Author's note: Warning: there will be a lot of smut in this chapter. More than usual. Smutty smut. You have been warned. If you don't feel like it, feel free to skip this chapter, but this is how it wanted to be written.
As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!
Enjoy!
Detective Inspector Jack Robinson walked through the doors of the Windsor hotel, frowning. Inside, he asked someone for the directions to the bar and dining area, and with a quick thank you, he walked on through the marble hallways of the hotel, following a soft tinkle of music. He couldn't help feeling a little confused. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why Phryne had asked him to meet her there, but that was what had happened: she had called him up a couple of hours ago with nothing but the cryptic instruction to meet him for dinner at the Windsor at eight. Before he could ask her why, or protest that the cost of dining at the Windsor was ridiculously extravagant, she had hung up, leaving him to roll his eyes at his empty office. After some deliberation, he had decided that going along with it would be easier than calling her back and arguing over the phone, so here he was. He planned on looking for her and asking for an explanation, and, if at all possible, get her out again after a drink or two. If she was adamant, he would (he sighed inwardly at the thought) buy them dinner, just this once. After all, they didn't often go out to eat. Letting her pay for dinner was, of course, out of the question.
When he entered the dining area, Jack was grateful that he had had the forethought to go home and change into his tuxedo – the assembled ladies and gentlemen were all dressed very formally in their finery. At the door, he was stopped by the maître d'hotel, who asked him for his name.
'Detective Inspector Jack Robinson,' he said, out of long habit.
'Ah, yes, sir. I have been instructed to give you this.'
He held out a folded piece of paper, which Jack took from him, completely mystified. Were these the usual proceedings when one dined in a place as high-end as the Windsor? He opened the piece of paper. Inside, there was a message to him, unsigned, but written in the unmistakable elegant hand of Miss Fisher.
Play along.
He stared at the words. What on earth…? He didn't have the faintest idea what she meant. Play along with what? He looked around, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and a frown settled between his eyebrows. What tomfoolery was she up to now? He crossed his arms and looked grumpily at the maître d'hotel, who was waiting politely until he was ready.
'Anything else you can tell me about this message?'
'No sir. Only that a lady handed it to me and said I was to give it to you upon arrival.'
His scowl deepened, and the man seemed to hesitate.
'What is it? Out with it.'
'Well, sir, it's just that… The lady gave me a second instruction. She said that, if you seemed reluctant after reading the first message, I was to give you a second one. And, well, you do seem a little…'
He rolled his eyes. 'Fine, hand it over.'
The second piece of paper read: Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud. How well she knew him. He suppressed a smile and turned to the maître d'hotel.
'Alright,' he sighed resignedly. 'Let's have the worst. Where is she?'
'Straight through that door, sir. She is waiting for you in the bar.'
Upon entering the bar, Jack was a little awed at the splendor of the room. A high ceiling, intricate gilded moldings and elegant furniture combined to create an atmosphere of subtle luxury that was heightened by the warm, pleasant lighting and the sound of soft jazz in the background. He looked around a little awkwardly, and immediately spotted Phryne, sitting in an elegant chair at a small table, resplendent in a magnificent silver dress he had never seen before. Feeling a little out of place, he quickly hurried over and dropped into the chair next to her, but when he turned to her she gave him a look of surprise that confused him. Had she not expected him to show up?
'So, what's happening?' he asked.
She looked at him with a politely puzzled smile. 'I'm not quite sure, but I do like this development.' She held out her hand to him. 'Phryne Fisher.'
He stared at her. Then, her written message came back to him, and everything suddenly clicked into place. He sighed, and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Why me?
'Is everything alright?'
He turned to see her looking at him with a clear, impersonal gaze, no hint of laughter or mischief in her eyes. He wondered for a moment why she wouldn't have told him beforehand that she was going to put on this little charade, then immediately answered his own question. She knew I would refuse, and wouldn't show up. He had half a mind to refuse to 'play along' even so. This was not his kind of game, and he considered simply telling her that he wasn't playing, and just wanted to spend a nice evening together over dinner. Then he remembered her second message. He hesitated. Maybe he could at least give it a try.
He took a deep breath, then held out his hand to her, feeling slightly ridiculous. 'Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.'
Her look of utter delight as she shook his hand told him that he had done the right thing. She leaned back in her chair to observe him with that flirtatious look he knew so well. 'A man with authority. I like that.'
