Hello! Just a quick A/N to say a) i am sorry for the wait, uni has been MAD and b) I was a bit weary of posting this chapter... because of reasons a lot of you are sure aware about.

NEVERTHELESS: I hope you enjoy the update and it was worth the wait. It's a gift from me to you on my Birthday! Thank you for all of the great comments so far, I LOVE reading them!

Regina gasps as her back hits the wall just outside of Robin's bedroom. His lips are on her neck, kissing, sucking, marking. And that's cheating, because she can't do the same to him, it was part of their agreement.

One night only.

No biting.

No marks.

It's a shame, really, because ever since Robin's shirt became unbuttoned all Regina has wanted to do is sink her teeth into the delightful puffiness of his muscles. So edible. Mmm. And as frustrating as it may be, these rules, she supposes the thrill of not being able to do something she so desperately wants to do is the whole reason she does this.

He took a little convincing, mind you—or more like liquid courage. Not that Robin is drunk. He's completely sound of mind, knows exactly what he is doing (mentally and physically because the way he is stroking her thigh is entirely intentional and utterly arousing). Regina may do a few things that many would disagree with, but sleeping with a man without their sound consent is not one of them.

Besides, after that second glass of wine, Robin was very sure this was something he wanted.

Robin's apartment was only a fifteen-minute walk from the bar, but Regina was glad to slip from her heels the moment they stepped through his front door. She felt a little disarmed without them on, often did, felt weaker, more vulnerable with the loss of height, but a girl can only withstand so many hours in 6-inch heels. Besides, she somehow felt like she didn't have to be so guarded around Robin.

Regina was quick to notice that the house was void of all couple-y things. She had seen a photo frame on the wall of the hallway of what must be Robin's wife and him in Paris, but as they walked into the living room it reminded her very much of a show room. Everything was meticulously placed and everything matched, but nothing was personal. Much like her own place.

Robin was calm on the outside, chatting animatedly about their surroundings, almost as if afraid to let a silence befall them, but Regina could tell he was on edge. He couldn't quite meet her eyes as he offered her a glass of wine, nor when he took a seat next to her on the couch. She almost felt guilty when she saw his white-knuckled grip on the stem of his wine glass.

So, she reached for his free hand, gave it a squeeze and said, "Relax."

And, when she caught his gaze, she added with a small smile, "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do." She wanted him to want her. Not be terrified of her.

The brunette slid closer to him, their shoulders touching before she reached up and ran her thumb gently over the stubble on his jaw. "What do you want to do, Robin?" she whispered, her eyes holding his as her hand moved around to scratch against the nape of his neck, making him shiver and inhale a sharp breath through his teeth.

"Talk?"

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

But she wanted him to be more comfortable. So she nodded, smiled and retracted her hand, letting it fall to Robin's thigh. She squeezed the impressive muscle. "Then let's talk."

Immediately the man relaxed, and the tension in the air thinned.

They talked for a half hour over a few glasses of wine, until the bottle was running thin and both felt more relaxed. She learnt that Robin is a roofer (which explains the chiseled muscles and sun kissed skin), has been ever since he left school and joined his father's trade. And strangely, as Regina sat listening to the man talk passionately about his field of work, she found that her interest was not feigned, it was genuine. She enjoyed learning a little about this man.

But as the clock ticked over to midnight Regina began to grow impatient, because she had caught the man glancing at her lips (and her breasts) more than once, but he was still refusing to make a move. So when a silence fell between them, Regina seized the moment and slowly inched her face closer to his, gaging his reaction.

He didn't move back. Instead his eyes became heavy-lidded and Regina was pretty sure he was holding his breath. She didn't kiss his lips though, not at that moment. Instead she ghosted her crimson lips over the delightful scratchiness of Robin's stubble. She followed the chiseled jawline up to his ear where she whispered, "Do you want me to kiss you, Robin?"

The man audibly gulped and after a painstaking delay he nodded. When Regina pulled back she saw his eyes were closed. "Say it. Tell me you want me to kiss you," she commanded, her hand on his thigh sliding upwards.

