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She's driving him crazy. Slowly and completely mad. And she damn well knows it too.
"You have to stop." He leans back against the counter and slides closer to her, stops only when he can feel the cuff of her shirt brushing against his jacket pocket.
"What are you talking about?"
She doesn't look at him. Keeps her gaze trained on espresso machine but he can see the grin pulling at her lips and fuck he wants to kiss her. Wrap his hand around her neck and kiss her until she makes that low whining sound in the back of her throat, the one she pretends is on purpose and just to mess with him but they both know the truth, that she wants him just as much as he wants her and she's no better at controlling it or hiding it than he is. He hasn't felt her body under his hands in almost two days and the situation is becoming dire.
"Touching me. You have to stop before I snap and drag you into the damn stairwell, Kate."
"Beckett," she corrects, flipping the control for the steam wand. The hiss of frothing milk fills the room and she cuts her eyes at him, brow raised. "And I haven't touched you all day."
"Liar." He watches her pump and twist the pitcher under the steamer, her wrist flexing and torquing in ways that make his mouth go dry, his pants stretching tightly over his groin. Shit. He cannot be so pathetic as to get turned on by watching her make a cup of fucking coffee. "You're teasing me, Beckett," he drops his voice on her name, lets it rumble deep in his chest, perverse delight coiling in his stomach at the way her eyes slam shut, throat convulsing. "And that's really not very nice."
"How am I teasing you?"
"You know how." She turns off the wand, pours the milk into her waiting mug. Steam swirls up around their faces as the scalding liquid spins lazily around inside the porcelain, the moist air settling on his skin all too reminiscent of nights spent cocooned in the humidity of her body. "Tapping me on the knee to get my attention. Letting your fingers slide across mine when you handed me that file earlier." His hand is curled around the edge of the counter and he stretches out his pinky, rubs just the tip over her belt, the stitching rough again his skin. "Or how about when we were in the conference room and you leaned over me. You can't expect me to believe your breasts brushing across my back wasn't an entirely calculated move."
She lifts the coffee and takes an exaggerated sip, eyeing him hotly over the rim. "Completely accidental."
"Okay, let's pretend for a second that I buy that - which I don't -" his ring finger joins the pinky, sliding up to dip into the waist of her slacks, "you can't deny the rest of it."
"The rest of it?" Her breathing hitches when he moves his fingers, swipes the backs of them slowly across the smooth heat of her stomach. "What exactly have you and your overworked imagination been cooking up?"
"My imagination has nothing to do with it. You've been staring at my mouth all day." Her eyes flick down to his lips and he drags the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. "Like right now."
"Power of suggestion."
"Okay, what about the way you've been staring at my chest? Undressing me with your eyes. Or how you've been taking every opportunity you can find to make suggestive comments?" Castle tugs on her slacks, pulls her until the outsides of their thighs are scraping against one another. He wants to spin her around and pin her to the counter,slide his leg between hers and feel the heat of her seeping through his jeans. "You can't do things like that and expect me not to push you down on the closest flat surface."
"Your imagination really has run away with you today." Grinning like the cat that ate the canary, she steps away from him and moves toward the door, coffee cup dangling from her fingers. "Maybe you should head home and write. Let Nikki and Rook benefit from this burst of inspiration."
The sway of her hips is more pronounced as the saunters away from the break room and he watches her greedily, not even caring that she's doing it for the sole purpose of messing with him. Castle shifts on the spot, fruitlessly attempts to lessen the increasingly uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, comes to a decision.
Striding past her desk, he can feel her watching him, calls over his shoulder, "You were right, Beckett. Too much inspiration today. Gonna head out and see what I can do with it. I'll see you tomorrow."
He pulls out his phone as he steps into the elevator, types out a quick text.
Come over as soon as you're done. I have plans for tonight.
She wants to play? He'll give her a game.
She's on him the moment he opens the door, her hands threading through his hair, dragging his mouth down to hers. He kisses her fiercely, drawing his tongue over the ridges of her teeth, biting down sharply on her bottom lip. She moans into his mouth, low and hot, and he breaks the kiss, pulling her off his body with his hands wrapped around her biceps.
"I thought you had plans for me," she pants, eyes wide and dark. Her hair falls down over her shoulders, wild, and shit he wants to push her up against the door and shove his hand down her pants, makes her come hard and fast in the middle of his foyer.