'Yes, well…' He didn't know quite what to say. He had no experience with these kinds of situations. It had been alright to banter with her in the course of professional interactions, but Jack knew he couldn't flirt if his life depended on it. Luckily, she seemed to grasp his difficulty, and came to his aid.
'I happen to be a detective as well. Private, of course. It's funny we've never met before, seeing as we're in the same line of work.'
'Yes, imagine that,' he said drily. At that moment, right on cue, two glasses of champagne arrived at the table, and he took one with a feeling of relief. When he glanced at Phryne, she gave him an almost imperceptible wink, and he pulled down the corners of his mouth as he sipped his champagne. It helped; he started to relax.
'So, Inspector, do you make a habit out of dropping into unoccupied chairs in hotel bars?'
'Only when they are next to lady detectives,' he replied.
'How did you know that's what I was?' she teased him.
'Instinct,' he muttered into his glass. Then he asked her a question in return. 'And what about you, Miss Fisher? Do you make a habit out of drinking alone on a Friday night?'
'No,' she sighed. 'But my companion just called to tell me he had to cancel. I was just thinking about retiring to my room, when you came in to rescue me from a horribly tedious evening.'
She smiled at him, but something she had said had caught his attention. He cleared his throat.
'Er… your room?'
She flashed him a wicked smile. 'Yes, I'm staying at the Windsor for the moment. One of the suites. Very comfortable.'
He could see that she was trying not to laugh at the expression on his face, but his mind had gone into overdrive as he suddenly realized what her plan was. He hesitated for a moment at the thought of the expense, then decided that she could do with her money whatever she liked, he didn't care right now; the prospect of that suite (the novelty of the situation, and complete privacy) was extraordinarily appealing. But in their current game, he knew she wouldn't allow him to get there without trying – he would have to win her over. He gave her a half-smile and a bold look, and she knew that her challenge had been accepted.
After a second drink, Jack noticed that flirting with Phryne wasn't at all as hard as he had thought it would be. She was the perfect companion: smiling, teasing, drawing him out of his shell with every question, every remark, and he soon found himself smiling back, easily making light conversation. He noticed, to his own surprise, that he even managed to be charming in his own, slightly cynical way. They talked about little things, the champagne, the music, the other people in the room. They asked each other questions they already knew the answer to, because it made them laugh. After a third drink, Jack rose and asked her formally if she would do him the honor of dining with him. With a smile, she accepted his invitation, and when he offered her his arm, she let him escort her to the dining room.
The dining room was larger than the bar, but equally splendid. The light was a little brighter, the music a little louder, coming from a small live band at one end of the room. They were directed to a table for two by the ever-professional maître d'hotel, and Jack's wartime French stood him in good stead as he looked over the menu and realized that English was apparently deemed too mundane a language to properly convey the exquisiteness of the dishes. They ordered a bottle of excellent wine, and soon he was sitting back in his chair, sipping the wine and contemplating how to proceed. Then he put down his glass, leaned forward and folded his hands.
'So, Miss Fisher, tell me: have you ever been married?'
She looked at him from underneath her eyelashes. 'I'm afraid I'm not the marrying kind, Inspector. How about you? You seem like a family man to me.'
'Divorced,' he told her. 'And you make me sound rather dull.'
She flashed him a smile. 'That wasn't my intention. I'm sure there might be more to you than meets the eye.'
He cocked an eyebrow. 'Quite.'
'Now that sounds intriguing! Go on, tell me. What's lurking beneath the wholesome surface?'
He smiled mysteriously. 'That's for you to find out, Miss Fisher.'
She looked at him speculatively, as if genuinely considering his words. 'Maybe I will,' she finally replied, and he smiled in satisfaction. He was actually starting to enjoy himself.
Dinner was excellent, and conversation flowed easily. They laughed a lot, getting to know each other all over again, like they had never done when they first met. To his surprise, Jack actually learnt things about Phryne he hadn't known before, because it had never occurred to him to ask her about them. They had drifted into an acquaintance, a partnership, a friendship, without conscious thought and without a conscious effort, and at the start of their relationship, it had simply seemed like they already knew each other so well.
When their plates had been cleared away, Phryne, swaying slightly to the music, asked him if he liked to dance, knowing of course perfectly well that he didn't. He was on the point of refusing as usual, when it suddenly occurred to him that he didn't necessarily need to be himself tonight. After all, she didn't know him tonight, nobody here knew him. He could be someone else entirely… The idea was strangely liberating. To her immense surprise, he got up and offered her his hand.
'Will you dance with me?'
