TW: Brief flashbacks to loss of virginity with presence of guns and possible dub-con.
Explicit sex scene near end of chapter.
_
The sun streamed in through the hotel blinds and awakened Claire before her alarm. She hurriedly grabbed her phone to check for any text messages. Jim had sent her one nearly two hours after they'd parted with a simple: I'm so sorry. Breakfast at 8?
She had replied a quick yes/goodnight, then sank back into the gentle sleep in which she'd been rocking back and forth before the familiar ding had stirred her. Jim was right; the hotel bed was incredibly comfortable. She sank so sumptuously into its feathery depths that if he were on top of her she might not even move; they'd just be locked together, fucking with a pillowy soft cavern around them.
Claire stretched and was quickly aware that her pelvis was still throbbing with unmet need. She'd touched herself before drifting off of course; it was nice, but she just couldn't get there, even if she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to recreate that amazing, radiating flush of pleasure generated by his kisses in the hall. She'd groaned and given up once again. Now the ache was tinged with something slightly unpleasant... growing more unpleasant. She sat up with a jolt and hurried to the bathroom.
Oh, fucking great, she thought. What a time for THAT visitor to come to town.
But it actually was perfect timing, wasn't it? It bought her more time overall and would keep her from rushing into big decisions. Like decisions to let Jim Gordon cuff her heart and read it the Miranda Rights— which is exactly what would happen if she opened herself up to sex outside the club. He would own her. She could feel it.
Even now she felt like a puddle of useless mush as she imagined him reclined lazily in the bed she'd just abandoned, the white sheet tangled casually over his sexy dilf bod. His glasses would be off, resting on the nightstand. He'd have those long fingers running through his fine strands of silver tinged hair. And he'd grin at her with a "Come here, kiddo" and pull her to his side, placing a deliciously wet smack on her forehead and a playfully stinging one on her ass. She'd bury her nose in his neck and smell the faint notes of yesterday's cologne, and she'd tangle her fingers with those of his opposite hand. Jim's fingers were so long and thick... she'd examine them and toy with them a little, trace her tongue along the curves of his fingertips, then lead them down to her...
Ugh... this was going to be a tortuous day. Luckily with her choice of hobbies and regular contraceptive use she kept tabs on her cycle and was prepared for such an event. But it was definitely the final nail sealing the door shut on carnal possibilities for Cleveland... at least for her. Some men had those kinks or were at least tolerant, but she refused for her first time with Jim to be anything but perfect.
Claire popped a couple of ibuprofen to fend off discomfort and packed her small backpack for the day, then set to work on making theme park attire attractive. She chose black, loose-fitting drawstring pants and a form-fitting black tank with a silver dragon on the front. Atop that she threw a thin, mustard yellow muslin shirt to shield her arms from the fall breezes off the lake. She'd long since learned that theme parks required practical footwear, so she opted for a cute pair of gray and white Skechers. She braided a portion of her hair and pinned it back, leaving the remainder down. She slipped a ponytail holder on her wrist though, knowing her hairstyle would have to adjust depending on which coaster she was tackling. Just as she was finishing some sexy, smoky makeup to make the look a bit more enticing, she heard Jim's firm tap on the door.
"Ready to scream, sweetheart?" he greeted her with a huge grin. He wore a thin striped sweater in hunter green and black with tight chino pants. The sweater was ribbed and looked incredibly soft— perfect for snuggling against all day, although she'd never seen Jim Gordon in an outfit like that before. She felt special, seeing this side of him— the side that was casual and carefree and full of smiles. Her hand sought out the textured stripes, and she returned his greeting with a kiss, unable to stop herself.
"I'm so excited," she replied. "Thank you for doing this for me."
"My pleasure, Mistress. You'll take care of me if I regret it though, right?"
Claire squeezed his neck. "Of course, baby boy."
XXXXXXXX
"Oh, my god." Jim's hand squeezed hers, and he stopped in his tracks the minute they passed through the entry gate. His chest and stomach visibly began the dancing wave they fell into whenever his brain started to panic. Claire giggled. She recognized that classic Jim move well now; it was the same wide-eyed, breathless gasp he gave her whenever she lifted some new instrument from the wall at the club. Hopefully he would warm up to rollercoasters just as easily as he did to BDSM implements. The mammoth tracks towered into the sky, forming an imposing landscape of intimidating arches, zooming cars, and a soundtrack of screams. Claire could feel the beautiful adrenaline already and picked up speed, dragging her reluctant Commissioner behind.