Not yet, he reminds himself, stepping back from her and releasing his grip on her arms. Stick to the plan.
"I have plans for tonight," he corrects, walking backward toward the kitchen. She follows him, kicking off her shoes as she goes, brow furrowed in annoyed confusion. "I've cooked a lovely dinner that we are going to enjoy while continuing our constantly aborted John Woo marathon. I also have some edits to do so I'll be working a little as well."
She huffs out a sigh and Castle busies himself at the stove, smothering the smile creeping across his lips. "Those are your big plans that you had me rush right over after work for? Dinner, a movie and you writing?"
"You were expecting something else?"
Kate stares at him, eyes narrowed, assessing. After a long moment, she nods. "Not at all. That sounds like a nice, relaxing night, Castle. I'm in."
And the game is on.
Their empty plates and glasses are scattered across the coffee table and he really should get up and take them to the kitchen but her legs are resting in his lap, toes digging into the tense muscle of his thigh and there is no way in hell he can stand up right now and not throw her over his shoulder, cart her off to the bedroom like a fucking caveman.
Kate shifts, the heel of her right foot brushing against his groin, and he has to bite back a moan. She's definitely better at this than he is. He's been trying to wind her up for an hour, casual touches and suggestive comments. Hot looks that linger just a little too long. All he's managed to do is bolster her defenses and give himself an almost painful erection.
This is so not the plan.
Castle wraps his hand around her right ankle, tugging the attached foot away from his leg before he embarasses himself in the middle of his own goddamned living room. She grins at him wickedly, victory in her eyes. "Uncomfortable, Castle?"
"Not at all." He smiles at her, tries to inject some confidence into his tone. "I just thought that after being on your feet all day you might enjoy a little massage."
The grin slips from her lips when he starts to caress her foot, fingers light and deft. Her head falls back as he works, body melting into the deep leather cushions, hands resting on her abdomen. She groans deeply when he works his thumb into her arch, kneading the abused muscles until her body shudders lightly. He switches to her left foot and watches with rapt attention as her hands start to slowly drift, slipping down to her thighs, fingers tracing circles against the silky fabric of her slack. He can see her hips twitching, tiny rhythmic movements that make his blood boil, send his heart skittering.
She whines when he stops and slides her feet off his thighs, placing them gently onto the sofa. Her eyes drift open lazily as he stands and it takes all of his quickly waning resolve not to throw himself down on the couch and make her scream out his name.
"Where're you going?" Her voice is syrup, sweet and thick, and fuck he wants her right now but his last shred of pride is still hanging on, just barely, so he backs away, tries to ignore the way her eyes flick down to take in his very obvious arousal.
"Writing." He hooks a thumb over his shoulder, keeps moving backward toward his office. "I just have a bit of writing and editing to take care of."
"Mmm, okay," she hums, eyes slipping closed again. "I'll be here when you're done."
Amazingly, he actually writes. Sexual frustration still works for him, apparently, because he taps into a vein of story and follows it down, loses himself completely in the world of Nikki and Rook. He doesn't even realize that she's in the room until her lips are on his ear, hair falling down around his neck.
"How long are you going to stay in here?"
He jumps, fingers flicking across random keys, turning a perfectly crafted speech into gibberish.
"Just a little while longer. I have to finish this scene."
Kate stands and moves around to prop her perfect and shapely ass on the edge of his desk. "You're really writing?" There's true dismay in her voice but he doesn't look up, eyes glued to the blinking cursor as it rockets across the screen, a slipstream of his brilliance in its wake.
The sound of clicking fills the room. He types feverishly, fingers trying desperately to keep up with his brain. Vaguely, he registers her pushing off the side of the desk and moving around behind him, her fingers trailing slowly up his arm. The words continue to flow as she leans against the back of his chair, her hands slipping slowly down his chest to pop open the buttons on his shirt one by one. He pauses momentarily when she starts to work at his belt, eyes slipping shut as her long, cool fingers brush over him through his jeans.
Kate drags her tongue down the side of his neck and his fingers start to fly again, spurred on by inspiration, arousal and pure fucking adrenaline. It sings through his blood. His body burns with warring needs, the desire to throw her up against the wall and fuck her becoming more undeniable with each strike of his fingers on the keyboard.