'Oh! Why yes, of course,' she smiled delightedly, her eyes wide and sparkling.
He swept her to the dance floor, where several couples were already dancing, close together in the modern fashion. Luckily for him, the band was playing a slow tune, smooth and sensual, and he realized gratefully that no extravagant dance moves would be required of him. He pulled her close, and she put her arms around his neck in a way that was so familiar and intimate, it almost made him forget their game as he felt the sudden impulse to kiss her, hold her, run his fingers through her hair. He checked himself just in time, however, and merely put his arms around her to suit the occasion: one hand on her hip, the other on the small of her back, and they moved together to the sound of the music. She smiled up at him so happily he couldn't help but smile back.
'You're actually quite a good dancer,' she remarked after a while.
He raised an eyebrow at her. 'Why should that surprise you?'
She quickly recovered. 'No reason. You just didn't seem like the kind of person who dances much.'
'Don't judge a book by its cover, Miss Fisher.'
'No,' she said, smiling. 'I shouldn't. People can surprise you sometimes, even if you know them well.'
He contemplated her words for a moment, then decided that he wasn't done surprising her tonight. Maybe it was the wine, but again that sense of possibility stole over him at the thought that he didn't need to be himself tonight, didn't need to be the proper, upright Detective Inspector she knew and expected him to be. He could be that man again tomorrow, but tonight… And with a slight smile, he gently pulled her closer and allowed his hand to wander downwards… She stepped back with an astonished expression that changed to mock indignation as she remembered herself, and she firmly took his hand and moved it back upwards, giving him a 'don't you dare' kind of look that had him biting back a laugh. He never would have thought to see Phryne acting so demure! She must have seen his mirth on his face, however, because she gave him a reproving look.
'What kind of a woman do you think I am, Inspector?'
He considered carefully before answering, knowing that the rest of the night would depend on how he handled the situation now. He knew he couldn't go wrong either way: knowing her, there was zero chance that she would be wasting a perfectly good suite, but even so, he knew she was asking him to set the tone here, and she would follow his lead. If he backed down now and apologized, like the gentleman he was, they would wind up in the same place in the end, but they would take the slower route, a careful dance of approach and retreat, trying, teasing, tempting, and the evening would be slow and sensuous, sweet and gentle. That was his usual way. He liked to take his time, he liked to rein in her impetuous nature with his calm deliberation, savoring the moment. But tonight, he didn't feel like it. He instinctively sensed that she was willing to change roles tonight, if only he made the first move. He could be anyone he wanted tonight. He made his move.
He firmly pulled her against him with one hand on the small of her back, and his voice was a low rumble in her ear.
'What kind of a woman I think you are? I think you are the kind of woman who likes a man who knows what he wants. And what I want, Miss Fisher, is you.' She stood stock-still, pressed against him, mesmerized by the rich sound of his voice. 'I want you now. I want you naked and quivering under my hands. I want to make you shiver and moan. I want you gasping on the bed until you beg for mercy, again and again and again. And I think, Miss Fisher, that you are the kind of woman who would love every second of it.'
He ran his hand down her spine, and she drew a shuddering breath as she pulled away slightly to look at him, and he noticed that her pupils were dilated, her breathing slightly elevated. Bull's eye. He did not look away from her gaze, waiting coolly to see how she would react. Finally, she bit her lip and lowered her eyes almost shyly, putting a hand on his chest as she murmured. 'Why don't I show you my room?'
'That sounds like an excellent idea,' he replied, putting a possessive arm around her waist and confidently steering her off the dance floor.
To his surprise, she allowed herself to be steered, and he realized she was holding back, keeping her usually tempestuous nature in check so as not to upset their delicate, newfound balance. No thinly veiled innuendos tonight, no inappropriate behavior in public, no teasing or seducing – she had surrendered to him, not only in body, but in spirit, too, and she meekly followed his lead, acknowledging his dominance, just this once. He was disconcerted by the change for a moment, until he realized that she might like to be someone else tonight, too. The thought aroused him, and he firmly took control, knowing that he wouldn't relinquish it until their game was over. She was his now.
Walking along the long marble hallways of the hotel to Phryne's suite at the top floor, they didn't speak for fear of breaking the spell, but he kept his arm around her, and though she kept a straight face, he could practically feel the excitement radiate from her. As they walked, Jack silently reflected on something Phryne had once said to him about dominance in a sexual relationship. They had been in bed together, having one of their frequently recurring discussions about his handcuffs, which he still refused to bring into the bedroom, saying that it felt wrong, like he was overpowering her.
