[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.]
[ He enjoys this. Whatever it is. This playful way. This way that neither one refuses to actually bend. Though they do leave a fair amount of breadcrumbs for the other one to follow. Hinting at what they enjoy and what they don't. When she moves about like that he considers giving the top of her arse a firm spank, but he doesn't truly want to drive her from his lap. That could very well be the tipping point. Instead he holds that card for later. He might find another opening then.
The movement doesn't go unrewarded. If Jamie were trousers it might be a bit difficult for him to remain in them. But the kilt does it's best to hide everything. But Jamie doesn't have anything on underneath the kilt. Apparently undergarments and Highlanders don't mesh well. When she brings up how he called her a good girl he doesn't respond. Not yet anyways. He doesn't immediately jump to admitting them like she said he should. Instead he waits.
His mouth opens just a touch as she lifts his hand and once she finishes speaking and her tongue slides out like that he exhales roughly. Neither one fairing well against the advancements of the other one. He waits until she's done before he leans forward. For half a second he's going to her lips, but then he tips his head and instead his lips are near her ear. ]
But ye like when I call ye that. I can hear it. In ye voice.
[ A moment ticks by. ]
Is nae patronizing if ye are my good girl. Which ye are. It's just honesty.
[It's very, very hard for her not to react to that. What reaction, she isn't certain; half of her is desperate to melt against him as she agrees, while the other half wants to slap him for such impudence. (She's certain she's going to slap him at least once before the night ends; she just won't do it in the middle of a crowded bar).
What should she say? Denying it seems both stupid and laughable. He's absolutely right: she does like it, very much, enough so that her breath had shaken in her next exhale as he'd laughed quietly in her ear. Enough that she knows he'll laugh when they finally tumble into bed, because she's ridiculously wet already all from the way he's talking. But eagerly agreeing is far too shameful for her to consider.]
Am I yours, then? You tug me into your lap and that's that, is that how it works?
[There. Neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and she turns her head, catching his eye again, something challenging in her gaze.
He has his wife and she has her Robert, and so that's a bit of a misleading question, she knows. Neither of them think this is anything more than it is: two friends enjoying one another, nothing more or less.
But for tonight . . . yes, she decides, yes, she'd be quite content to be his for the night. One possessive, hungry evening, where they throw themselves at one another with no delusions as to what it might or might not lead to. She'd be content to be someone else's for that time.
Rosalind sips at her drink, waiting for an answer-- and then, pointedly, squirms again, shifting just enough to tease without being obvious. Robert had always enjoyed her hips and backside; she wonders smugly if Jamie can really say the same. He's surely going to run into trouble soon if she keeps moving, but that seems a problem for him, not her.]
And I'm not good.
[That's likely the alcohol talking. She isn't good, but she wouldn't have insisted on that normally.]
A bit, but ye did threaten to run off with our drinks to a stranger. I had to lay down my claim on ye.
[ Completely legitimate. Somewhat. Neither belongs to the other. They know that. She's talked about Robert. Told him about the man's heart. He told her about his wife. They know that it's some sort of game for the evening. Something that the two of them can enjoy for a spell. It's not forever. They aren't trying to build a lasting relationship here though. They're friends and they'll get a bit closer with this, but it's not going to automatically make anything they say law.
But tonight. Tonight they're going to make an exception. They haven't told each other, but they've made the decision in their heads and they both tell by the others actions it's mutual. They aren't going around and around for something that will never happen. They're both very aware of what they're pushing for. What they're dancing around because that's half the fun isn't it? The anticipation. The challenges that you can present.
Jamie watches her take a sip. Drawn to her mouth more and more. He watches the way her throat bobs as she swallows her sip. She gives another squirm and the muscles in his neck tighten. He can safely say though he does enjoy her backside. But he's yet to really see it. Yet to truly gaze upon it. So far he's just enjoying the way it wiggles about. ]
Nae good then? [ He smiles. ] Bad then are ye? If ye dinnae want t' be my good girl--[ He leans towards her. His nose brushing hers. ]--do ye wanna be my bad girl?
[It's a groan both mortified and turned on all at once, with the latter only adding to the former (because how hideous, that she gets off on this; how utterly humiliating, she hates it as much as she loves it, and it's all she can do not to shift around again). She tips her head forward, bumping their foreheads together, her eyes closing for a moment as she ignores how red her face has gone.]
You're ridiculous.
[Not that she minds. One leg crosses tightly over the other. That's a movement purely for herself, though she'd be lying if she said she wasn't aware of how it made her skirt slide up her thigh a bit. Rosalind tips her head back, glancing down at him with a little smile.]