Robin's blue eyes flew open, his pupils dilated and the whites of his eyes slightly pink from alcohol. "I want you to kiss me, Mila."

The grin she bared stretched from ear to ear; it was the grin of a predator finally catching its prey.

And that's how they got here, pressed against the doorframe of Robin's bedroom, the very same room he shares with his wife. And they are about to fuck on their bed. Regina embraces the thrill that runs down her spine at the thought. She can taste the whiskey mixed with his wife's red wine on his lips as she sucks on his tongue.

He moans.

She sighs.

Then Robin is reaching behind her and turning the knob on the door, making them stumble backwards into the bedroom. Both are giddy and slightly drunk. She's won, she has him where she wants him, panting and stiff between the legs.

There's no turning back now.

Robin's shirt is still hanging unbuttoned from his shoulders as he kicks the door closed behind them, and it's irritating; it's getting in the way of Regina's line of sight. So she rids him of it; running her hands up his chest, over his shoulders and under the sleeves until the shirt slips away.

Attractive doesn't quite do Robin's physique justice. His skin is tight over his muscles and there's a splattering of hair littering the expanse of his chest. His biceps bulge from his broad shoulders and his stomach shows signs of a delectable set of abs with each exhale of his breath. He's delicious, a meal to devour; and boy, will she devour him.

"Mmmm, you really do have an amazing body," Regina muses in a low and seductive tone as she marvels in him. She grips his biceps firmly, letting her fingers trail down to tangle her digits with his, biting down onto her lower lip as she imagines just what his hands have in store for her. His fingers are thick, soft and long; every woman's dream. She catches his gaze and she can tell he knows what she's thinking as he smirks at her, a mischievous glint in his light blue eyes.

Regina smirks back at him, releasing his fingers as she goes back to gripping his meaty upper arms. However, as she dips her head forward to kiss his chest, Robin steps back. And, in a brief moment of dread, the brunette worries he may be backing out. But then she catches his intense gaze as she peaks up through her eyelashes and she hears him husk, "I want to see you."

His hands grip her hips firmly before slowly smoothing up her torso to cup her breasts through the material of her dress, causing a ripple of desire straight to her core. "You have amazing tits," he murmurs quietly yet with conviction. His gaze is fixated on her ample cleavage and it's almost as if he didn't mean to utter those words aloud. For a man of few words, Regina has to admit she is pleasantly surprised.

The brunette preens at the attention, letting the comment go straight to her head (which is already a little cloudy from alcohol). She chuckles softly, hooking her finger under Robin's chin and lifting his gaze to meet hers as she shakes her hair back behind her shoulders. "And they're all yours tonight," she says slowly, not missing the way his eyes dart down to her lips, that is until she is pressing her breasts further into his hands. He groans, his gaze drops and he squeezes her more fervently.

Regina bites back a moan.

Simply the way he is looking at her has her weak in the knees, and she wonders idly if he looks at his wife the same way. For her own ego's sake she is going to say that no, he does not. Because there's an excitement there, a dark glint that turns the previous cyan blue into a dark sapphire.

"Undress me, Robin," she invites, wanting more of his hungry gaze, craving his growing neediness for her.

His fingers are oddly soft for a roofer as they slip beneath the straps of her dress and slide them over and down her shoulders. She shimmies from the material until she's only in her underwear; a matching black lace set, sheer and tantalising. She stands confidently as Robin's red-hot gaze sweeps her body. She will never grow tired of the look married men give her when she is first revealed to them.

Her nipples are tight, solid pebbles beneath the see-through material and his eyes are immediately drawn to them. "A sin," he says, his head shaking as he reaches around her back and unclasps her bra. The garment falls to the floor. "An unearthly sin sent to tempt me, to capture me." His hands are under her breasts now and she's breathing heavily, affected by his tipsy mutterings. "A spider who has spun her web, and I, a willing victim, have fallen amongst the sticky threads of silk," he whispers, his thumbs sliding up and ghosting over her hardened pink flesh.