"Maybe start with a game?" Jim suggested. "I could win you one of those giant yellow gorillas? That's your favorite color, right?"
"And lug it around on rides all day?" Claire laughed. "Come on, Jim. You'll be fine. We'll start with Blue Streak, okay? It's supposed to be pretty gentle."
"Like a beginner flogger," he quipped.
"Exactly."
He took a deep breath and followed her into the line for the first adventure of the day. Claire absolutely reveled in his facial expressions as they barreled down the first drop, watching the wind whip his silky brown hair back from his face. He'd secured his glasses with a strap she'd bought him in advance of the trip, but he white knuckled his restraints so tightly the veins in his pale hands were straining.
Claire tore her gaze away from him long enough to close her eyes and enjoy the feeling of soaring and freefalling... her favorite sensation in the world. It was the only instance where she'd surrender her control, letting her body be at the mercy of forces she could never hope to stop. She loved the blissful surrender, the pressure closing in on her and owning her body's reactions. It dawned on her as the two minutes came to a screeching stop that Grace described sex with her Doms almost exactly like that. Why was giving control to wood, steel, and chains propelling her at 40+ miles per hour so easy, but giving into a person as gentle and sweet as Jim so fucking hard?
Claire heard his heavy breathing and tiny little groans beside her as they awaited the lifting of restraints.
"You okay, Jim? That's one's been around since 1964... it's a classic. If that one did you in, you may be in trouble..."
Jim shook his head. "No, I'm okay. It was good, actually. I can do this." He was ghostly white, but Claire appreciated his dedication. She showed him as much when they reached the bottom of the platform, pulling him quickly into a nook created by the stairs and sealing her lips to his. Her fingers traced the pulse point in his neck and enjoyed its rapid signaling of his thrill. She suddenly wanted to draw it into her mouth, and she was about to do just that when they heard a young man's voice.
"Move along, please."
Claire and Jim looked up to see a skinny kid in his Cedar Point shirt nodding like a bobble head in the direction of the walking path. They both giggled and scurried away toward the next ride on Claire's list.
"How long since you've been been chased out of a place for making out in public, Daddy Gordon?" she teased.
"Too long to count. But I can count how long it will be before it happens again." Jim grabbed her and backed her up to a basketball shooting game that hadn't opened up yet, pushing her to perch on the grassy ledge. Claire let out a moan and allowed his tongue to rove over her lips for a few moments before reluctantly pushing him away.
"You're going to get us kicked out," she reprimanded him with a slap to the arm. "I've waited my whole life to be here, so behave, Toy."
"Yes, Mistress," he replied cheekily. "I'll behave like a good boy."
You're so fucking hot, Jim Gordon, she thought. She really wanted to give him a reward later. He'd been so turned on last night, kissing her like that, then having to drop everything for work. He deserved to have a release.
So do you, Claire. What's it been? Four weeks? Maybe more?
"So what's next on the list, kiddo? Give me a tough one. I can handle it." He dug his park map out of his pocket as he started walking and perused it over top of his glasses. "How about this one? 'Top Thrill Dragster... 0 to 120 mph in only four seconds.'"
Claire's eyes widened. "And 0 to 120 is exactly what you'd be doing going from that rickety little classic we were just on to that one. That's like moving from a flogger to a whip."
Jim's face perked up, his eyebrows doing a little dance. "So should we try the whip when we get home?"
She laughed and picked up her pace, pulling him behind. "Let's get through coasters today, and then we'll talk whips."
So they did— moving through the list one by one, the looks of panic on Jim's face still as adorable as the first time. Once his breath would settle, his face would melt into a grin, and he'd pull Claire in for another kiss, growing more and more intimate each time. After their fourth ride he held her body flush to his, nibbling her lower lip with his teeth.
"Who knew thrill rides were this sexy?" he mused into her mouth.
"Me," Claire replied. "All that adrenaline and euphoria."
"Would be nice if it came without the neck ache and the indigestion though," Jim added with a wince.
Claire gave him a sympathetic hug and suggested they take a break. She patched him up with some ibuprofen, antacids, and a soda, then they were soon at it again. She was almost as elated over his giggles and enthusiasm as she was over her own delicious thrill. Experiencing these things with someone she cared about made them a million times better.