And I think I'll let you decide by the end of our drink which I'll be for the evening. But for now . . .
[She glances around them once more, but really, no one is looking at them. For all anyone knows, they're nothing more than a couple, happy and tame, a girl sitting in her man's lap as he whispers in her ear. There's absolutely nothing scandalous about them, and there's such a relief to that anonymity.
She settles back against him, relaxing for the first time tonight.]
It'd be rather petty of me not to at least finish this off. If you want to entertain me while I do, I'd be pleased.
[ There's a rough chuckle when she speaks. He knows he's found a weak spot. He's been keenly aware ever since they started this delicate dance. The way she sounds and looks right now is picture perfect. He exhales roughly when their foreheads touch. He could completely close the distance if he wanted to. He wants to wait though. He wants to feel the anticipation. The need and the want that come together to make the moment inescapable. So he holds and instead he just studies her face and tries not to go cross eyed with how close she is.
Her crossing her legs does give Jamie a little bit of a hint. He doesn't look down immediately. Instead he waits for Rosalind to withdraw and then his gaze travels down. Examining more of her exposed thigh before it lifts again. He's already decided. He'll make her a bit of both. Best of both worlds. Why deny themselves one or the other? Tonight is for them. They're allowed to be a bit greedy. Even with each other. ]
Entertain ye. [ He makes a humming sound as he moves his hand to rest higher on her thigh. ] I could think of something. [ Jamie squeezes her thigh and his hand drops to her knee to get a grip. She crossed them and he uncrosses them. But he doesn't go for anything too risque. Instead Jamie just runs his finger tips up and down her inner thigh now that he's created space. Sometimes going underneath the bottom of her skirt before dropping down. ]
But ye are right. I aim to please ye good and proper tonight. [ He licks his lips. ] And perhaps a bit in the morn as well.
[She refuses to take her gaze off him, but her mind's eye follows the path of his fingers, teasing just a touch beneath her skirt before drawing down again. She doesn't respond at first, not at all-- but then he'll feel the way her legs shift, spreading just a little wider and giving him more room.
She won't let him go very much farther, because they are in public. But though Rosalind has no desire for anyone but her partner to see her enjoying herself, she does like the potential of being caught. It's a delicate balance, but he seems more than capable of walking that thin line.]
Perhaps doesn't suit me.
[It's a falsely haughty tone, lessened by the way she's clearly amused. Rosalind finally turns from him, glancing out at the others, her glass lifting to her lips again. Quietly, then, so only he'll hear:]
But I think you'll do it regardless after tonight. I think, once I have you against a wall with your prick in my mouth, you'll do most anything to get your hands back on me.
[ When you're out collecting the rent with a gang of other men and your wife is along sometimes crowds aren't your concern. You don't often get privacy sleeping under the stars. You just have to learn to reduce noise and motion a bit. But he doesn't go beyond the limit. He knows not everyone is like him. Not everyone has had the life he has. She may have absolutely no problem sitting in his lap and challenging him in little ways, but he's not about to charge forward to test any boundaries. Not when things are going so well.
It's lovely to hear her say that perhaps isn't for her. That she intends to have him please her just as well come sun up. When her voice drops that low and she speaks again a shiver winds down Jamie's spine. He lets out a sigh and swallows hard to maintain any sort of composure. The lack of tight trousers does make it difficult to make out Jamie's growing erection, but she might start to notice a bit of something. Having a kilt does have it's benefits. ]
Given that I've nae taken my hands off ye practically since I arrived--I'd say ye're right.
[ He does look towards the exit of this tavern. His mind swimming with the image she painted for him. He watched the way her tongue worked over his thumb and her fingers. He watched the way she sipped. He wanted to see what else she was capable of. Needed to. ]
[She says it lazily, smug thanks to the hardness she can feel growing beneath her. She's aching as badly as he is, but she's always been petty in some regards; so long as he's needy, she'll be as sadistic as she pleases. And right now, Rosalind finds, what she really, truly wants? Is for Jamie to get his temper up.
After all, he'd shown lovely initiative before. But what Rosalind craves is a fight. She wants him hungry to put her in her place, just so she can be certain that he'll be ready and willing for her to argue and squirm and battle him properly to see who ends up on top.]
Don't you like me in your lap? Savor it, sweetness. I won't let this kind of thing happen often, even if we continue this beyond tonight.
[Which would be nice. She likes having steady partners, especially when they've a romantic connection of their own. It means there's even less risk of her partner attaching to her in ways she wouldn't want.
Languidly, lazily, she drinks again.]
Now, let's see . . . shall I have you fuck me against a wall or bending me over the table first?