'Power isn't just about the physical things, Jack,' she had said, uncharacteristically earnest. 'It's not about physical restraints, about who ties the knots or who holds the key. These things help, of course, but they are only tools, and crude ones at that. Real dominance is in the mind, and much more subtle.'
He hadn't understood her at that point, but he felt it now. It was about confidence, he realized, it was about the unshakeable belief that your partner would obey you without question, no matter what you asked, simply because you asked it. He felt more powerful now than he had when he had once tied her to the bed with this tie. She had escaped her bonds then, and they had grappled playfully for the upper hand. He had won in the end, but only because she had let him. He knew she wouldn't try anything like that tonight.
For a moment, he felt a twinge of unease – his conscience, asking him if this was entirely right. He wasn't usually comfortable in this role. But he knew it was just for tonight, knew that she was thoroughly enjoying the situation, and that everything would be back to normal in the morning, or at any point during the night if she said stop. He decided not to worry anymore, and simply go with it.
By the time she opened the door to her suite and switched on the lights, he was very impatient to get inside. He had the fleeting impression of a big room, beautifully and sumptuously decorated, as they stepped through the door and she asked him, 'Would you like the tour, or… oh!' He had grabbed her and pushed her roughly against the wall, pressing his body against her, hard. She gasped and surrendered as he kissed her neck, and she tangled her hands in his hair. When his fingers found a breast, he noticed that her nipples were already hard, and that made him wonder if she was as aroused as he was. He lightly brushed a nipple, then quickly moved his hand downwards.
Her long, silver dress was ankle-length, but it had a long slash on one side that ran all the way up her thigh. He made good use of it, slipping his hand between the fabric to cup her mound, pressing inward with his fingers. He heard her whisper a soft 'yes' that encouraged him, and when he noticed that she was so wet that her underwear was damp, he deftly moved aside the silk, and with one quick, sure movement, pushed two fingers inside. She threw her head back with a soft, sharp cry and he felt her go weak at the knees as she grasped at the jacket of his tuxedo, eyes closed and lips parted.
He supported her with his body, pressing her hard against the wall as he moved his fingers, and she was moaning so deliciously, he suddenly couldn't take it anymore. When he pulled back, she opened her eyes with a plaintive little sound, but he moved aside the fabric of her dress for better access and she quickly cottoned on, eagerly unbuttoning his trousers and drawing him out. He groaned as she touched him, then grabbed both her wrists and pressed them to the wall above her head with one hand; with his other hand, he lifted one bare leg so she could hook it around his hip. When he pushed inside, she arched her back with a moan, but he firmly held her wrists and pressed her even harder against the wall. He took her with an urgency he had rarely felt before, pushing in again and again, her moans in his ear spurring him on, and the tension inside him quickly built to an unbearable pitch. He tried to breathe, tried to control it, but in his newfound dominance, he suddenly found that he didn't want to. She wasn't ready yet, but just this once his own need was paramount, and he did not slow down. He didn't want her to climax just yet. He wanted to make her wait, wanted to make her want. He knew that he had all night with her, and that he would amply make up for it later, when her own release would be all the more exquisite for the built-up anticipation. He thrust in one more time and uttered a hoarse cry as he shuddered and leaned heavily against her.
It was clear that she had followed his train of thought when he released her wrists and looked at her, a little apprehensive that he would see disappointment or reproof in her eyes, but all he encountered was an excited anticipation that was like a held breath. She, too, knew that they had all night, and she had no doubt that he would thoroughly take care of her before they were through. Usually she wasn't keen on waiting, but tonight, he held all the cards, and she was happy to submit.
When they were more or less decent again, Jack became aware of his surroundings for the first time. They were standing in a kind of hallway, richly carpeted, with several doors leading off to different rooms.
'How about that tour?' he asked, and she led the way to show him an elegantly furnished sitting room, lit by a magnificent crystal chandelier and containing several comfortable-looking chairs and sofas. Then there was the bathroom, all glittering white marble and golden taps. Jack took a mental note of the size of the bathtub, reflecting that he'd like to make good use of it before the night was through. Another door connected the bathroom to the bedroom. He raised his eyebrows when they entered, taking in the soft rugs, the high windows with their heavy drapes, the large mirror in its elaborate wooden frame, and finally, the huge four-poster bed covered in burgundy satin sheets and a mountain of pillows.
