They left the restaurant with some haste. Alex started up the stairs ahead of him while he admired the view of her stunning backside as she fished out her key. She turned around, silhouetted in the open door of the flat.

"Would you care for a cuppa, Mr. 'unt?" she teased, in a sugary-faux-hostess voice. He could play this game. He moved close and struck as nonchalant a pose as possible, hands in pockets, chin raised, scrutinizing her in a manner that he hoped passed for dispassionate.

"I take it sweet and strong."

She grabbed him by the tie and pulled him inside.

The moment the door was closed, he had her backed up against it. She had his tie loosened by the count of four; by ten, his shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, her nails tracing down his chest.

"Tart. You didn't even ask if I take milk or lemon."

He kissed down her neck, undoing her blouse to reveal red lace. The hot and sweaty memory of an Edgehampton vault and a different red satin number flashed through his mind.

"God, I love red," he whispered reverently. "Turn around, luv." He coaxed her to turn so that her back was to him, holding aside soft hair and nuzzling at the nape of her neck. "Been lookin' forward to this, Bolly. It's like unwrapping an early Christmas present. Wonder if I still remember 'ow these things work."

Sliding off her blouse, he savored unfastening each hook of the bra. "Thought you'd be more the 'tear it open' type," she teased.

"Depends. Don't get many presents these days, figure I should make it last."

The moment it was off he slipped his hands around to cup her breasts. She placed her hands over his and leaned back into him, inhaling deeply. "Mmmm, finally."

"You're tellin' me." He squeezed lightly. "Wasn't sure I'd ever get my hands on these lovelies when you weren't either 'alf-dead or about to kill me." He nibbled at her neck for a moment while one hand wandered down to rest on her backside. "Still more to unwrap, though."

She giggled as he gently pushed her against the door again, still facing away from him. He unzipped her skirt and pushed it down over her hips, to be greeted by a sight that caused him to pause momentarily and send a fervent prayer heavenward.

"Dear Lord, if I'm to die of happiness in the next few minutes, please make it quick, because I want this to be the last thing I see."

The image of garters hooked to black lace-top stockings had persisted in his thoughts since the day they met. If he were honest with himself, her endless legs were the first things that popped into his head when he let his mind wander.

She turned to face him and he took a step back, letting her wiggle the skirt the rest of the way down and step gracefully out of it. He was treated to the full view of her in red stilettos, black lace-top stockings and garter belt over lacey red knickers. Glorious tits were just the icing on what was rapidly becoming the best cake in memory.

She leaned back against the door and arched an eyebrow. "So, have you been a good boy?"

He let out a breath of admiration. "Damned if I know, but I must've done something right."

Heat radiated from him. He discarded the tie as she approached. Running fingers and light kisses up his chest, she pushed off his shirt. God, he was like a furnace.

"You are wearing entirely too much."

She reached for his belt, but he took over, making quick work of the buckle and kicking off his boots as she continued teasing, open-mouthed kisses. She slid her hands over his muscular backside before crouching to push down his trousers and pants, finally finding herself close enough to get the eyeful she'd been looking forward to. He kicked the garments aside. She flashed a naughty smile up at him but didn't give in to the strong temptation to touch. Instead, she stood, taking him in from head to toe.

"Oh, you utterly gorgeous man."

With a single finger under her chin, he coaxed her eyes up to meet his. "Careful, Bols, I'm almost desperate enough right now to believe you."

"And well you should." She circled him now, appraisingly, and he stood still, eyes following her, obviously waiting for her to make the next move. If he was uncomfortable under the scrutiny, he didn't show it, his expression seeming to dare her to take him as he was.

Broad, strong shoulders. Just enough of a tummy to be adorable. Deliciously well-hung, no surprise there, and already noticeably hard. She'd come back to that, but first…

My God, the arse on the man. Just beautiful, the way his hips tapered down to nicely firm, round cheeks, and further to strong, fit thighs. There was ample evidence of more than a couple fights won and lost. He was a battle-scared lion, she thought, always willing to stand in front and fight for the rest of his pride, and he wore it well. Bloody hell, was that a…

"When did you get shot in the leg?" She crouched down to get a better look.

"'73, Johns train robbery sting."

Oh. That one. The reason he had gone back. He had told her he could still hear them screaming.

"Sam."

"Yeah. Saved me. All of us. Waited 'til the last bloody second, though, the smug bastard. Thought I was gonna cack it for sure."

She gently traced the scar, then stood, running her hands up his back and over the terrifically broad shoulders. He smelled as good as he tasted, her senses now completely infused with… what had he called it? Oh, yes, 'man-stink,' she recalled, amused.