[ She's edging him closer and closer to the edge. Pushing the buttons in an attempt to find the reaction. He's quiet for the moment. Instead choosing to let her drive the conversation forward. Her tempting words. Fighting him at every turn. He has no doubt in his mind that he'll get her in his lap more often than just now. She talks rather bit and she wants him to know that she doesn't need him, but that's not the truth. Not really. She just wants to be man handled. She wants to feel him snap and take.
Jamie's nodding his head along, but he's not agreeing with anything. Not really. Instead his hand rests on the small of her back. ] Ye'll be in my lap a bit, Rosalind. [ Just a fact. His hand smooths up and down the small of her back before he lifts it back, drops it a touch lower and smacks the top of her bottom. She wanted his temper to get up. She wanted a fight. She wanted him hungry to put her in her place. Which he has no problem doing. ]
Dinnae make me ask again. Up with ye. Or I'll take ye over my knee in front of all these people.
[ Whatever fear he may have of developing an audience doesn't exist right now. Not when she's wiggling about so freely. Not when she looks at him with this burning smugness that makes him want to push back. ]
[And unlike her little gasp of his name before, this is entirely full of indignation and incredulity. Rosalind stiffens, her back arching sharply, jerking in his lap. It wasn't painful; it was barely more than a swat. But it's not the pain that has her reacting, but the absolute audacity of what he's just done. Her thoughts stuttering, and distantly she's aware that her mouth has dropped open, her cheeks bright red as she stares at him. He'd just-- in the middle of everyone, he'd-- and how dare he, she swears her ears are ringing as she stares at him, how dare he--
Never mind that threat. Rosalind pants at him, her fingers clenched tightly around her drink.]
You wouldn't dare.
[Would he? She doesn't know. She really doesn't, and that's as thrilling as it is horrifying. She suspects he wouldn't if she made it clear she'd rather die than have such a thing done to her in front of others, but beyond a hard no . . .
He likely would dare, wouldn't he? But she waits for an answer, her body tense. She's set her drink down, though, which indicates she's prepared to leap to her feet if he indicates he really will turn her over.]
Put your hand to me again in public, Jamie Fraser, and I swear I'll slap you.
[ In Jamie's time spanking your wife is quite normal. Though this is not entirely how many of the other men would have done it. But Jamie figured out very quickly that sort of "discipline" hadn't been for him. This is different though. This has different driving forces. Not to mention it's a little dirty. Filthy you might say. Even Jamie doesn't quite know if he will take her over his knee. There's no telling how far he'd go to push back like she desires.
His brows raise when she insists he wouldn't dare. Maybe. Maybe not. Neither really know. He watches her set the drink down and he knows that's a step in the right direction. Once the drink is no longer in danger of sloshing her he takes her by the hips and lifts her off him. He gets to his feet and his hands take her by the waist again. His injured hand aches. The fingers don't quite get the right grip, but they don't really have full mobility. They never will unfortunately. ]
Go on then. [ He holds her close as he backs her up through the crowd. Navigating through the spaces that the groups of people have created. Careful not to run her into anyone right now. ] Gimme a slap. [ Cause if she hasn't noticed his hands are right back on her. Creeping around to hold her backside slowly. ]
[She matches him step for step, her eyes locked on him, trusting him to guide her as they slowly walk towards the door. His fingers are slow and subtle, creeping around her hips, and Rosalind takes a moment to appreciate them. Large fingers, rough from years of doing god only knows what, and she can feel the heat of them through the thin material of her skirt.
She imagines what it will be like to have those fingers digging into her, gripping her wrists and pinning her down or plunging deep into her-- and oh, but there's a thought to keep her warm. How it would feel (will feel, and what a delicious inevitability it is) to have him deep in her, fingering her until she's squirming and whining and begging him to fuck her properly.
If she was any kind of respectable woman, she'd have wrenched his hands off by now. But Rosalind waits until they've slid back entirely, palms flat over the curve of her ass, ignoring her body's urging to push eagerly back into them.
That's for later.
It's a good slap she gives him. Not her hardest, but sharp and stinging, a punishment and a goading come-hither all at once. The resulting noise is loud enough to draw attention, and there's ringing silence within the bar. But that only lasts a moment; soon there's laughter, drunken and not entirely mean-spirited, as people settle in to watch the show they might or might not provide.
Rosalind rises to her toes, her hand dropping to grip the front of his shirt and tug him in close.]
Now . . . come along.
[She'll wrench away from out and walk out the door if he lets her. She's an apartment not too far from here, a modest place that she rents for times like these.]
