Slow and timeless and sensual; Sara felt the aura of passion circle the room like incense smoke the room the minute he sighed. Sara drew in a shaky breath, not sure she could contain herself much longer, but Grissom stepped forward and brushed her temple with a light stroke of his fingers.

"I have an important question for you Sara sweetheart--you'll need to choose wisely--" he rumbled. Sara lifted her face, feeling the tantalizing brush of his lips on hers, the lightest of delicate kisses.

"W-w-what?" she demanded breathlessly in the wake of the heat surging through her. He smiled against her mouth.

"Bed or bath?"

Sara's glance flickered over his shoulder and in that little gesture her answer was clear. Grissom nodded. He stepped back through the frosted door and to the tub, turning the handles. A thin trickle of tea colored water splashed out, clearing within a few seconds. Grissom scooped the rubber plug from the wooden tray and dropped it on the drain, then adjusted the flow to a solid deluge of hot water. Sara started to step out of her boots, but Grissom shot her a strict look.

"But--" confused, she paused and he stood up, coming over to her, hands dropping on her thin shoulders squeezing them.

"You'll do nothing for yourself--" he intoned sternly, "Nothing."

A sarcastic reply began to bubble up within her; Sara wanted to protest that she wasn't helpless, but Grissom bent and sucked her lower lip into his mouth at the same time he lightly twisted one of her wrists behind her back. In that simple pairing of gestures, Sara found herself trapped and held in his lazy masculine strength. He let go of her lip after a soft nip and sighed happily.

"I'm going to bathe you, sweet Sara. Savor the play of hot water over every inch of your bare skin as I get you ready for me--"

She trembled. Even without stockings she felt bound, tied up by Grissom's matter-of-fact and yet seductive words. He smiled, and knelt, looking up at her.

"You have lovely feet, Sara--"

He pulled her boots off, along with the thin dress socks, neatly storing them off to the side of the tub, which was rapidly filling. Grissom slid his hands up to her waist, finding the side zipper of her dress slacks and slowly pulling it down. Sara shivered at his light touch. The slacks slid to her bare feet with a whispering sound, and Grissom helped her step out of them. Neatly, he folded them, laying them on top of the boots.

"This is sort of new in the kinky department--" she ventured, her voice quaking a little as Grissom turned on his knees before her, blue eyes drinking her in.

"Really? Who's in charge here?" he asked her as his fingers slid with knowing care under the hip cords of her thong, playing with them for a moment as she watched, shivering.

"Gris, that tickles--" she warned helplessly, knowing her nipples were hard and aching now, that her skin was alive in ways she never knew it could be. He leaned forward and kissed her bare thigh; she moaned out loud.

"You're driving me crazy and you're doing it on purpose--" came her strangled accusation. Her fingers slid into his curly hair, stroking it lovingly as he let his mouth glide from one thigh to the other.

"That, honey, is the pot calling the kettle black--" he muttered against her skin. Slowly he hooked his fingers around the cords at her hips and pulled; the thong slid down with a whisper to Sara's ankles.

She tightened her grip on his hair; not enough to hurt, but enough to hold herself steady as he gave a low, pleased groan.

"Your fair and perfumed garden, Sara, your valley of joy--" he sighed, lightly brushing the tip of his nose against her soft fur. Sara whimpered.

Swiftly, Grissom rose, his hands skimming up her sides, under her bra, blouse and leather jacket. He lifted them all off in one hurried stroke as she lifted her arms to let him. Grissom dropped the tangled clothing to the tiled floor, neglected as he tugged Sara against him, hands roaming eagerly along her back and bottom.

"Ohhhh--" Sara gurgled, her hypersensitive skin rubbing hard on his clothes, his heavy aroused frame. Grissom breathed huskily into her ear.

"Into the water, or I won't be able to stop--"

She resisted for a second, but a quick glance at his desperate expression made her pull away and totter over to the edge of the tub. Carefully, she gripped the edge and slid one foot into the steaming water, wincing at the heat and wishing there was at least a rubber mat on the bottom. Grissom's hands held her waist.