With Jim's arm securely around her shoulders they sauntered to the Giant Wheel— Claire even needing a little break at this point. She snuggled against his side as they gently soared to 145 feet, gazing down at Lake Erie below. She nuzzled her face into the soft ribbed cotton she'd craved all day and sighed contentedly.
"So is it everything you wanted, sweet girl?" Jim asked her. Claire felt his chin graze the top of her head affectionately, and her arm settled around his waist. She loved this particular pair of pants— they were very faintly striped with vertical lines to contrast the horizontal stripes on his sweater, and they pulled tightly around his firm thighs and large package. It was hard to resist her urge to fondle him right here in the Ferris wheel, but again, she didn't want to be thrown out of her dream vacation.
"It's perfect, Jim. Nobody's ever done anything like this for me before."
His slender but strong arm squeezed her tightly. "While I would love to bask in the credit, I wonder if you've just never told anyone what you wanted. You're a tough nut to crack, kiddo."
Claire watched the brightly colored dots of rides and midway games slowly become bigger as their car began its descent along the Giant Wheel. "I know, Jim," she said softly. "Thanks for sticking with me."
He was silent for a few moments, and she could hear the whirrs and clicks of the ride gears twisting and grinding. When he finally spoke it was shaky, as if he feared the consequences.
"When I ask this, Claire, your answer won't change anything. I'm in this, and I'll keep being patient. But why exactly am I being patient? What are we waiting for?" Jim lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes dancing over the rail of the gondola as if riders in adjacent ones might be listening. "And are you having... um, orgasms with other people? Because obviously you're not with me. Do I not do something the way you like it? Because I'll change... I'll learn. Just say the word. You're always so good to me..."
God, why is he so perfect?
"It's definitely not you, Jim. I just decided a long time ago my sex life would be a simple exchange, and with you it's not. I crave more. I want more... more of this..." Claire gestured around with her hand at the landscape below.
"More trips to Cleveland?" Jim asked wryly.
She giggled. "Not necessarily. But just more of everything with you. I want us to mean something, I guess."
Jim sat up rather dramatically and shifted to face her, taking both her hands in his eagerly. Claire stared down at how tiny her own seemed when wrapped in his long fingers. His hands radiated warmth against the chilly, high altitude winds.
"Me too," Jim agreed. "So let's do it— let's mean something. We won't just be Mistress and Toy anymore— although we'll be them too, of course. But we'll also be us. You and me, and all the roles that come with it."
"It's not that easy, Jim."
"It can be, if you let it. What do you need from me?"
Claire closed her eyes and concentrated on the downward pull of the wheel, once again thinking of what a relief it could be to relinquish control to something bigger than herself and just enjoy the ride. But steel and screws and pulleys and levers couldn't break her heart.
"I'm not exactly sure, but I'm willing to figure it out," she answered. "Can you hang with me?"
"Well, I'm hanging with you right now, quite literally. But yes. Whatever you need, Claire. But... just to clarify... you're not sleeping with anyone else?"
Jim's quiet confidence shifted into uncertain vulnerability, and Claire's heart fluttered at the sweet blue eyes that sought her reassurance. She leaned in to kiss him, cradling his head close to hers. She heard him let out a sigh of relief at her still unspoken answer, her kiss obviously communicating more than she thought.
"No one else, Jim. In fact I've given myself a very unpleasant case of blue vulva." She bit her lip in embarrassment and watched his face flush.
"That's a thing?"
"Yes. I Googled 'can women get blue balls' and apparently that's what it's called."
He snickered. "Can't you just, um...?"
Claire shook her head miserably. "It's not working."
Jim laughed harder now, and Claire furrowed her brow.
"I'm glad you find it so amusing," she said dryly. She gave a playful punch to his side.
Jim massaged her back up and down and let his hand trail down to her hip, squeezing her flesh. "I don't find your suffering amusing, just your stubbornness. Let me take care of you." He took a nosedive into her neck and slid his hand up her inner thigh like he wanted to fix the problem right there in the Ferris wheel. Claire's breath hitched with his fingertips in the crease of her thigh, but she grabbed his hand and stopped him.
"I can't."
"Yes, you can." Jim dropped his voice to a whisper again. "I won't stop until you cum all over me— mouth, hand, cock— whatever you want."
Claire felt a heat wave at his dirty words.
"No, Jim. I literally can't. Not this week. It's, um, bad timing." She could feel her cheeks on fire. It was so silly. She was a well-educated, professional Mistress— bodily processes didn't phase her. But she was like an adolescent around Jim, awkward and unsure.