Now that the first urgency of his need was gone, Jack felt a deep, confident calm settle over him as he looked around the room; his earlier feeling of effortless power was still with him, but it felt more controlled now, less desperate, less aggressive. He turned to see her looking at him with big, dark eyes, that look of breathless anticipation still in place, but he knew she would wait for him to initiate. He walked over to her, moving slowly, with almost predatory grace, until he stood right behind her. She shivered. She could sense him behind her, felt his hot breath, but she couldn't see him and he wasn't touching her, creating a dangerous tension that made her tremble. She jumped slightly when his fingers touched her shoulder, but when he started caressing her arm, she relaxed and leaned into his touch. He carefully bared a white shoulder and bent his head to kiss it, brushing his lips over her pale skin, then moving, slowly, slowly, to kiss the side of her neck. After a while, he drew back to undo the buttons at the back of her dress, and it slid to the floor to pool around her feet. He took her hand and she stepped out of the dress in her silk underwear.
'Go lie on the bed.' His tone was soft, but it was clear that he did not expect her to argue. She did as he asked, and he took off his tie, his tuxedo jacket and his shirt before joining her on the bed. It really was a huge bed - six people could have slept in it and still have room to spare. She was lying in the middle of that vast expanse of satin, very much exposed, and as he let his eyes wander over her body, he thought he detected a slight thrum of built-up tension in her muscles. A small satisfied smile played around his lips as he touched her, a light finger running from the little hollow at the base of her throat, between her breasts and over her silk-clad stomach, to stop under her navel. He moved his hand to her knee then, tracing a trail upwards along the inside of her thigh, and she opened her legs to him, but he resisted temptation and repeated the action on her other leg. She was trembling now, but did not move. When he lightly ran a finger over the silk between her thighs, he barely touched her, and a soft whimper escaped her lips as she twitched slightly, but still she didn't move.
He sought her eyes for a moment, trying to gauge how she was feeling; they were glittering with contained excitement, and he could read eager anticipation and a deep, aching hunger there, a hunger that pulled at something inside of him so he responded unthinkingly, laying down beside her and bending his head to kiss her.
It was their first kiss of the night, and they sank into it willingly, starting off slow and sensually, and she hummed her contentment. But the sound and the touch of her lips soon reignited the fire within him that had temporarily been tempered, and his kisses became more passionate, demanding, as she responded in kind. He bit her bottom lip, and she pressed her hips against him in a way that made him retreat a little - he did not want to be distracted.
He pulled her camisole over her head and as he brushed her nipples, ever so lightly, with his thumbs, she whimpered again, a sound so small and appealing he couldn't resist – with one swift movement, he closed his warm mouth around a nipple and sucked, making her sigh in ecstasy. His fingers found her other nipple and pinched it, and when she tangled her hands in his hair and pulled him closer, he sucked harder, drawing a long, low moan from her lips. A delightfully wicked feeling kindled inside him as he took pleasure from the control he had over her body, her perfect acquiescence, his easy dominance over her. He suddenly broke all contact to see if she would protest, and for a moment it seemed she would – she opened her mouth with a look of indignation, but when he shot her a warning look, he was pleased to see that she quickly checked herself and merely bit her lip, clutching the sheets. He rewarded her by swooping down again and taking a nipple between his teeth, pulling slightly and making her utter a sharp little 'oh!' of pleasure.
He suddenly pressed a hand between her legs and she gasped. To his great satisfaction, he noticed that the silk fabric was soaked through, and his fingers came away wet. Moving upwards, he put one finger between her lips, and she sucked it, sending a delicious thrill through him. She was squirming now, her hips bucking slightly as he moved his hand back down and slipped it underneath the silk to part her warm folds and find the center of her pleasure. The moment he touched her, she uttered a little cry and tensed, her hands gripping the sheets, her eyes closed, and he quickly pulled back, laughing softly at the expression on her face.
'No, not yet,' he whispered huskily. She threw her head back in frustration, and he smiled as he looked down at her, her chest flushed, her breathing heavy, her whole beautiful body tense with longing. He put his mouth close to her ear.
'Would you like me to go down there?' he murmured, and she tensed hopefully.
'Yes,' she responded, her voice barely a whisper against his cheek.
'You're close, aren't you?'
'Yes.'
'Tell me what you want.'
'I… I want to feel your mouth on me. I want your tongue… there. Please, Jack,' she added in a hoarse whisper, and he smiled.
'Good,' he rumbled. 'Because I want to taste you. I want to feel you. Nobody can hear us. I want to make you scream.'
