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Phryne closed the kitchen door behind Bert and Cec and turned to face Jack. She leaned back against the door and studied him where he sat reading the day’s paper at the kitchen table. He was dressed casually for a day at home, in moleskin trousers and braces over a homespun shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up over his muscled forearms. She loved his three-piece suits, but this casual clothing felt intimate—the baring of his throat and wrists always aroused her, precisely because it was so different from his professional persona.
“Well, darling, that does it. The children are on their way to elsewhere, Mr B is taking a weekend trip to Sydney, and Dot and Hugh are traveling to visit Hugh’s grandmother. The house is empty, except for us.” He looked back at her, both hands wrapped around his coffee cup. She adored the way he held the cup backward because his hands were large enough to make using the cup’s handle difficult. And what those large hands could do…
“Whatever shall we do to pass the time, Miss Fisher?” Jack’s slow blink and his impassive face belied the twinkle she saw in his eyes.
“How long has it been, Jack, since we were alone in this house for longer than an hour or two?”
“I think it might have been before Nico came to live with us, so… perhaps four years?” Jack took a sip of his coffee.
Phryne moved to lean on the edge of the kitchen table beside him and reached for a slice of his toast. She saw his eyes drop to the neckline of her blouse, which gapped a little, flashing her skin against the deep blue satin. “You know, that means it’s been four years since I ravished you anywhere in this house other than our bedroom!”
“Well, except for the occasional use of the parlor after the children are sleeping.”
“That’s just good parenting. We wouldn’t want to wake them.” Phryne took a bite of his toast, her eyes warm on his face as he shook his head at her penchant for stealing his breakfast.
“And the times we made use of that very sturdy desk in your office.” He moved his plate farther away from her, narrowing his eyes warningly.
“Mmm, details,” Phryne waved the hand with the toast.
“And the early morning in the fernery, and the late nights in the garage, and the…”
“My point, Jack,” she cut him off, laughing, and watched as he grinned at her and picked up the other slice of toast. “Is that we can avail ourselves of this whole house as if we were the only ones who lived here. No chance of a small—or not-so-small—someone interrupting whatever we choose to do for the next two full days.”
“A very good point,” Jack said, taking a bite of his jam toast and setting it and his coffee aside. His hands freed, he reached over to slide Phryne from the corner of the table to sit directly in front of him. Looking up at her, he cupped his hands around her calves, stroking them upward and under her skirt. “Whatever will we do to pass the time?” This time, when he said it, his voice was low and growly, and his eyes narrowed as he pushed her skirt higher.
“Hmm,” she said, taking a bite of toast and setting it aside. She lifted her fingers to his mouth and he pulled them in, one by one, to clean the jam and butter from their tips. His tongue swirled around each digit even as his hands moved to tug at her knickers. Phryne set her other hand flat on the table top, lifting her hips slightly to help him remove her underthings. “Perhaps we should start with breakfast?”
Jack released her last finger with a wet pop. He tugged her knickers over her feet and dropped them beside his chair, holding her eyes as he licked the stickiness of jam off his lips.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” he said, as he slid his hands back up the inside of her legs, pushing her skirt up to her waist. His eyes still on hers, he leaned in to cover her sex with his mouth.
Phryne moaned, leaning back on her elbows; Jack grasped her hips and pulled her to the edge of the table as he feasted. She lifted one leg, draping it over his shoulder, and let her head fall limply backward. After five years together, she would have expected to be tired of his touch, but it hadn’t happened yet. He only had to look at her a certain way or say her name or smirk in her direction and she could feel herself loosen, knowing that he was thinking about what it felt like to slide his body into hers or put his mouth on her skin. She sighed softly.
Jack lifted his head and looked up at her, his eyebrows high. “Miss Fisher, I can’t help but think that I don’t have your full attention,” he rumbled.
“Oh, I’m very much paying attention, Jack,” she responded, sliding her silk-clad leg against his shoulder to pull him closer and lifting her head to look down at him. His hair, only lightly pomaded today, had fallen over his forehead, and his lips were reddened with his efforts.
He tilted his head at her wordlessly and reached with one hand to pick up his coffee cup while the other continued to play with her sensitive flesh. Taking a drink, he watched her as he held the mouthful of hot liquid for a moment, then swallowed. When he ducked his head to press his tongue against her clit, the residual heat drew a gasp from Phryne and she dropped her head backward again. He redoubled his efforts, licking and sucking at her flesh as he slid two fingers inside her body.
