Strawberry Kisses

Chapter 27

It's been about two months since Spencer's injury. Two months since he confessed his love to me, two months since he told me about his addiction, two months since I got my promotion, two months of coming home with Spencer and going to sleep in the same bed. Domestic life never really appealed to me, but now I understand. Living with Spencer, loving him, it was all perfect.

During his medical leave, he picked up sketching again and he even helped me during my profiler training. He spent about twenty-five percent of his time with me begging me to play with him, but I wouldn't budge. I made a rule: no sex until you're off crutches.

He recovered well and his surgeon cleared him for field work about two weeks ago. He no longer had to use crutches, instead, he now walks with a cane.

That cane.

I'd never admit it, but Spencer looked good with a cane. It just suited him. He once asked me if it made him look more like a pretentious doctor, and of course I denied. However, I didn't tell him that seeing him walk with it made me drench my panties in an instant.

Now, we're sitting on the jet, traveling to some remote town in Texas and I'm stuck next to Spencer and his sexy-as-hell cane.

I lean against his shoulder as he reads, slowly enough so I can keep up. I follow along for the first chapter or so but I lose focus. I become mesmerized by the way his fingers glide over the page, how delicate he is with the brittle paper of the worn book.

"What're you looking at, Y/n?", he asks. I jolt from my fantasy and I quickly try to school my face into a neutral expression, hoping my guilt isn't evident.

"Nothing", I say before quickly correcting my mistakes. "The book, I mean. I'm reading." He raises his eyebrows at me and I know that was the wrong answer.

"Really? Because I just read three chapters in about five minutes and you didn't tell me to slow down once. Unless you took up speed reading in the past week, I'd say your mind was elsewhere."

I roll my eyes and nudge his shoulder, not hard enough to hurt but enough to get my point across.

"You forget I've been doing this a lot longer than you", he teases. "Come on, out with it. What's got you so distracted that you don't want to read In Cold Blood with me?"

I scan the cabin, looking for anyone who may overhear. Rossi and Hotch and deep in conversation, Morgan is listening to music with his eyes closed and Emily and JJ and asleep together on the bench seat.

Let's not mention that to Will.

I turn my attention back to Spencer and take a deep breath before blurting out my answer.

"I was looking at your hands."

He closes his book gently, as if he would scare the words off the page if he was too rough. He holds out his hands and examines them; first the palms, then the backs.

"I can't say that I'm surprised. Hand fetishes are pretty common with women your age, and they usually have a direct correlation with a choking kink", he says.

He leans to his right and picks up his cane. I expect him to stand, maybe to make himself a cup of coffee, but instead he hands it to me.

"What do you want me to do with this?", I ask.

"I'm an observant man, Y/n, I know you have a thing for it."

A shiver runs down my body at his tone. I look at the wood in my hand and admire it. It has a dark stain and a shiny gold-plated handle that is somehow free of fingerprints.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've had my mouth on you, pretty girl?", he whispers. I shake my head. "Two months, eighteen days and three hours. I know that you have your little toys that you play with when you think I'm asleep to satisfy you, but all I'm left with is my imagination. I have an addictive personality, Y/n, and you're my drug. Will you be a good girl and let me have my fix?"

My body starts shaking involuntarily with arousal and I twist my fingers into my sweater to keep myself from touching him.

"N-not here, Spencer", I say, my voice sounding small and pathetic.

"Of course not. Do you really think I'd do that?", he asks. I decided it's better not to answer, because I didn't want to have to deal with the consequences of telling the truth. "I want you to give me your panties."

"What?", I gasp in disbelief.

"You heard me. Go to the bathroom and take off your panties." I hesitate for a moment, which worries Spencer. "Is this too far? Did I cross a line? Do you need to use your safe word?", he asks hurriedly.

I shake my head. Now that his words have been processed, I am sure I want to continue.

"Green, sir", I whisper before standing up and heading off to the bathroom.

I make quick work of my shoes and my pants follow them with ease. I hook my thumb into the waistband of my underwear and pull them down slowly, like I was giving a striptease to someone who wasn't present.

After I feel the cool air of the plane's cabin hit my center, I rush to pull my pants back on. I ball up my undergarment in my hand and thrust it against Spencer's chest. He grins wickedly as he takes them from me.

Instead of being discreet like I had hoped, he holds it out so he can see it in its entirety, paying special attention to the wet spot on them. He folds them neatly before tucking my panties into his pants pocket.

"I love you so much", he murmurs as he presses a kiss to my forehead.