"Careful--" he murmured, fingers lingering over the taut muscle of her ass as she slowly unfolded her long legs into the bath. Sara let herself relax into the heat, taking deep breaths as she settled in.

"This actually feels sort of--good, in a way. I'm used to bubbles or at the very least some bath salts, but never in a tub this deep--" she told him. Grissom stood up and took two steps to the medicine cabinet over the sink. He reached in and pulled out a small glass jar filled with pearly marbles of various faded colors. Selecting three, he tossed them into the water around Sara, who watched them sink and begin to dissolve, grinning.

"Bath oil? Who uses--? Wait, of course--Thirties house, Thirties beauty regime--bath oil." She sniffed lightly. "Roses?"

"Roses. Long stemmed American Beauties to match the one already in the tub--" Grissom teased in a light tone that didn't match the intensity of his gaze. Sara missed it, watching the oil begin to rise and drift on the surface of the water.

"Smells great. A little old-fashioned but--" She watched as Grissom knelt and rolled up his sleeves, revealing his strong rangy forearms.

"Relax, sweetheart--" he crooned softly, reaching for the soap, lathering it up between his big hands. Sara tilted her face up in obedience and waited for his touch.

It was gentle, reverent, and intimately sensual. She watched his strong fingers slide over her shoulder, tracing patterns on her skin, following the line of her clavicle and leaving small soap bubbles behind. She hummed in response, shifting to let him flick water on her back, her chest, her neck.

"Every inch of you is magnificent, Sara. Long and lean, strong and sexy. I first fell in lust with your neck. You wore an open collared shirt when we met and I could see the blue pulse of your carotid right here--" he touched the side of her throat, "--and all of a sudden I had this desire just to rest my tongue on it, FEEL your heartbeat with my mouth--"

Sara's eyelids fluttered and she sucked in a breath at his hoarse whisper, feeling his exhalation on her wet skin as Grissom put his mouth just under her jaw line. The hot syrupy tingles between her thighs were growing stronger with every touch of his hands and the scent of rose oil floated around them in a heady wave. She tilted her head back as one of his hands slid down between her breasts, the other along her spine.

"Gris--" she sighed, languidly enjoying his touch the way assertive cat would, "Not to rush this, but I really WANT you. We still have a consummation I'd like to get to--?"

"Mmmmmmm--" he rumbled against her skin, fingers sliding down her stomach to toy through her silky curls, "--In due time. I've craved you for a month and a half, Sara--give me a moment to take pleasure in seducing you."

"I thought I was seducing YOU this time."

His fingers brushed the pearl deep between her thighs and she shivered. He laughed low in his throat, shaking his head slowly and he lifted his hot eyes to look at her.

"Think what you will; I know what I am."

"What's that?" she sighed, widening her thighs to his deft touch, leaning back in the water.

"--In control, honey," came his quiet gruff voice.

Sara's eyes flew open and she turned to stare at him, a tingle of fear running through her lust now, but he tilted his head and locked his eyes with hers, his expression a bleak blend of desire and yearning.

Passion in restraint.

And THAT look, she understood.

"Make love to me, Grissom, please," she whispered, reaching up to touch his face, "Deep and slow and hard--"

Her words freed him somehow; Grissom reached for her, pulling her up out of the tub and into his arms, ignoring the wet splash of water. Sara wrapped herself around his strong stocky frame, opening her mouth to his in a languid kiss as he lifted her.

"Now." Grissom rasped against her lips, and carried her to the bedroom, sleek and wet. Sara felt herself dropped on the bed, felt the cool shock of silk against her spine. She wanted to protest, but Grissom was looming over her, rapidly tugging his polo shirt off. Sara reached for his belt, but he laid a hand on her wrist and shook his head.

"I have to do it--" he reminded her and she lay back, watching him, wondering if her purse was anywhere close. And then Grissom's hot heavy frame, naked and hungry, dropped on hers and Sara lost herself in the glorious joy of skin on skin.

Considerately he kept his weight balanced on his forearms, planted on either side of her shoulders as he kissed her forehead and cheeks, his chest caressing hers, his hips pinning hers. Sara laughed, low in her throat, reaching to tug one of the curls dangling over his forehead.