She gasped, and he moved down swiftly, pulling down her underwear so he could press his warm mouth against her, running his tongue along the folds as she arched her back, moaning loudly. She was wet and swollen, and he enjoyed her clean, salty taste as he pushed in his tongue, then moved upwards and finally settled where she wanted him. Her reaction was immediate and intense, the pent-up tension of the previous hour pushing her over the edge until she did scream, her head thrown back, her eyes closed in rapture as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over her, again and again until she couldn't bear it anymore, and she was sobbing as she finally achieved release, finally, finally, release.
When she fell back into the pillows, panting, Jack pulled back to observe her. By the way she was still moving her hips slightly, he could tell that she wasn't satisfied yet, and either way, he wasn't nearly done with her. He kissed the inside of her thighs while she recovered, inching ever higher, and by the time she had caught her breath, he was very close to her again, and she squirmed slightly, wanting him to hurry up. He took that as a sign that she was ready again, and sat up with a serious expression, his eyes burning darkly as he looked at her. She didn't look away, simply waited with bated breath for what would happen next. Her chest was flushed and her pupils were dilated, and he noted these signs of arousal with satisfaction, knowing that she wanted him. But he wanted more.
'Touch yourself,' he whispered huskily. Her eyes opened wide, but apart from a slight hesitation, she showed no sign of protest. She lifted a hand and, seeming unsure what to do, placed it on her stomach. He looked at her, amused.
'Not there. Your breast.'
'Oh,' she breathed, understanding dawning on her face.
He thought he saw her eyes light up with excitement at this new game. Her gaze never left his as she slowly traced a hand upwards and cupped a breast, then lightly stroked the soft white skin around her nipple. She seemed to feel instinctively that she shouldn't touch it before he said she could. He waited for a long moment, then he told her to. As her fingers caressed her nipple, nimbly stroking and teasing until it hardened, Jack felt his breathing quicken at the sight. It wasn't just what she was doing that was arousing – he had seen her do this once before – but the fact that she was doing it because he had told her to. He felt a little shaky with the heady sense of control, and fought to keep his voice steady as he whispered, 'Pinch it.' When she did so and uttered a soft moan, he had to close his eyes for a second to control the stab of intense arousal that suddenly shot through him, and made him want to take her, immediately and completely. He knew he could, but... Not yet. He wanted this to be about her, and besides, he did not want to waste this opportunity. Somewhere in the back of his head, a small voice told him that he would probably never have the courage to do this again after tonight, so he wanted to make it count.
A hoarse whisper was all he could manage as he spoke again.
'Now the other side.'
He swallowed hard as she obeyed him readily, her eyes closed now, her hips moving in a maddening way.
'Stop.'
She stopped, her eyes opening again.
'Move… move your hand down.'
She smiled naughtily and did as he asked, but slowly, very slowly, her eyes not leaving his.
When her fingers slid through her black curls and started moving, he could only stand the sight for a few second before the temptation became too much for him and he gave in. He put his hand on hers to stop her, then lifted it and brought it to his mouth to softly bite the pad of her thumb, and she inhaled sharply.
'I'm taking over,' he murmured, his voice deep with emotion and arousal. He placed her hand back on her breast. 'Keep going,' he whispered as he settled back between her legs, and he loved the thought of what she was doing as he nipped the soft white flesh of her thighs with this teeth.
A moment later, he pulled back.
'Tell me what you want,' he commanded her again, because he wanted to hear her say it. She usually wasn't very vocal in her instructions to him, preferring to show him rather than tell him, so he knew this would be a challenge for her. However, she accepted it without question, telling him what to do, a little hesitantly at first, then with increasingly apparent enjoyment, whispering for him to move a little higher, faster, a bit to the left. He moved his tongue to where her fingers had been an instant before and drew small, slow circles that made her squirm and moan. Then, he slid two fingers inside her and carefully felt his way to a certain soft spot, then pressed upwards, curving his fingers slightly, and she cried out sharply, her back arching as he pushed, again and again.
'Harder,' she breathed, and he complied. She seemed gone from the world as she moaned incoherently now, random sounds, then his name, over and over, calling out to him in a cracked voice that made him need every last ounce of restraint to keep from jumping up and just taking her, hard, until she convulsed around him and fell apart in his arms. That certainly seemed to be what she had in mind, too, because she cried out to him feverishly, twisting slightly under his touch.
'Jack… Jack, I want you, please… oh… oh!'
