CSI-- "The Best I've Ever Known"
CSI-The Best I’ve Ever Known
Author: kosmickway
Rating: MATURE
Pairing: Brillows
Summary: I promised bunchofgrapes I'd write a story about Jim taking a little time for himself while in the shower. Well, here it is. Jim Brass in the shower. Mrowr!
A/N: For my gal-pals in Brillows crime, mcgarrygirl78 and bunchofgrapes and my Brillows muse, alice_day who started me down the sexy Brillows path. Enjoy, ladies. ENJOY ;)
Jim Brass needed a cold shower very, VERY badly.
He’d spent all day with Catherine at a crime scene, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem. But since their dinner at Marsala the week previous and their extended “dessert” at his house after, he’d had a hard time laying eyes on Catherine and not hardening like an overly hormonal teenager with a lust-driven crush.
You’d think being around a dead body and a blood-spattered crime scene would temper his lust for any woman, no matter how sexy she was. But blood pools and cast off had done nothing to make him want Catherine any less …
…especially when she showed up wearing one of those shirts that was cut just a bit too low to be entirely professional.
…especially when she caught him staring just a bit too long at her mouth when she was explaining some initial findings and licked her lips in a manner just provocative enough to make him want to pull her to him and kiss her senseless.
… especially when he’d automatically reached up to steady her as she stood on the kitchen island to photograph and swab the blood spatter on the ceiling and had a sudden powerful flash of memory as to what they’d been doing the last time his hands had been on her hips.
Eight hours of it was enough … MORE than enough. What he needed now was a cold shower.
Or, hell, a hot steamy one and a little time for himself before Catherine arrived for what was supposed to be dinner but what would most likely end up as love-making.
He turned on the shower to just short of “volcanic,” stripped, and went about his usual shower routine-shampooing his hair and scrubbing a day’s worth of Nevada dust and contaminant from his skin.
But Catherine was still behind his eyes and he had plenty of hot water, so once he was clean he leaned against the shower wall, letting the water rain down on his back, and let his mind take a little trip …
“God, Catherine, you’ve got a body made for sin,” he groaned into her neck, placing a kiss on the warmth of her skin. “I can’t stop touching you.”
“Don’t you dare stop,” she panted, running her fingers up his chest to catch hold of his shoulders. “If you don’t finish what you started I’m going to go mad.” She arched her back and dug in with her fingertips. “Oh, god …”
“Tell me how you like it, baby,” he growled, thrusting in shallow, rhythmic strokes. “You want it hard and fast?” His hips plunged and Catherine gasped out a harsh breath, arching even deeper.
“Oh yes, god, yes!” she moaned, simultaneously opening wider for him and pulling him tighter against her. “Just like that.”
God, imagining that moan tearing from her throat was enough to make him hard as a fucking rock. He grasped the base of his cock and began to stroke up and down the hard length of it, imagining it was Catherine’s warmth that was so tight around him instead of his own hand.
He thrust deeper, faster, his hands fisted in sheets that were rapidly becoming damp with sweat, his mouth finding the sweet curve of Catherine’s shoulder. She was arching hard under him, her hips pushing frantically, groans of need wrenching from her throat.
“Jim…” Catherine ground out, panting. “Jim, oh FUCK! Bite my shoulder.”
Her fingernails dug in to his flesh and he obeyed, nipping and then full on biting when she gasped, “harder!” He loved knowing how much he excited her, relished the feeling of power it gave him to know he could drive her to the panting, sobbing, brink of ecstasy with his hands and his cock.
He wondered briefly if she had any idea that the thought of her was driving HIM to the brink of ecstasy. Part of him was absolutely certain she knew she drove him crazy and milked it when she was feeling mischievous. The other part wondered whether she’d really be all that turned on if she knew he was thinking about her while masturbating in the shower. And then the part that was invested in the fantasy of fucking Catherine senseless grabbed the other two parts and throttled them into silence while his hand moved faster and his hips began to piston.
“God, I’m so close,” Catherine gasped, grabbing onto the hard muscles in his back. “Oh, Jim!”
“Come for me, baby,” he urged, stroking her clit as he continued to thrust. “I want to feel you come for me.”
She groaned his name, again and again, each time with more urgency, clenching tighter around him, her nails digging into his back. When she came it was with a moan that worked its way to a scream as he continued to thrust into her through her release. He covered her mouth with his, swallowed the sound, absorbed the tremors and shocks of her orgasm as they rolled through her and into him.
His release was nothing short of cataclysmic, a sexual nuclear strike the likes of which he hadn’t felt while flying solo in years. He didn’t moan Catherine’s name, he practically roared it, his hips jerking as he pumped, hot cum spilling between his fingers as he stroked himself to a finish.