She patted him playfully on the bum. "Sit," she said, pushing him lightly toward the couch. He pulled her hand with him. "Not yet. You just sit back and enjoy the show for a minute. Tea time isn't far away."

"Kettle's damn near boilin', sweet'eart. Sgt. Rock's downright parched, if you catch my meanin'."

She couldn't resist and treated herself to a light stroke of the euphemism in question, delighted to feel him firming under her fingers. "There's a good boy now. I think he can let it steep for just a little longer."

Backing away and facing him, she began to unhook garters from stockings, then slid down and stepped out of the red lace knickers. She made a move to take off the garter belt.

"Leave it. Those things give me the 'orn somethin' fierce."

"If you insist," she smiled playfully, and unhurriedly reattached the garters. Stealing a glance at him, she noticed that his hand had drifted between his legs. He brought himself to impressive hardness with a few strokes while he watched her. Holy hell, that might just be the hottest thing she'd seen in, oh, ever? She couldn't possibly hold out much longer for him.

He stretched and reclined, hands behind his head, looking for all the world like a cat waiting for his prey to come closer before pouncing. "Come here, woman," he growled. She stood between his legs, and he reached out to fondle a breast. Two fingers of the other hand slid between her legs and his eyes widened, sparkling. "Well now, D.I. No-Knickers, what 'ave we here?" She let out sharp intake of breath as his fingers brushed over a very sweet spot.

She straddled him then, wrapping her arms around his neck, finally feeling him, hard, pressed against her. "God, you're slicker than a—" the impending raunchy metaphor was interrupted by a groan as she moved her hips against him, causing him to slip into wet warmth.

"Mmmmmm, Gene…"

No turning back now.

She rose up and sank down onto him completely, eyes fluttering closed at the marvelous feeling of stretching to take him in. Sweet fucking hell, yes. He lay back further as she slowly began to move on him, losing herself in the feeling of him inside her.

She took him into her over and over, squeezing him within her each time he was at his deepest, holding tight as she rose up until he was released completely, then immediately enveloping him again in slick heat. Heavenly. So good. So right. He moved with her and they found a slow rhythm.

It was sweet torture, watching her breasts move above him. He ran his hands down her spine and back up as she continued working him, her eyes nearly closed, lips parted slightly. Her back was damp with sweat.

"Oh, do that again, please…"

"What, this?" He ran fingers down her spine again, coming to rest on her hips. She moaned and gripped him even more tightly within her, and he began to rub her arse firmly as they moved.

One of her hands drifted between her legs and she began to pleasure herself further while she rode him. Shit, the woman was *naughty.* He needed more. There was a time for softly-softly, and this was no longer it.

"You trust me, Bolly?"

"Always." Her eyes were still half closed in bliss, lower lip caught in her teeth as she moved on him, and he with her. Alright, then. Let's see if she's game.

"Good to 'ear. Now, I think you'll like this, but you let me know if you don't, yeah?"

"Mmmmm, 'kay."

Suddenly, he slapped her arse, not too hard but enough to sting, then he continued to massage her. Her eyes snapped open and she gasped, her rhythm immediately becoming faster, harder, eased by increasing wetness. He kept pace with her.

"Oh, fuck, yes!"

"You like that?" He did it again, to the other cheek this time. "Like a little bit o' rough, then? You naughty tart."

Another solid smack and she was grinding down on him, desperately. "Oh! Yes! Gene!"

"Well, you're a right little perv, aren't you? Knew you were."

He gripped her hips hard, stilling her. Their eyes met and she tried to catch her breath. "Takes one…," she panted, leaning down and kissing him hotly, squirming and squeezing him between her legs, "to know one."

He groaned. "You'll be the end of me, woman." With a burst of strength, he sat up and flipped her over. She squealed and laughed, now under him on the couch. One hand landed on a breast, and he flicked the nipple with his thumb.

"My turn."

He entered her again slowly, letting every sensation linger until he was completely immersed in her. He released a long breath and held himself within her for a moment, still but for nibbling her neck, lips drifting down to her breast. His need was excruciating, but he refused to give in to it yet. She sighed wistfully and he felt her squirm beneath him.

"Gene, please…"

His voice was soft, lips still on her skin, now moving across her chest to the other breast. "What do you want, Bolly?"

"Want you…"

"Want me to what? Say it. Want to hear it from your posh, filthy gob." The caresses continued, back up to her neck again, nipping, sucking.

"Want you to fuck me," she whispered.

It sounded as hot as he knew it would. He pulled out slowly and entered her again, taking his time, fighting down increasing desperation to drive hard and deep. "Didn't quite hear that, gorgeous. Come again?"

