[Thank god he covers her mouth, because the second his hand connects with her ass she squeaks, a ridiculous little noise that's more surprised than pained. It's muffled, and she shudders the moment it leaves her, in no small part because she can hear a shout of laughter from inside the bar. They're so close, and she whines softly, her eyes closing tightly as he yanks her underwear down.
And oh, fuck, but that's hideously good. He's barely even doing anything, but it doesn't matter; she jerks and squirms, throbbing around nothing, eager to feel those heated fingers push up and into her.
She doesn't answer his question. Of course she's been thinking of him; she's been thinking of him the moment she pressed up against him (was it really only half an hour ago?). She's thinking of how he's hard behind her; of how it would feel for him to bend her over and take her right now, in the alley, and damned anyone who might see them. And she's thinking of how her ass stings, but not enough; how he'd threatened to put her over his knee and how wet that had made her.
His fingers drag over her shamelessly, but not far enough, and she growls softly in irritation. Rosalind squirms pointedly, her hips rocking backwards. More, that isn't enough, and he's not stupid, he's not refusing her because he's shy or clumsy, but still she acts as though he needs instruction. More, and she drops her mouth open, wet lips against his palm, tipping her head to try and catch his fingers in her mouth.]
[ He's no fool. She was bound to make some noise. Moving his hand away any time soon would only get them noticed. Perhaps. There's no telling. But he doesn't intend to move from here yet. She was leading them somewhere, but he wants to take this moment instead. He wants to appreciate it. Appreciate her. Because he's damn certain that not many men get to give Rosalind any sort of orders that she doesn't agree with. Hell, even the ones that she does agree with. She's a headstrong lass.
Jamie's teasing. That much is certain. She gets what she wants when she wants it. Denying her is half the fun. It's half the dance. He does wonder how she'd react if he lifted his kilt up to slide into her from behind her. It wouldn't take much effort. He wouldn't even need to spit into his palm. He's certain she'd wet enough to handle him just as she is right now. But he holds off just for the moment. Just to see what else he can drive her to. ]
There's a good lass. [ He whispers. He gives her a hand with her endevours. He moves hand just enough to press two fingers between those beautiful lips. If she wants something to suck then he's happy to oblige. Finally his finger presses down further and slowly presses into her. It's an agonizing pace most likely, but he doesn't shy away. He curls it and presses it up and forward. ]
Should I have done this for ye in there? Dinnae think ye could've handled it.
[She wraps her lips tight around his fingers, tongue flitting up to tease over the pads. He's been staring at her mouth all night; why not tease him with it more? Let him imagine just how good this will feel when her tongue is sliding over something else of his. She slips between his fingers, spreading them and wetting them thoroughly before her lips tighten once more.
She does so love to tease. But oh, the instant his finger slips into her she moans, and that's entirely for her own benefit, not his. She rocks her hips back, fucking herself shallowly against him, throbbing eagerly around him. It's not big enough, not at all, and she's aching for him to push a second finger into her, but she'll take what she can get.
Her head jerks in a nod, though in truth she never would have allowed such a thing. But who cares? It's a fantasy, and already her mind is flitting along those lines. Being fingered under the table by him, her face red and her body shaking with the effort of not giving them away . . .
She moans again, then turns with a gasp, glancing back at him. Her lipstick is a little smeared, her mouth wet, but it's worth it to catch his eye again.]
O-of course I could have handled it . . . you know me well enough by now to know there's little I can't do if I put my mind to it.
Is that what you wanted? To fuck me in f-front of all of those people?
[ She's needy and wanting. Then again so is Jamie, but he doesn't have her hand under his kilt so it's a bit easier for him to resist. He wants to do so much more. But the way she moves back to shallow fuck herself on that finger makes him sigh. He could enjoy that for hours, but he doubts she would. His hips tilt forward to drag his cock against the curve of her ass. The kilt rough against his bare skin as he sighs roughly. ]
Aye. I suppose yer right. Ye are a very challenging lass. [ Not just in this way, but in the other more tame ones as well. She hadn't been willing to give up when they were stopped by the guards. Instead she bluffed her way through along with him. She's a powerful woman. Absolutely perfect. But he doesn't say that. Not right now anyways. This isn't the place for sweet sentiments. It's something far filthier.
He bites down on her shoulder to keep from groaning when she puts that image in his head. Sitting her in his lap and shallowly moving inside of her. He finally lets up and pulls his middle finger out before replace it with two. His middle and ring finger. The fingers resuming the position from before. She was eager to move her hips before. He knows she will now as well. ]
I would nae have been afraid t'. [ He kisses behind her ear. ] Could fuck ye right now if ye wanted. I dinnae wear anything under my kilt. Be so bloody easy to slide right in. Yer certainly wet enough.
[It's an incredibly tempting offer, and for a few seconds she almost agrees. The revelation that he wears nothing under his kilt is mildly scandalous, and later on she'll ask a few clumsy questions about it, but right now that seems nothing but perfect. Good, that he doesn't, that makes it all the easier, and god, but she wants him to fuck her.
Her hips rock back again and again, a quick pace that drives her hips back against his fingers, fucking herself in shallow little thrusts. Just like that, and her legs spread wider, her torso bending forward as she bites back a low groan. More, harder, faster, and all it would take would be one word of agreement, but--]
Nn-- not-- not here--
[It's a real statement, not the petulant things she'd said before just so he could boss her around. Rosalind snaps her hips back, groaning at the way his fingers stretch her open and fill her up, before falling forward to rest her forehead against the cool brick of the wall.
She's silent for a few seconds, though she's still throbbing around his fingers, her body wet and wanting. And then, her eyes closed and her voice heated:]
When you fuck me, Jamie, I don't want it to be in an alley. I'm not some common slut, and I shan't be taken anywhere so filthy.
[She pronounces the words with a clear delight, taking pleasure in her educated, prim voice saying such things.]
When you fuck me . . . I want to see all of you, Jamie. Every single inch. And I want you to see me.
[Now, finally, she glances behind her, meeting his gaze. The darkness hides the way her face goes red as she admits this, but she says it confidently enough.]
And frankly . . . there's an awful lot I want you to do to me that isn't fit for public spaces. Up to and including you putting your hand to me again.
