A/N: This has been written as a birthday present for my best friend (Luna Amara is her alter ego on this site, check out her extremely hot and brilliantly written stuff if you're a fan of Mr. Fox and the characters he portrays). She's generous and doesn't mind sharing this one with the world and I do have a particulary wet... erm... soft spot for this fantasy. ;) Again, might be too kinky for some... Also? I made up the venue (by the result of my recent research though, wasn't far off reality ;)) but the KitKat Club in Berlin is for realz!

Disclaimer: NO offence meant, it's all flattery and as a fantasy scenario, should be considered a compliment. If the idea of exploring fantasy about not-Jack offends you, stop reading right now.

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"I'm upping the ante."

His voice sounds firm and low in the plush room that smells only vaguely of expensive cigars and perfume, and the grip of his hand on her bare bicep is equally unhesitant as he pushes her forward. "Her."

Drawing in a shocked breath, Alice throws him a look, panic, outrage and a hint of unwitting excitement all washing over her. It feels like her body is suddenly lighter, her heart doubling its rate and her whole body tensed and wired up but she doesn't say a word. Doesn't protest. As ordered. He told her specifically to keep quiet and trust him before they entered the VIP room of the exclusive, decadent club in Berlin Mitte, one with a poker table an a gathering of men in designer suits and women wearing scraps of chiffon and sequins that probably cost more than the suits.

"Right here," his chin points to the green cloth clad table and he smirks, with the patented insolent expression that tells her he's both serious and having a lot fun pulling all of her strings.

All eyes land on her, she can feel their scrutinizing evaluation, traveling up and down her body, both of the men who are no doubt some powerful figures whose faces she can't know and of the one female player, a stunning, very pale redhead dressed in a black velvet gown that barely covers her breasts. The woman's glossy red lips curl slowly in an appreciative smile and she nods. These people don't find the thrill in playing for money, do they. Alice should have expected it, this place isn't a regular club, isn't even one of the debauched town's famous sex clubs, it's much more elegant an quiet, lacking the crowd of sweaty college kids high on crack and groping each other mindlessly. It's classier but Alice can sense the thick vibe of... sexual adventurousness, because she doubts any of the owners of the tangle of limbs in a booth they passed by would call themselves deprived. In a place like this anything goes. A place that looks just like any other 19th century rent house in the row.

She searches his dark eyes frantically for any kind of reassurance but she finds none, only dare and a twinkle of mischief. There is no telling if he's acting here, masking his real intentions like he has the expert skill to do, or if these are his true intentions, to throw her to the wolves and enjoy the show.

They were in of the loud, vast venues famous for the lack of inhibitions and limitations, oh yes. Funnily enough, the alternative of alternative DJ sets had been the main attraction for him while the concept of the dark rooms the main draw for her, to which he had laughed when she told him. You are such an exhibitionist, Alice. But it was not really that, she thought, it wasn't about her being watched having sex, it was about being seen having sex with him, being taken by him, claimed. She didn't tell him and now she wishes she did because as much as she wants to please him, she's not sure about letting herself be fucked by any of these men who she's not even attracted to, let alone the chick, as sensual as she appears.

They didn't make it to the dark room. When she felt a hand crawling up her buttock underneath her dress and another one feel up her breast underneath her arm she knew it couldn't be him, she had just seen him at the bar. A fraction before jerking away from the sticky touch her eyes found him, leaning against a column, a long drink glass in each hand, looking straight at her. And smirking.

"Why didn't you say or do anything?!"

"That's not my decision to make," his eyebrows shot up and he smiled. "I have no claim on you."

Not for the first time, Alice wondered is she would actually want him to act more possessive or if he didn't because he knew he could afford that, fully aware of the effect he has on her and the fact that she would not want any other man the way she craves him.

"Go for it if you want to, Alice."

"Would you like to me to? Did you like watching that...?"

He shrugged in an answer. "Maybe..."

This is what he's doing now, Alice thinks, feeding his newly found kink, testing how far he can really push it, push her. Maybe I would, if he wasn't wearing a fishnet shirt, she told him in the KitKat Club, making him laugh and eventually guide her out of the overcrowded space with thumping trance music and bizarre fashion style which she found more hilarious than kinky, the leather and nets and collars and chains on overeager fake-tanned bodies not her idea of sexy. His plain t-shirt and jeans and biker jacket made him look out of place there but also refreshingly manly and she clung to his arm glad and relieved that the only no-nonsense, naturally confident specimen of effortless sex-appeal within her sight was there with her.

