Good morning everyone! I've waited until just after midnight here to publish this little chapter so that I can revive the fantastic tradition of Smuttastic Saturday! There are 2 chapters left of this fic and this is the last thoroughly ATTHS chapter so I thought it appropriate. I don't know how much more I have in me for these two. I am determined to finish this story but it becomes harder and harder as time passes. I have never shipped anyone this strongly before and I'm not sure I ever want to again. At times my obsession was too consuming and parting has been too painful. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this little romp for our fave OTP!

xoxox Kat.

Her mind should have been screaming at her in protest at the wrongness of it. The incredible irony of the fact that she was in the Honeymoon suite in the Bellagio with Cal, with her business partner, with her best friend was in no way lost on her. Instead of running for the next plane home, however, she found herself shamelessly rolling her backside against him beneath the spray of a dozen shower heads in their cavernous bathroom.

She made herself be aware of him, repeated over and over in her mind that this was Cal kissing her, Cal touching her, Cal making her feel as if she was experiencing passion for the first time. The more she repeated his name in her head, the harder her blood pounded in her veins, as if her entire body pulsed with him. In that single moment she knew why it was that she had resisted this for so many years. She had turned her back on countless fiery looks, denied the heat of his touch more times than she could count because of course it would have to be this. There would never, could never, be a middle ground. Not for them. For Cal Lightman and Gillian Foster either passion was a flame that burned just beyond their grasp or it was a fire that consumed them utterly and completely.

Then again, perhaps she would be running if it wasn't for the fact that it all felt so god damned good.

She shivered as Cal's scruff of a beard raked across the skin of her back. The cool tile of the shower against her nipples provided a sharp contrast to the heat of Cal's mouth as he trailed his lips and tongue over a path between her shoulder blades. Warm water splashed her from every side, washed down her back and pooled in the space where his hips pressed hard against hers.

"I thought you were washing my back?"

"Mmmm," his voice was muffled by her skin, "I got distracted."

It wasn't entirely a lie. The wet smooth skin of her back running beneath his lips and fingertips was utterly mesmerizing. The fact that it went on to blend into the delicious flesh of her hips and buttocks could have kept him occupied for hours, perhaps even days. He was only slightly surprised that his 47 year old body was already working up a stiff erection as his hands continued to explore in every direction, noting the places that elicited tiny sounds of pleasure from Gillian.

He wanted to takes his time, to simply touch her and feel her respond, to memorize every inch, every sound. It was futile of course. His attraction to her was primal and as she began to respond to him by pressing back against the hard length of his cock as it rested next to her hip, he had to fight like hell against the urge to press inside her immediately.

He wrapped his arms around her belly and pulled her tight against him beneath the steaming water, lapping at her earlobe and stroking his lips against the curve of her neck. "Do you have any idea how badly I've wanted to touch you? How many times I just wanted to…" His voice broke off as he buried his face in her shoulder and he moved one of his hands lower, cupping it between her thighs almost possessively as she whimpered.

"Tell me," she whispered over the rush of the water.

He was silent, struggling for the right words. "The pink dress," he finally murmured.

"What about it?"

"I imagined you were wearing it for me, wearing it and begging me to look at those gorgeous legs." His hand pressed up into her.

The indescribably velvet caress of his words in her ear rolled across her skin and she stifled a gasp at the sensation. "Who says I wasn't?" She asked breathily.

He sank his teeth lightly into her shoulder, beginning to work his fingers with more purpose.

"Tell me," she urged.

"Every time I touched you," his other hand reached up to stroke her breast, "every time I held you," he slipped his fingers gently up inside of her, "every time, every day, every moment, it was this. Every damn time Gillian."

She trembled at the intensity of his words as memory after memory of his hands on her flooded through, intensifying the warmth of his body against hers. She gasped as the circle of his arms closed even more tightly around her and rocked her hips against his insistent fingers. She reached behind her and grasped his neck, straining awkwardly until she found his mouth, kissing him with the heat of the fire that was building inside of her. His lips, warm and wet from the heat of the shower, slipped easily against hers, opened as her tongue sought his.

Cal couldn't get enough. She was alive in his arms. He surrounded her and he was inside of her and still he needed more. He wanted to fill her, to feel her heartbeat and her heat wrap around him entirely.

"Bedroom," he whispered.

"God yes," she agreed. Turning in the circle of his arms and kissing him hungrily, she reached a hand down to stroke his erection. His body spasmed in reaction to her insistent touch and he drew breath against her lips.

"Now," he growled.