[ There's a soft chuckle when she says no. He can tell the difference between her goading statements and reality. When she really doesn't want something. Though the way she presses back onto his fingers once more is awfully misleading, but he supposes he can't fault her for want. He can't blame her for need or desire that amplifies and erases so many things. He knows if she had her hand on his cock he'd not be able to answer properly.
She's hardly a common slut. Certainly not in this alleyway and not anywhere else. But he doesn't say that. He stays silent and listens to her closely. There's a rough groan that escapes when she insists she wants to see every inch of him. There's a nagging thought in the back of Jamie's mind. Something he's yet to let her see. He's never had his shirt off around her. But she'll see his back and the scar of the cut away skin that once held a brand put into him by Black Jack Randall. He can only hope she doesn't question that one. He can field the ones about his back easily. ]
Then I'm afraid ye'll need to stop fucking yerself on my fingers so we can get home, Rosalind. [ He breathes out against her neck for a moment. Righting himself mentally. He knows he would have liked nothing more than to keep his fingers in her until she came around them, but he'll obey. For this. ] Cause I aim to be inside of you very soon.
[She groans softly as he says that. With a little whine she takes a step forward, pulling away from him, and reaches to tug her panties up and her skirt down. She turns, her nose wrinkled in something dangerously close to a pout, because no matter that it was at her prompting, she isn't pleased at having to lose his fingers.
Ah, well . . . Rosalind reaches for him, taking his hand. With a little hum she puts it to her lips, humming softly to taste herself on him. He can hardly walk her home with his hand so filthy, can he?
It's quick work. Her tongue flits over him, between his fingers, before she releases his hand and takes a few steps forward.]
I'd tell you to come along, Jamie, but I think there's little chance at all you won't follow.
[That's less impudent and more tongue in cheek as she glances back with a smile. They'll resume their game very soon, but there's something a little more ordinary in her tone as they head down the street.]
I can't believe you had the audacity to s-- to put your hand to me in the middle of a bloody bar.
[ He's going to have a difficult time keeping his hands off her after she licks his fingers like that. Cleaning them up before they can resume their walk back to where she was leading him. Likely a residence of some sort. He's curious to see how far it is. He was a virgin for most of his life. It wasn't until his marriage that he did have sex, but ever since he's never once won a battle against desire really. But tonight he'll have to.
She's right. He's not about to stick around in the alley by himself. He follows after her and falls into step alongside her. He wiggles his arm between hers and her body to loop around hers. Walking arm in arm. He's a gentleman after all. Or at least he can pretend to be. ] Ye were being a naughty lass. I had t'. [ He probably didn't have to, but the game is still going quite strong. He's not going to shy away from his decisions now. ]
I hope ye know that I'm nowhere near finished. When we're home--[ His voice is soft, but loud enough for her to hear as they walk. He doesn't make an attempt to turn towards her to muffle any of it. He simply speaks. ]--I'll take ye right over my knee and give ye the proper spankings ye deserve. And I'll do it all with my fingers inside of ye. Punishment is deserved.
[Rosalind leans a little more heavily against him, trusting him to guide their steps, for just one moment basking in the mild affection. Sex aside, she very much simply enjoys his company. He's a reminder of home, for all that he comes a hundred years behind her.
Though no proper gentleman at home would say the things he says. Rosalind's grip on his arm tightens, and god, but she hates, she really truly hates that she loves this so much. Why this? Why this of all things, why on earth does this do it for her, but it does and they both know it.
At least it seems to turn him on as much as it does her. She'd never get over her humiliation if he was secretly laughing at all this.]
All this, and you haven't even kissed me yet.
[It's an airy observation, and she glances up at him. If they're going to play, she's going to play; that challenging look is back, arch and arrogant.]
And what, may I ask, is that for? What have I done to deserve that? Because really, Jamie . . . if you wanted me to act a brat, you ought to have said. That was the least of what I could have done.
But if that's what you want . . . then it's the least I will do, too.
[She pulls away from him before he can answer, leading the way into a small apartment building. It's not a glamorous place, but it suits her purposes, and the landlord doesn't ask too many questions about why she only appears for one week out of the month.
She's very aware of him behind her as she walks up the stairs, which might be why she goes a little quickly, skittish despite herself.
The apartment is small, but certainly not modest. A thick couch sits in the middle of shelves stocked with books. There's a record player in the corner, and a small table that has a few scattered pieces of paper filled with notes on whatever it is she's working on. Her bedroom is off to the side, her door half closed, but she doesn't lead them there just yet.
Instead she turns, facing him, taking a few deliberate steps backwards.]</small
[ She's right. He hasn't kissed her yet. He's noticed it as well. He plans to rectify that once they're inside though. He knows if he does it on the streets he'll never make it to her place with her. He'll break down with her once more. But he doesn't say that. Instead he just gives a half shrug. She'll get what's coming to her eventually. All the things he wishes to do. All the things he intends to do. He doesn't intend to let her come up for air for quite some time. He imagines she has the same intention for him.
But her next slew of questions leave him wondering again. He could easily find a number of things to insist that mean she's been bad. But right now he doesn't intend to list them off. They'd never get home. She leads them off though and into an apartment building they go. Jamie follows behind her with his eyes on her behind as she climbs the stairs ahead of him. It's a lovely view. One he appreciates even as they make their way into her apartment. Jamie carefully shuts the door behind him and turns back towards her.
Rosalind backs away and Jamie has no interest in looking the room over. Instead he surges forward and takes her face in his hands. His lips crash into hers for the first time and he allows himself to kiss her. Hard and thorough. His tongue sliding out to gain entry into her mouth. He wants to ravage her. Everything inside of him wants her. Every strand of him wants to lay claim to her body. ]
Take off--[ Another kiss. ]--yer clothes--[ Another hard one. ]--for me. [ He doesn't wait for her to answer. He just kisses her again. ]
[Fuck, and her breath leaves her, her mouth dropping open eagerly as he kisses her. One hand wraps tight around the back of his neck, and each time he pulls back to speak she's darting up, desperate to reclaim his mouth. He kisses her hard, leaving her lips sore in the best possible way, and she returns each one with a moan.
Her other hand is busy in the meantime: tugging at the buttons of her shirt, the zipper of her skirt, fingers fumbling in her haste to do as he says. She doesn't stop kissing him all the while, pulling back only to bite hard at his bottom lip (and oh, she'll be delighted if she draws blood) or tip her head a different way.