He was sorely tempted but… 'Not until I say so,' he growled, and he quickened his pace so she was rendered helpless. A moment later, she stilled, then started shaking as she cried out, and he felt her contract around his fingers as she sobbed his name. He kept on exactly what he was doing, and wave after wave the spasms kept washing over her, until she was gasping for breath. Then, he slowly let up and she gradually quieted, still shivering with occasional aftershocks. Finally he broke contact, pressing a last kiss to her before getting off the bed and taking off his trousers. He stopped for a moment to take her in, lying there gloriously spread out on the bed, her hair tousled, her eyes closed and her lips parted, the sheets around her twisted where she had grasped them. Too impatient now to wait for her to catch her breath, he got back onto the bed and flipped her over, running his hands over her bare back, her buttocks, her thighs, then leaned over her.
'On your knees,' he said, and again his tone was calm but inexorable, and she seemed to come to her senses at once. Quickly, she obeyed him, and he took a moment to collect himself as he grabbed her hips, then roughly thrust inside, deep, with a moan of pleasure that was echoed by her. She was extremely wet, he felt with great satisfaction, and he pushed in effortlessly, again and again. Suddenly, though, she did something unexpected: she leaned down to rest on her elbows, changing the angle, and he gasped as she was suddenly so very, very tight around him. For a moment, he felt himself lose control, then firmly regained it as he clenched his jaw and took her deeper, drawing cries from her lips at every thrust. He put an arm around her, his fingers sliding through her soft curls to part her folds and touch… She whimpered softly and trembled, and he realized she was very sensitive now. Carefully, very carefully, he placed a finger on either side of the sensitive spot, and started stroking her in the rhythm of their movements. She immediately bent her head so it touched the pillow she was grasping convulsively, and moaned into it so the sound was muffled. He couldn't take it anymore. Everything was fire as she clenched around him even tighter, and he abandoned all restraint, pushing in fast and deep, one arm around her hips so he could take her harder. He cried out as the wave crashed over him for several endless moments, then they both shuddered and collapsed onto the bed, sweaty, exhausted, and thoroughly satisfied.
He rolled off her to lie on his back, and as his breathing gradually slowed again, he felt her tentatively reach out to him, and he took her in his arms and held her very close. As she cuddled up against him with a contented sigh, he slowly felt things return to normal. Without a word, they drifted off to sleep.
They slept late the next day. It took Jack a while to properly wake up – he spent a long time in the delicious fuzzy state between sleeping and waking, sinking back into sleep occasionally, lazily turning to put his arms around Phryne, soaking in her warmth and nearness. When he finally did open his eyes, light was shining through the half-open drapes, and he knew it was probably after noon. Next to him, Phryne stirred and stretched luxuriously, then sleepily smiled up at him.
'Good morning, darling.'
'Good morning,' he replied, smiling back. Something was starting to nag at him, a quiet but insistent buzzing of unease in the back of his mind, but he tried to push it away, knowing that it would dispel the feeling of utter happiness he was indulging in the moment he acknowledged it. Finally it was Phryne who brought up the subject. She gave him a very wicked look, and he felt a twinge of apprehension.
'That was quite a night, Inspector. I was hoping for something… different… when I asked you to dinner at the hotel, but oh… I hadn't expected this! Frankly, I never suspected you had it in you.'
And it all came crashing back to him, every detail of the previous night, and he felt the blood drain from his face. The champagne, he thought wildly, the wine. He would never have acted like that if he had been sober… would he? But I wasn't that drunk. A sickening feeling of shame crept through him as he contemplated his behavior, and he cringed as he remembered how he had treated her, how he had ordered her around, the things he had said and done, and worst of all, the way he had felt. Like he owned her. He couldn't look her in the eye. What had come over him? There was no excuse, he knew, none at all. How could he ever face her again? How could she ever respect him again?
A hand on his arm startled him out of his self-loathing train of thought, and he looked straight into a pair of bright blue eyes. He froze, afraid of what he would see there, but though she looked at him more seriously than usual, he saw no hint of disapproval.
'Jack… what's wrong? I'm sorry I teased you.'
He swallowed. 'It's not that…' He struggled to find the words to express the intensity of the emotions he was experiencing. He quickly found he couldn't, and looked away again.
'Jack!' he heard her exclaim softly, a note of concern in her voice. 'Jack, look at me.'
Feeling that he owed her that, at least, he forced himself to look straight into her eyes with a great effort of will. She seemed a little shocked at what she saw there.