Fumbling the taps of the shower closed, they hastily made their way from the bathroom. There were a few points along the short journey where it seemed their passion might not wait for the soft surface of their king sized bed. After what seemed like an eternity, and a brief struggle against the side of poorly placed end table, they finally fell atop the plush comforter, a tangle of limbs and need, rolling until Gillian found herself pinned pleasantly beneath Cal who was attacking her body with a stream of endless kisses.

It would have been easier for him if she didn't taste so unspeakably lovely, if her skin wasn't so terribly soft. He moved his way down her body, tasting, licking, seeking out every curve with his lips and tongue. He reached the apex of her thighs and her hands tangled in his hair. He smiled at how breathless she sounded, how pleased. He raised his head for a moment and gazed up her body.

Her eyes opened at the cessation of his mouth on her and when she found him staring she simply touched his face and smiled before doing the last thing he had expected to find Gillian Foster ever doing for him. She lifted both of her knees and spread her creamy thighs, inviting him to look at her in the most unbelievably intimate way.

"Christ, you really are trying to kill me aren't you?" he growled as he lowered his head eagerly. The sweet and clean musky scent of her was enough to make his cock swell all over again but the taste of her was an immediate and all consuming addiction. He opened his mouth wide and pressed the flat of his tongue against her clit, immensely satisfied when she cried out and twisted against the bed.

Her body was on fire. Cal's tongue was doing indescribable things to her. She had no idea how it was possible to feel so many sensations at once. He seemed to know instinctively just how to touch her. He suckled her clit relentlessly while his tongue twisted inside of her, lapping in a delicious way that made her cry out uncontrollably, her gasps and moans rolling off the walls of the room. She pushed her hips against him without thought and he gave her exactly what she wanted.

Cal continued to work his mouth against her, drinking in every luscious taste. He could feel her body gathering itself for release, the rhythmic circles of her hips growing more insistent, her cries more needy. He wanted to bring her over the edge, to feel her come against his mouth, but greater than that was the overpowering desire to bury himself deep inside her.

He waited for just the right moment before quickly moving up her body, replacing the stroke of his tongue with the head of his cock as he pushed into her moist heat.

She barely had time to react as his lips descended on her, painting her mouth with her own taste. Before she could rouse her mind from the clouded haze of arousal, he moved inside of her and she felt herself filled with the unbelievably hard length of his cock. She lifted her legs higher, placing them against the small of his back as she shifted until the thrust of his hips hit her at just the right angle.

"I'm sorry," he panted against the base of her throat.

"I forgive you." Her words were closer to a moan.

She clawed at his shoulders and he quickened his strokes. He knew she was close and so was he but he wasn't ready for it to be over. Unfortunately his body wasn't going to give him much of a choice in the matter. The pressure in his cock had been building for far too long now and it was beginning to demand release in a nearly painful way.

He placed his lips against the damp hair that curled around her ear. "I need you to come for me darling, can you come for me?" His voice was strained, barely more than a ragged gasp.

"Soon," she moaned. "Please don't stop." Her voice was desperate, aching. She needed relief as badly as he did but neither wanted the ecstasy to end.

He drew on reserves he didn't know he had. Every muscle trembled with effort as she circled her hips against him. Finally, her thighs trembled around him and he felt the first fluttering of her walls as she let out a high pitched and breathless cry. He couldn't wait a second longer. The very beginnings of her release catapulted him into his own violent and prolonged orgasm and her sweet cries were lost as his blood pounded in his ears, surge after surge of nearly unbearable pleasure ripping him apart.

He was vaguely aware that her body had gone completely limp beneath him as he rolled to the side, dragging air into his burning lungs as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "Fuck," he breathed when he could remember how to form words. "That was…" His vocabulary was distinctly lacking at the moment.

"Yes."

He turned his head toward her and found her looking at him with an odd expression, as if he was a puzzle she was just on the brink of solving. It was incredibly unnerving. "Okay Foster?"

She was silent for a moment. "Lightman," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"No," she said, holding up her hand so that the gold band shone in the light. "I meant me."

His heart turned over in his chest. "I'm sorry?"

"Just trying it on." She smiled, as if smiling at something inside.

"And?" he propped himself up on an elbow and covered her ringed hand with his own.

Her eyes turned thoughtful as she gazed at their entwined hands. "It's easier than I thought." She met his eyes and he saw the truth of it.

"You can wear it as long as you like, you know," he said simply. There was no demand, no pressure in his tone.

She leaned over and kissed him softly, pulling the edge of the comforter over them as she curled up in his arms, her eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion trumped her hunger for the moment.

He pressed his lips against her hair as he slipped into blissful unconsciousness beside his wife.

Happy Smuttastic Saturday ya'll. Hey, this chapter only took me 3 months! I'd like to finish it before it's a year old!