It was the grandfather clock that woke her, doing its thing on the stroke of 4, and immediately, even before opening her eyes, she was assaulted by the memories and the sensations of the night before.

It had been a long time since she'd woken feeling this way.

She opened her eyes, and found him staring down at her, his hand gently caressing her hair. He smiled as he realised she was awake and leant in to softly kiss her.

It was a marked contrast to the style of their intimacy the night before, a million miles from it in fact. It felt incongruous and made her feel increasingly vulnerable. Not that she was about to admit it. She pulled away from him, sitting up and running her fingers through her hair, finding it tangled and matted.

His smile widened, "Do you have any idea how hot you look when you're freshly fucked?"

It was coarse, but actually she preferred him this way. It was truer to form, it was in her comfort zone, at least where he was concerned. And if he was reverting to type she was going to do likewise.

"Hot enough to get you hard again?"

He chuckled, "Never a problem." He raised his eyes at her questioningly, "Ready for round three?"

She thought momentarily. It was probably a bad idea, but, then again, they were a bit far down the road for her to suddenly turn coy. That horse had long since bolted. She looked at him challengingly, laying down the gauntlet with her eyes,

"I am if you are, arsehole."

xxx

They were at her house, in her bed. She'd had her doubts about that, but with Grace at his, and self-inflicted urgency being an issue after the initial opener in the store room it seemed like the quickest and easiest solution. After a few moments of clothing readjustment and hair tidying they'd emerged, agreeing to meet back at the house as hastily as they could possibly manage without drawing attention to themselves, and gone their own separate ways.

And of course, everyone had suddenly wanted a piece of her. Charlie, Dylan, Louise et al. Everyone suddenly had a question that demanded an answer from her and her barely functioning, recently screwed brain. She managed as best she could but with arousal still coursing through her body, the tingling sensations of his touch on her skin, she was barely capable of stringing a sentence together. How she survived the experience she had no idea; especially when it came to Charlie who she swore could look into her eyes and see everything within, and would doubtlessly have been unimpressed with what she was planning on doing with the rest of her evening.

She'd finally made it to her office and was just gathering her things together when she heard pretty much the very last voice she wanted to hear addressing her from the doorway.

"Cons, are you alright? One of the HCAs said he saw Sam getting rough with you in the corridor."

She turned, forcing herself to face Jacob and his concerned and protective expression, feeling increasingly uncomfortable at standing before him fully equipped with the knowledge that the Agent Provocateur knickers she'd been wearing that morning were now tucked in Sam's pocket leaving her feeling naked in more ways than one.

"I'm fine." She murmured.

Jacob crossed the room, placed his hand on her arm. She only hoped he didn't realise she jumped 50 foot in the air when he did so.

"Cons, you're not fine. You're shaking. I can feel it."

Dear God. Never was a truer word spoken. But then it's easy to be shaking when you've been brutally yet passionately fucked in a store room by a man you thought you'd long since left behind. Not that she was about to admit that to Jacob.

Instead, she looked at him, and tried to look measured and cool and calm and convincing.

She was fine. She just needed to get home. To Sam.

xxx

He was already there when she arrived, having already let himself in, and had his head in the fridge as he located and extracted a beer, before disappearing into the sitting room, lowering himself onto the sofa, propping his feet up on the coffee table and opening his drink.

She stood in the doorway, eyes raised, taken aback by his cheek even after all this time.

"Make yourself at home why don't you?"

He smirked, "I will." A beat and then, "Get naked."

Her stomach lurched at his words; at the arrogance, the presumption. Naturally it irritated her to the core, but it did other things to her too.

"Who do you think you are?"

He ignored the question, instead looking her up and down, undressing her with his eyes and then repeating his earlier command. She opened her mouth to argue but he didn't give her chance before making it a third time.

"Get naked, Constance, or I finish this beer, I get to my feet and I leave." His words were chosen carefully, and his tone nothing short of just plain patronising. Again her stomach flipflopped as her skin involuntarily began to tingle from head to toe. That said, she wasn't about to fall at his feet, and comply, not straight away. That wasn't how the game was played.

She wiped some imaginary dust from the dresser beside her, "Well maybe," she walked towards him, stopping when she reached him and taking a moment to place a coaster under the beer bottle he'd left on the coffee table, "that's what I want. Maybe I want you to go."

He grinned and then coolly, calmly and without waiting to be invited reached under skirt, moving his hand between her legs, removing it seconds later and holding his fingers up so she could see the wetness on them.

"I don't think you do."

Fucker.

She turned and walked away, aware of his eyes on her rear as she did so, and then stood, out of his reach, an obstreperous look on her face.

"You want me naked? You'll have to undress me." She sounded churlish, and childlike, but she knew he wouldn't expect anything less, and when she looked at him she saw he was smiling, albeit with a hint of disapproval in his eyes.

"You," he said with a slight chuckle, "are being a very naughty girl. And you know what I do to very naughty girls don't you?"

She snorted, somewhat amused by his atrocious porn film dialogue, but yet her skin was still prickling, and she could only imagine what Sam would find if he made any further attempts at diving up her skirt again. He must have sensed as much because when he spoke again his tone was harder.

"Get. Naked. Now."

She moved wordlessly back over to him, lowering herself down so she was crouched facing away from him.

"Undo my dress."

In the silence of the room the words jarred, and she wasn't surprised when he made no attempt at obeying the command she had barked. She looked over her shoulder at him and his raised eyes weren't exactly a shock to her. She took a deep breath and then tried as second time.

"Please will you undo my dress?"

He moved his hand to the zip, sliding his fingers into the back of the neckline as he did so, smoothing her skin and sending shivers down her back that she couldn't fight. Then, there was a beat, and he finally responded,

"Please will you undo my dress, what?"

A giggle escaped her lips that she just couldn't control. If she was honest, she liked it when he got a bit power crazy in the bedroom or indeed anywhere else in the house but this was a step too far. He'd obviously been cracking open the mommy porn with one of his other women and had clearly discovered a taste for it.

She laughed again, but couldn't help noticing the somewhat high pitched giggle had a hint of nerves to it, "You have to be kidding me? What are you expecting here?"

Without warning his hand moved quickly, his fingers tangling themselves in her hair, and then using his grasp to yank her head backwards. "I think you know, Constance."

The pain was intense, and jarring, but, if she'd been being totally honest the sensation wasn't unpleasant, especially when combined with the forceful, controlling way he'd hissed in her ear. She took a sharp intake of breath and then quietly murmured the words she knew he was waiting for hear.

"Please will you undo my dress... Sir."