[ It's not the first or the last time that Jamie Fraser will be slapped. But when her hand connects with his face he hisses. There's a sting against his skin and he sucks in a breath. He's not made of stone. He gives her a look. Wild eyes, but he doesn't hold any actual truth behind them. There's no ill intent in his actions or movements. He just stares at her hard. Ignoring the patrons is easy. She's captured his attention from the very beginning.
Jamie's grip loosens when she pulls away because she's driving them out of the tavern and that's what really matters. But once they hit the night air he doesn't stay gone for long. He doesn't remain passive. They make it a total of nine steps before Jamie loops an arm around her from behind. Roughly pulling her back against him and side stepping into the alley that runs along the tavern. Caught between the tavern and a little shop that's been closed for hours.
He presses her forward against the outer wall of the tavern and takes hold of her hips. ] What did I say about telling me what t' do? [ Jamie slides his hands up her sides and around to cup her chest. They're alone for now. No one here to get a free show. Which he appreciates. ] Though I see ye've decided to be my bad lassie now have huvnae ye?
[This, now, she can melt into. There's no one here to see them, and so Rosalind braces one arm against the wall and arches her back, pushing her breasts into his waiting hands, grinding her hips back at the same time. She won't let him fuck her out here, but there's no harm in a bit of touching.
Besides: they're still close enough to the tavern she can hear voices. Snatches of conversation, individual words and barks of laughter . . . and though she'd hate the reality, oh, god, but the thought of someone walking out here and catching them makes her melt. Him with his hands all over her, under her shirt or shoving up her skirt, claiming her no matter who was there to see . . . god, and she pants as she grinds her hips back again, rocking against him.]
I hardly-- ah-- I hardly see how my obeying you renders me into something bad. You told me to slap you, Jamie. I was only being good. Isn't that what you want?
[It's a drawling voice, baiting and teasing, as she glances back to try and catch his eye.]
Tell me-- [she says, and it's most definitely deliberately framed as an order] -- why is it you think you're allowed to order me around and not vice-versa? Bossy thing, didn't anyone ever tell you that's not how you get a woman to like you?
[She says, squirming eagerly against him, but at least she's aware of it.]
[ This makes his blood boil in the best possible way. His heart hammers in his chest and he wants more. He wants her. Sometimes he's a bit reckless when he wants something, but he tries to at least stay on course here. She is right though. She did obey him. Did exactly as he told her to. That hardly makes her bad. But that brings up another thought. One that takes him a moment to compose as he tries to think with her hips grinding back like that. ]
Thought ye dinnae want to be my good lass?
[ She did give him the decision to decide on what she'd be. At this point he's certain she's straddling the line of both. Something that only makes her more appealing right now. The way her voice sounds and the way her breath catches. When she catches his eye it takes every ounce of self control now to kiss her. Pushing the moment back as far as he can just to see how it'll feel when he does get to.
The corner of his mouth raises in a smile. He gives her breasts a firm squeeze in both hands before the one without the stiff fingers lowers down the front of her body. Creeping down the front of her skirt as he thinks. ] I ken plenty of how to get a woman t' like me. I think ye like me just fine. [ He doesn't seem to wait or hesitate when he grabs the bottom hem of her skirt. He pulls it upward so his arm can disappear under the fabric. Fingers slowly teasing up her thighs. ]
And I get t' boss ye about cause the other way is how ye live. Always giving the orders. Now I'll be givin' them. Ye understand?
[Oh, she hadn't expected him to do that, and for just a moment she balks. Groping and touching is one thing, but she'd best make a decision quick on whether she truly wants him to lift her skirt while they're in public.
The sensible, logical side of her says no, and there's a hundred different reasons why. No, it's too dangerous; no, what if you're caught; no, there are people nearby and if you moan they'll hear you, no, tell him no, he'll stop, tell him to wait until you get home, make it a bait, he's eager to catch you, make him hungrier--
But his fingers are warm and rough against her thigh, and it's all she can do not to beg him to slide them against her. Her panties are soaked through already, wet and sticking to her cunt, and she can't stand the thought of walking all the way home without at least a taste of what's to come.
White teeth flash against red lip as she bites her bottom lip. She spreads her legs a little wider, giving him more than enough room to touch where he likes, and rolls her hips back once more.]
. . . yes.
[She breathes it out, her head ducking forward. The movement bares her neck to him, and she thinks suddenly of how an animal signifies submission, by going pliant and baring their most vulnerable parts. She thinks of how she must look right now, no better than some common slut, slumped over in an alley while a man touches and takes as he likes. And she thinks, with dazed amusement, how her mother would shriek to see her like this: not just in public, not just letting a man take her, but a Scot, and oh, what a shame that is.
