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The Heart Grows Fonder

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“You were supposed to come after me, Jack.”

Jack had thought, in her absence, that he’d remembered the curve of Phryne’s smirk. The vivid red of her lips, the teasing secret hidden in the dimple of her cheek, the twinkle in her eyes. He’d committed them to memory long ago.

In her presence, they were but a shadow of the real thing. Images, without the immediacy and vibrancy that was in everything she said or did.

“Some of us have jobs, Miss Fisher.” Jack feared the words lacked any sort of edge. From the way they came, soft and slow, to the way he couldn’t look away from her, for fear that she might vanish again in the blink of an eye.

Phryne tisked, and Jack followed the flash of pink tongue against the white of her teeth. She edged closer, taking the lapels of his jacket in hand, on the pretext of smoothing them. “I hope you’ve been bored without me.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but that too was a show, and they both knew it, as his hands finally settled on her hips. Slim beneath the silk skirt she wore, the jut of delicate bones against the palms of his hands conjuring an image in his mind’s eye, of all that pale skin laid bare for him. Jack’s hands tightened convulsively.

“Dreadfully,” he said, and Phryne smiled as if she knew precisely what he was thinking. Jack wouldn’t at all be surprised to find it true.

“Well good,” she said, mollified, smoothing her hands over his shoulders to drape her arms there, stepping even closer. The swell of her breast pressed into him made Jack bold. He dared to swipe a thumb lower, down the plane of her pelvic bone to the crease of her thigh, and Phryne’s breath caught. Astonishing, that such a simple touch could elicit such a reaction from someone as worldly as she.

“And you, Miss Fisher?” Jack asked, their lips a breath apart. “Did you manage to keep yourself out of trouble while abroad?”

That earned him a true smile, blossoming across her face in a way that softened all her sharp edges. “Never,” she whispered. “I almost forgot about you entir--mmm!” Her words ended on a moan, Jack’s fingers threaded in her hair, bringing their mouths together at last, slick and hot.

One kiss had not been enough to sustain him these long weeks. Though it had fuelled his fantasies, he was left hungry for more. Certainly it had been Phryne’s intention, but Jack hardly cared any longer. It was only one more in the long list of reasons he’d fallen so utterly in love with her in the first place.

Now, there was nothing between them. No pressing details of a case to be handled at this hour, no erstwhile lovers, no troublesome fathers. Nothing but Phryne opening for him, fingers clutched at the nape of his neck, licking ardently into Jack’s mouth.

Before he’d really come to know Phryne, when he’d thought about kissing her in earnest--and he had, at length--he’d imagined a struggle for dominance. Just another aspect of the antagonism that had simmered between them. When he’d considered this, what seemed like a million years ago, he’d never anticipated they would have boiled over like this.

With Phryne twisting against him, trying for more closeness than their clothing would allow. The fine material of her skirt bunched in his fist. This wasn’t a battle at all, but a dance, finding how they fit together in eager cooperation. Phryne parting her legs to fit one between Jack’s, and Jack lifting her skirt to ease the restriction on her movement. She arched into him, roaming hands down his back and nails scraping over his scalp chasing electric sparks throughout his nerves, oh, what she did to him.

Jack had to see her like this. He pulled away from their kiss to glance down. In the weak light of his desklamp, it was all shadow--the sliver of her bare thigh contrasted with the black of her garter and stocking. The obscene jut of his trousers drawn taut over his erection. He couldn’t stop the sound he made at the sight, or the way he rocked his hips, nudging his hardness against her.

“Phryne,” he said, stripped away to nothing but his helpless longing for her.
And she knew how well she had him caught. How she caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she teased the hem of her skirt higher to reveal the black satin and lace knickers she wore. She took his hand in hers, soft ghost of her fingers bringing his to the fastening of her garter.

Jack couldn’t allow her to lead entirely; her pleasure when he surprised her was too great to pass up. Sparing her his own wicked grin, Jack lifted his hand higher, brushing along the silken skin of her inner thigh to hook beneath the wide leg of the kickers. Phryne’s lashes fluttered and her eyes fell closed at the first touch of his fingers through the coarse curls he found there. She was already so wet, slippery with it. Jack’s mouth watered at how easily his fingers slid between her folds. Her opening, tight and slick, seemed to pull him in when he pushed inside with just the tip of his middle finger. She clenched around him.

In reward for his efforts, Jack earned the fumble in Phryne’s hands, normally so steady and sure, as she pulled at the buckle of his belt. “Jack,” she huffed, and gave it up for a moan when he pushed in another inch.

He chuckled into the curve of her neck, placed a kiss there, and then higher, behind her ear. Caught her earlobe delicately between his teeth and traced his tongue around the post of her earring as he pushed a second finger in along with the first and sank them deep inside her. His thumb flicked against the nub of her clitoris, nothing more than a tease, and she shuddered.