'Oh darling,' she sighed, shifting so she could cup his cheek with her hand. 'No, no, it's alright, really, it's alright, don't worry.'
He looked at her desperately, wanting to believe what she was saying, and she quickly continued.
'You did nothing wrong, you do realize that, don't you?'
When he didn't answer, she looked worried.
'There's nothing to be embarrassed about.'
But the way he clenched his jaw clearly told her that he didn't agree. She sat up now in her earnestness, urgently trying to reassure him, stroking his cheek, his hair, his arm.
'Jack, listen to me. No, don't look away, listen to me. You didn't do anything last night that I didn't want you to do, that I didn't enjoy.'
'It feels like I forced you,' he mumbled disgustedly, averting his eyes again. To his surprise, she sounded a small, tinkling laugh.
'Really darling, do you think I would allow that? Do you think I'd ever do something against my will?'
He thought about that for a moment. 'No,' he finally admitted, reluctantly. 'No, I suppose not.'
'You know me well enough to know that, don't you?'
He frowned. 'I still didn't treat you… like a gentleman should.'
When he glanced at her, he saw that her expression was thoughtful, as if she was trying to figure something out.
'Well…' she said at length, choosing her words with care. 'I like that you're always a gentleman, I do. You are amazingly considerate, and sweet and gentle, and I think that's one of your best qualities. But, every once in a while, I don't mind if… you're not a gentleman for a bit.'
He looked at her, uncomprehending, and she tried to explain.
'Not in everyday situations, of course, but like last night… that was different. It was real, but it also wasn't, and we both knew it. We were playing a game, and I loved it. You do realize that, don't you?'
He did seem to remember her being quite enthusiastic, now he came to think about it. But he wasn't convinced so easily.
'I'm not sure…' he mumbled, and she looked at him, appalled.
'How can you even think that?' She suddenly smiled. 'I loved every second of it, as you had predicted so accurately beforehand.'
But he flinched at the memory, and she hastened to correct herself.
'Alright, too soon, I'm sorry. But I mean it. I loved that you were so strong and confident, I loved that I could surrender to you, and I loved that you told me what to do.'
He turned to her. 'Why?'
'Because it was exciting,' she replied immediately, her eyes shining. 'It was different. I could be someone else last night, and I think you were, too. Didn't you like that feeling?'
Yes, it flashed through his mind, but he didn't dare say it. She could see it on his face, however, and smiled.
'Last night was a game, darling. And it was so much fun. You played it so well.' Something else crept into her eyes, and he automatically felt his body respond. 'Last night was wonderful,' she whispered softly. 'If we both enjoyed it, how can you think it was wrong?'
And finally, he felt the heavy weight lifted off his chest as he tentatively started to believe her. She looked at him with so much love and tenderness, he began to feel that she was right, maybe it wasn't so wrong. After all, he had told himself before they started that he would be someone else for the night, that it would all be over in the morning. And, he reminded himself, all through the night he had indirectly felt her approval, and seen clear, tangible, physical signs of her enthusiasm for what he was doing. He allowed himself to relax slowly, sinking into the pillows with a deep sigh. It would probably take some time for him to completely come to terms with his own behavior, so different from his usual conduct, but he was reassured that she, at least, didn't judge him –quite the opposite. That was the most important thing, and he knew the rest would be alright once the initial shock wore off. He held out an arm to her, and she gratefully settled down next to him, her head in the hollow of his shoulder, her arm over his chest. He hugged her close and buried his face in her hair.
'You're wonderful,' he whispered. 'And… I really liked last night. But I'm glad to have you back to normal again.'
She looked up at him with a cheeky smile, and he felt her hand wander lightly downward over his stomach.
'You know there's an enormous bathtub next door. Shall we take a closer look?'
Amused, he watched her get out of bed and cross the room, naked and completely unembarrassed. As he watched her swaying hips, he felt a sudden twinge of desire that made him throw off the sheets and follow her across the room, knowing that a warm bath and a wet, laughing, soapy Phryne in his arms were probably the best things in the world for him right now. Already last night was starting to seem like a dream, and he was surprised to find that it was a pleasant dream after all. Very pleasant, a small voice in his head whispered, and he grinned. Who knows… they might even do this again, someday. But first he wanted to have proper balance restored by having her tease him, aggravate him, and generally annoy the living daylight out of him as usual. Putting her in a position where she could splash water all over him would definitely be a good start. With a smile, he followed her into the bathroom.