At last she manages to pull her shirt off, rolling her shoulders so it drops to the ground. Her skirt follows, her panties, and though she fumbles a little, the clasp on her bra is soon unhooked. Her stockings will need both hands, but she doubts he'll mind she still has them on.
And there she is, naked and cold, bare before him even as he's still dressed. She'd done it so quickly she hadn't realized, but now Rosalind pants softly, very much aware of the sudden difference between them.
She isn't embarrassed. A little shy, perhaps, but even then it's a quiet thing. Licking her lips, she stares up at him for a few seconds, then presses herself forward, lithe body flush against his.
Her kiss is softer, but no less hungry than the ones of before. And now both her hands work together, tugging at the buttons of his shirt, eager to get him at least a little undressed. It's only fair.
(But this game isn't actually about fairness, not in the least).]
Off--
[She murmurs it, and rises to her toes, catching him in another kiss.]
Shirt off, that ridiculous kilt-- if you're to see me, I want to see you--
[ A woman that give just as good as she takes is very attractive to him. When she kisses him back with the same amount of energy and excitement he can only want more. He can only try to take more. He's too busy enjoying her lips to really notice that bits of her clothing keep hitting the ground. He's busy enjoying her. Touching her. That bite gets a growling sound from him. He tastes the copper before he realizes she's made him bleed. Another thing he'll take her over his knee for in case he needed more.
Once she backs up he takes a moment to look. A moment to appreciate her form. He's really only seen one other naked female frame truly and it was his wife's. This one belongs to Rosalind and it makes him warm to the touch. He wants to study her more, but she presses close and his arms come around her. Sinking into the kiss for a moment until he realizes she's trying to remove his shirt. Then insisting he take off his kilt. Fair is fair. He's a wee bit nervous, but he'll cope. ]
Aye.
[ Jamie mumbles as he steps back. He reaches to undo the belt around his waist and lets it drop. The ouch attached to it along with his dirk in the sheath hit the ground. Next is his kilt which requires a bit more skill and precision. Unwrapping fabric from his body. It's a show when he puts it on come morning. He has to lay down to do it, but getting it off is much easier. He doesn't do much else than discard the fabric behind him.
His shirt drops down now to his knees that his kilt is gone. There's a touch of hesitation and it's probably why he goes about removing his boots quickly. One last thing to prolong what must be seen. Finally he removes it from his torso. The fabric flutters to the floor and he steps towards her. Bare like her. She can't quite see the markings that cover his back. The scars upon scars created by the 200 lashings. Fleshed turned to ribbons before an audience of his countrymen. ]
[His sudden drop in energy surprises her, but she matches it, not wanting to overwhelm him. She takes a few steps back, watching him with obvious desire as he removes his kilt (and it really is a ridiculous garment, what on earth the Scots were thinking when they invented it she's sure she doesn't know, but that's a fight they'll have another time). His boots are next, and then his shirt, and he's . . .
She doesn't see it yet. She doesn't realize. But what she does see, she knows she enjoys. He's a rough man, battle-scarred and muscled, but that's no bad thing.]
Did you think I wouldn't like you?
[She says it softly. It's not the cloyingly sweet thing it had been before, arrogance masked as politeness. Rosalind reaches for him, her fingers sliding up his bare chest, a slight smile on her face. Her other hand drags idly over his side, pleased at the warmth she finds. There's a scar that's particularly large on his side, a circle that makes her curious as to what might have happened, but she won't ruin the mood by asking.
Tonight, perhaps, between rounds, when they're sated and exploring one another's bodies more languidly. But right now, her fingers ignore it, gliding further down, teasing at the jut of his hip.]
I do. Very much.
[She reaches for his hands now, putting them on her hips, encouraging him to touch in return. He hadn't needed prompting before, but there's a world of difference between groping outside a bar and touching a naked woman properly.
Her hips are wide, inching out just a touch wider than proportionately attractive, but Rosalind has never minded. Pale skin littered with freckles and the noticeable swell of her chest means she's few insecurities when it comes to her body. She squirms, leaning back only enough that he might see her more, and reaches to rub her thumb against his bottom lip.]
[ He's not that shy truly, but not many women have seem him truly naked. Though many people around his home have seen his back. Especially around Castle Leoch. Dougal exploited him for more coin while collecting rent. Using the sob story about how the poor boy was flogged twice in a week. Beaten so terribly he was straining against the restraints towards the end to stay on his feet. He puffed it up and he sold it to the masses while tearing the back of Jamie's shirt open to make them all afraid. To make them want to fight back against the English.
Perhaps a part of him has grown a touch skittish about baring the parts of himself that once were a harsh reminder of the stain he put on his family. His father died that day he was flogged before the other people. His sister was forced to manage on her own though there was Ian. He can only thank God for bringing her someone to protect her. His scars were a part of him he didn't want to show the world, but Claire's acceptance of them had made him relax more. He knows Rosalind can't see them now, but she will soon. He can only wait and see. ]
Aye? [ He smiles as she takes his hands and puts them on her hips Urging him in the direction she wants. He has no problem resuming touching her once more. He squeezes her hips hard and pulls her in. He cocks his brow when she comments on what she'd done to him. ] Cause ye bit me, ye bonnie snake. [ He lifts her up off the ground and carries her over towards the couch. He sits with her straddling him. His hands loop around to cup her behind. ]
[She lets out a little noise as he picks her up, grabbing for his shoulders, a somewhat panicked look crossing her features. She's never gotten used to being picked up, no matter how many times Robert or any other man does it. Her legs slot around his hips, but of course he bears her weight easily, and within a moment she's seated in his lap, her legs spread wide.
His cock is slotted between her cunt, hot and hard, and she rocks her hips down, teasing them both with the motion.]
You're really going to focus on that when you could have this?
[Of course he is. He's going to take his hand to her in less than a minute, she's certain, but she likes resisting.]
[ She's a vixen. A demon in disguise. But he loves it. He loves the way she challenges him at every turn. She does bring up a very good point. She's resting against him and when she rocks her hips for him Jamie's head tilts back into the cushions. A heavy groan escapes him as he digs his fingers into her flesh. ] Christ, woman. [ She knows what she's doing and he can't really say that he doesn't agree with her idea slightly. It does feel very good.