Christ. The woman was unbelievable. She wasn’t even HERE and look at what she’d done to him. He leaned unsteadily forward, his forehead resting on the cool tile, trying to get his breath back.
He was totally unprepared for it when he heard the bathroom door open and even more so when he heard Catherine’s voice inquisitively calling his name. A dream? Had he fallen asleep?
“Cath? What are you doing here?”
The leaded glass shower door opened a crack and Catherine’s beautiful, slyly smiling face appeared. “Am I interrupting you?” she asked in a tone that made clear she damn well KNEW what she was interrupting.
“It’s not dinner time yet, is it?” he asked stupidly, his brain still having a bit of trouble processing that the red-head of his fantasies was standing in his bathroom and-what was this?-taking off her clothes.
“I wanted to have dessert first,” she said, giving him a sly smile. “After the way I saw you looking at me at the de Winter scene today, I figured you felt the same way.” She stepped into the shower and closed the door. “You do, don’t you?”
“I-“ Jesus Christ, either she REALLY knew him well or he was more transparent than he’d imagined. “Damn, Cath, I couldn’t get you out of my mind all day,” he admitted.
“I know.” She stepped forward to catch the spray of the showerhead. “You turned me on, watching me the way that you were.”
“I’m sorry, I-“
“In fact,” she continued, brushing aside his apology, “I went back to the office to drop off the evidence, and I went into my office, put up a sign that said I was doing quarterly evals, locked the door, pulled the blinds, and got myself off just thinking about you.”
Jim’s breath caught in his throat at the erotic image of Catherine, a hand down the front of her expensive, beautifully tailored slacks, writhing in her desk chair as she stroked herself…
So he did what any man would do when he had a naked, wet, willing woman in front of him--he pulled her to him and kissed her senseless.
She broke the kiss but he wasn’t at all disappointed … mostly because she reached for the removable shower-head instead.
“Feel like helping me get off?” she asked, reaching out a hand to caress his chest.
“More than you can possibly imagine,” he replied, pulling her closer and turning her so that her back was to his front.
He ran his hands the length of her body, along the spectacular curves of her breasts and belly and thighs and bent his head to nip at her shoulder.
“God, Catherine, you’ve got a body made for sin,” he whispered in her ear, and knew a moment of utter satisfaction when she leaned her head back against his shoulder, sighed, and let him take her away.
END.
Author: kosmickway
Rating: MATURE
Pairing: Brillows
Summary: I promised bunchofgrapes I'd write a story about Jim taking a little time for himself while in the shower. Well, here it is. Jim Brass in the shower. Mrowr!
A/N: For my gal-pals in Brillows crime, mcgarrygirl78 and bunchofgrapes and my Brillows muse, alice_day who started me down the sexy Brillows path. Enjoy, ladies. ENJOY ;)
Jim Brass needed a cold shower very, VERY badly.
He’d spent all day with Catherine at a crime scene, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem. But since their dinner at Marsala the week previous and their extended “dessert” at his house after, he’d had a hard time laying eyes on Catherine and not hardening like an overly hormonal teenager with a lust-driven crush.
You’d think being around a dead body and a blood-spattered crime scene would temper his lust for any woman, no matter how sexy she was. But blood pools and cast off had done nothing to make him want Catherine any less …
…especially when she showed up wearing one of those shirts that was cut just a bit too low to be entirely professional.
…especially when she caught him staring just a bit too long at her mouth when she was explaining some initial findings and licked her lips in a manner just provocative enough to make him want to pull her to him and kiss her senseless.
… especially when he’d automatically reached up to steady her as she stood on the kitchen island to photograph and swab the blood spatter on the ceiling and had a sudden powerful flash of memory as to what they’d been doing the last time his hands had been on her hips.
Eight hours of it was enough … MORE than enough. What he needed now was a cold shower.
Or, hell, a hot steamy one and a little time for himself before Catherine arrived for what was supposed to be dinner but what would most likely end up as love-making.
He turned on the shower to just short of “volcanic,” stripped, and went about his usual shower routine-shampooing his hair and scrubbing a day’s worth of Nevada dust and contaminant from his skin.
But Catherine was still behind his eyes and he had plenty of hot water, so once he was clean he leaned against the shower wall, letting the water rain down on his back, and let his mind take a little trip …
“God, Catherine, you’ve got a body made for sin,” he groaned into her neck, placing a kiss on the warmth of her skin. “I can’t stop touching you.”
“Don’t you dare stop,” she panted, running her fingers up his chest to catch hold of his shoulders. “If you don’t finish what you started I’m going to go mad.” She arched her back and dug in with her fingertips. “Oh, god …”
“Tell me how you like it, baby,” he growled, thrusting in shallow, rhythmic strokes. “You want it hard and fast?” His hips plunged and Catherine gasped out a harsh breath, arching even deeper.
