Title: Wrong in the Best Way

Rating: Under sixteens, shoo.

Summary: If Hugh walked in right now he'd be scarred for life.

Disclaimer: I'm a cruel woman but even I wouldn't have characters interrupt Jack and Phryne so many times.

Dedication: For CJ because it's her birthday, I'm broke, and I'm halfway decent at smut.

Phryne didn't like this situation. Not one bit.

She'd always tried not to be a possessive or jealous woman. After all she'd had plenty of lovers in her time. Not to mention she'd been on the receiving end of that jealousy and possession and she knew how damaging it was.

But this case involving Jack's ex-father in law? She didn't like it at all.

It was funny, but when Jack had been married she'd never seen his wife once. Now he was divorced and Rosie was showing up all over the place. It irked her. She'd had her chance with Jack. He was Phryne's now and she fully intended to keep him.

Not only that, but Rosie didn't even seem to be aware that she still had a modicum of feelings for Jack. Oh, Phryne was certain the woman wouldn't act on it even if she'd been aware of it. But she did so enjoy rubbing Jack's failures in his face. Jack deserved better than that. Phryne certainly endeavored to give him better than that. But it had taken a lot of time to get his relationship confidence back, damn it, and she didn't appreciate that sniveling harpy sweeping in and undoing all of Phryne's hard work.

Of course, it was rather petty of her. She really shouldn't even be bothered by it. Jack had moved on from Rosie—to someone who knew how to appreciate him, if Phryne could be allowed to toot her own horn for a moment—and Jack was nothing if not intensely loyal. She had no fear that he would stray. If only that woman didn't have to come around all the time…

Phryne focused her attention on fixing Jack's tie. They were in his office and he was obviously nervous if he couldn't even manage to get his tie done. She stood between his legs, the silk of his tie running across the soft skin of his neck… her fingers were right at his chest, right at his buttons where she could easily undo them… their faces were only inches apart…

She looked up from the tie to meet his eyes.

And then they were kissing.

Kissing Jack was just like falling—it was so natural, so simple, to let nature take its course just like letting gravity pull you down. Only instead of dashing against the rocks she was pressing into Jack's warmth. And Jack was so warm. She often felt cold inside, like marble, but Jack kindled flames deep inside of her and kept her alive and breathing. She could kiss him for hours—and she had, on several occasions.

But, as always with them, it never stayed just a kiss.

They'd never done it on a desk before—they'd never done it in his office before—but they had grown practiced in each other's movements, learned this ancient dance and how to lead and follow each other's cues. When she pressed up on her toes, he slid his hands to the back of her thighs to settle her into his lap. When he started to lean back to lie on the desk, she stuck out her arms to brace her hands on the wood on either side of his shoulders.

This was wrong. This was suspended from the force levels of wrong. Contrary to popular opinion, Phryne did understand the rules and regulations and respected them—to a point. It was what kept the police in line, kept them from becoming what they fought against. And police matters aside, she had nothing but great respect for Jack. Even if he could be a stick in the mud. She knew exactly what they were getting into at this moment and she knew it wouldn't do anything good for Jack if they were discovered.

But oh, his hands were sliding up her curves, squeezing gently as he positioned her—she did like to let him manhandle her a little, because he was so gentle and caring about it—and it wasn't like he was complaining or trying to stop her…

No one besides Hugh would walk in without knocking anyway and if he saw something he'd be too scarred to say anything about it to anyone.

Jack pressed kisses up and down the column of her throat, letting her arch into his touch. She loved this knife edge that Jack walked with her; the delicate balance between frantic and gentle. She ran her hands up his chest, kneading her fingers into his muscles like a cat stretching out its paws. She delighted in leaving little marks all over his body, scratches and hickeys that marked her territory. They didn't have time for that now, alas, but just the memory of leaving those tokens of ownership was enough to make her entire body heat up.

She pushed herself against him, letting him feel how hot she was, how wet she was getting. She scraped her lips along his jawline, the way she knew he liked, making his hips buck up into her. "Don't make me use that tie on you," he growled.

She laughed. She loved this side of him—the playful, naughty side that only turned up when they were alone. "Maybe next time."

Jack's pupils blew wide when he heard that and he involuntarily bucked against her again. Phryne knew exactly what they'd be doing that night.

But in the meantime…

She slowly pushed herself up and down his body, rubbing against him like a cat enjoying a patch of sunlight. His hands flexed as they held her, spasming and tightening their hold before relaxing again. Why he still kept up the pretense at self control after all this time, she didn't know, but she did so love to rid him of it.

