It was Jack’s favorite way to wake up.
His eyes, still closed.
Silence, still mostly intact, save for a few morning birds singing outside and the faint sounds of breakfast starting to be prepared downstairs.
No, it was not his sense of sight or hearing that woke him.
It was his sense of smell.
The sense most closely tied to memory and emotion, and even in his half-conscious, still mostly asleep state, it worked to evoke memories and emotions that would start any morning off perfectly right.
The olfactory combination of light talcum powder, French perfume, and sweet, intoxicating arousal.
The love of his life.
And her beautiful.
Phryne and Jack’s schedules did not, as a general rule, look similar. He, a morning lark; she, a night owl. But they realized, soon after becoming as physically intimate as they were in every other way, that this was not necessarily a problem. Not at all, as it turned out.
He had to be at work around eight in the morning, so his alarm clock was set for six. Plenty of time to shower, shave, suit up, have a leisurely chat with Mr. Butler over breakfast, and read the newspaper before he made it into the station.
Phryne, on the other hand, liked to go out at all hours of the night. Frequently it was to go dancing, sometimes some light breaking and entering (but who’s asking), sometimes checking out an old (or new) favorite bar in town with Mac.
And if her timing was ideal, it would be almost five in the morning when she came in. Limbs lax with exhaustion or good booze, or both; she would quietly go up the stairs to the boudoir. Remove her makeup, baubles, garments, undergarments. And at that magic hour, there was plenty of time to add an activity to Jack’s morning.
And this was one such morning.
He woke up on his stomach, his face turned to the side and his cheek pressed into the pillow. His nostrils drew in a lungful of her delicious scents. First, the more innocuous smell of her thighs, Phryne having placed her knees on either side of his head. He growled as he rolled over in the tight space her body position allowed him, immediately starting to press soft, grateful kisses up her legs. She hummed and rolled her hips in small circles, one hand coming down to grip his wild hair, her other hand gripping the headboard to steady her. His hands joined in as he stroked and squeezed her fantastic arse, naked and ready.
“Hmmm, Jaaaack. Good mo - ooh yes, there! - morning darling”.
He smiled against her skin as his face reached the apex of her thighs, his nostrils flaring, sucking in as much of this scent as they could deliver to his greedy brain. The heady smell, the honey-brackish taste of her delicious arousal. Dripping all over his cheeks, nose, he lapped it up and roared for more. He brazenly licked with the entire flat of his tongue, from her beautiful slit up to the bundle of sensitive nerves at the top, hands kneading her arse without pause. He knew just where to focus, the upper right side of her sweet clit, just the right rhythm and amount of pressure that would send her climax crashing up and outward. Her panting and moaning, the building tension in her muscles, the little light spasms in her thighs and stomach told him she was already close. He brought one of his hands in between her legs from her derriere, dragged two fingers into and out of his mouth to get them wet and ready for her, and pushed them into her hot, tight body. He brought his other hand around her hip to her mound and used this thumb and forefingers to open her up to his loving, ravenous gaze. She was slick with need and he pistoned in and out of her while he sucked at her clit with his lips, nuzzled her with his whole face.
She came with a body-wracking shudder, the primal moans emerging from her sounding so thoroughly human and unguarded that he felt privileged to witness them, to be the source of her pleasure. Her thighs clenched over his ears, stifling her awesome sounds but he couldn’t be bothered to mind, the force of her pleasure being so wonderfully and powerfully pressed directly into his skull.
At last her body calmed, her breathing slowed. She lifted a knee over him and wiggled her body down the bed to snuggle into his side. She stretched up to reach his lips and greeted him properly with big, open mouthed kisses, tasting herself on him and sighing with pleasure and release. She didn’t come up for air for several minutes.
When she did, her eyes were closed, and he gazed at her. “Always my favorite way to wake up. Did you have a good night?” he asked her, giving her a kiss on the forehead.
She was half asleep already, but managed to answer. “I did. But this nightcap was the highlight.” She smiled contentedly.
“Nightcap?” He laughed. “Miss Fisher, it is almost six in the morning and some people are about to start their day.”
“Yes and luckily none of those people are me.”
Again, he laughed. “True.” He wrapped his arms around her and hugged. “You know, I have noticed one downside to waking up like this.”
Phryne cracked open one reluctant eyelid, amused and curious. “Do tell, Inspector.”
“Well, what could top that? After starting the day like this, it’s all downhill from here,” he lamented. He was joking, of course. Of course.
“Oh you poor man. I do see your point.” She opened her eyes and then narrowed them wickedly. “Well, there is more where that came from. You’ll just have to reciprocate. I should be waking up around the time that you usually take your lunch hour. What if you come home for lunch today and you can be my breakfast? That wouldn’t be so downhill from here, would it?”
Jack contemplated her idea. “I appreciate the sentiment Phryne, but I don’t think I could wake you with...that part of my body in your...face. It would seem presumptuous.”
Her Jack. Always so considerate.
“Well, we can explore that later, though I do appreciate your sentiment too.” She kissed him then, sweetly. “How about this: you talk to me as you get undressed and by the time you’re well and naked I’ll be awake for you. I promise not to hide my enthusiasm.”
He grinned widely. “I can’t wait.”
“Marvelous. And if you happen to have a second helping of your breakfast with lunch? I mean, you are getting that lean, hungry look. We do want you well fed, Jack. What do you say? One course from me, and one from Mr. Butler?”
“Sounds like a meal fit for a king, Miss Fisher.”
Jack Robinson was not a man on a diet.