Phyrne opened the door to let Jack inside to the dim, still foyer. Without breaking eye contact, she slid her hands underneath his overcoat and gently eased it off his shoulders. The front of her blouse brushed his arm as she leaned past him to hang it up. Still gazing up at him, and not missing how his eyes seemed to helplessly drift to her mouth, she removed Jack's hat and placed it aside.
"To start with," she began, "you'll want to remove these, Inspector. You want your witnesses to know that you'll be there until the job is done." Though her voice was business-like, Phyrne let her body curve languidly towards him. After keeping her at arms' length for so damn long, Jack deserved just a little torment.
Though Jack's face gave nothing away, she knew it was likely that his own heart was hammering like mad in his chest. The sheer momentousness of his return to her home tonight was weakening her knees, as well. Dear Jack – she would make certain that he was amply rewarded for his courage!
"How long might that be?" he asked.
"As long as it takes," Phryne replied, with soft emphasis. All appearances of sultry enticement left her face briefly and she looked at him almost shyly, taking in every beloved nuance of his expression. "Interrogation…is a serious business...isn't it, Jack?"
His eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them before. "It is."
The tenor of Jack's voice moved through Phryne like a sharp gust of wind, stealing her breath and scattering her thoughts across the floor.
"A sentiment we share, then," she managed shakily. She moved a fraction nearer, and her fingers ghosted down the front of his suit jacket. "Don't forget to move in close to your witnesses, either. They might find the proximity…disconcerting."
Jack dipped his head a little, until his temple almost touched hers. She couldn't see his eyes anymore, but she glimpsed the faint smirk on his mouth. "Slow and close, even?"
Phryne ducked her head to stifle a giggle against his tie. Bless his wit! Laughter had never been a great part of her seductions, but then, Jack had never done anything strictly by the book. "I'll let you set the pace, Inspector," she replied, listing her head to look at him better. Her mouth was prim, but her eyes were anything but.
A quiet moment passed. No words were said, but Phryne reveled in the pull and sway of their bodies – so close but not fully touching – and the pulse of electricity between them. The fact that Jack was not bolting for the door, and seemed fully invested in staying, made her want to shout praises to the skies. His scent carried over her as he leaned in – a hint of whiskey, the faintest wisp of aftershave, and something masculine and uniquely Jack. It comforted and exhilarated her at once, a juxtaposition not unlike the man himself.
"Has this been helpful so far, Jack?" she queried innocently, though she didn't have fully command over her voice. "What have you learned?"
She could feel his lips move, only an infinitesimal distance from her face.
"It's been…very instructive, yes. I've learned that I need to…make my physical presence known." The rasp of his cheek, now against hers, brought a gasp from her. Her lovers usually came to her clean-shaven, with full knowledge and expectation of what the evening would entail. But this intimacy spoke of impulse, of desires no longer willing to be fettered and denied, or even simply of a man ending the day with the woman he cared for. How Jack still managed to keep his hands at his sides was baffling, but Phyrne resolved to use every tempting weapon in her arsenal to ensure that they didn't remain there for long.
Lifting a little on her toes, she spoke against the underside of his jaw, that tantalizing corner where it met his ear, and exulted at the shudder that passed through his body. She loved his jaw, whether it was set in annoyance or righteous anger, or clenching to belie the laughter that lurked beneath.
"I knew you'd be a diligent pupil, Jack. Well done." She let her nose and mouth trail down his throat, drinking him in, until she reached his open collar and let her warm, moist breath caress his skin. "That's right, you want to be close enough to breathe…down…their…necks."
At that, he gulped outright. "I try to be a quick study."
And then, Jack moved towards her, near enough that Phryne felt the pressure of his thighs against hers, and the response of her own body against the rub of his jacket. Phryne didn't quite know how she was keeping herself from crushing her body against him and pulling him to the floor, but she had the sense that if she could temper her impatience for just a few minutes longer, the dividends would be well worth the trouble.
"Good," she murmured in a light-headed haze. "And don't neglect to use your voice, either."
For the first time since he had re-crossed her doorstep, Jack hesitated. "My voice?" he asked in honest surprise.