"Jack," she whispered, her lips brushing against his skin. She didn't kiss him properly—that was for later, when he'd given in and could be properly rewarded. "I need you."

He let out a small groan at that, and his hands slid lower to reposition her hips. She smiled. He never could refuse her when she started begging.

"You'll have to do most of the work," Jack admitted, sounding put out about it.

"I planned on that," she replied as she undid his pants. Jack always liked to do things himself and to take responsibility, and that was reflected in their love life. He wanted to be responsible for her pleasure, to ensure that he was doing his part. He hated being passive.

Well, he was just going to have to live with it this time, because she was in control now and she did not plan on going slow.

And because she was just a little bit wicked, she didn't stroke or prep him before she sank down onto him. Fortunately she was still relaxed enough from that morning or she'd have given herself a slightly painful stretch, but she spared that only a moment's thought before she was completely caught up in Jack's reaction. He was obviously not expecting her to go from zero to sixty like that and his entire body locked up in shocked pleasure, his breath punched out of him and returning in frantic gasps. His eyes were wide and his hands gripped her so tightly that she knew she'd bruise later if she wasn't starting to already. "Phryne," he tried to growl but it was more of a groan, "Phryne, Phryne…"

"Yes?" She replied in her sweetest, huskiest tone. She began to move up and down, taking more of him in until he was completely inside of her and she could adjust to get the best angle.

Jack babbled something incoherent. She couldn't help it—she laughed, moving faster. She wasn't thrusting, exactly, still just rolling her hips so that he rocked shallowly inside of her. "Would you mind repeating that, please?"

Jack just closed his eyes and whined in the back of his throat. Phryne took that as a sign and started moving more, snapping her hips and pushing herself up and down. Mmm, this angle was perfect. And if she slid her hand down…

He must have felt her fingers against his skin because his eyes snapped open just in time to watch her start fingering her clit. Phryne let her head fall back, double sensation of her fingers and his cock making pleasure spiral slowly throughout her limbs.

The sound that Jack made couldn't possibly be human.

She knew he was torn between wishing it was him and being completely entranced by watching her. She decided to take advantage of that and let out a low moan. "Mmm, so good, Jack…" She drew out the 'a' in his name, gasping as tiny sparks erupted behind her eyes. She started moving even faster, pressing her thumb against herself just at the border of too hard. She was pushing the boundaries of too rough, too fast, the pleasure raw and forceful like a violent winter storm. Jack panted her name again, his hands spasming as they held her, at a loss for what to do. Phryne forced her eyes open—when had she closed them?—to get a look at his face. His jaw was slack and his eyes were glazed over as he stared at her, completely lost in the sensations and the visuals she gave him. It gave her a rush of power that pushed her even closer to the eye of the storm.

"Jack," she said, warning in her voice. "Jack, are you—? Because I'm—"

He growled and slid his hands up her body to squeeze her breasts. His fingers swiped and tweaked her nipples, rolling her breasts in his palm with the skill of one who has had hours and hours of practice in learning what their partner likes.

Between his hands, her fingers, and him inside of her—she couldn't hold it back anymore. She knew he wasn't quite finished, wasn't as close as she was, but she couldn't wait. Pleasure exploded inside of her and it felt like she had been struck by lightning, at once dashed to pieces and more alive than she'd ever been before. Her limbs were buzzing, her very blood was buzzing, and she felt lightheaded and dizzy.

It must have been seeing her—it must have—because a moment later she felt him follow her. The heat of him pulsed through her and added to her own like a wave following on the crest of the first and she had to bite down on her own hand to keep her screams from being heard.

This man. This beautiful, marvelous man, was all hers. Nothing could possibly take him away from her.

She sagged on top of him, his body feeling heavy and boneless underneath hers.

"We… could have gotten into a world of trouble," Jack observed.

"Jack, I must ask you to please wait at least five minutes before you start feeling guilty," she quipped in reply.

His arm came up to wrap around her waist and keep her against him. "If you insist."

There was one more thing that Rosie had failed to appreciate about Jack. She thought he was nothing but stoic and solemn. But Phryne knew better.

When they were presentable once again, he seated himself on the edge of his desk and held up his hand, his tie dangling between his outstretched fingers.

"You never did finish tying this."

And that was how Sanderson found them a minute later: Phryne giving Jack a warning look as she fixed his tie for him, and Jack smirking at her because her man was a dryly humorous, sassy little shit when he wanted to be.

But then, that was part of what she loved about him. It was part of why he was hers now.

Hers.

Take that, Rosie.