Regina's heart beats fast against her chest; he's sussing her out. He knows who she is, what she wants from him and, God, who knew the man would be so poetic about it? Yet, his advances do not stop as he twists her nipples between forefinger and thumb and tugs ever so slightly. Regina can't help but mewl.

"I'm a married man, Mila," he whispers, his eyes capturing hers, "So, Gods, why do I want you so badly?"

For a moment Regina is thrown by the use of her stage name, and she shouldn't be, of course, she's used it many times before. But she was so caught up in the moment, so convinced he had figured her out and was going to make her feel the guilt she should be feeling for being an adulteress.

But, no.

No. He's confessing his sins.

She reaches up with a new burning desire, cups the back of his neck and yanks him down towards her. Their lips are barely touching. "I've said before, Dear. I'm forbidden fruit."

Then she kisses him. Hard. With teeth and tongue and vigour.

They stumble to the bed, a mess of tangled limbs and dishevelled clothes (what's left of them, that is) and Robin takes his place above her, kissing his way up her torso before meeting her mouth. But Regina has to refrain from rolling her eyes. She hates the missionary position; it's so vanilla, so submissive.

So she pushes back on his shoulders, their lips parting with a pop. Regina looks up into his fiery gaze before hooking her knee around his hip and she uses her strength to flip them. She sits up straight, her hands planted on his lower torso.

"I like being on top," she says, a small smirk curving her kiss-swollen lips.

"Go ahead," Robin replies, all too happy to comply as he runs his hands up her naked thighs. "I can enjoy you better this way."

Regina smiles, a tight little thing, before she turns back to the task at hand. She has spent all evening trying to seduce this man and, now that she has him where she wants him, she isn't going to waste another second.

She reaches for his belt, slipping it free of the buckle so that his jeans are loose enough to tug down his muscular thighs, over his knees and off his toes. She's delighted by the tenting in his boxers—even more delighted by the size.

Robin props himself up onto his elbows, looking lustfully down at Regina as she runs her palms up his thighs to grab the fabric of his underwear. She looks up at him for the go ahead, and when he nods, she smirks, slowly lowering the material until he springs free.

Regina tilts her head, examining his length from top to bottom before reaching for him and gripping his base firmly. "When was the last time you were thoroughly fucked, Robin?" she asks, her eyes dark as she finds his.

The man blushes slightly, takes his lower lip between his teeth before letting out a defeatist breath. "About five months," he admits sheepishly.

Wow. What do married couples do nowadays? Regina will never truly understand marriage.

The brunette pouts sympathetically, shaking her head slowly as she pumps her hand up his length once and then back down again. "Poor unfortunate soul," she purrs before smirking at him as she leans forward, swirling the tip of her tongue over the head of his cock.

Robin shivers beneath her, his fists clenching at his sides as he lets his head roll back. "Fuck," he whispers.

The brunette chuckles darkly. "Don't worry," she consoles, "I will take care of you."

She takes him into her mouth, sucking on his tip before letting him slide down her tongue as far as her gag reflex will allow. The noise Robin makes is barely human, a strangled nguh! which is a combined moan and a whimper. His hand finds his way into her hair and grips tightly. Regina doesn't mind, though; in fact she rather likes it. It spurs her on even more as she begins to slide him in and out of her mouth, working up a steady pace that is good for the both of them.

She's always enjoyed doing this. Not necessarily the intrusion, but the reaction she gets. She likes it when they pull her hair. When they cry her name. When they beg her to stop because it's just too good. It inflates the ego, has prickles of pride crackling up her spine like a sparkler.

And Robin is really enjoying this, which tells Regina his wife is either really bad at this or very rarely does it. From how hard he's gripping onto the roots of her hair, she is going to guess it is the latter. She hums for effect, moans against him and sucks just a little harder. Her whole body throbs at the groan he gives in return.

Regina keeps going, faster, deeper, harder, until the man is practically whimpering beneath her. But she doesn't want him to come yet. Not like this—not when this could potentially only be a one time thing (she hopes not, she's quite fond of this one). So she pulls back, licks her lips and lets out a low monosyllabic laugh when he moans at the loss.