But Jamie has gotten quite good at doing exactly what others don't expect of him. They might think they have him in a bind, but often he finds a way. He finds a way to overcome. Instead of man handling her over his lap he leans forward and tilts his head to wrap his lips around one of her nipples. He sucks at the soft flesh as his hand smacks the top of her ass. Maybe he's not taking her over his knee, but he needed to get something in. ]
Then put me inside of ye, Rosalind. Dinnae make me wait. I've been thinking about being inside ye ever since I pulled ye into my lap.
[Rosalind jerks atop him, teeth digging into her lip to stop herself from yelping as he smacks her. Oh, and for a moment she stares, wide-eyed, caught between the desire to fuck herself on him and to beg him to do that again.
But one wins out over the other, and she squirms, rocking atop him again. Later. They have all night, later she'll beg him to spank her properly (or at least goad him into doing it, that's far more suiting her pride).]
I'm certain you have.
[She says it breathlessly, her nails digging into his shoulders as she aches for his mouth again. Spreading her legs, she keeps her eyes locked on his face as she reaches between them, gripping him tightly and pressing him up against her.]
Ah--
[There's just a moment where her cunt protests, throbbing at the sudden intrusion, but burst of pain only adds to her pleasure. With a moan she tips her head back, sinking herself down low, whining for the way he stretches her open and fills her so fucking perfectly, god. Her legs spread so she can sink her hips down all the lower, til she's taken him as deep as she can.]
Fuck-- fuck, Jamie, t-that's--
[It's a vulgar swear, but she doesn't regret it. Rosalind darts forward, kissing him hungrily, tasting copper and him both as she slips her tongue forward. Her hips rock against him, rising and falling, bouncing in his lap and moaning at each thrust.]
[ It was hard not to think of lifting that skirt just a bit to allow her legs to spread wider there. Having her straddle him at the table and lifting his kilt up just enough. It was quite a bit of fabric to begin with. They wouldn't worry too much about it. Then he could get her to sink down on him right then and there before all those unaware eyes. All those people that were looking to do exactly the same to the people they had with them. Made him shiver just thinking about it. But he doesn't have time to think too much about it because her fingers wrap around him.
Jamie's muscles tighten and he looks up at her. Focusing on her face as she comes down on him. His cock pressing into her more and more. She's a bit like a vice grip at first. Though not quite. Too warm and wet to be a true one. The sounds she makes and the way her face contorts keep his gaze glued to her. Jamie groans with each little bit she takes him into her more. He bites his bottom lip waiting until that glorious moment.
It's not often he hears her swear like that. She's got this class to her. This sophistication. She silences any words he may have for the moment by kissing him. Which helps muffle the sound that rips from him when she rocks and starts to move in his lap more firmly. Fucking herself good and proper on him just like that. Jamie breaks the kiss to suck in a gasping breath.
He puts his arms around her lower back and buries his face in her chest for a moment. Soft sounds of pleasure escape him until he kisses her chest. Slow and wet before going to the other breast he didn't get a chance to enjoy before. His tongue snakes around and over her nipple before he sucks it into his mouth once more. ]
[Her moans only grow louder as his tongue teases over her breasts. Her poor neighbors, and Rosalind spares a vague thought for them, but she can't be bothered to care. She doesn't even know them, and none of them are proper refugees, so they're really too petty to worry about. Her knees draw in, locking in on his hips, as she drops down hard on his cock.]
L-like that-- use your teeth--
[You can be rough, and it's not as if he's held back, but she wants to be certain. She isn't made of glass, and she never wants to be treated as such when it comes to the bedroom. Blood and bruises, scratches and bites . . . her bloodying his lip was only a preview.
Her hands brace on his shoulders, her nails digging in as she picks up the pace. But oh, no-- she love the way his tongue flits over her, but she hasn't forgotten their fight. One hand darts up, raking through his hair and gripping it tightly, forcing his head back so she can stare down at him, watching every flicker in his expression.]
[ Guidance is appreciated. Especially when it comes to giving a woman pleasure. Though Jamie had wanted to give Claire the illusion that he knew well and good what he was doing. Right now he's older and wiser. When a lass tells you where to go and what to do then you tend to listen. Perhaps a part of him does worry about hurting her, but if it's what she wants then he has absolutely no reason to deny her. Which is why he does as he's told. For once.
But before he can really and truly bite soft fingers thread through his hair and they grab hold of his curls. She pulls hard on his hair and forces his gaze up to meet hers. Jamie cracks a slight smile in that moment and he looks at her. Letting her see every single flicker of pleasure across his face. There's plenty to see. The way she's moving on him and the way her nails dig in shows on his face. His body clearly enjoying every single moment of this.
He's not one to just be passive though. Jamie's a big man and he uses that strength and momentum to grab her and move them. Onto her back on the sofa she goes. There's a cocky sort of smile that slips across his features as he squares himself away on her. His hips drawing back and thrusting forward into her. He has more control and a better angle like this. Maybe he's trying to deny her the control she took with his gaze like that. Keeping up the game.
Jamie's body bends and his back arches as he leans down and tilts his head to get to her nipple. Lips wrapping around it again before his teeth do. The roughness she wanted? He's happy to give it with some nibbles and eventually pulling on it roughly. ]
[She gives a giddy sort of gasp as she lands flat on her back, delighted and surprised all at once. In an instant her legs wrap tight around his waist, her hips inching up to meet his short, sharp thrusts. Absently, she notes that her heels feel something oddly rough against his back, but she hasn't the attention span to pay it mind right now.
And fuck, but that feels good-- her head snaps back, baring her throat as a low moan slips past her lips. And there's another, and another, because he's big and thick and fucking hell, but she's going to get off too soon, she knows she is, but she can't be bothered to worry about that either. Right now she's only focusing on the way she feels, the way he looks above her, the way his hair feels when she smooths her fingers through it, the way his hips look as he pistons into her, filling her up so perfectly again and again. He leans down, and--]
Jamie--!
[She'd thought he'd go for her neck, not her breast, but oh, god, and her body arches up off the couch, her free arm darting over her head to grip the fabric tightly. Each teasing scrape of his teeth leaves her shivering, but it's when he pulls that he gets a whimper, low and needy.]
A-and is this what you wanted to do in the tavern?
[She twists beneath him, writhing, entirely unable to help it. It's a struggle to keep her eyes open, but it's worth it to watch him against the curve of her breast, all eager gaze and teasing scrapes of his teeth. She pants, watching him, tightening around his cock again and again.]
