[He's right in that she'd most certainly tell him bluntly and sharply if he ever truly pushed past her hard limits. Things like this, tugging her in his lap and patronizing her, teasing her and baiting her, that isn't crossing a line. It's infuriating, but it's nothing she isn't hungry for.
She glances down at his thumb, one eyebrow raising again. A few deliberate seconds pass, long and silent, before she shifts in his lap again, squirming pointedly as she settles in. She's well aware of him beneath her, and more to the point, well aware of what it is that's building between them.
If he wants to fight, they'll fight. And that means using every dirty trick she knows.]
For your information, Jamie Fraser . . . calling me a good girl is absolutely patronizing. At least admit to your crimes if you're going to commit them.
[She thinks she might just scream if he says that to her again under the right circumstances. Rosalind finally sets her drink down, her eyes locked on his. He really is built similarly to her, with red hair and blue eyes . . . she's more freckles than he does, she knows, but she hides hers beneath makeup. Him, though . . . it's no wonder he thought she was from his country. She looks like she ought to fit right in, and she wonders how often he's thought about that.
Slender fingers wrap around his wrist, and she draws his hand up.]
And I'll boss you as long as I please.
[But with that said, her tongue darts out, sliding against his thumb with deliberate languidness. She's hardly obscene about it, but rather simply efficient, doing precisely as he asks and nothing more. And yet he'll still be effected, she's certain, because her eyes are glittering as she watches him.]
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Date: 2018-03-12 07:41 am (UTC)She glances down at his thumb, one eyebrow raising again. A few deliberate seconds pass, long and silent, before she shifts in his lap again, squirming pointedly as she settles in. She's well aware of him beneath her, and more to the point, well aware of what it is that's building between them.
If he wants to fight, they'll fight. And that means using every dirty trick she knows.]
For your information, Jamie Fraser . . . calling me a good girl is absolutely patronizing. At least admit to your crimes if you're going to commit them.
[She thinks she might just scream if he says that to her again under the right circumstances. Rosalind finally sets her drink down, her eyes locked on his. He really is built similarly to her, with red hair and blue eyes . . . she's more freckles than he does, she knows, but she hides hers beneath makeup. Him, though . . . it's no wonder he thought she was from his country. She looks like she ought to fit right in, and she wonders how often he's thought about that.
Slender fingers wrap around his wrist, and she draws his hand up.]
And I'll boss you as long as I please.
[But with that said, her tongue darts out, sliding against his thumb with deliberate languidness. She's hardly obscene about it, but rather simply efficient, doing precisely as he asks and nothing more. And yet he'll still be effected, she's certain, because her eyes are glittering as she watches him.]