"I hope you aren't trying to steal me of my pleasure yet, thief," she teases, "We've still got all night."

Robin's breathless as his grip in her hair becomes looser and he caresses the back of her head softly. He lets out a soft laugh. "I wouldn't dream of it," he says, shaking his head before biting his lip and adding, "I—just—you're very good at that."

Regina laughs, making her way back up Robin's body before pushing on his chest so that he collapses back onto the mattress with a light bounce. "I know," she replies, winking before leaning down to kiss him again.

She feels his fingers on her hip, stroking softly, edging closer to where she is damp and aching to be touched. "Touch me," she murmurs against his lips and then again more fervently, "Touch me, Robin."

He doesn't need much more persuading, in fact, none at all, as his hand slides to the apex of her thighs just as he captures her lips again. Her stomach summersaults as his digits flutter over warm lace. "Mmmm," she hums, letting her lips part as she gasps against his mouth.

"You're soaked," he mutters, sneaking two fingers beyond the material of her panties and between her lips.

"All for you," she promises, letting her eyes fall closed momentarily as she keeps her composure upon feeling his finger slip up to pulse against her sensitive bundle of nerves. "Ohhh, just like that," she husks, moving her hips against the tips of his fingers as she works herself up until she's slippery and needy for more. "Condom?" she breathes, pressing both of her hands into the mattress either side of Robin's head.

"Top draw, Love."

"Mmmm," Regina hums in acknowledgement, not quite ready to deprive herself of the pleasure of Robin's fingers just yet as she continues to move above him.

But she feels empty, wants him inside of her. So she begrudgingly pries herself off of him, moving to sit on the side of the bed and reaches for the draw of the bedside cabinet, pulling it open. She has to smirk at the multiple other (less enjoyable) items before she rifles through the random tat and reaches for the box of condoms.

She throws a condom behind her and it lands on Robin's chest. Smirking, she tells him to put it on whilst she reaches down her body and rids herself of her panties before crawling back to him.

He's shaking, she realises, as he rolls the rubber over his tip, and Regina has to frown as she lays a steady hand over his. "Is this what you want?" she checks.

Robin looks at her wide-eyed. "Yes," he answers quickly, "God, yes it is. I just think it's the whiskey."

Regina laughs darkly, taking over the task at hand and sliding the condom down his length with the ease of someone who has done this many-a-time before. "Well, at least it isn't affecting other areas," she teases, gripping his base firmly to exaggerate her point as she makes her way over him once more.

Robin laughs, shaking his head as his hands reach for her waist, pulling her towards him. "I've never had a problem with that," he replies cheekily.

Regina grins, blindly guiding him between her legs. "I'm glad to hear it," she replies, before sliding his tip through her folds and lowering herself onto him slowly, letting him sink into her, inch by inch.

Oh.

It's a simultaneous sigh from both parties in harmonious pitches.

He feels incredible; stretching and filling her in ways she hasn't felt in a very long time, and suddenly she's acutely aware that this has the potential to be some of the best sex she's ever had. They fit almost painfully perfectly. She won't admit that she finds the thought quite alarming.

Regina quickly distracts herself by leaning forward, changing the angle of him inside of her, before she begins to move. Slowly at first, finding a rhythm they can both work at, before gradually beginning to pick up the pace.

Her breasts bounce as her body rocks above him, and the sheer look of desire on Robin's face is almost comical—if it wasn't so damn sexy (why is he so attractive?). It doesn't take him long before he's reaching for them with that delightfully firm grip of his, cupping and kneading them as his hips rotate up into her.

It's eye-rollingly heavenly.

He's hitting all the right spots, all the little hidden-away spots that make her toes curl and thighs twitch.

Regina moves faster, needy for more. For more pleasure, more intensity as she grinds her clit down against him with every thrust of her hips. She could come like this, but she won't. Not in time. Not when the man beneath her hasn't had sex in five months. A gentleman he may be, but he's no superman. Especially if the way he reacted to oral was any indication to future performance.