He seemed confused for a split second, but then his eyes widened. "Ohhhh. Okay. Sorry, it's been awhile since I had to think about... those things. There's gotta be some way though. Toys? Did you bring any?"
"Jim Gordon! I'm not going to have our first time be like that."
A smile a mile wide spread across his face. "First time? You think about it that way?"
Claire lowered her eyes to the metal floor of the gondola. They were nearing the end of their final descent, and she knew once they disembarked she'd lose any level of comfort they'd gained so high off the ground.
"Yes, I do," she answered softly. "When Jim and Claire have sex... I want it to be amazing. I need it to be. My first time was..." She felt a nauseated lump forming in her throat. She certainly wasn't a girl for motion sickness, especially on a Ferris wheel. But her mind was suddenly bombarded with images that simultaneously reviled her and increased her already agonizing arousal.
A 629 revolver thrusted in and out of her eighteen year-old cleavage while cold, beautiful eyes gleamed with pleasure at the sight. Sweat beaded on the older man's smooth cheek and trickled down to rest in his dark, sexy stubble.
"Do you like life, sweetheart?" a callous but tantalizing rasp asked her.
Claire could taste the salty tear as it slid over her top lip and into her panting mouth. "Yes."
She felt the merciless pull of leather on her delicate wrists as she writhed beneath Stan's tongue. Her arm sockets ached with the haphazard restraint he'd rigged with his belt. He threw her onto her stomach, commanding her ass in the air, then he plunged into her without warning. Burning... searing... tearing... but he was so damn hot. So thrilling. The adrenaline masked her pain and confused the blurry line between fear and pleasure. She screamed, and he covered her mouth roughly with his hand. Stan encouraged her... called her 'sweetheart' and 'angel'... pulled out, then slammed into her again.
"It hurts, Stan!" Claire cried.
"Daddy, Pet. You will call me Daddy tonight."
Jim's hand rubbed her knee, his head lowering to search her face. "Are you all right, Claire?"
She jumped and nodded. "I'm fine." The door to the gondola swung open, and she took off like a caged bird at the opportunity. Jim shuffled behind, his face still awash with concern.
"You know what?" she called back to him. "I could really go for a cheeseburger. How about you? A big, juicy one and some hot, crispy fries. We could share a milkshake?"
Jim gave a small smile. "What's this? Mistress permitting me to eat junk food? And joining me in the debauchery?"
"Hey, I splurge every once in awhile," she laughed. "All the deprivation makes it taste that much better."
Jim caught up to her and slung his arm back around her shoulders. "In that case, my dear, you should taste like ambrosia of the gods when I get to enjoy you again."
"Didn't I the first time?" Claire teased.
"Point taken. But this time you might taste like ambrosia tinged with chocolate milkshake and that's even better."
"Oh, my god— stop turning me on, Daddy Gordon," she groaned.
XXXXXXX
Following their cheeseburger indulgence, they played a few games. Jim didn't try for the big yellow gorilla but did win something in her favorite color— a small flower pillow with a yellow smiley face center, surrounded by rainbow petals.
"I love it!" Claire exclaimed, jumping into his arms. Jim chuckled, amazed to see her face light up at something so silly. But she told him it would earn a spot at the center of her bed, which is more than he could say for himself at this point.
They tackled more coasters after that, each one filling him with more adrenaline, which had the unfortunate side effect of making him horny. He felt invincible after soaring to 310 feet, flying through the air at 90 miles per hour— through tunnels, heading straight down toward the water, plummeting down toward the highway with cars zipping by...
God, he'd loved that night in Batman's ride. He sure would love to do that again. How much would Claire have loved that? Actual danger... unpredictable, superhumanly fast... Jim adored the feeling of power that came with conquering fear. Clearly he shared that trait with this woman that had him so captivated. His elation translated into an adolescent need to show her how much he wanted her... on every picnic table, near every midway game, in the shadow of every coaster track. They were interrupted by a manager this time, who tapped on Jim's shoulder.
"Come on, man. This is a family place. Aren't you a little old for this mess? Don't make me call security."
Jim gave a quick flash of his badge along with a smirk and pulled Claire along with him to a funnel cake stand, leaving the huffing and puffing manager glaring behind them. It was probably a foolish thing for him to do, but Claire made him feel like a kid again. And Jim was never much for stunts like that even as a kid. It was pretty damn fun to make some dumb decisions for once, and to hear her giggle reverberate through the night air as he fed her a mouthful of sugary dough. He grinned and licked rogue traces of powdered sugar from the corners of her mouth. This was one of the best days of his life, hands down.