“Jack,” Phryne said again, higher pitched, and breathless. “Help me with these trousers will you.” She cupped the shape of him with a squeeze that made him leap into her touch, and just like that they were kissing again, straining towards one another.

Jack twisted his hand free, tugged loose the fastenings of Phryne’s garter, distracted by her hand massaging him through his trousers. When he released her to open his trousers, she took a step back, still joined at the lips, and shimmied out of her knickers, letting them pool at her feet.

The impropriety of what they were doing was not lost on Jack. He’d never be able to sit at his desk again without thinking of this moment. Never again meet her gaze across the desk without colouring at the memory. None of that was enough to stop him from shoving down his trousers and underwear around his knees and letting Phryne push him back down in his chair.

Jack stared up at her, mouth hung open, as she climbed nimbly into his lap. The two of them still almost entirely clothed, and Jack had never felt so entirely debauched in his life. Phryne took him in hand, a practiced grip running up and down the length of his cock to get a feel of him, and then lowered herself over him.

Jack held onto her waist like a lifeline as he watched the best he could, with her skirt dipping in the way. He could lift it aside, but there was something about this moment, in all its illicit perfection. Later he could take his time undressing her, exploring every expanse of skin as revealed piece by piece. For now, he’d keep this fragile, secret intimacy, unknowing of when his cock would breach her until the very instant it did.

Phryne settled down in his lap in one long, fluid slide, and sighed with the relief of one attaining something greatly desired after an eternity of waiting. Jack’s head tipped back against his chair, cock jumping though he managed to keep from thrusting up into her through sheer force of will.

Though he would never speak the words aloud to Phryne, as trite as they were, she was the perfect fit for him, slotted just right, her dripping curls flush against his groin. Jack’s hands clawed at the arm of his chair before he remembered he was allowed to touch, and then they were all over her. Pushing Phryne’s hair back from her face and pulling her in for a kiss, tracing past her lips with his tongue as she began to move, a roll of her hips against him. Beneath her skirt to palm the swell of her ass, letting his fingers dip low to trace the place where she was stretched open around him.

With hands braced on his chest, Phryne rose up and settled down on him again, setting up a fast, hard rhythm to make Jack’s eyes roll back in his head. She grinned at him between panting kisses, lips swollen, the red of her makeup smeared across her chin. All Jack could do was hold on wherever he could reach--her thighs, or the damp spot at the small of her back, trailing fingers up her spine to see her arch and shudder in pleasure.

“I always knew you’d be the death of me,” he managed.

Phryne laughed, that bright tinkling sound somehow even more enchanting given their current activity. She kissed his brow and the wing of his nose, the corner of his mouth and the tip of his chin. “Just a little death, Jack,” she breathed.

Jack could only sincerely hope that Dot and Collins had made their way home for the evening. There was no mistaking the wet sound their bodies made or the squeak and groan of the chair in protest, and no matter how quiet their sighs and moans, at this late hour it carried.

Yet Jack couldn’t have stopped this even if he wanted to, and he certainly didn’t want to. His hips had already begun to snap up, driving into Phryne with desperation borne of years of longing. Phryne curved inward, angling herself to grind just so against his cock on every downward thrust, so that a chain of throaty ah, ah, ahs escaped her lips.

Jack moved without thought, one hand holding her from beneath, the other supporting her back as he lifted Phryne onto his desktop to give him the leverage to fuck her properly. She wound her legs around him and reached overhead to wrap her hands around the edge of the desk for leverage. He laid himself over her to provide that same friction to her clitoris.

The sounds Phryne made--gasping, profane little cries--were enough to drive him mad. Jack could tell she was close, from the mounting pitch and the fine tremors running through her. He sealed his mouth over hers and kissed her through it as she began to clutch around him like a vice, pulling his own release from him.

They breathed into one another’s mouths, sweat-kissed foreheads pressed together as they came down from that high together, and when Jack opened his eyes it was to a dreamy smile gracing Phryne’s face. He kissed her languidly, mouths open and seeking.

“That was unexpected,” Phryne said, between slips of tongue and lip.

Jack pulled back enough to arch a brow at her. “Come now, Miss Fisher,” he husked. “Let’s not pretend this wasn’t your intention.”

Phryne didn’t bother to deny it; her grin spoke volumes. “We’re not speaking of my intentions, Detective Inspector.” She gave a squeeze of the inner muscles that drew a whimper from him. “All this time trying to reel you in, and all I needed to do was run off to Europe for a week or two.”

“It’s been nearly three months, Phryne.”

“Two and a half at best,” she said breezily.

Jack rocked his hips, ignoring the overly sensitive burn, and Phryne’s mouth moved around a moan. “And you know what they say, about absence.”

Phryne tapped her fingers against his chest, where his heart still beat as though it might attempt an escape. That never stopped in her presence, and he doubted it ever would. Jack wouldn’t have it any other way.