She won't be this pliant all night. That's hardly fun. But for right this second, Rosalind submits, shivering beneath his hand.]
[ Christ. The moment is dripping with possibilities. As is she, but right now this has him going. He knows that just about anyone could locate them. They could stumble down here for a piss or to vomit. They could get a similar idea with their significant other and wander down here. There's a hundred different things that could make this completely embarrassing, but Jamie doesn't seem to care about a single one of them. It offers enough cover that common sense doesn't seem to win out.
Her reactions only seem to add fuel to the fire. They make him want to do more. Press whatever boundaries she might have initially had. He disregards her comment of sir for the moment. His hand drags around under her skirt to cup her ass. His hand on her breast lifts to cover her mouth and he gives her panty clad ass a little smack. Not too hard, but enough. His lips brush her neck as he smiles gently. ] Sir would help.
[ Jamie grabs the top of her underwear and gives them a pull downward. Not completely. Just down to her thighs which gives him what he wants. Hand coming back around to her cunt as his fingers glide down against her lips. ] Yer soaked, lass, ye've been thinking about me? [ He nibbles at her neck with another throaty chuckle. His middle finger dips between her lips and presses downward to tease at her opening. The tip gliding against the slick. ]
[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.
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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.]
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Date: 2018-03-12 08:03 am (UTC)The movement doesn't go unrewarded. If Jamie were trousers it might be a bit difficult for him to remain in them. But the kilt does it's best to hide everything. But Jamie doesn't have anything on underneath the kilt. Apparently undergarments and Highlanders don't mesh well. When she brings up how he called her a good girl he doesn't respond. Not yet anyways. He doesn't immediately jump to admitting them like she said he should. Instead he waits.
His mouth opens just a touch as she lifts his hand and once she finishes speaking and her tongue slides out like that he exhales roughly. Neither one fairing well against the advancements of the other one. He waits until she's done before he leans forward. For half a second he's going to her lips, but then he tips his head and instead his lips are near her ear. ]
But ye like when I call ye that. I can hear it. In ye voice.
[ A moment ticks by. ]
Is nae patronizing if ye are my good girl. Which ye are. It's just honesty.
[ A soft and short laugh. ]
And what a good girl ye are.
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Date: 2018-03-12 05:40 pm (UTC)What should she say? Denying it seems both stupid and laughable. He's absolutely right: she does like it, very much, enough so that her breath had shaken in her next exhale as he'd laughed quietly in her ear. Enough that she knows he'll laugh when they finally tumble into bed, because she's ridiculously wet already all from the way he's talking. But eagerly agreeing is far too shameful for her to consider.]
Am I yours, then? You tug me into your lap and that's that, is that how it works?
[There. Neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and she turns her head, catching his eye again, something challenging in her gaze.
He has his wife and she has her Robert, and so that's a bit of a misleading question, she knows. Neither of them think this is anything more than it is: two friends enjoying one another, nothing more or less.
But for tonight . . . yes, she decides, yes, she'd be quite content to be his for the night. One possessive, hungry evening, where they throw themselves at one another with no delusions as to what it might or might not lead to. She'd be content to be someone else's for that time.
Rosalind sips at her drink, waiting for an answer-- and then, pointedly, squirms again, shifting just enough to tease without being obvious. Robert had always enjoyed her hips and backside; she wonders smugly if Jamie can really say the same. He's surely going to run into trouble soon if she keeps moving, but that seems a problem for him, not her.]
And I'm not good.
[That's likely the alcohol talking. She isn't good, but she wouldn't have insisted on that normally.]
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Date: 2018-03-13 05:39 am (UTC)[ Completely legitimate. Somewhat. Neither belongs to the other. They know that. She's talked about Robert. Told him about the man's heart. He told her about his wife. They know that it's some sort of game for the evening. Something that the two of them can enjoy for a spell. It's not forever. They aren't trying to build a lasting relationship here though. They're friends and they'll get a bit closer with this, but it's not going to automatically make anything they say law.
But tonight. Tonight they're going to make an exception. They haven't told each other, but they've made the decision in their heads and they both tell by the others actions it's mutual. They aren't going around and around for something that will never happen. They're both very aware of what they're pushing for. What they're dancing around because that's half the fun isn't it? The anticipation. The challenges that you can present.