Nn-- I s-suppose this is a bit too difficult for a tavern-- much-- oh-- much easier to, to bend me over a bloody table-- though y-you'd have to share the view, at least, if not the ex-- fuck!
[ He's entirely lost in this moment. Too lost to really worry about what her hands may feel or what her heels do. It's not like she'd stop in the middle of this moment to talk to him about it. He knows that. But he doesn't care in this moment. He only cares about how good it feels to be inside of her. To touch her. To feel her. Her voice is music to his ears. Every sharp uptick in volume or the way the words become more pronounced with a thrust of his hips.
Jamie chuckles softly against her breast when she asks if he wanted to do this in the tavern. He wouldn't have minded. How could he have? He would have been inside of her. Inside of Rosalind and enjoying every single inch of her. How could he have been upset then? That smile reminds as she keeps going. His gaze flicks up to just barely look at her when she carries on. Discussing him bending her over the table instead. There was a time in Jamie's life where he thought that back to front was the only way you could have sex. ]
They'd have gotten a view. [ If her sounds are anything to go off. The way she looks at him. ] Taken ye like an animal. Let them watch yer face as I made ye come for me. [ His head lifts and heavy fingers grope the side of her breast. His thumb nail circles the nipple as he leans down. His hips still going. ] Do ye want to come for me, Rosalind? [ His nail scrapes the nipple. ] I'd like that very much.
[She's melting beneath him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as her shrieks get louder and she makes some attempt to muffle them. It doesn't do much good; within a moment her left hand darts up, slamming over her mouth to stop herself from outright screaming. It's nothing to do with consideration for her neighbors and everything to do with respectability; there's moaning and then there's screaming, and she won't make a fool of herself by going off like some virgin.
Her right hand darts down, though. Two fingers roll greedily against herself, pressing down hard against her clit. She's soaked, and her fingers are drenched within an instant. And though she's trying to keep herself quiet, her fingers lift so she can breathe out:]
Please--?
[Whether she's asking or simply entreating is up for debate, but it's entirely for his benefit. He'd been so eager to dominate her; this will only add to it.]
[ If he was quick enough he certainly would have tried to stop her from covering her mouth. Loud sounds like that mean you're doing grand. On the right track. He can see that and hear it. She reaches down and he wants to bat them away just because he can, but he's too interested in how she looks and how she reacts to her suddenly touching her own clit. The way she touches and presses. That question hangs in the air for a moment because Jamie tilts his head. His free hand supports himself against the couch and the other lifts her hand up to him for the moment.
His hand leans in and his lips wrap around those fingers to suck them clean. He groans once he lets them go, but it's not certain if it's because of the way he rolls his hips or how she tastes. But he smiles still and nods. He lets her hand go entirely and instead buries his face in her neck for the moment. The long canvas of her neck laid before him as he lays warm and wet sucking kisses on her skin there. Teeth nibbling along her pulse point as his hips roll and thrusts. Jamie Fraser is a man dead set on making her come for him. ]
Come on then, come for me. I wanna hear it. Dinnae hide it from me.
[Her eyes go wide as he takes her fingers in his mouth, and for a moment she simply stares, more turned on by that than she wants to admit. There's something hypnotizing about how his lips look wrapped tight around something, and she shudders as his tongue slides against the sensitive pads of her fingers, cleaning her off thoroughly.
She undoes his work the moment he speaks. Her hand darts down again, rubbing against herself in quick, hard motions, foregoing teasing entirely in favor of getting what she wants (and that's almost a metaphor, except it isn't, she's just impatient and turned on and so close she'd been ready to beg him if he'd asked for it). Rosalind tips her head, the fingers of her free hand wrapping tight around the back of his neck, her eyes squeezing shut.
It's his name on her lips as she gets closer to her peak, interspersed with whimpers and whispers, fragments of sentences: Jamie please Jamie that's oh just like that that's you feel so good oh god Jamie please-- over and over, her voice higher than it usually is, her hips snapping up again and again.
And there, and her head snaps back, her body spasming beneath him, there, three hard throbbing waves around his prick, and she whimpers as she comes down from it, oversensitive. She's going to scream again in a moment, and dazedly she wonders if she'll come again as he fucks her.]
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stripebacked) wrote2017-07-28 06:07 pm
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And oh, fuck, but that's hideously good. He's barely even doing anything, but it doesn't matter; she jerks and squirms, throbbing around nothing, eager to feel those heated fingers push up and into her.
She doesn't answer his question. Of course she's been thinking of him; she's been thinking of him the moment she pressed up against him (was it really only half an hour ago?). She's thinking of how he's hard behind her; of how it would feel for him to bend her over and take her right now, in the alley, and damned anyone who might see them. And she's thinking of how her ass stings, but not enough; how he'd threatened to put her over his knee and how wet that had made her.
His fingers drag over her shamelessly, but not far enough, and she growls softly in irritation. Rosalind squirms pointedly, her hips rocking backwards. More, that isn't enough, and he's not stupid, he's not refusing her because he's shy or clumsy, but still she acts as though he needs instruction. More, and she drops her mouth open, wet lips against his palm, tipping her head to try and catch his fingers in her mouth.]
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Jamie's teasing. That much is certain. She gets what she wants when she wants it. Denying her is half the fun. It's half the dance. He does wonder how she'd react if he lifted his kilt up to slide into her from behind her. It wouldn't take much effort. He wouldn't even need to spit into his palm. He's certain she'd wet enough to handle him just as she is right now. But he holds off just for the moment. Just to see what else he can drive her to. ]
There's a good lass. [ He whispers. He gives her a hand with her endevours. He moves hand just enough to press two fingers between those beautiful lips. If she wants something to suck then he's happy to oblige. Finally his finger presses down further and slowly presses into her. It's an agonizing pace most likely, but he doesn't shy away. He curls it and presses it up and forward. ]
Should I have done this for ye in there? Dinnae think ye could've handled it.
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She does so love to tease. But oh, the instant his finger slips into her she moans, and that's entirely for her own benefit, not his. She rocks her hips back, fucking herself shallowly against him, throbbing eagerly around him. It's not big enough, not at all, and she's aching for him to push a second finger into her, but she'll take what she can get.
Her head jerks in a nod, though in truth she never would have allowed such a thing. But who cares? It's a fantasy, and already her mind is flitting along those lines. Being fingered under the table by him, her face red and her body shaking with the effort of not giving them away . . .