Good choice, he congratulated her with a chuckle on the dress she was wearing, got us past the door. The dress is her favorite one, or her "lucky charm" as she likes to think about it ever since it got her his attention and interest. Your face is what got us past the door, she returned his teasing, the bouncer clearly having made an exception for them in the strict - and ridiculous - dress code. I don't think she watches TV, he commented on the woman's appearance, not the regular kind. But the posh looking pair doing door selection at this fancy home to lechery obviously do, as they welcome him with broad smiles and hand him a VIP pass, assuring of the club's key policy: discretion and nodding politely at Alice, referring to her as his beautiful lady. Alice wanted to roll her eyes at the superficiality but that was quickly forgotten when she stepped inside and the prevailing air of eroticism swallowed her, even though there was no crude displays or any hardcore action to be seen at first glance. Oh, save for a giant bowl that's more like a bathtub with two practically naked Asian girls wriggling around in rose-petal covered water.

She felt his warm hand against the delicate skin on the curve of her back and saw his smart, narrowed eyes watching her closely, the intense flame in them burning through her, her insides spasming already.

"You like it here," he observed rather than asked, smug about pushing just the right button, again.

"How did you know about this place? Been here before?"

"Does it matter?"

"Guess not," she agrees because it doesn't at all, if anything she's just grateful to his inner slut for being so adventurous and experimental.

But this, the position he has just put her in, quite literally, demanding she lies on the table arranged like a sushi girl only that it's gambling chips thrown around her instead of gourmet food, may be as far as Alice is willing to cross her boundaries, not sure if she would comply to keep the end of his deal or make a scene once the time comes for his show. But as always with him, the fear, the uncertainty turns her on, like he knows it does, the awkward upside down angle she gets to study his eyes at doing nothing to help her read his poker face even though she recognizes the intense concentration.

She didn't even have that much to drink but who needs Dutch courage with this man, Alice concludes, assessing her situation, one taken from her wildest fantasies that she'd have never expected to come true and yet there she is, reduced to a prize. It doesn't get any closer to ultimate objectification and yet… she's obeying, not a word muttered, per his earlier demand. Trust me. She has learnt this much, it does pay off beautifully with him.

She feels her red-varnish manicured toes being tickled gently and her eyes lock with the gaze of the dazzling redhead where she's seated at her feet.

"Pretty sandals," the woman comments in thick German accent but with a cunning smile and Alice clamps her thighs, realizing that she's been flashing her: he insisted that it would be no use for her to put on any underwear tonight. Did he plan this? Like a million other things that took her by very welcome surprise? Probably, she looks up to see him make eye contact with Red, the same knowing smirk playing on his lips that Alice noticed when she first saw him, back in the L.A. art gallery.

So that's his plan. Making the other male players drop out smoothly and naturally, his natural Alpha Male confidence working its magic along with the undeniable skill, the game now just between him and the other woman. Alice relaxes a little, stretching her arms up towards him and her legs towards her. Not a whole lot of experience, but she thinks she can handle a chick better under his inquisitive dark gaze than another man even if either prospect has its allures. He may not be one for being watched in particular, but he certainly likes to watch, that much Alice has learnt and he's now crafting out the script for the show he's most likely to take pleasure in, that's what it must be…

The excitement and apprehension must be mixed in equal proportions in her questioning look when he smirks at her and winds a tendril of her fair hair around his finger.

"Tough choice, huh, babe?" he taunts, the last of the bets about to be made, challenging her to make the decision and she hopes he can read her wordless pleading in her face. Alice won't back off from their little kinky game either way, that is probably not the etiquette and most of all, she can't help but want to give him anything he might demand, but she wants him more, right here, right now, the unapologetic winner at everything he does to prey on her and make his claim.

"Enjoy you prize, Schatzi," Red smiles, looking straight into her eyes. Does that mean...? Oh, okay, he did read her just right.

When his large hand curls around her throat for a deep, openmouthed kiss that's all tongue as he tosses the winner's set of cards down the table she can't decide between arousal and alarm for what is about to happen. All other players step off dutifully, including the curious Red, as he moves around the table and yanks her by the ankles towards his hips, securing her legs around them and crushing his – surprising or not so - clothed hard-on against her center.

Not. A. Word, he presses a finger to her lips. And she's grateful for the rule, the equivalent of blindfold, making it so much easier to engage in the act of being just her body, his fucktoy, his trophy, like she's fantasized about. This is her fantasy he's giving her here, she realizes, treading with the expertise of a man who lacks inhibitions and has natural take-charge attitude.

She almost wishes there was a pair of flimsy panties for him to take off of her and put into his pocket. But she's already so wet when his fingers dive underneath her dress to check for her readiness. What he doesn't know but would probably guess correctly is that she gets wet just on his smell, his mere presence, his look, before he even touches her.