They returned to the hotel just before nine that night— exhausted, feet sore, and floating on a cloud. They'd hit every single coaster in the park, even the terrifying and record-breaking ones, and Jim wanted nothing more than a shower and to collapse in that amazing bed with Claire, even just to sleep. He gave her another long kiss goodnight in the hallway, hoping a similar passion to last night might convince her to stay.
"Sleep with me?" he asked in between tender kisses to her nose, cheeks, and chin. He tried to keep his tone reserved and not resort to begging. "Just sleep. I promise."
Claire smiled. "Let me shower then we'll see."
Jim tried to focus on the incredible feeling of a hot shower on overtaxed muscles and not let himself become too eager, for fear of disappointment. He toweled his hair and ran a razor over the stubble that was starting to creep up along his jaw, then gave his mustache a little trim. He spritzed himself with his classic cologne and gazed at his reflection, towel around his waist. He never really gave too much thought to his appearance one way or the other before... he was just Jim. Average, not too shabby, but nothing to write home about either. He always defined himself by what he did, not what he was. But now that he took time to really focus, to examine all the multiple parts coming together to create the man reflected in the mirror, he liked what he saw. Claire... Mistress... kiddo... whoever she was— she looked good on him.
Her knock at his door startled him and came before he had a chance to trade in the towel for pajama bottoms or even shorts. His jaw dropped the minute he opened the door. She was in silky mauve shorts trimmed in pink lace and a matching bra beneath a sheer pink tank. The shorts were tiny and gave the illusion of her petite legs looking impossibly long. The bra held those perfect breasts together and lifted them up like a present she'd wrapped just for him. On her feet she wore white platform heels with a delicate ankle strap. Her hair was blown dry but just a tad damp, tousled, and framing her heart-shaped face with its glossy, kiss-me lips.
"Damn it, Claire," Jim muttered. "I said 'sleep.'"
She clicked the door closed with the toe of her shoe, then slid her fingers beneath the waistband of his towel, sending it to the floor. Jim made a move to cover himself, taken aback. Speechless, he waited for her to grab him, have her way with him, but instead she prowled to his bed and slid backward into its soft depths, those enchanted hazel pools never leaving his blue ones. Claire rid herself of the tank, then the silky, lace trimmed bra, her beautiful globes splaying outward a bit with a delightful jiggle as they were freed. Jim felt himself salivate at the sight of her nipples, dark mauve just like those tempting little shorts. She reclined back and propped up on her arms, the soles of her platforms resting on the comforter.
"I... I thought you said you couldn't," Jim stammered.
"I can't, baby boy. But you can. You've been such a good boy today. Making me so happy."
"What do you want me to do, Mistress?" Jim felt the shift into subspace like the turn of a dial. She was in his hotel room, on his bed, and he'd walk through fire to keep her there, if that's what it took.
Mistress let one hand drift up to fondle her own breast, lifting it, twirling it a bit, then pinching her erect bud. Jim let out a labored breath.
"Fuck my tits, Pet. Use them however you want. But only my tits, unless I make a move otherwise. Understood?"
Jim could hear his own heartbeat like thunder in his veins. He didn't fully understand what "fuck my tits" meant— would that even work? But he would sure as hell try. "Yes, Mistress."
"Good, Toy. Now come over here. It's playtime."
Jim lunged onto the bed, catching himself at the very last second before he ran a hand up the smooth skin of her thigh. He would have earned himself a punishment with that move. Just tits, she'd said. He reached out with both hands to caress their sides — the skin there like polished suede. His fingers tightened down on the bell-like globes, the neurons firing in his pleasure circuits at their familiar, comforting squishiness — like adult play-doh he wanted to manipulate for hours. His eyes fixated on the bow of her mouth, and he fought the powerful urge to kiss it. That was off limits too. This might be harder than he thought.
"Do you not know how to get started, Pet?" Mistress asked teasingly.
"Do I just... literally fuck them?" Jim replied.
The pert little pink bow of her mouth softened into a smile, and she slinked back against the pillows this time, lifting her breasts together to create a channel.
"I'll hold them for you, sweet boy. You just concentrate on pleasing that hard cock with them— any way that feels good."