"You need to stop," she husks into his ear, teeth skimming along the thin shell. "Save it if you don't want to lose it."
He hits the appropriate keys out of habit, eyes trained on the screen to make sure the save was successful. The moment the little disk icon flashes she spins his chair around and drops to her knees in front of him and then her mouth is around him, hot and unforgiving, pulling on him until his eyes roll back, black spots blinking against his eyelids. His fingers tangle in her hair as she works him, her nails dig into his chest and stomach and he knows it's punishment for making her wait.
Kate moans low in her throat and his hips buck up off the chair, pushing himself further into her sinful mouth. Shit. He cannot do this. The need to be inside her, to feel her body pressed along the length of his rolls in his stomach, makes him fist his hand in her hair and tug, pulling her off him with a pop. She looks up at him with swollen lips and hazy eyes and for about three seconds he's tempted to let her finish, to let her make him come with just her mouth. Her hands slide down his chest, fingers wrapping securely around him and he shoots forward, takes her mouth with his own.
Her clothes land in a tangled heap next to the chair and she climbs up onto his lap, presses her breasts into his face. He tugs her closer with a hand spread over her ass, pulls until he can feel the wet heat of her dripping onto his stomach.
"Fuck, Kate," he moans, running his hand over her ass, dipping two fingers into her arousal. "You're so fucking wet."
Her only answer is a panting moan as he slips his fingers inside her, draws her nipple into his mouth. She reaches down between them as she rides his hand, dips her hand down between his legs to cup him possessively, her head thrown back. His erection brushes against her thigh with each wild undulation of her hips and he's really not sure how much more of this he can take before his heart gives out from sheer sensory overload. She wraps her free hand around his wrist when she comes, holds him still as she clenches and grinds, her body twitching against his.
With a sigh, Kate tugs on his wrist and he pulls his fingers out slowly, lips dragging over her chest. The hand between his legs slips up to wrap around his base and he wants to fucking scream out Finally! as she drags him between her legs, coating them both with her moisture. The exaltation falters in his throat when she sinks down onto him, takes him in as far as he can go.
"Yes." Her throaty moan takes him by surprise, makes his hips twitch. "God, yes, Castle. I've been waiting for this all fucking day."
"You have?" He thrusts his hips, making the most of the tiny amount of movement the chair allows him.
"Yes." Her mouth falls to his neck, teeth sharp against his skin. "I want you so much, all the time. It never goes away."
She grinds down on him, her hips rolling with increasing speed, the chair rocking precariously on its squeaky hinges. Her hands are braced on the back of the chair, head thrown back, his name pouring like water from her lips and Castle is fairly certain he's never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Her moans shift into keening whines as she strives for her orgasm, her body taut and tense in his hands.
"Touch me," she pants into his mouth, her hair a curtain around their faces.
He slides a hand from her hips down to her lower abdomen, presses his fingers into the rippling flesh. His thumb dips down, grazing just shy of where she wants him and she whines, throws her hips into him with abandon. "Please, Castle. Make me come. Please."
"I will," he whispers, tongue flicking across her bottom lip, "just as soon as you admit that you were teasing me on purpose this morning."
Her eyes fly open, wild and dancing. "Are you serious?"
"Yes. You admit that everything you did today was intentional and I'll let you come."
"Maybe I'll just do it myself then," she huffs, hips still rolling as she drags one of her hands off the back of the chair. Castle catches her by the wrist and yanks her up against his chest, his thumb pressing more firmly just above her clit.
"No, you won't. Admit it, Beckett." He bites down on her neck, rocks his hips into her. "Admit it and you can come." His thumb circles and she whines, her cheeks flushed, sweat beading in the dip between her collarbones.
"Fine, it was all on purpo-"
Her confession turns into a wordless scream when he slides his thumb down to her clit, rubs a hard fast circle. She comes apart against him, her body going limp, breath ragged. Her hips keep moving, dragging herself against his hand again and again until she bites his shoulder and screams. He comes on her third orgasm, her name trapped inside a groan.
His hands trail slowly up and down her naked back, fingers tracing over the gently protrusions of her vertebrae. Her breath is a warm current against his neck and he presses a soft kiss to her temple, a smile curving his lips.
"You know this means I won, right?"