In a completely brazen manner, he pulls down the zipper and his beautiful cock springs out of the fly in his jeans, his tendency to go commando whenever he can coming in very handy this time as it's becoming clear he isn't planning to get naked, as much as he's normally unphased by that.

Alice licks her lips instinctively and sees Red do the same, her eyes trained on the hardening shaft. He notices too, oh yes, he does.

His fiery glare meets Alice's and she recognizes the slight glimmer of playful naughtiness, an idea forming in his head. He's as defiant as ever when his fist glides up and down his length lazily, his other hand stroking Alice's inner thigh where her legs are open for him and dangling down the poker table.

"Want to help me out?"

It comes out more like a dare than a question and it's not directed at Alice. A bold move, she registers briefly, given that Red is a total stranger but maybe that's exactly where both the thrill and the confidence lay. It's not like cameras are rolling in the red-lit, velvet-clad lavish room and it's not like he's ever expressed much concern about his reputation anyway.

Against herself, Alice experiences a pang of ridiculous jealousy when she sees the other woman smile seductively and lean in to wrap her carmine lips around the cock that she has only known as hers, being the one to taste and feel him, but of course she knows that isn't the truth and the openly slutty approach to… sexual relations is a big part of his irresistible allure after all. She may not be the one to lick off the pungent smoothness of his precum this time, but she's got to admit that the sight of Red's eyes closing in delight and her tongue tickling the swollen head of his cock is an exquisite one, mesmerizing to her.

A hushed fuck and a few German words whispered above her head remind Alice of the eager audience, their eyes drinking in the view, both Red swallowing him greedily and her own body, spread out and not moving, her wet crotch on display to anyone who's got the right angle. The buzz from her tequila spiked favorite Margarita drinks still flows through her in a nice warm current but this isn't why she's laying there all wanton and reckless, drawing in harsh breaths and all but moaning in anticipation: he is. He's got the magical ability to push her limits and he's the reason for her newly gained conceited flaunt of the whore that lives within her.

"She's all yours," Red mutters with that sly smile, releasing his now fully hard dick from her voracious grip, the rubber rolled down neatly by her expert, perfectly manicured white fingers, chuckling at the one he pulls out of his back pocket. Oh yes, the show is what they all want, what they've been hungry for ever since he introduced their jackpot stake, one way or another.

Red has no idea how accurate her statement is, for Alice is nothing but his… property, whenever she's around him, be it on a SoCal beach or a Berlin sex club, even with holding up the immaculate all-business strict exterior in the meantime. If anything else, one highlights the other and she enjoys nothing more than lose the stern pretence with him in favor of complete abandon.

The look on his face when he turns all of his attention back to her is one she recognizes and can't get enough of: he's well aware of the effect the little show has had on her. That's right, she's getting impatient and fervent to prove her point, be the one that makes him come, the one who belongs to him and makes him lose control.

Once again, he cups Alice's pussy and seemingly satisfied with the dripping wetness, pulls her hips up and just like that, unceremoniously, no foreplay – not the physical kind – drives into her, hard, in one push.

This, being taken roughly by a man like him, being watched when he does… This is exactly what her dreams have been made of. Alice lets out a violent cry that comes out as a sob before his mouth muffles it, unexpectedly. He's hovering above her, blocking her view of the excited, gasping small crowd, thrusting his tongue against hers in the same ravenous manner his cock is driving into her body.

His unmistakable spicy taste takes over her sensory perception and forces her eyes shut. God, it's delicious, the strong cigarette flavor somehow only empasizes the addictive tang. She can't hear, can't see anything, she just feels, drinks him greedily and harsh. The room disappears in a spinning cloud of her blurry vision, all she's hearing is the hot, wet puffs of air he's blowing against her neck now that he decided to take a bite.

"A-ah!" Words don't come to her for once, not that she would dream of breaking his rules. His shoulder is solid and flexing and radiating heat where Alice's hand creeps up underneath his leather but her delight is short lived when he clasps his larger hand clasps around her wrist and pins it to the table by her head. She gets the message, it's the same as in his narrowed lust-filled eyes and rhythmical powerful thrusts: mine, mine, mine. Even though he claimed otherwise. She's his and she better behaves. And everyone else back off, unless he's in the mood to play with his little fuckdoll and test her boundaries.

The wonderful warmth of a brawny, huffing male body is lifted and Alice half opens her eyes to see him shrugging his jacket off. It hits the floor with a dull thud and she notices the slight sheen of sweat over his brow, the effort of pumping into her with the steady force, hard and deep, while maintaining all control clearly visible on his face.