Jamie watches her take a sip. Drawn to her mouth more and more. He watches the way her throat bobs as she swallows her sip. She gives another squirm and the muscles in his neck tighten. He can safely say though he does enjoy her backside. But he's yet to really see it. Yet to truly gaze upon it. So far he's just enjoying the way it wiggles about. ]
Nae good then? [ He smiles. ] Bad then are ye? If ye dinnae want t' be my good girl--[ He leans towards her. His nose brushing hers. ]--do ye wanna be my bad girl?
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Date: 2018-03-13 05:52 am (UTC)[It's a groan both mortified and turned on all at once, with the latter only adding to the former (because how hideous, that she gets off on this; how utterly humiliating, she hates it as much as she loves it, and it's all she can do not to shift around again). She tips her head forward, bumping their foreheads together, her eyes closing for a moment as she ignores how red her face has gone.]
You're ridiculous.
[Not that she minds. One leg crosses tightly over the other. That's a movement purely for herself, though she'd be lying if she said she wasn't aware of how it made her skirt slide up her thigh a bit. Rosalind tips her head back, glancing down at him with a little smile.]
And I think I'll let you decide by the end of our drink which I'll be for the evening. But for now . . .
[She glances around them once more, but really, no one is looking at them. For all anyone knows, they're nothing more than a couple, happy and tame, a girl sitting in her man's lap as he whispers in her ear. There's absolutely nothing scandalous about them, and there's such a relief to that anonymity.
She settles back against him, relaxing for the first time tonight.]
It'd be rather petty of me not to at least finish this off. If you want to entertain me while I do, I'd be pleased.
And I'm fairly certain you want to please me.
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Date: 2018-03-13 06:01 am (UTC)Her crossing her legs does give Jamie a little bit of a hint. He doesn't look down immediately. Instead he waits for Rosalind to withdraw and then his gaze travels down. Examining more of her exposed thigh before it lifts again. He's already decided. He'll make her a bit of both. Best of both worlds. Why deny themselves one or the other? Tonight is for them. They're allowed to be a bit greedy. Even with each other. ]
Entertain ye. [ He makes a humming sound as he moves his hand to rest higher on her thigh. ] I could think of something. [ Jamie squeezes her thigh and his hand drops to her knee to get a grip. She crossed them and he uncrosses them. But he doesn't go for anything too risque. Instead Jamie just runs his finger tips up and down her inner thigh now that he's created space. Sometimes going underneath the bottom of her skirt before dropping down. ]
But ye are right. I aim to please ye good and proper tonight. [ He licks his lips. ] And perhaps a bit in the morn as well.
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Date: 2018-03-13 06:11 am (UTC)She won't let him go very much farther, because they are in public. But though Rosalind has no desire for anyone but her partner to see her enjoying herself, she does like the potential of being caught. It's a delicate balance, but he seems more than capable of walking that thin line.]
Perhaps doesn't suit me.
[It's a falsely haughty tone, lessened by the way she's clearly amused. Rosalind finally turns from him, glancing out at the others, her glass lifting to her lips again. Quietly, then, so only he'll hear:]
But I think you'll do it regardless after tonight. I think, once I have you against a wall with your prick in my mouth, you'll do most anything to get your hands back on me.
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Date: 2018-03-13 06:26 am (UTC)It's lovely to hear her say that perhaps isn't for her. That she intends to have him please her just as well come sun up. When her voice drops that low and she speaks again a shiver winds down Jamie's spine. He lets out a sigh and swallows hard to maintain any sort of composure. The lack of tight trousers does make it difficult to make out Jamie's growing erection, but she might start to notice a bit of something. Having a kilt does have it's benefits. ]
Given that I've nae taken my hands off ye practically since I arrived--I'd say ye're right.
[ He does look towards the exit of this tavern. His mind swimming with the image she painted for him. He watched the way her tongue worked over his thumb and her fingers. He watched the way she sipped. He wanted to see what else she was capable of. Needed to. ]
Finish yer drink, Rosalind, we've places t' be.
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Date: 2018-03-13 06:32 am (UTC)[She says it lazily, smug thanks to the hardness she can feel growing beneath her. She's aching as badly as he is, but she's always been petty in some regards; so long as he's needy, she'll be as sadistic as she pleases. And right now, Rosalind finds, what she really, truly wants? Is for Jamie to get his temper up.
After all, he'd shown lovely initiative before. But what Rosalind craves is a fight. She wants him hungry to put her in her place, just so she can be certain that he'll be ready and willing for her to argue and squirm and battle him properly to see who ends up on top.]
Don't you like me in your lap? Savor it, sweetness. I won't let this kind of thing happen often, even if we continue this beyond tonight.
[Which would be nice. She likes having steady partners, especially when they've a romantic connection of their own. It means there's even less risk of her partner attaching to her in ways she wouldn't want.
