Her confidence waned where she stood, and he reveled in it. Not only was the detective mixing with the sludge she was supposed to clear the city of, but she was waiting for its approval. He could have sought out what might happen with her expressions if he simply tossed her away, right there. Such power she let him have. She could still be useful for him, after all, there'd just always be this between them, her offer, and his rejection. Such a defining thing could be quite a teaching moment for her.<br/><br/>But he only thought long enough about it to see her squirm a little. He wasn't in the mood for those kinds of mental games, tonight. Not when she'd been so much fun so far. Little red ice, thawing by the pour. Willing to play now, she wasn't refusing him or tensing up much, anymore. He'd call that a success, however the rest of the night went. Of course, he'd not be satisfied if he couldn't push it much further. His newest toy had so much potential, after all.<br/><br/>Their march toward what would be their sordid Eden wasn't objectionable either. Without such serious garb and eyes, she was a delight, having what he would give of the bottle and running along where he showed her. It was a woman far removed from the collected professional that had tried to book him. The contrast alone was worth all the trouble he'd gone through. Every bit of detective Grey was paying off tonight, and she was skipping along well toward her next trial.<br/><br/>She seemed to know what the room was for, but he still helped her with the undoing of his top. She approved. Her fingers reading the red stories were almost as satisfying as that new depth of her words, giving clues to her heritage. A welcome spice, another secret of hers. Cole moved back just a little to see when her shirt fell victim to her crossed, raised arms. His blue eyes took on a clear luster when the proof of her trials, written on her skin in more severe tales than his ink were laid bare. Images of her bleeding weren't so bad, either. She was letting him in. He nodded at her questioning blush. It was good that she clung to his approval. She was letting him have that power over her.<br/><br/>He reached out for the fox when it came into view. It was a pretty motif. The charmer and murderer looked at the tendrils of stoic paint on his own torso. "I think they like each other." he commented and dragged a knuckle over her spine. He laughed quietly at her coy suggestion, and humored her with a flick of two fingers at the fastenings of her bra, the article splitting quickly for his handling. He opened his arms warmly when she turned, and then lost some of his composure when she presented what he'd already inspected during their first time alone. They were as inviting to the blue eyes as they had been to the forceful hand.<br/><br/>He followed her discarded boots but soon turned his attention to the woman who'd made herself comfortable on the bed. His head fell to one side. "I think you're a beautiful woman, Lyra Grey." he answered and got on the bed with her, moving quickly to join their still clothed hips. He lifted her legs around him to have her head deeper in the sheets. A grin on him, colder, but still admiring her - the scope was different somehow. Their game had shifted.<br/><br/>Another pinch of his fingers undid the button of her jeans, and a swift tug made short work of her zipper, too. He could see the black lace stare up at him, just as coy as its wearer. He sucked on his lower lip and looked over her stomach, tits and then face. He was wearing more demanding shadows now. Lifting her jeans by the crotch, he pointed her feet to the ceiling, and pulled at the denim until he'd peeled it to her knees, leaving her with only her panties for protection.<br/><br/>If all this happened as he wanted, her legs would be gathered by the denim bundle holding her knees together, and her ass would be defenseless against him. His free hand stroked an exposed cheek to its clef, where the lace was making its last stance over her womanhood. If she could still be kept still, he'd stroke the fabric to lodge between her mounds before cocking his hand back and cracking the palm loudly against the lifted flesh of her ass. A woman like her, would either revel in the much needed subjugation, or try to fight him. Either way, he'd have some fun with his detective.