Fuck that! Alice wants to tell him, wants to entice him to see him driving wildly into her for one brief moment and lose it, come inside her with the throaty sound she knows and loves. But that's not his style, the king of control will go for as long as it takes his victim to scream loud enough to leave no doubts anymore of who the ultimate winner is.

She doesn't see him look at their audience, not once, his gaze focused on her and if this is a show, he's not interested in applause. Because men like him don't need validation. They come and conquer and take what's theirs. And because she gets to be the star of this show. It's for her part he's playing along, she gets that. He must have known just how turned on she would be, that her body would arch off the table like it does now, her pelvis seeking closer contact with his hips. He pulls her up, securing her thighs by his sides, each movement now hitting the spot that barely needs to be touched any more when she's so heated up.

Her eyes do wander around the room finally, the people transfixed by the spectacle, sighing when she moans, gasping when he lets out a grunt. Their faces, their fascinated stares become one long hard look of longing and appreciation, the idea of it on Alice's hazed mind. She can no longer distinguish Red's features nor find the triumph within herself to eye her with, it doesn't matter anymore. It's just her, her primal female energy fused with her enigmatic, commanding lover who thinks nothing of taboos and penitence and restraint. It's like a raw mating ritual and the agreeable admiration that surrounds. It spurs her on, propels her to the edge in time with every powerful push and pull.

Her hand doesn't even reach her red satin-clad nipple before his hot mouth lands on it, sucking hard and biting through the fabric, leaving a wet spot where the tightened tip protrudes. This time, he doesn't stop her fingers raking through the thick texture of his hair, holding his head to her other breast. Her legs are shaking, she tries to wrap them around him at the awkward angle and he pulls her halfway up, forcefully, making her head jolt back and her throat tauten, in both surprise and ecstasy, because he's reaching yet deeper inside her and hitting all of the flushed excited flesh between her legs in just the right way, just the right places… She sees the smug smirk grace his concentrated, furrowed face, like he's saying I so own you, babe, body and mind.

And it's true, she's possessed in more ways than one right this moment, squirming and panting, the sudden violent orgasm hitting her like a blast of fire, rippling through her body wave after blissful wave and she is screaming, not knowing if his name and the fuck! You magnificent bastard! Ever gets articulated or if it's just stuck in her brain when she gives in to the overwhelming power he has over her desire and the darkest, dirtiest layers of it.

Whether he's been waiting for her to prove his point or it was her screams that undo him, she does get to see his eyes squeeze shut and his mouth fall open to let out a long ragged sigh when she hooks her arm around his neck to relish the moment, his face when he succumbs to the need and the pleasure the epitome of sex appeal and she would find that ironic if she wasn't so spent and thoroughly satisfied, still tingling from her climax.

The instant passes all too quickly and the control is back in his glimmering eyes when he opens them again, his lips twitching in an impish grin like he knows he's been very naughty and is nothing but proud of it. There's a collective sigh when he helps her off of the table, the audience murmuring their approval and enjoyment. Alice catches Red smiling and mouthing wunderbar, her gaze moving up from ogling his ass to Alice's face and she can't help but smile back: he is.

He's already got his leather back on, jeans zipped up and full, albeit relaxed, composure restored when she's still struggling to stand up without wobbling, Alice blames the cramps in her thighs and her stilettos. Not the dizzying rush of empowerment that comes from doing the unthinkable – and enjoying it.

Before his fingers get tangled in her hair when he pulls her head back for a wet, dominant kiss she sees him smile, the easy tantalizing smile that drives her crazy. This cool and calm demeanor, polite, almost friendly, it's never a warning of his voracious side. She lets him swallow her mouth, scrape her chin with his dark stubble, grateful for his understanding that she, a woman, is not a porcelain doll.

"How did you know that you'd win?" Alice hooks her fingers down his belt loops.

"I didn't," he grins. "I took my chances."

Yes, this should probably outrage her, but Alice mirrors his grin, knowing that his cockiness is fully justifiable and thankful for his instinctual, unspoken cognizance of her every little kink.

She didn't quite get to touch or see her favorite plaything, Alice remembers, grazing the bulge in his pants with her insatiable fingers. He chuckles but she knows it doesn't necessarily take hours for him to recharge the impressive stamina: the man likes sex too much to let bodily mechanics get in his way of enjoying his willing little slut, he'd just torment her longer. Alice gives him a soft squeeze.

"How did her mouth feel? When she sucked you?" She whispers, excited for the sensual details but uneasy about comparison… Of course, the bastard is never that simple. He gives her another smile, pure seduction this time.

"I think you can find out for yourself."

THE END