Jones jabs the 'up' button and they wait, side by side, until the doors rush open. The elevator is vacant, and as Cuddy turns to push the button for her floor, Jones moves behind her, brushing her hair aside and leaning down to drop a kiss onto her neck as the doors close. She steadies herself with her hands on the panel, her purse falling, forgotten, to the carpeted floor. Cuddy tries desperately not to press any buttons and prolong the trip to the hotel room as evidence of his arousal presses insistently into her lower back. She moans appreciatively, his tongue tracing the line of her jugular. His hand travels slowly up her left leg, the loose skirt lifting easily as his fingers caress her thigh. She gasps when his hand gently cups her sex, and he releases his mouth to pant in her ear, "God, I love this skirt, Cuddy."

He strokes her through her panties, damp with the stirrings of arousal. "I know," is her breathless reply as she pushes away from the wall with one hand, reaching behind her to run her hand along the length of his his growing erection through his pants. He moans into her ear and she turns her head, desperately searching for his mouth as the elevator dings and the doors glide open.

"Dammit," she curses, peering around the corner and down the hallway. She sighs with relief when no one is there. She picks up her purse, grinding her ass into Jones's crotch, then pulls his hand out from under her skirt, interlacing her fingers with his. They walk down the hall as quickly as his leg will allow before she pulls out the room key, sliding it in place with a click. The light on the door turns green, and she pulls on the handle. She barely gets the door open when he spins her around by her waist, capturing her lips with his. She moans appreciatively, her back pressing against the half-open door. As the kiss deepens, he leans into her and she stumbles, nearly falling backwards into the room.

"I gotcha," he tightens his grip around her waist, guiding her inside the junior suite. Her arms circle his neck and the kiss resumes as she hears the door slam behind them. She moans appreciatively as he drags his tongue against hers in a deep, probing kiss. She kicks off her black heels, backing up until her ass comes in contact with the back of the large, leather sofa, and Jones lifts her up to rest on its edge.

"Oh, Tom," she moans as his lips travel down her neck to her collarbone. He lifts his head, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Enough with the Tom, Cuddy."

"I thought you liked the Tom," she smiles, inexplicably aroused by the sight of his glistening lips, smeared with the remnants of her dark red lipstick.

"Not when I'm trying to seduce my girlfriend," he replies.

"But that's the whole point of this game, isn't it? To be someone else?"

"Oh, really, Doctor Dean of Medicine Lisa Cuddy?" he pulls back slightly, though their torsos remain pressed together, securing her against the sofa's edge.

She glares at him, "I don't like lying,"

"You mean you're bad at lying,"

"That's not what I said."

"But you are."

"Am not."

"Cuddy…" he whines.

"Fine, House," she heaves an exasperated sigh. Greg House smiles, nodding once before Cuddy continues, "Now, how about some of that sex you mentioned earlier?"

"Yes, ma'am," he grins as he leans down for another deep, searching kiss as he bunches the skirt up around her waist, his hands gliding softly along the smooth length of her thighs.

"Did I mention how much I love this skirt?"

"I figured that's why you asked me to wear it," she pants, pushing his jacket over his shoulders as he toes off his shoes and socks.

"You are the best girlfriend ever," he replies, removing his hands from her milky thighs just long enough to shrug out of the jacket and lift his button down and t-shirt off in one fell swoop. Cuddy's hands immediately move to his chest, her fingers gliding through the sparse hair there before she pinches his nipples enticingly. House growls then, his hands lifting the hem of her top to caress the smooth warmth of her stomach. He pushes the top up, and she flings it over her head, her lips crashing back down on his as she hears it make contact with a nearby lamp, knocking it onto the carpet with a dull thud. While their tongues duel for dominance, she makes quick work of House's belt and pants, shoving them to the floor as he kicks them out of the way.