But she's okay with that.

The night is still young, after all.

"Say my name, Robin," she husks, looking the man directly in his eyes as she rides him into the mattress with a low moan.

Robin groans, an incoherent thing as his fingers flex against her breasts. He's close. He's going to come, and he's trying to hold on. Regina finds it somewhat endearing, but she has a goal in mind, and that's to make this man sin, to strip him of his morals and come at another's woman fault.

Regina's fault.

"Say my name whilst you cum." She wants him to remember who made him cum, needs to know he's thinking of her and not his wife as he chases his release.

Robin's face contorts in pleasure before his eyes are slipping closed and he's letting out a strained but oh-so-clear, "Mila!"

She feels the warmth of him through the condom as she reaches down and holds onto the base of it, halting her movements. She should be slightly disappointed that she didn't get her release like this, but he came with her name (well, not quite her name) on his lips and that gives Regina an adrenaline rush far more satisfying than an orgasm.

Well, maybe not quite, but she's not done with him yet. And from the way he is looking at her, neither is he.

Robin's blue eyes are wide and suddenly vast with guilt. "You didn't come," he states, doesn't need to question, knows he blew his load before he could make his bed partner come.

"No," she says, feeling him begin to soften inside of her already. "I didn't," she replies, slipping him from her. "But there are ways around that."

But Robin doesn't look at all consoled. "I'm so sorry," he apologises, swiping a hand down his face, "That never usually happens. It's been a long time and I have had a lot to drink…I couldn't hold on any longer. I tried—"

"Robin," Regina cuts in sharply. "Instead of blabbering on about it, why don't you actually do something about it?"

It's almost adorable how eager he is to comply, nodding vigorously before flipping them, Regina landing flat on her back with an Oomph!

"Now it's my turn to show you just what I can do with my tongue," Robin mutters, standing to discard the used condom before returning back to her immediately, determined to make up for coming too early. And it really shouldn't be as much as a turn on as it is.

Regina bites her lip as he goes straight for her breasts, latching onto her left nipple with a light bite. "Robin!" she gasps, "You said no biting."

"I did, didn't I?" he asks, looking up at her with a small smirk. But that's all he says before he's going back to using his teeth, nipping his way down her torso before licking away the small flickers of fleeting pain.

She surrenders herself to the feeling, her stomach fluttering excitedly as he grows nearer and nearer to where she is already worked up. She may not have come, but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy it.

Regina parts her legs easily for him as he lowers himself between them, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Regina has to catch her breath.

Never. Never in all her life has a man made her orgasm that many times in a row from their tongue alone. She swears there was a moment where she almost blacked out before she pushed Robin away and told him enough was enough.

She sure knows how to pick 'em good, it seems.

Regina stares blankly up at the ceiling, somewhat aware of Robin's lips as they venture their way back up her stomach and she only really registers them when they are pressed against her own. She can taste herself on his tongue.

"Well," she husks hoarsely, sinking back into the duvet as he pulls back. "You certainly made up for earlier," she teases, though the chuckle she lets out is a lot more breathless than she intended. Damn it.

Robin chuckles, and she's quickly becoming aware of his lip-biting habit as he sucks his lower lip between his teeth once more. She likes it.

"I don't usually do that," he defends, shaking his head. "Actually, there's a lot of things tonight that I have done that I don't usually do." He frowns.

He's thinking. She can tell by the creases in his forehead. But thinking is dangerous when she's this vulnerable, still gooey from her five orgasms. So she smiles, busses her lips against his and promises, "I forgive you."

She winks at him and it lightens the mood some.

That and the fact that he's pressing intrusively into her hipbone. Regina grins, pressing herself up against him suggestively. "Mmm," she hums, "Seems I am not the only one who enjoyed that, hmm?"

Robin laughs, raising a mischievous brow before asking, "Are you ready to go again, already, Slinger?"

Regina grins, gripping onto his shoulders and pulling him close. "Always."