cleft that separated her butt. His action provided another distraction for several moments until he moved to touch Sara's face with his lips. Doing so brought his penis to the desired opening and he heard almost identical sounds-moaning gasps of air as their bodies intimately touched. His erection seemed to have a mind of its own as it pushed into intimate folds saturated with Sara's fluids.

Grissom knew he had never, and would never, have this kind of reaction with any other woman. Sara had been made for his body—something he would not have believed before loving her. She curved around his angles, she arched into his bow, and she closed around him in a way that made him excited beyond words and at the same time, feel safe, secure, and loved.

It was always a surprise to Sara when Grissom entered her body; it did not matter what else they did, the coming together, as he entered her most private place, she would gasp with the knowledge of knowing this man was placed on earth for her. Her body knew what to do as her breath came quickly; he pushed into her, filling her with an intensity of pleasure that was beyond description. Her back arched, her fingernails dug into his back; she was in the grip of a force that would not be stopped this time.

Grissom sensed her impending climax; her entire body tensed seconds before her orgasm burst like a storm. He clamped his mouth over hers and swallowed the sound of overwhelming pleasure. He thrust himself into Sara's body; filling her as his erection seemed to grow, overpowered by the urgency of his own passionate desire. When his own release came, he lost all conception of what was happening around him as anticipation rippled, built to the intense sensation of pulsating muscles powering his own fluids.

Waves of pleasure and passion swept over both as bodies softened, kisses given and received, nonsense words of lovers passed from lips, as they remained together until one recognized the soft sounds of sleep in the other. Sara combed fingers through her lover's hair, held his head against her neck and slept, dreaming of fantasies, daydreams, and desires that come true…

After breakfast, Greg purchased two sweet cinnamon buns, had them carefully wrapped and placed in a paper box and delivered them to Sara's apartment. Even though her car was not in the parking lot, he left them at her door. Later, as he drove to work, he made a detour by her apartment to find the buns exactly where he had placed them.

He found her in the locker room, early for their shift, hanging her jacket and stuffing a bag into the locker.

"Hey, Sara," he said, "missed you at my pre-birthday breakfast this morning!"

She did not meet his eyes when she said, "I had an appointment I had to keep—on your birthday—we'll go out—to dinner." She turned to face him, giving her usual smile.

He grinned. "I'd like that." He shrugged, "Maybe you can ask Grissom to join us."

Quickly, Greg saw something unusual in her eyes—hesitation, fear, worry—whatever it was disappeared in seconds. He nodded. "It's fine," he said. "You and me—dinner."

"You pick the place—wherever you like." Sara said as she reached for his arm.

He let her fingers close around his arm as he studied her face realizing Sara was more beautiful today than she had been six months ago. Her hair was longer, her face glowed, not from make-up, he thought, but from some source of contentment. Sara was not only in love; she was loved. Suddenly, he said, "Are you happy, Sara?"

Her eyes met his again. Realization, understanding, approval met her eyes. "Yes, very," she said, pausing before adding "You're a good friend, Greg."

Greg smiled again; he shuffled his feet and motioned toward the door. "Let's go catch some bad guys."

The End! If you enjoyed it, leave a review, please-and thanks for doing so!

We will return with another story-GSR lives on in fanfiction if not on CSI!