She moans again, then turns with a gasp, glancing back at him. Her lipstick is a little smeared, her mouth wet, but it's worth it to catch his eye again.]
O-of course I could have handled it . . . you know me well enough by now to know there's little I can't do if I put my mind to it.
Is that what you wanted? To fuck me in f-front of all of those people?
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Aye. I suppose yer right. Ye are a very challenging lass. [ Not just in this way, but in the other more tame ones as well. She hadn't been willing to give up when they were stopped by the guards. Instead she bluffed her way through along with him. She's a powerful woman. Absolutely perfect. But he doesn't say that. Not right now anyways. This isn't the place for sweet sentiments. It's something far filthier.
He bites down on her shoulder to keep from groaning when she puts that image in his head. Sitting her in his lap and shallowly moving inside of her. He finally lets up and pulls his middle finger out before replace it with two. His middle and ring finger. The fingers resuming the position from before. She was eager to move her hips before. He knows she will now as well. ]
I would nae have been afraid t'. [ He kisses behind her ear. ] Could fuck ye right now if ye wanted. I dinnae wear anything under my kilt. Be so bloody easy to slide right in. Yer certainly wet enough.
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Her hips rock back again and again, a quick pace that drives her hips back against his fingers, fucking herself in shallow little thrusts. Just like that, and her legs spread wider, her torso bending forward as she bites back a low groan. More, harder, faster, and all it would take would be one word of agreement, but--]
Nn-- not-- not here--
[It's a real statement, not the petulant things she'd said before just so he could boss her around. Rosalind snaps her hips back, groaning at the way his fingers stretch her open and fill her up, before falling forward to rest her forehead against the cool brick of the wall.
She's silent for a few seconds, though she's still throbbing around his fingers, her body wet and wanting. And then, her eyes closed and her voice heated:]
When you fuck me, Jamie, I don't want it to be in an alley. I'm not some common slut, and I shan't be taken anywhere so filthy.
[She pronounces the words with a clear delight, taking pleasure in her educated, prim voice saying such things.]
When you fuck me . . . I want to see all of you, Jamie. Every single inch. And I want you to see me.
[Now, finally, she glances behind her, meeting his gaze. The darkness hides the way her face goes red as she admits this, but she says it confidently enough.]
And frankly . . . there's an awful lot I want you to do to me that isn't fit for public spaces. Up to and including you putting your hand to me again.
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She's hardly a common slut. Certainly not in this alleyway and not anywhere else. But he doesn't say that. He stays silent and listens to her closely. There's a rough groan that escapes when she insists she wants to see every inch of him. There's a nagging thought in the back of Jamie's mind. Something he's yet to let her see. He's never had his shirt off around her. But she'll see his back and the scar of the cut away skin that once held a brand put into him by Black Jack Randall. He can only hope she doesn't question that one. He can field the ones about his back easily. ]
Then I'm afraid ye'll need to stop fucking yerself on my fingers so we can get home, Rosalind. [ He breathes out against her neck for a moment. Righting himself mentally. He knows he would have liked nothing more than to keep his fingers in her until she came around them, but he'll obey. For this. ] Cause I aim to be inside of you very soon.
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Ah, well . . . Rosalind reaches for him, taking his hand. With a little hum she puts it to her lips, humming softly to taste herself on him. He can hardly walk her home with his hand so filthy, can he?
It's quick work. Her tongue flits over him, between his fingers, before she releases his hand and takes a few steps forward.]
I'd tell you to come along, Jamie, but I think there's little chance at all you won't follow.
[That's less impudent and more tongue in cheek as she glances back with a smile. They'll resume their game very soon, but there's something a little more ordinary in her tone as they head down the street.]
I can't believe you had the audacity to s-- to put your hand to me in the middle of a bloody bar.
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She's right. He's not about to stick around in the alley by himself. He follows after her and falls into step alongside her. He wiggles his arm between hers and her body to loop around hers. Walking arm in arm. He's a gentleman after all. Or at least he can pretend to be. ] Ye were being a naughty lass. I had t'. [ He probably didn't have to, but the game is still going quite strong. He's not going to shy away from his decisions now. ]
I hope ye know that I'm nowhere near finished. When we're home--[ His voice is soft, but loud enough for her to hear as they walk. He doesn't make an attempt to turn towards her to muffle any of it. He simply speaks. ]--I'll take ye right over my knee and give ye the proper spankings ye deserve. And I'll do it all with my fingers inside of ye. Punishment is deserved.
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Though no proper gentleman at home would say the things he says. Rosalind's grip on his arm tightens, and god, but she hates, she really truly hates that she loves this so much. Why this? Why this of all things, why on earth does this do it for her, but it does and they both know it.
At least it seems to turn him on as much as it does her. She'd never get over her humiliation if he was secretly laughing at all this.]
All this, and you haven't even kissed me yet.
[It's an airy observation, and she glances up at him. If they're going to play, she's going to play; that challenging look is back, arch and arrogant.]
And what, may I ask, is that for? What have I done to deserve that? Because really, Jamie . . . if you wanted me to act a brat, you ought to have said. That was the least of what I could have done.
But if that's what you want . . . then it's the least I will do, too.
[She pulls away from him before he can answer, leading the way into a small apartment building. It's not a glamorous place, but it suits her purposes, and the landlord doesn't ask too many questions about why she only appears for one week out of the month.
She's very aware of him behind her as she walks up the stairs, which might be why she goes a little quickly, skittish despite herself.
The apartment is small, but certainly not modest. A thick couch sits in the middle of shelves stocked with books. There's a record player in the corner, and a small table that has a few scattered pieces of paper filled with notes on whatever it is she's working on. Her bedroom is off to the side, her door half closed, but she doesn't lead them there just yet.
Instead she turns, facing him, taking a few deliberate steps backwards.]</small
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But her next slew of questions leave him wondering again. He could easily find a number of things to insist that mean she's been bad. But right now he doesn't intend to list them off. They'd never get home. She leads them off though and into an apartment building they go. Jamie follows behind her with his eyes on her behind as she climbs the stairs ahead of him. It's a lovely view. One he appreciates even as they make their way into her apartment. Jamie carefully shuts the door behind him and turns back towards her.