Her bra follows seconds later, and House's hands immediately move to cup her breasts possessively before he leans down to press his lips against one turgid nipple. Cuddy gasps at the sensation, clutching his back as he licks and sucks her delicate skin before trailing his tongue down to her sternum and across to her right breast. She can feel his smile against her skin as his teeth trail gently over the taut peak, and she issues a throaty laugh in response.

"House," she breathes, her hands moving to unzip the skirt bunched around her waist.

His fingers still hers as he lifts his head, "Leave the skirt on."

"What is your obsession with this skirt?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"You have your role playing fantasies and I have my hot puffy skirt fantasies," House teases.

"Really?"

"Really. Cuddy. Hours of entertainment after you wore this. Months, even," he taps his forehead with his finger.

"I haven't worn this skirt in five years."

"Doesn't matter."

She narrows her eyes for a moment, not quite understanding his attraction to this particular article of clothing.

"All right," she shrugs her shoulders, hopping down from the sofa and pulling her now soaked panties down her legs and kicking them aside. As she moves to hop back up, House stills her with his hands on her shoulders. His lip curls up mischievously.

"Turn around."

A graceful eyebrow arches before she slowly complies, turning and leaning forward until her elbows press against the sofa's edge. Behind her, she can feel House drag his hand up her thigh, pulling the loose fabric of the skirt with him until her ass is fully exposed to the cool air of the hotel room. She hears a rustle behind her as House removes his boxers, and she wiggles her ass teasingly at him, turning her head to see his reaction. Even in the dim light of the room, she can see his eyes dilating with arousal, his penis standing at attention. He is inches away from her exposed sex, staring in awe at her, his mouth slightly agape.

"I never get tired of this," he sighs.

She pushes back into him, rubbing against his erection as he clutches her hip in surprise. Arousal shoots through her as he enters her in one long stroke.

"Oh, god," she cries as her elbows lose purchase on the sofa's ledge and she stumbles forward, her sensitive nipples dragging against the soft fabric. She gasps at the barrage of sensation, her muscles tightening in response to his welcome intrusion. House waits while she lifts herself up, her left hand gripping the edge of the sofa. He begins to move then, in long smooth strokes that leave them both breathless.

She reaches back, clutching House's ass in earnest as he curls above her, his hand resting next to hers, their fingers touching. He brushes the coarse hairs on his chin across her back, and she shivers at the delicious sensation. House drags his other hand down over her breasts, tweaking a nipple before continuing its journey south to her clit. Her back arches at the contact, and her head snaps back with arousal. He pumps faster and faster, leaning forward as much as possible as she turns to meet his lips in a frantic kiss. Sweat beads her forehead, and she can feel her orgasm building quickly in her belly as she tries to pull House closer and closer into her. She can feel herself teetering on the edge of bliss as House presses his finger hard onto her clit, pushing her over the edge. He thrusts frantically until his orgasm hits, and Cuddy can feel his muscles give out as he collapses onto her back. Her arms, holding their combined weight, give out, and they both collapse over the edge of the sofa, sucking in lungfuls of air. He moves off her then, turning and sliding down the sofa to sit on the floor. Cuddy joins him moments later, and places a soft kiss on his shoulder. He looks at her, naked except for the puffy black skirt and teardrop necklace, and smiles contentedly.

"How's your leg?" she asks, still panting slightly.

"It's gonna hate me in the morning," he sighs.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

They sit in silence for a moment, content in their afterglow, until Cuddy's hand reaches up to touch the diamond at her throat.

"Thank you for a wonderful birthday, House," she says as she looks up at him.

"You're welcome," he responds, kissing her forehead, "I can't believe you drugged Wilson."

She shrugs her shoulders, "It's my birthday. I didn't want to break tradition."

House laughs; a full-throated, vibrant sound that somehow makes Cuddy feel even happier than she was before.

"You really are the best girlfriend ever," he leans down to kiss her.

"I know," she replies smugly before meeting his lips in a breathless kiss.