Jim shuddered at her words... so very dirty yet so sweet and humble and supplicating at the same time. He nervously situated himself between her spread legs and lowered down, gripping his shaft firmly with a couple of strokes to ensure its rigidity before giving it to his Mistress. He pushed forward into the slit she provided, feeling his pearl of precum deposit onto her skin at the first sign of friction. Mistress lifted her generous tits even higher, securing them around his cock now and creating a true cocoon for it to play in. Jim felt his eyes roll back in his head. Just when he thought nothing could get any hotter with this woman, she surprised him again.
"Fuck, Claire — this is hot," he mumbled, his eyes fixated on his inches disappearing into his favorite thing in the world.
She landed a smack to his cheek in a swift reminder that she was Mistress.
"Sorry!" Jim hissed.
"Keep going, Toy." She tilted back so she was on a more reclined angle, causing him to squat forward further and get more of a workout, but he was also able to slide further. His cock veered dangerously close to her chin with each thrust. Jim feared if he let it bump, she'd count that as him using another body part for his pleasure. She cocked an eyebrow and seemed to dare him, but he didn't take the bait. With a satisfied smile, Mistress began pushing her breasts together harder, making sure to engulf his tip in a tighter space now. She used her soft globes to massage the sides of his shaft, sliding them side to side a bit to create more friction.
"You like that, baby boy? Fucking your Mistress like this?" she whispered.
Jim whimpered in the affirmative, his muscles beginning to ache from the theme park and all the added strain of keeping himself in position.
"You like my tits, Pet? Tell me how much."
"I love your tits more than anything, Mistress. Thank you for letting me fuck them."
"You're welcome, Pet. Since you thanked me so nicely, you can touch my mouth now each time you come forward."
Mistress parted her lips and slid her tongue out to catch Jim's tip as he eagerly surged upward, the slit she created hugging his shaft, his loads of precum now being lapped up by her wet tongue. He resisted the natural urge to close his eyes in ecstasy, instead opting to enjoy the incredible porn they were creating with this new act. Each thrust brought his tip further past her lips, and Mistress began greeting each entry with a gentle tug, suck, and lick pattern before he retreated back into the tight but soft squeeze of her huge breasts. He felt and heard his balls slapping her stomach with each surge.
"I'm going to cum soon, Mistress. I can't help it," gasped Jim.
"Cum baby. Let it all go. On my tits or in my mouth— you choose."
Jim soon chose tits, the prospect of the forbidden mess causing his load to tingle and tighten in his sack like a flame rushing down the visco fuse of a firework. His eyes drilled into the sight of his tip, swollen and nearly purple with pent up arousal, disappearing into the cavern of her breasts and then reappearing at the top, being met with one final swirl from Mistress's shiny wet tongue. That was all it took, and Jim retreated back to hold his shaft as it sent a milky white stream between her dangling tits, across her chest, up her neck. It draped like broken strands of pearls decorating her flawless skin, each shudder of his cock adding one last pearl to the bunch until his body collapsed in a heap beside her.
"Rub it in, baby boy," she whispered, her fingers toying with a strand of his hair.
Jim's hand shook a little, but he did. "Like this?" He massaged his load into her skin tentatively at first, but soon realized it felt just like putting lotion on her beautiful body.
"Mmm, just like that, Pet."
"Wow," he marveled. "Just... wow." Now that he'd experienced that, Jim thought it might be his most-requested reward. His mind swerved quickly to how he might offer her some relief in spite of her predicament, but Claire was already out of bed, those spiky platforms crossing the hotel room to retrieve her discarded bra and top.
"You're not leaving, are you?" Jim's voice came out in a rather embarrassing squeak.
Claire just smiled. "Yes, Jim. I have my own room."
"No... please." He was begging, but he didn't care. He'd take the last few minutes back if he had to, if it meant he could hold her all night... smell that dark, mystical perfume, show her how much he...
"Patience, Jim," she reminded him gently. "I made sure to take care of your needs, didn't I?"
Jim shook his head like a stubborn boy. "No. That's not all I need."
Claire crossed over to his side of the bed and pressed him firmly back to the pillow with her hand to his chest. She lifted the white hotel sheet over his tired body and fluffed his pillow a bit behind him.
"Sleep, Toy," she commanded. Her fingers fiddled under the lampshade until she extinguished the light, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "And sweet dreams, my sweet Commissioner."
And with that she was gone... in that maddening way that left him both furious and desperately in love with her.