Rosalind backs away and Jamie has no interest in looking the room over. Instead he surges forward and takes her face in his hands. His lips crash into hers for the first time and he allows himself to kiss her. Hard and thorough. His tongue sliding out to gain entry into her mouth. He wants to ravage her. Everything inside of him wants her. Every strand of him wants to lay claim to her body. ]
Take off--[ Another kiss. ]--yer clothes--[ Another hard one. ]--for me. [ He doesn't wait for her to answer. He just kisses her again. ]
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Her other hand is busy in the meantime: tugging at the buttons of her shirt, the zipper of her skirt, fingers fumbling in her haste to do as he says. She doesn't stop kissing him all the while, pulling back only to bite hard at his bottom lip (and oh, she'll be delighted if she draws blood) or tip her head a different way.
At last she manages to pull her shirt off, rolling her shoulders so it drops to the ground. Her skirt follows, her panties, and though she fumbles a little, the clasp on her bra is soon unhooked. Her stockings will need both hands, but she doubts he'll mind she still has them on.
And there she is, naked and cold, bare before him even as he's still dressed. She'd done it so quickly she hadn't realized, but now Rosalind pants softly, very much aware of the sudden difference between them.
She isn't embarrassed. A little shy, perhaps, but even then it's a quiet thing. Licking her lips, she stares up at him for a few seconds, then presses herself forward, lithe body flush against his.
Her kiss is softer, but no less hungry than the ones of before. And now both her hands work together, tugging at the buttons of his shirt, eager to get him at least a little undressed. It's only fair.
(But this game isn't actually about fairness, not in the least).]
Off--
[She murmurs it, and rises to her toes, catching him in another kiss.]
Shirt off, that ridiculous kilt-- if you're to see me, I want to see you--
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Once she backs up he takes a moment to look. A moment to appreciate her form. He's really only seen one other naked female frame truly and it was his wife's. This one belongs to Rosalind and it makes him warm to the touch. He wants to study her more, but she presses close and his arms come around her. Sinking into the kiss for a moment until he realizes she's trying to remove his shirt. Then insisting he take off his kilt. Fair is fair. He's a wee bit nervous, but he'll cope. ]
Aye.
[ Jamie mumbles as he steps back. He reaches to undo the belt around his waist and lets it drop. The ouch attached to it along with his dirk in the sheath hit the ground. Next is his kilt which requires a bit more skill and precision. Unwrapping fabric from his body. It's a show when he puts it on come morning. He has to lay down to do it, but getting it off is much easier. He doesn't do much else than discard the fabric behind him.
His shirt drops down now to his knees that his kilt is gone. There's a touch of hesitation and it's probably why he goes about removing his boots quickly. One last thing to prolong what must be seen. Finally he removes it from his torso. The fabric flutters to the floor and he steps towards her. Bare like her. She can't quite see the markings that cover his back. The scars upon scars created by the 200 lashings. Fleshed turned to ribbons before an audience of his countrymen. ]
Now ye see me.
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She doesn't see it yet. She doesn't realize. But what she does see, she knows she enjoys. He's a rough man, battle-scarred and muscled, but that's no bad thing.]
Did you think I wouldn't like you?
[She says it softly. It's not the cloyingly sweet thing it had been before, arrogance masked as politeness. Rosalind reaches for him, her fingers sliding up his bare chest, a slight smile on her face. Her other hand drags idly over his side, pleased at the warmth she finds. There's a scar that's particularly large on his side, a circle that makes her curious as to what might have happened, but she won't ruin the mood by asking.
Tonight, perhaps, between rounds, when they're sated and exploring one another's bodies more languidly. But right now, her fingers ignore it, gliding further down, teasing at the jut of his hip.]
I do. Very much.
[She reaches for his hands now, putting them on her hips, encouraging him to touch in return. He hadn't needed prompting before, but there's a world of difference between groping outside a bar and touching a naked woman properly.
Her hips are wide, inching out just a touch wider than proportionately attractive, but Rosalind has never minded. Pale skin littered with freckles and the noticeable swell of her chest means she's few insecurities when it comes to her body. She squirms, leaning back only enough that he might see her more, and reaches to rub her thumb against his bottom lip.]
You're bleeding . . .
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Perhaps a part of him has grown a touch skittish about baring the parts of himself that once were a harsh reminder of the stain he put on his family. His father died that day he was flogged before the other people. His sister was forced to manage on her own though there was Ian. He can only thank God for bringing her someone to protect her. His scars were a part of him he didn't want to show the world, but Claire's acceptance of them had made him relax more. He knows Rosalind can't see them now, but she will soon. He can only wait and see. ]
Aye? [ He smiles as she takes his hands and puts them on her hips Urging him in the direction she wants. He has no problem resuming touching her once more. He squeezes her hips hard and pulls her in. He cocks his brow when she comments on what she'd done to him. ] Cause ye bit me, ye bonnie snake. [ He lifts her up off the ground and carries her over towards the couch. He sits with her straddling him. His hands loop around to cup her behind. ]
Are ye ready for your punishment?
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His cock is slotted between her cunt, hot and hard, and she rocks her hips down, teasing them both with the motion.]
You're really going to focus on that when you could have this?
[Of course he is. He's going to take his hand to her in less than a minute, she's certain, but she likes resisting.]
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But Jamie has gotten quite good at doing exactly what others don't expect of him. They might think they have him in a bind, but often he finds a way. He finds a way to overcome. Instead of man handling her over his lap he leans forward and tilts his head to wrap his lips around one of her nipples. He sucks at the soft flesh as his hand smacks the top of her ass. Maybe he's not taking her over his knee, but he needed to get something in. ]
Then put me inside of ye, Rosalind. Dinnae make me wait. I've been thinking about being inside ye ever since I pulled ye into my lap.
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But one wins out over the other, and she squirms, rocking atop him again. Later. They have all night, later she'll beg him to spank her properly (or at least goad him into doing it, that's far more suiting her pride).]
I'm certain you have.
[She says it breathlessly, her nails digging into his shoulders as she aches for his mouth again. Spreading her legs, she keeps her eyes locked on his face as she reaches between them, gripping him tightly and pressing him up against her.]
Ah--
[There's just a moment where her cunt protests, throbbing at the sudden intrusion, but burst of pain only adds to her pleasure. With a moan she tips her head back, sinking herself down low, whining for the way he stretches her open and fills her so fucking perfectly, god. Her legs spread so she can sink her hips down all the lower, til she's taken him as deep as she can.]