“Oh yes, god, yes!” she moaned, simultaneously opening wider for him and pulling him tighter against her. “Just like that.”
God, imagining that moan tearing from her throat was enough to make him hard as a fucking rock. He grasped the base of his cock and began to stroke up and down the hard length of it, imagining it was Catherine’s warmth that was so tight around him instead of his own hand.
He thrust deeper, faster, his hands fisted in sheets that were rapidly becoming damp with sweat, his mouth finding the sweet curve of Catherine’s shoulder. She was arching hard under him, her hips pushing frantically, groans of need wrenching from her throat.
“Jim…” Catherine ground out, panting. “Jim, oh FUCK! Bite my shoulder.”
Her fingernails dug in to his flesh and he obeyed, nipping and then full on biting when she gasped, “harder!” He loved knowing how much he excited her, relished the feeling of power it gave him to know he could drive her to the panting, sobbing, brink of ecstasy with his hands and his cock.
He wondered briefly if she had any idea that the thought of her was driving HIM to the brink of ecstasy. Part of him was absolutely certain she knew she drove him crazy and milked it when she was feeling mischievous. The other part wondered whether she’d really be all that turned on if she knew he was thinking about her while masturbating in the shower. And then the part that was invested in the fantasy of fucking Catherine senseless grabbed the other two parts and throttled them into silence while his hand moved faster and his hips began to piston.
“God, I’m so close,” Catherine gasped, grabbing onto the hard muscles in his back. “Oh, Jim!”
“Come for me, baby,” he urged, stroking her clit as he continued to thrust. “I want to feel you come for me.”
She groaned his name, again and again, each time with more urgency, clenching tighter around him, her nails digging into his back. When she came it was with a moan that worked its way to a scream as he continued to thrust into her through her release. He covered her mouth with his, swallowed the sound, absorbed the tremors and shocks of her orgasm as they rolled through her and into him.
His release was nothing short of cataclysmic, a sexual nuclear strike the likes of which he hadn’t felt while flying solo in years. He didn’t moan Catherine’s name, he practically roared it, his hips jerking as he pumped, hot cum spilling between his fingers as he stroked himself to a finish.
Christ. The woman was unbelievable. She wasn’t even HERE and look at what she’d done to him. He leaned unsteadily forward, his forehead resting on the cool tile, trying to get his breath back.
He was totally unprepared for it when he heard the bathroom door open and even more so when he heard Catherine’s voice inquisitively calling his name. A dream? Had he fallen asleep?
“Cath? What are you doing here?”
The leaded glass shower door opened a crack and Catherine’s beautiful, slyly smiling face appeared. “Am I interrupting you?” she asked in a tone that made clear she damn well KNEW what she was interrupting.
“It’s not dinner time yet, is it?” he asked stupidly, his brain still having a bit of trouble processing that the red-head of his fantasies was standing in his bathroom and-what was this?-taking off her clothes.
“I wanted to have dessert first,” she said, giving him a sly smile. “After the way I saw you looking at me at the de Winter scene today, I figured you felt the same way.” She stepped into the shower and closed the door. “You do, don’t you?”
“I-“ Jesus Christ, either she REALLY knew him well or he was more transparent than he’d imagined. “Damn, Cath, I couldn’t get you out of my mind all day,” he admitted.
“I know.” She stepped forward to catch the spray of the showerhead. “You turned me on, watching me the way that you were.”
“I’m sorry, I-“
“In fact,” she continued, brushing aside his apology, “I went back to the office to drop off the evidence, and I went into my office, put up a sign that said I was doing quarterly evals, locked the door, pulled the blinds, and got myself off just thinking about you.”
Jim’s breath caught in his throat at the erotic image of Catherine, a hand down the front of her expensive, beautifully tailored slacks, writhing in her desk chair as she stroked herself…
So he did what any man would do when he had a naked, wet, willing woman in front of him--he pulled her to him and kissed her senseless.
She broke the kiss but he wasn’t at all disappointed … mostly because she reached for the removable shower-head instead.
“Feel like helping me get off?” she asked, reaching out a hand to caress his chest.
“More than you can possibly imagine,” he replied, pulling her closer and turning her so that her back was to his front.
He ran his hands the length of her body, along the spectacular curves of her breasts and belly and thighs and bent his head to nip at her shoulder.
“God, Catherine, you’ve got a body made for sin,” he whispered in her ear, and knew a moment of utter satisfaction when she leaned her head back against his shoulder, sighed, and let him take her away.
END.