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“Keep the shirt on. Lose the pants instead.”
Her four jacks have just mopped the floor with his pair of aces, and she’s looking at him like a hawk, eyes green and hungry. She’s lost her jacket, and her socks, but otherwise is mostly dressed.
They’re both playing aggressively, betting hard on weak hands, though he still wants to win. There’s only so many losses in a week his pride can tolerate, even to her.
“Those aren’t the rules we’re playing.” He counters.
“They are now.” She arches one perfect eyebrow, and he shrugs, shifting his hands down to this belt buckle and starting to undo that instead.
“You do know that if you get to choose what I lose when you win, then I get to choose what you lose when I win.”
“It’s strip poker. Even when you lose…you win.”
He glances up at her, pinning her with a painful glare.
“How about you don’t quote my mother when we’re in the middle of foreplay?”
She grins in mirth, then inclines her head in a nod, acknowledging the point. Expertly she picks up the decks and their discarded cards, shuffling rapidly with her long and lean fingers. He watches with hooded eyes, taking a sip of wine.
The game continues.
He rides his luck to a couple of wins, and she finds herself without tie, then pants and then without shirt. He wishes for a moment he’d made her keep the tie on. Next time. In any case, she looks wonderful stripped down white bra and those practical yet sexy boyshort panties. He can’t quite seem to look away from the mesmerising valley of her breast, the twins sitting high and proud and wonderful. Somehow her fingers always find a way to her chest, just lingering there for a moment or two, trapping his eyes and drawing them back if he looks away (he’s not sure what cards he’s holding. He could check, but…).
There’s quite a tent his boxers.
Her lips are full and pursed, and there’s quite a flush on her cheeks to boot. Nostrils flared, pupils slightly dilated. Good. She’s finding it as hard to focus on the cards as he is. It has been three whole days after all (what the hell was he thinking…)
“Hey Castle, pour me some more wine?”
She leans forward as she speaks, her voice sort of breathy. The angles change and now he does have a view straight down the front of her. He’s not sure, but they might even look even better from this vantage.
“Uhmmm.”
“Wine.”
She leans forward some more, till she’s on her eyes, approaching him like cat, her body swaying rhythmically. Conscious thought is hard to pin down.
“Here.” He puts down his cards, picks up the bottle and holds it over her glass, pouring. She sits back on her haunches, but now she’s next to him and just as he’s finished, her fingers venture forward, sliding over the satin of his boxers, curling around the heat of his length under it. The touch is light, almost feathery, and yet it draws a groan from him. The minx smiles at that, tongue flickering out to lick her lips, and then she withdraws her hand, shuffles back to her own spot on the other side of the table.
“Thanks for the wine.” Her tone is saucy, promising everything. One finger slides along the lace edge of one cup, idly toying with it as if she’s about to take it off. He almost has to physically shake it off and refocus on his hand.
“You’re welcome.” He can just about to grunt it out.
She wins the round.
This time when he goes to undo the shirt, she shakes her head instead.
“The boxers. And stand up while you do it.”
He blinks at her once, just slowly, and then gets up to comply. She waits for him to do so, eyes half-hooded, one hand massaging an areola through her bra, the other between her legs (he’s not sure if it’s over or under her panties, but he’s going to find out soon…)
He hooks two thumbs through the waistband of his boxers and slides them down in one quick movement, never taking his eyes off her in the process. His shaft springs free with an audible thwack, hard and hot and bobbing ungraciously when he sits back down. She hides a grin behind her hand, but her eyes never leave till he’s behind the table again.
The last hand is mercifully quick, because he’s half-afraid he’s going to erupt well before they actually get started. Especially when one of her feet reaches underneath the table towards him, her toes sliding up his inner thigh and stopping inches short, and then sliding back again. And repeating the movement till she’s states she’s all in.
Throwing away the cards has never felt better, not in all the times they’ve played strip poker before.
She undoes his shirt and pushes him down on the carpet, wriggling herself clear out of her panties. There’s a clearly visible damp patch on the front of them, one that makes him feel much better about his own visible arousal. Their kiss is needy, hungry, sloppy, her teeth stretching out his lower lip. She’s half-lying on top of him, knees brace on either side of his waist. His shirt isn’t even fully off, just unbuttoned, as she runs her hands over the broad planes of his torso, slowly grinding back against his length. He can feel her heat and slickness even now, smell the sex in the air.
His hands go to her bra, his fingers feeling thick and clumsy against her back like he’s a teenager again, twisting the clasp while the blood roars in his air. Somehow, hundreds of practice efforts stand him in good stead those glorious orbs swing free, pink little peaks stiff and hard already as he rolls them between his fingers as she discards the garment.
“I haven’t gotten any in three whole days, Castle. And my vibrator certainly wasn’t enough after you left me high and dry and last night.”
She slides herself back down to his waist as she speaks, her hands finding his cock, lining up the head to where she needs it to be. In one undulation of her hips, she sinks back onto it, her wetness making entry easy. She’s tight around, her walls fluttering and clamping around him like velvet heat.
“Sorry.” He gives her the puppy-dog eyes, but she’s not particularly buying it.
Her eyes fix on his, voice equal parts steely and smoky.
“Why don’t you just make it up to me instead.”
She leans forward, changing the angle to one she likes best, flexing her knees and using her waist to give herself the traction she needs. He braces one hand on her waist, and the other slides up to roughly squeeze her breasts, one at a time, just how she likes.
She’s snug and pulsing and silken around his length, and as she moves her breathing becomes more rapid, more shallow. Green eyes stay locked on his, her words reduced to chanting his names and occasional needy little whimpers. Not that he’s much better, his world reduced to just the sight and scent and feel of her astride him, like a goddess, just able to focus on grunting her name and buck his hips to her pace, focus on her pleasure.
He can sense her orgasm approaching by the way her breath hitches, her spine locks up, her eyes tighten. They don’t need to say anything to each other, not now, not after years of speaking through silences and significant looks. Her eyes pour out the love she feels for him as her climax crests over her, as her cunt clamps down around his cock like a velvet vise. That’s all that’s needed for the tightness and the fire that has built up inside him to explode, taking over all his senses, racing along his spine, locking up his breath so all he can do is gasp out her name almost as a prayer.
Their eyes stay locked as the both ride out the aftershocks of their respective climaxes together, as she leans down again to press a kiss against his lips, gentler this time. He moves one hand to the back of her neck, soaking up the slight sheen of sweat, neither of them needing to speak, letting their tongues do the talking instead as their hearts beat in rapid unison.
----
More than few moments later, he finds him still entranced as she pulls her panties back on. He’s still wearing a half-open shirt, though his boxers are back on too.
“Why don’t you take our clothes and go clean up in there.” He tilts his head towards the bedroom. “And I’ll clean up the cards and Scrabble pieces out there.”
“And…” She quirks an eyebrow expectantly.
“And then why don’t you wait for me inside and we’ll get going on round two…”
She grins archly and turns away, but he interrupts.
“Oh, and Kate- Wear the tie and black Manolos this time…just the tie and the Manolos.” His turn to grin. “You might’ve beaten the pants off me, but now I get to spank your ass for it.”