By the name of this story, I would think one would kind of get this, but I'm going to warn you anyway. Explicit sex scenes are going to be in this story. So kiddos (why would you be looking at an M rated story anyway...?), you might not want to read this.

James Moriarty, consulting criminal, had woken up that day feeling extremely frustrated- that sort of sexual frustration that pretty much requires immediate... attention.

For obvious reasons, he had no time for a girlfriend, and he wasn't exactly keen on doing something like that with his hench-men or various clients or colleagues. So, he had to call someone.

He decided on calling one of those extremely convenient call girl places. Pulling out the little catalogue- of sorts- for the place, he looked through the little booklet, skipping past any he didn't feel like seeing and ones he had crossed out when he had requested them. He skimmed almost uncaringly, paying no attention to their names, just the pictures. Her face hit him suddenly, the brightness of her green eyes popping out of the page and her smug smirk leaving him unnerved and even more hot and bothered than he had been before.

He immediately picked up the phone, dialing the number and requesting her immediately.

"Yes, I would like to request a Miss Violet?"

She had arrived wearing far too much for his taste.

She dropped her bag and coat at the door, acting rather like she owned the place. She pulled the elastic out of her long, dirty blonde hair and shook her head, the wavy locks draping around and falling in her face.

She smirked at his taken aback look. This girl knew what she was doing.

She strode confidently over to him, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders and folding it reverently. She could tell how expensive most of his clothes were, and knew not to muss them.

The moderately short female gripped his tie firmly in her long-nailed fist. "Bedroom?" She inquired, her slow alto tone sending chills down his spine as her eyebrows lifted.

He blinked a few times before truly realizing what she had said. He nodded towards the general area of the curved staircase. "Door at the end."

She pulled on his tie, walking backwards up the spiraling steps and down the wood panels of his hallway floor to his bedroom. She used her free hand to twist the knob and kept her eyes fixed on him with an intense gaze he couldn't pull away from.

The door slipped open easily and she pulled him in, releasing his tie and pushing him towards the bed, kicking the door shut on her way to follow him. He had barely sat on the edge of the bed when she straddled his lap, moving her hips in a slow grind for but a moment before her mouth was on his, kissing furiously as she loosened and removed his tie, throwing it to a random corner of the room. He growled, bucking his hips back up at her, desperately seeking more of that delicious friction.

She shook her head, smirking. "Ah, ah, ah, down boy. Sit; stay."

He hissed indignantly and in a quick, smooth motion, he gripped her hips firmly enough to leave bruises and flipped them, only to push her back hard against the coverlet. He undid the buttons on her tight white blouse, pushing the material past her shoulders. The luckily front-clasped black bra she wore was quickly undone and added to the pile clumped at her elbows.

He ran his lips over her pale skin, going from her jawbone, down her neck, between her breasts, and then dancing over the smooth, flat plane of her stomach.

She arched her back slightly, not being used to being... attended to by a client. Normally, it was pretty much wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, sometimes with a hand job or maybe a blow job. But no, this was different; this was so different. She had honestly never been made love to, never... ehm, attended to... by anyone. Client or otherwise.

He unzipped and unclasped her black trousers, sliding them down her legs and bringing her knickers along for the ride. Her eyes widened at the feel of the cool air of the room on her most private parts, but even more at his breath blowing across them. He glanced up at her, his total and complete confidence having returned to him.

He smirked.

She glared at him. How dare he smirk at a time like this? Remembering she was still a virgin when it came to this was the only thing that kept her from bucking her hips up to his slightly parted lips and rather forcing him to taste her.

And then he slid his tongue between her folds until he reached her clit. Her eyes widened. She breathed hard as his tongue massaged her nerves, but she swallowed her moans. He lifted his head from between her legs, murmuring in his arousal-deepened Irish accent, "Let it out."

She stared down at him, lifting a smooth brow. "What?"

"I said, let it out."

She dropped her head against the mattress, letting out a small moan.

"Louder," he ordered against her sex. She complied with a moderately loud hum. He grazed his teeth over her sensitive flesh, hissing, "Louder." She did as he said again, letting the moan go a little longer and deeper and, obviously, louder. He slipped his tongue inside her for but a split second. "Say my name."

Her eyes widened and she hissed, "God!" because the sensations he was giving her were delicious. It was getting hard to breathe, much less remember the name from her client sheet.

He smirked, but corrected, "Jim," firmly pressing his thumb against her clit while his tongue teased her entrance.

She gasped loudly, but let go of her inhibitions, growling, "Jim."

"Again."

"Jim. Jim, Jim, I… Mm… Jim!"

He pulled away, and she hissed, but was momentarily distracted by his lack of trousers or shirt and smiled appreciatively.

They moaned at the same time as he filled her in one swift, sharp movement. She raked her long, sharp nails down his chest and then moved them to his back. The green eyed girl lifted her head to nibble at the pale skin of his throat for a moment before he forcefully gripped the back of her neck and pulled her lips to his, making her taste herself a little as their tongues battled furiously.

"I trust you're on the pill," he commented, punctuating the statement with a groan.

"Every good call girl is," he affirmed, gasping at the end of her sentence.

He slid in and out of her roughly, both contributing to fill the room with their moans and gasps. His nimble fingers slipped between them to rub circles on her clit, but no. She was practiced at this, not allowing herself release.

She was close, though; he could recognize the symptoms from a mile and a half away. Then again, so was he, his breathing coming in rough gasps, when in a sudden burst of energy, she bit down hard on his shoulder. His eyes crossed just a little at the pleasure-pain sensation and they both snapped.

He came with a long groan, and she twisted her head, the urge to bite him again overwhelming. He collapsed half on top of her, burying his face in her shoulder.

They laid there for a few minutes trying to catch their breath before he rolled onto his back, scooping her with him so she laid on his chest, and slipping her bra and blouse off her arms and tossing them in the general area of where his tie had landed. She looked surprised for a moment, but he was insistent, pressing her weight firmly into him, so she relaxed.

They laid there, breathing hard for a few minutes until she lifted off of him. He hummed at this, unhappy that his source of warmth was walking away.

She gathered her clothes, picking up his as well and folding them, laying them in separate piles of his and hers on the large chest at the foot of his bed, beginning to slide her panties up her smooth, pale legs.

"Stay."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"Stay. Until I fall asleep at least."

She rolled her eyes. "I do remember reading something of that sort on your client profile." She placed her panties neatly on top of her pile. "I won't be here in the morning."

"I know."

She nodded and slid under the covers, where he had moved while she had gotten up.

She slid the covers out from under him and laid next to him, pulling the coverlet and sheet over both of them. He pulled her on top of him again, pressing her slight body against his, molding the curves of their bodies together.

It didn't take long for him to drift into sleep.