Languidly, lazily, she drinks again.]
Now, let's see . . . shall I have you fuck me against a wall or bending me over the table first?
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Date: 2018-03-14 01:03 am (UTC)Jamie's nodding his head along, but he's not agreeing with anything. Not really. Instead his hand rests on the small of her back. ] Ye'll be in my lap a bit, Rosalind. [ Just a fact. His hand smooths up and down the small of her back before he lifts it back, drops it a touch lower and smacks the top of her bottom. She wanted his temper to get up. She wanted a fight. She wanted him hungry to put her in her place. Which he has no problem doing. ]
Dinnae make me ask again. Up with ye. Or I'll take ye over my knee in front of all these people.
[ Whatever fear he may have of developing an audience doesn't exist right now. Not when she's wiggling about so freely. Not when she looks at him with this burning smugness that makes him want to push back. ]
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Date: 2018-03-14 01:23 am (UTC)[And unlike her little gasp of his name before, this is entirely full of indignation and incredulity. Rosalind stiffens, her back arching sharply, jerking in his lap. It wasn't painful; it was barely more than a swat. But it's not the pain that has her reacting, but the absolute audacity of what he's just done. Her thoughts stuttering, and distantly she's aware that her mouth has dropped open, her cheeks bright red as she stares at him. He'd just-- in the middle of everyone, he'd-- and how dare he, she swears her ears are ringing as she stares at him, how dare he--
Never mind that threat. Rosalind pants at him, her fingers clenched tightly around her drink.]
You wouldn't dare.
[Would he? She doesn't know. She really doesn't, and that's as thrilling as it is horrifying. She suspects he wouldn't if she made it clear she'd rather die than have such a thing done to her in front of others, but beyond a hard no . . .
He likely would dare, wouldn't he? But she waits for an answer, her body tense. She's set her drink down, though, which indicates she's prepared to leap to her feet if he indicates he really will turn her over.]
Put your hand to me again in public, Jamie Fraser, and I swear I'll slap you.
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Date: 2018-03-14 01:59 am (UTC)His brows raise when she insists he wouldn't dare. Maybe. Maybe not. Neither really know. He watches her set the drink down and he knows that's a step in the right direction. Once the drink is no longer in danger of sloshing her he takes her by the hips and lifts her off him. He gets to his feet and his hands take her by the waist again. His injured hand aches. The fingers don't quite get the right grip, but they don't really have full mobility. They never will unfortunately. ]
Go on then. [ He holds her close as he backs her up through the crowd. Navigating through the spaces that the groups of people have created. Careful not to run her into anyone right now. ] Gimme a slap. [ Cause if she hasn't noticed his hands are right back on her. Creeping around to hold her backside slowly. ]
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Date: 2018-03-14 02:15 am (UTC)She imagines what it will be like to have those fingers digging into her, gripping her wrists and pinning her down or plunging deep into her-- and oh, but there's a thought to keep her warm. How it would feel (will feel, and what a delicious inevitability it is) to have him deep in her, fingering her until she's squirming and whining and begging him to fuck her properly.
If she was any kind of respectable woman, she'd have wrenched his hands off by now. But Rosalind waits until they've slid back entirely, palms flat over the curve of her ass, ignoring her body's urging to push eagerly back into them.
That's for later.
It's a good slap she gives him. Not her hardest, but sharp and stinging, a punishment and a goading come-hither all at once. The resulting noise is loud enough to draw attention, and there's ringing silence within the bar. But that only lasts a moment; soon there's laughter, drunken and not entirely mean-spirited, as people settle in to watch the show they might or might not provide.
Rosalind rises to her toes, her hand dropping to grip the front of his shirt and tug him in close.]
Now . . . come along.
[She'll wrench away from out and walk out the door if he lets her. She's an apartment not too far from here, a modest place that she rents for times like these.]
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Date: 2018-03-14 02:27 am (UTC)Jamie's grip loosens when she pulls away because she's driving them out of the tavern and that's what really matters. But once they hit the night air he doesn't stay gone for long. He doesn't remain passive. They make it a total of nine steps before Jamie loops an arm around her from behind. Roughly pulling her back against him and side stepping into the alley that runs along the tavern. Caught between the tavern and a little shop that's been closed for hours.
He presses her forward against the outer wall of the tavern and takes hold of her hips. ] What did I say about telling me what t' do? [ Jamie slides his hands up her sides and around to cup her chest. They're alone for now. No one here to get a free show. Which he appreciates. ] Though I see ye've decided to be my bad lassie now have huvnae ye?
