Chapter Text
Emma slipped into the room almost silently. With practiced motions, she examined every hiding place—the closet and drawers and safe and under the bed, first visually and then with a small black device she slipped from her inner jacket pocket, until she was satisfied that the room was clear of hidden surprises.
Tossing her leather jacket and bag into the chair, she flopped down on the bed with a gusty sigh. Budapest to JFK was a hell of a flight, but Marian had said on the phone this job was time sensitive. She’d also said the payout would be seven figures, which was good because her attempt at lifting the Sevso Treasure had been a total bust and she was short on cash.
But 1 am in New York was 7 in Hungary, and she was wide awake. Fortunately, the City’s bars were open late. Rolling off the bed, she headed for the shower.
**
The woman across the bar was drop-dead gorgeous, dressed like she’d just walked out of some high-end law firm, and, from the looks of it, absolutely flaying every man who came over to hit on her, of which there were many. Emma thought she saw one of them actually crying as he walked away. She had to admire her style.
“Can I get you anything?” the waiter asked.
“Not right now, but send that lady whatever she’s drinking, on me.” He nodded and started to walk away. “But the most expensive one you have,” she added quickly.
“As it happens, she’s already drinking our most expensive whiskey,” he said with a wink.
The woman had shot down two more by the time the drink arrived, and Emma was leaning on her hand and grinning when the waiter pointed her out as the source. She sat up quickly and waved a little Hi.
Emma worried that she might have miscalculated when the woman’s face shifted into fury and she stalked her way across the bar, drink in hand. She tried not to appreciate how her legs looked in that pencil skirt and heels, or her hips swaying, or, oh god, the straining button on her shirt, but instead keep her eyes up and expression neutral.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” the woman demanded as she reached the table, slamming the glass down so hard Emma almost expected it to break.
“Appreciating a woman who doesn't take any shit?” Emma asked with a half-smile.
That made the other woman pause, but she recovered quickly. “By doing the same ‘shit,’” and oh, her careful enunciation of the curse was adorable, “I wasn’t taking from the others?”
“Not the same shit,” Emma assured her. “That drink is just appreciation of your badassery. No strings attached.”
The woman’s eyes searched her face. “Who are you?” she asked in disbelief.
“Emma,” she said with a grin, and held out her hand to shake. “And what should I call you?”
“Regina,” she answered, with the slightest hint of a genuine smile.
**
They were kissing furiously as they stumbled into Emma’s hotel room. She shoved vaguely at the door behind them, but then let the automatic closer take care of it, reaching instead for the buttons on Regina’s shirt.
Except that Regina was also reaching for her shirt, and they immediately got in each other’s way. Their eyes met, and Regina raised an eyebrow and dropped her hands.
“Go ahead,” she said, with an air of superiority that made Emma want to smear her lipstick and make her scream. For now, she went to work on those buttons again, and Regina used her newly free hands to grip her hair, pull her head back, and nip and suck along her throat.
Two could play at that game, and as soon as the shirt was open Emma was sliding her hands around Regina’s ribs to unhook her bra and get her hands on her breasts, cupping, kneading, pinching her nipples, and Regina moaned around a mouthful of her neck.
In the next moment Emma felt hands on the waistband of her pants, and shit, Regina was good, slipping her pants and underwear down over her hips in no time flat and digging her nails into her ass to pull her closer.
Then they were kissing again, hands everywhere, the remaining clothes off in moments as they pushed and pulled each other across the room toward the bed.
Emma was startled to find herself landing flat on her back. This was not how this usually went. She was still processing it when Regina prowled up on top of her, and up, and up, until her knees were on either side of Emma’s head.
“From the way your eyes are riveted to my cunt, I’ll take it that you’re fine with me sitting on your face?” Regina asked.
“Oh yes,” Emma groaned. “Thank you for asking.” She decided it was not a good time to tease her for practically being on her face before she got around to it, and gripped her hips to pull her down.
Emma moaned at the first contact almost as much as Regina, because fuck, she was wet, and soft, and hot and, she soon found out, very responsive. Emma’s tongue moved steadily, long strokes from her opening to her clit, with a little extra flutter every few. After long moments of this, Regina’s hips began to twitch and Emma gave her more, swirling her tongue and sliding her hand up to trace fingertips barely inside.
“Yes,” Regina hissed, and Emma pressed in, loving the feel of liquid velvet around her fingers.
Her fingers moved in counterpoint to her tongue, building Regina’s pleasure up, and up, and up, until she was fucking her as hard as she could from this angle and sucking her clit.
Then Regina was gripping her face with both hands and starting to work her hips on her mouth. Looking up at her, the way her chest was heaving and her breasts were bouncing slightly with her motion, a little sheen of sweat between them, this was what Emma wanted, to get this put-together woman to come apart. Regina’s pussy sliding across her mouth was also damn good, and she was working furiously to stay with her, give her what she needed.
Regina’s motions became shorter, sharper, fucking Emma’s mouth, and Emma’s tongue was relentless, and she was going to be sore but she could not bring herself to care if it meant she made this woman come hard.
And Regina did come spectacularly, back arched, body taut, and screaming.
Then Regina slumped forward, not quite holding herself up enough with the headboard to let Emma breathe. She used her not-insubstantial upper body strength to lift her enough to shimmy out from underneath and then lay on the bed, watching her, considering how she wanted to come tonight. She had just made up her mind when Regina sat up straight and stretched, graceful and catlike.
“Mmh, thank you,” she hummed, her voice lower and rougher and impossibly sexier than before. “That was delightful.”
“Welcome,” Emma murmured, watching with a smile as Regina turned to face her, though she did miss the view of her perfect ass.
“And what would you like?” Regina asked, leaning over her.
“Fingers. Fuck me,” Emma demanded, then threaded her fingers through dark hair to pull Regina into a deep, intense kiss.
In the next moment, Regina was pressed on top of her, with two fingers inside of her and her thumb on her clit.
“Yes!” Emma hissed.
She barely knew this woman, but somehow it seemed right that she fucked with metronome precision, and god, this was exactly what Emma wanted.
“More. Fuck me harder,” she demanded after several long moments.
Regina added another finger, and fuck, it felt good to be so stretched and full of her. Regina was flexing her wrist to rub the heel of her hand against Emma’s clit on the out strokes now, and her body pressed against Emma as she used her hips for more leverage.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Emma demanded until it slurred into a moan, wrapping arms and legs around her and lifting her hips to meet her motion, get her deeper.
Regina did, and all Emma could do was hold on as she spiraled up.
When Emma started coming, Regina kept fucking her, rolling her through her first orgasm and into a second, and she seemed like she planned to go for a third until Emma gasped out, “Stop!”
The room was silent except for both of them panting for a long, long moment.
“Damn,” Emma managed eventually.
Regina let out a sexy little chuckle, then rolled off of her, stretched again, and got up.
“You don’t have to go,” Emma murmured, and what the hell was she thinking? She had a job to do here.
“I do,” Regina insisted, and Emma was a little encouraged that she sounded a little bit regretful. “I should have been home already. My son is sixteen but it’s well past midnight,” she explained, dressing with efficient motions.
That startled her upright. “Wait, what? You have a son?” Between the orgasms and the long day, Emma’s tact was long gone.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Regina began sharply, “but yes, I do. And I need to get home to him.” She was fully dressed now, though Emma noted with satisfaction that her hair definitely still looked like she’d been well fucked. She leaned down and gave Emma a short, sweet kiss, and then was gone.