Fuck-- fuck, Jamie, t-that's--
[It's a vulgar swear, but she doesn't regret it. Rosalind darts forward, kissing him hungrily, tasting copper and him both as she slips her tongue forward. Her hips rock against him, rising and falling, bouncing in his lap and moaning at each thrust.]
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Jamie's muscles tighten and he looks up at her. Focusing on her face as she comes down on him. His cock pressing into her more and more. She's a bit like a vice grip at first. Though not quite. Too warm and wet to be a true one. The sounds she makes and the way her face contorts keep his gaze glued to her. Jamie groans with each little bit she takes him into her more. He bites his bottom lip waiting until that glorious moment.
It's not often he hears her swear like that. She's got this class to her. This sophistication. She silences any words he may have for the moment by kissing him. Which helps muffle the sound that rips from him when she rocks and starts to move in his lap more firmly. Fucking herself good and proper on him just like that. Jamie breaks the kiss to suck in a gasping breath.
He puts his arms around her lower back and buries his face in her chest for a moment. Soft sounds of pleasure escape him until he kisses her chest. Slow and wet before going to the other breast he didn't get a chance to enjoy before. His tongue snakes around and over her nipple before he sucks it into his mouth once more. ]
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L-like that-- use your teeth--
[You can be rough, and it's not as if he's held back, but she wants to be certain. She isn't made of glass, and she never wants to be treated as such when it comes to the bedroom. Blood and bruises, scratches and bites . . . her bloodying his lip was only a preview.
Her hands brace on his shoulders, her nails digging in as she picks up the pace. But oh, no-- she love the way his tongue flits over her, but she hasn't forgotten their fight. One hand darts up, raking through his hair and gripping it tightly, forcing his head back so she can stare down at him, watching every flicker in his expression.]
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But before he can really and truly bite soft fingers thread through his hair and they grab hold of his curls. She pulls hard on his hair and forces his gaze up to meet hers. Jamie cracks a slight smile in that moment and he looks at her. Letting her see every single flicker of pleasure across his face. There's plenty to see. The way she's moving on him and the way her nails dig in shows on his face. His body clearly enjoying every single moment of this.
He's not one to just be passive though. Jamie's a big man and he uses that strength and momentum to grab her and move them. Onto her back on the sofa she goes. There's a cocky sort of smile that slips across his features as he squares himself away on her. His hips drawing back and thrusting forward into her. He has more control and a better angle like this. Maybe he's trying to deny her the control she took with his gaze like that. Keeping up the game.
Jamie's body bends and his back arches as he leans down and tilts his head to get to her nipple. Lips wrapping around it again before his teeth do. The roughness she wanted? He's happy to give it with some nibbles and eventually pulling on it roughly. ]
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And fuck, but that feels good-- her head snaps back, baring her throat as a low moan slips past her lips. And there's another, and another, because he's big and thick and fucking hell, but she's going to get off too soon, she knows she is, but she can't be bothered to worry about that either. Right now she's only focusing on the way she feels, the way he looks above her, the way his hair feels when she smooths her fingers through it, the way his hips look as he pistons into her, filling her up so perfectly again and again. He leans down, and--]
Jamie--!
[She'd thought he'd go for her neck, not her breast, but oh, god, and her body arches up off the couch, her free arm darting over her head to grip the fabric tightly. Each teasing scrape of his teeth leaves her shivering, but it's when he pulls that he gets a whimper, low and needy.]
A-and is this what you wanted to do in the tavern?
[She twists beneath him, writhing, entirely unable to help it. It's a struggle to keep her eyes open, but it's worth it to watch him against the curve of her breast, all eager gaze and teasing scrapes of his teeth. She pants, watching him, tightening around his cock again and again.]
Nn-- I s-suppose this is a bit too difficult for a tavern-- much-- oh-- much easier to, to bend me over a bloody table-- though y-you'd have to share the view, at least, if not the ex-- fuck!
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Jamie chuckles softly against her breast when she asks if he wanted to do this in the tavern. He wouldn't have minded. How could he have? He would have been inside of her. Inside of Rosalind and enjoying every single inch of her. How could he have been upset then? That smile reminds as she keeps going. His gaze flicks up to just barely look at her when she carries on. Discussing him bending her over the table instead. There was a time in Jamie's life where he thought that back to front was the only way you could have sex. ]
They'd have gotten a view. [ If her sounds are anything to go off. The way she looks at him. ] Taken ye like an animal. Let them watch yer face as I made ye come for me. [ His head lifts and heavy fingers grope the side of her breast. His thumb nail circles the nipple as he leans down. His hips still going. ] Do ye want to come for me, Rosalind? [ His nail scrapes the nipple. ] I'd like that very much.
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Her right hand darts down, though. Two fingers roll greedily against herself, pressing down hard against her clit. She's soaked, and her fingers are drenched within an instant. And though she's trying to keep herself quiet, her fingers lift so she can breathe out:]
Please--?
[Whether she's asking or simply entreating is up for debate, but it's entirely for his benefit. He'd been so eager to dominate her; this will only add to it.]
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His hand leans in and his lips wrap around those fingers to suck them clean. He groans once he lets them go, but it's not certain if it's because of the way he rolls his hips or how she tastes. But he smiles still and nods. He lets her hand go entirely and instead buries his face in her neck for the moment. The long canvas of her neck laid before him as he lays warm and wet sucking kisses on her skin there. Teeth nibbling along her pulse point as his hips roll and thrusts. Jamie Fraser is a man dead set on making her come for him. ]
Come on then, come for me. I wanna hear it. Dinnae hide it from me.
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She undoes his work the moment he speaks. Her hand darts down again, rubbing against herself in quick, hard motions, foregoing teasing entirely in favor of getting what she wants (and that's almost a metaphor, except it isn't, she's just impatient and turned on and so close she'd been ready to beg him if he'd asked for it). Rosalind tips her head, the fingers of her free hand wrapping tight around the back of his neck, her eyes squeezing shut.
It's his name on her lips as she gets closer to her peak, interspersed with whimpers and whispers, fragments of sentences: Jamie please Jamie that's oh just like that that's you feel so good oh god Jamie please-- over and over, her voice higher than it usually is, her hips snapping up again and again.
And there, and her head snaps back, her body spasming beneath him, there,
three hard throbbing waves around his prick, and she whimpers as she comes down from it, oversensitive. She's going to scream again in a moment, and dazedly she wonders if she'll come again as he fucks her.]
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