“God, Jack,” she moaned, lying back against the table and pushing her fingers into his hair.
He slid his other hand around her hip to press and pinch at her clit while he pushed his tongue into her alongside his fingers. He pressed his fingertips against the front of her vaginal passage with each stroke; the moisture from his tongue and her own juices lubricated the movements of those fingers, allowing him to slide a third inside, and Phryne arched at the delicious stretch.
He slid the fingers on her clit away, replacing them with his mouth, lapping at her before wrapping his lips around the turgid nub and suckling, first softly and then with more power as his fingers continued to move within her. He released her, licking in wide swaths over her flesh, then working his tongue around to bat carefully at her clit before sucking at it again.
“Jack!” Her voice broke as she called his name, her thighs shaking as orgasm rocketed through her.
He surged up between her legs, covering her mouth with his as he replaced his fingers with his cock, pushing strongly into her body. Phryne ate at his mouth, thrusting her tongue between his lips in a rhythm that mimicked the motions of his hips. When they broke apart to breathe, Phryne studied him through slitted eyes. His face was intent, the color high in his cheeks, his mouth slightly open and moisture from her body still shone on his chin in the sunlight pouring through the kitchen window. She’d never found him more attractive.
“Jack...” This time, his name was a whisper, as if all of the feelings she held for this man were crowding together in her throat.
“Phryne… love you...” Her name gusted out of him, his breath sweet against her face. He lowered his mouth to hers again, and though she couldn’t manage the words to echo his declaration, she kissed him with everything in her, knowing that he could feel what she didn’t say.
Phryne arched against him, straining against his hands where they cupped beneath her thighs to hold her open for him. Releasing his hair, she slid her hands around him, flattening her palms against his lower back to urge his hips against her. She could hear the clatter of his coffee cup against its saucer and the jam knife against his plate as their lovemaking shook the table.
With a groan, Jack’s orgasm overcame him and his whole body shuddered against hers; she could feel the jerking of his cock as he came, his mouth open against hers, his groan of completion echoing in the empty kitchen.
As they caught their breath, Phryne hooked her feet behind him and he leaned in, propping himself on his elbows as he kissed her tenderly. He stroked his cheek against hers; Phryne raised a hand to thread it into his hair again, wrapping the other around his back to hold him close even as she angled her neck to give his mouth more access to her skin.
“An excellent beginning, Jack,” she murmured, turning her head to take his earlobe between her lips.
Jack chuckled, the sound resonating within his chest and drawing a smile to Phryne’s lips.
“I was rather fond of the ending, actually,” he responded, and Phryne laughed. He lifted his head to look at her, his eyes impossibly tender as they met hers. “So does that mean there’s more to be done?”
“Oh yes, Jack,” she said, raising her head to press a kiss to his smiling mouth. “I plan to ravish you repeatedly while we have the house to ourselves. There is plenty to do.”
“Work, work, work,” he said with mock despair as he stood, pulling away from her and tucking himself away. He took her hands to help her slide off the table, smoothing her skirt down over her knickers-less bottom, then wrapped his arms around her where she stood.
“I know, darling,” she cooed, her tone conciliatory but her eyes laughing. “It’s fortunate that you have a free weekend—however did you know that I’d be requiring your time, with everyone away?”
“You’re not the only one with plans, Miss Fisher,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Why, just the other day, I was reminded of the time we hid in the coat closet, waiting for a jewel thief.”
“As I recall, that was a picnic, wasn’t it?”
“Indeed. And you are very distracting when you’re eating with your fingers. Your red lips and pink tongue gave me decidedly salacious ideas.”
Phryne’s smile was delighted. “Really, Jack? Why haven’t I heard about this before?”
Jack shrugged. “There’s never been an opportunity like this,” his arms on her back slid down to cup her bottom.
“Then let’s not let it go to waste, inspector.” Phryne looped her arms around his neck. “To the closet?”
“An excellent plan,” he said, his smile creasing his cheek. “After you, Miss Fisher.”
Phryne spotted her knickers lying in a heap in the corner as she sashayed out of the kitchen, Jack’s hand in hers. She’d collect them later. Something told her she wouldn’t need them for a while.