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Date: 2018-03-14 02:42 am (UTC)Besides: they're still close enough to the tavern she can hear voices. Snatches of conversation, individual words and barks of laughter . . . and though she'd hate the reality, oh, god, but the thought of someone walking out here and catching them makes her melt. Him with his hands all over her, under her shirt or shoving up her skirt, claiming her no matter who was there to see . . . god, and she pants as she grinds her hips back again, rocking against him.]
I hardly-- ah-- I hardly see how my obeying you renders me into something bad. You told me to slap you, Jamie. I was only being good. Isn't that what you want?
[It's a drawling voice, baiting and teasing, as she glances back to try and catch his eye.]
Tell me-- [she says, and it's most definitely deliberately framed as an order] -- why is it you think you're allowed to order me around and not vice-versa? Bossy thing, didn't anyone ever tell you that's not how you get a woman to like you?
[She says, squirming eagerly against him, but at least she's aware of it.]
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Date: 2018-03-14 02:51 am (UTC)Thought ye dinnae want to be my good lass?
[ She did give him the decision to decide on what she'd be. At this point he's certain she's straddling the line of both. Something that only makes her more appealing right now. The way her voice sounds and the way her breath catches. When she catches his eye it takes every ounce of self control now to kiss her. Pushing the moment back as far as he can just to see how it'll feel when he does get to.
The corner of his mouth raises in a smile. He gives her breasts a firm squeeze in both hands before the one without the stiff fingers lowers down the front of her body. Creeping down the front of her skirt as he thinks. ] I ken plenty of how to get a woman t' like me. I think ye like me just fine. [ He doesn't seem to wait or hesitate when he grabs the bottom hem of her skirt. He pulls it upward so his arm can disappear under the fabric. Fingers slowly teasing up her thighs. ]
And I get t' boss ye about cause the other way is how ye live. Always giving the orders. Now I'll be givin' them. Ye understand?
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Date: 2018-03-14 03:05 am (UTC)[Oh, she hadn't expected him to do that, and for just a moment she balks. Groping and touching is one thing, but she'd best make a decision quick on whether she truly wants him to lift her skirt while they're in public.
The sensible, logical side of her says no, and there's a hundred different reasons why. No, it's too dangerous; no, what if you're caught; no, there are people nearby and if you moan they'll hear you, no, tell him no, he'll stop, tell him to wait until you get home, make it a bait, he's eager to catch you, make him hungrier--
But his fingers are warm and rough against her thigh, and it's all she can do not to beg him to slide them against her. Her panties are soaked through already, wet and sticking to her cunt, and she can't stand the thought of walking all the way home without at least a taste of what's to come.
White teeth flash against red lip as she bites her bottom lip. She spreads her legs a little wider, giving him more than enough room to touch where he likes, and rolls her hips back once more.]
. . . yes.
[She breathes it out, her head ducking forward. The movement bares her neck to him, and she thinks suddenly of how an animal signifies submission, by going pliant and baring their most vulnerable parts. She thinks of how she must look right now, no better than some common slut, slumped over in an alley while a man touches and takes as he likes. And she thinks, with dazed amusement, how her mother would shriek to see her like this: not just in public, not just letting a man take her, but a Scot, and oh, what a shame that is.
She won't be this pliant all night. That's hardly fun. But for right this second, Rosalind submits, shivering beneath his hand.]
Yes sir . . . would that be better?
[Mm. Perhaps not entirely submissive.]
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Date: 2018-03-14 03:43 am (UTC)Her reactions only seem to add fuel to the fire. They make him want to do more. Press whatever boundaries she might have initially had. He disregards her comment of sir for the moment. His hand drags around under her skirt to cup her ass. His hand on her breast lifts to cover her mouth and he gives her panty clad ass a little smack. Not too hard, but enough. His lips brush her neck as he smiles gently. ] Sir would help.
[ Jamie grabs the top of her underwear and gives them a pull downward. Not completely. Just down to her thighs which gives him what he wants. Hand coming back around to her cunt as his fingers glide down against her lips. ] Yer soaked, lass, ye've been thinking about me? [ He nibbles at her neck with another throaty chuckle. His middle finger dips between her lips and presses downward to tease at her opening. The tip gliding against the slick. ]
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Date: 2018-03-14 03:58 am (UTC)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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Date: 2018-03-14 04:08 am (UTC)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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Date: 2018-03-14 04:21 am (UTC)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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Date: 2018-03-14 04:47 am (UTC)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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Date: 2018-03-14 04:59 am (UTC)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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Date: 2018-03-14 05:10 am (UTC)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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Date: 2018-03-14 05:21 am (UTC)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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