"I bought supplies, but they're in the other room."

"I've got one--" he groaned, his eyes half-closed. In the dim light of the bedroom, dust motes danced down the shaft of weak sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains on the French doors, and Sara sighed.

"Tie me?"

"No time--" he admitted, rising up on his knees, lightly nudging her sleek thighs apart. Sara blinked up at him, watching the thin sunlight highlight the silver in his hair, accentuate his skin, so pale where the sun never touched it, so dark where it did. He tore the foil on the tiny packet, but she reached up, her expression tenderly submissive.

"Allow me--" Sara breathed in a soft whisper, "--please?" He looked down and slowly nodded; she lightly sheathed him in the latex, fingers reverently rolling it down his thick shaft, reaching the wiry grey fur that spread out from it. He dropped his head back and gave a low hard sigh.

"Sara--" in that single slow cry of her name he lowered himself onto her, hands sliding up to hers, fingers interweaving with hers. With a ruthless gentleness, he pinned her hands over her head, holding them there as he stared into her eyes. Sara trembled. Her thighs parted and she slid her legs around his hips without thinking, feeling the hard nudge of him against the hot folds of her sex.

"Say you want me, sweetheart, say you NEED me--" he urged, his voice harsh and low. She writhed, but he held still, not moving, just THERE in a maddening tease. Sara growled in a tiny squeak, like a kitten.

"God YES I want you, need you--" she gasped, mouth busily tasting his chin, his jaw line. He grunted a little.

"It--might hurt--" he warned. Sara nodded, biting her lip. He pushed forward, barely breeching the ring of muscle and she gasped at the heated heft of him. Grissom nipped her shoulder, keeping her hands pinned over her head on the soft mattress.

"You're--tight. Relax, Sara, please honey--"

She tightened her legs around him thrumming her heels on his back in playful frustration.

"I AM relaxed, I just WANT you so much I'm going insane here!" she blurted, rolling her head back and forth on the pillow. Grissom tensed.

"LOOK at me, Sara--" he ordered in a terse tone. She opened wet lashes to gaze up at him. He shuddered at the sight of her, pinned and beautiful in the soft light.

"Point of no return, sweetheart. When I move, it's NOT going to be gentle. I've wanted you too long for that--" came his growl. Sara felt his words dance down her spine, making her entire body throb relentlessly with a dark, primal need.

"Take me, TAKE me then--" she surrendered, arching her neck.

He thrust his hips forward in a powerful plunge, sliding deep and hard within her; Sara gave a cry of pleasure, her fingers gripping his bigger ones tightly as her hips rocked into his. Grissom groaned a wild needy sound the perfect counter note to hers. He pulled back, stroked again into her, beginning a deliberate rhythm, the bed creaking under the weight of them.

"Ohhhh--" Lost in the relentless drives of her slender body, Sara locked her long legs around his hips, and using the only leverage she had, tightened them, urging him deeper. His shaft was stretching her, filling her in ways she never dreamed a man's body could, and the exquisite tug that came with every thrust was driving her ever closer to the molten edge of orgasm.

Grissom stared down at her, a single trickle of sweat rolling down his temple.

"Sweet temptress--" he growled, the tendons on his neck taut, his eyes blazing now, "God! Sara my luscious glory--"

Sara's lips parted as her breathing came in quick gasps. She twisted her hips, seeking more of the wild heat rising relentlessly washing over her in a glorious wave--

Now

Now

NOW--

She tensed, the slow bliss pouring like honey through her, thick and sweet, flavored with musk and sweat and tears. Grissom sucked in a sharp breath, his back arching hard as he buried himself deeply between her damp thighs. His big hands tightened their grip on hers, holding them down.

"Mine, Sara honey," he growled "You. Are. Mine--!"

And dimly, through the warm afterflush of her orgasm, Sara felt the hard throb of his thick cock pulsing as his body covered hers.

Her tears overflowed and ran down her face; his tears trickled hot and wet along her cheek, stinging and welcome.