Phryne could only laugh softly to herself. That Jack likely remained clueless as to the full extent of his natural gifts only added to his appeal. She shuddered to think what he might be capable of with a little enlightenment.
"Yes, Jack, your voice," she replied matter-of-factly. "It can have…great effect…especially when you're so very stern."
The smirk crossed Jack's face again. "When have I been stern?" he demanded. His breathing was no longer quiet.
"Oh, you've been positively a brute at times," Phryne replied, practically nuzzling against his chest. "I don't know why you can't overlook a little unlawful entry."
Jack's exhale rushed alongside the side of her cheek and on into her ear. His fingers ran into the gauzy ends of her short sleeves to cover her bare shoulders. "Of late, Phryne, I'm finding it impossible to overlook anything you do," he groaned, sounding like a man whose self-possession had at last fully abandoned him.
At that, Phryne gave up all hope of finding a snappy rejoinder. She tilted her head, he turned his, and their lips came together in a kiss that burned through her like a brush fire.
Long ago, that afternoon in Café Replique had given her the notion that Jack Robinson did nothing by halves, and now, all her suspicions were being emphatically confirmed. As Jack's lovely, expressive mouth found hers again and again, one strong hand spanned across the curve of her hip and lower, and the long, dexterous fingers of the other wound into her hair and across the back of her neck. Phryne shivered at the multitude of sensations, marveling at just how much terrain the man could cover with those hands, and all the charming possibilities such an ability might entail. She opened her mouth to invite his tongue and thrilled at Jack's prompt response. A quick study, indeed.
With nimble fingers, Phryne quickly pulled at his tie and flicked open another button on his shirt, so that she might rake her fingers across the taut muscles of his shoulders and neck and pull her body flush with his. Through her lustful, impassioned daze, she vaguely wondered exactly when it was that she had taken such a spectacular departure from her usual modus operandi. Men had always come to her like proverbial moths to a flame – she barely needed to stir from her place to bring them to their knees. And yet here she (barely) stood with Jack, clamoring to hold him closer, to claim him with her mouth, to make him forget any and all women he'd even known before.
Had he ever kissed Rosie so wantonly, urging his tongue ever further into her mouth? Perhaps once, but not for a very long time. Phryne gave an involuntary whimper of disappointment when he pulled away, but grinned shamelessly again when his lips, hot and hungry, moved down her throat. There was little chaste or respectful about how his hand had snaked under the back of her loosened blouse, or how he pressed his body fully against her, not bothering to disguise his pleasure. The fact that such a composed man held such passions was a sort of delectable secret, hers to keep and explore.
It has been easy to take the adoration and the bodies of the other men, never really questioning whether the exchange of pleasure gave them all that they required. It was simple enough to give a man an evening of bliss, but now…what she wanted to give to Jack was that and so much more. Tonight, she wanted him to feel adored. Wanted, sought, and desired. As he was.
After he made his way back up her neck, having lingered over the delicate skin, Jack stared at her. He ran a hand down her cheek, bracing himself with the other at her waist. The openness and sincerity of his look cracked her heart into a thousand pieces. "Phryne, I – I can't be a dalliance," he said as he placed his forehead against hers, covering her face with his heavy breath. "I'm not moralizing, I just – I just don't think my heart could take it."
His eyes flickered shut as Phryne ran soft fingers down his face and along his jaw, as she'd long wanted to do. Her thumb stroked across his lower lip, swollen from their kisses.
"I know, Jack," she whispered. "Darling, I know."
She took a step away from him and, with a gentle question in her eyes, glanced back at the staircase and all that lay beyond. There were other reassurances she longed to give – wordless and otherwise – and right now, Jack had inspired her to be especially loquacious.
To her delight, he followed.
Author's Notes: THE END…I'll leave the rest up to your imaginations! Thank you to all the lovely readers and reviewers of the earlier chapters, and to all the talented MFMM writers and bloggers out there – you've all greatly lessened my life productivity over the last two months. :D
Also, because I don't have anywhere else to ask to ask this – is there any way I can post this onto Ao3, too? Are there spare invitations floating around in the ether? Thanks!