"Fuck me, Gene. So hard… need you…" She was practically writhing against him in her need. His lips were at her ear again, rough stubble against her neck.

"Well, when you put it like that, you little minx, don't mind if I do."

He began to move in her now, the smell of her surrounding him as he found a speed to keep the exquisite pleasure going just a little longer. One stiletto-heeled foot on the floor, the other leg flung over the back of the couch as she lay back, she was a sight to behold, her stunning, haughty face set in a look that could melt fucking diamonds.

And she was his. Completely, utterly, his. She moaned as he ground against her, and his control shattered.

He buried himself between her thighs now, over and over, able to think of nothing but the warmth, the wet; thumbs playing over the garters and the lacy tops of her stockings as he worked in her smoothly. Again. And again. She arched up against him in time. Not enough. Never enough.

"So wet… hot… Fuck! You gorgeous, bloody perfect creature." One hand again cupped a breast — a perky handful it was, bouncing to their rhythm. He leaned over and took it in his mouth, running his tongue across the nipple, followed by a lingering suck, then briefly catching it between his teeth before letting go. Then the other breast.

"Mmmmm… wanted… so long… Gene…"

The sound of her desperately moaning his name was electric. His voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "Let me hear you, luv. Want to hear 'ow you want it. Want everyone to hear you, Naughty Knickers, 'ow it feels when I fuck you…"

"Fu— Fuck! Yes! Gene! Oh, hard… harder! Oh, god, yes!"

One hand gripping the back of the couch, the other now clawing at his shoulder, she was holding on for dear life. Unable to stop herself, she bucked and shifted him just enough that she could wrap both legs around him and lock him to her, matching him thrust for thrust. Oh, yes, that was it, just like that, the pressure right… there…

"Christ, woman," he gasped. "You're strong."

"Oh, yes… there… more, I…" Pleasure was building slowly, surely with the friction of contact. She needed him harder… more…

Two rough fingers worked between them and pressed into her, adding to the pressure, and she suddenly soared over the edge. "Mmmmmm… Oh! Yes! Gene… FUCK!"

She clutched him desperately as she lost herself to the breathless euphoria that shot down to the tips of her tightly curling toes. Her senses were so heightened now that his rough evening stubble against her face drove her wild as he gruffly murmured in her ear, words punctuated by each deep drive into her.

"That's it, come for me, Alex. Come for me. Beautiful, perfect, strong, so fucking tight…" Slipping a hand under her hips and lifting her, he thrust hard once more and planted firmly into her.

She felt him move deep within and his lips landed on her collarbone as he bit down with a growl. This was true power, she knew — riding out waves of pleasure as he began to spill into her. He is mine, and I am his. "Oh, Gene, yes, fill me…"

As they regained their senses, he placed wet kisses all the way back to her mouth until their lips met and they drank deeply for a moment, still trying to catch their breath. A mellow bliss descended and they eventually disentangled. When he stretched out and collapsed back on the couch, she scooted over and wedged in under his arm. Rough hands absentmindedly toyed with her breasts.

"Jesus. I could have you for tea seven days a week and twice on weekends."

"Mmmmm," was all she could manage.

"That all you have to say for yourself? That's a first. Good and satisfied, then?"

She flexed her toes — still tingling, wow — and grinned at him. "Depends. Can you still walk?"

His chuckle was a deep rumble. "It'll take a little more than that 'fore I'm down for the count. You care to go another round?"

She licked her lips, and then deliberately kissed the end of one finger. She then reached down and began to stroke his length lightly. "Oh, you wonderful man. I have plans for you."

"You're quite the little slut in the sack, Bolly." His admiring tone was positively delicious. "Which is sayin' something, considerin' we haven't even made it to your bed yet."

'Whore in the bedroom,' she recalled. Damn, she even found that hot coming from him. And if that was wrong, she didn't want to be right.

She laughed delightedly. "And you love it, too."

"Damn right I do, Saucy Knickers." He kissed her on the top of her head, then tilted her face up to meet her eyes. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, I was lured in here on the promise of a nice, hot cuppa?" He flashed that quick, impish smile — the one she'd always thought seemed to tap directly into his inner sixteen-year-old.

"Oh, where are my manners?" she replied with feigned dismay. She stood and stretched — the stretch of the well-shagged, she thought... mmmm, that felt glorious — and padded over the kitchen. "So, Mr. Hunt, do you take your tea with milk or lemon?"

She began filling the kettle when she felt him close behind her. His hands snaked around her and cupped her breasts.

"I wouldn't say no to helpin' ya squeeze a few lemons."

"You pervy bastard."

"Oy. I resemble that."