White Flag

There was amusement in his eyes. He was laughing at her! She felt a wave of rage wash over her.

"I'm going," she said, but before she could even roll away from him, he had clutched her tightly against his chest. She struggled futilely for a moment before landing a firm kick against his shins beneath the sheet.

"Stop that!" he snapped, his breath sounding a bit ragged. "I was going to give you a fucking guitar."

"What?" Her body went stock-still.

"You said you wanted to learn how to play, so like a fucking idiot, I went to the music store."

There was nothing to do but watch his Adam's apple move as he spoke.

"I went to high school with the woman who runs the place. She used to practically fucking jump my bones back then." His hot breath ruffled her hair. "I figured she'd give me a discount on the guitar and some lessons if I was, you know, all pleasant and shit."

"You flirted with her."

"Yeah, a little." His grip tightened even though she'd made no further attempts to escape. "And you're jealous."

His half-smile rankled her. Of course she was jealous. But she'd be damned before she'd admit it. She'd already ceded quite enough of her pride to him tonight.

"Let go of me," she hissed. Her eyes widened as she felt the unmistakable nudge of his erection against her leg.

His lips came crashing down on hers. She'd already had almost more kissing than she could handle—and yet his demanding mouth still sent jolts of arousal down her body. She moaned as he tasted the inside of her mouth yet again. His grip on her had loosened, and as she felt one hand trail steadily down and start to insinuate itself between her thighs, she vibrated with both indignation and hot impatience.

He broke off the kiss and looked at her mouth. His eyes had again gone bleary with lust. "You're a jealous little bitch, aren't you?" he growled. She bristled as his fingers found the top of her slit. "Aren't you?" he repeated vacantly, seemingly lost in the pleasure of fingering her.

"Stop, Seth!" But it was too late. He'd discovered that she was, once again, ridiculously wet.

"Jesus Christ," he said, pumping his fingers slickly in and out, "you just can't get enough, can you?"

Ramsay gasped as she felt him abruptly withdraw his fingers. The already swollen tissues of her pussy felt so vacant, so desperate to stretch around his cock again. Maybe Seth was right: maybe she really couldn't get enough.

He rose to his knees and parted her thighs easily. She reached down and gripped his cock lightly at the base. He closed his eyes and swore.

"I want to be on top," she purred, shivering in anticipation as she felt him grow impossibly hard beneath her fingers. He was panting as she slid her fingers slowly up and down his length.

"Next time," he muttered hoarsely. She felt another pleasurable shiver run through her: there was going to be a next time. "Right now sit up," he said peremptorily.

She blinked in confusion for a moment.

"Sit up!" he barked.

As she pushed herself up, he moved with lightning quickness to hover above her, his cock just inches from her mouth. She looked up at him. His expression was inscrutable; his eyes scarcely seemed to see her, although they focused intently on her lips. She felt his thumb push its way into her mouth and immediately swirled her tongue around it.

"Open up for me, baby," he said shakily. "I need your mouth so fucking bad."

Ramsay surprised herself by moaning the instant she took the head of his cock into her mouth. She'd grown to enjoy sucking him far more than she ever would have expected, mostly because his responses were so gratifying. He placed his hand lightly on the crown of her head and guided her as she took him in more deeply.

"Oh, God, Ramsay" he breathed. "Oh, shit, that feels good!"

She looked up at him. His eyes were closed, his mouth ajar. She worked her tongue all along the underside of his shaft as she bobbed her head back and forth.

"When you showed up," he said brokenly, "this was all—oh, God!—all I wanted to do." He was pulling her hair lightly now. "Just shove my cock in your slutty mouth."

She jerked his cock at the base and moaned as she licked some pre-cum off the head. He groaned and pounded his fist against the wall at her back. She started sucking him again in earnest.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He punched the wall again. "Just look at you," he rasped, "with your hot little mouth full of cock."

Ramsay smiled inwardly. She loved making him almost savage with pleasure.

But before she could begin suckling his balls gently, a move that always brought him to the brink of orgasm, he pulled away from her. She looked perplexedly up at him.

"Stop," he panted, "or I'll come in your mouth."

"Well, would that be a bad thing?" She arched her eyebrow coquettishly at him. He watched her wipe her mouth provocatively with the back of her hand. She was, she mused, becoming quite used to playing the shameless nympho—although the prospect of swallowing Seth's come was still rather intimidating.

He shook his head at her and smiled. "Come here," he chuckled before kissing her swollen lips. "I need to fuck you again."

"I know."

Seth had never been the silent type in bed, but as he pounded away at her, he was, Ramsay noted, unusually vocal. The words fell from his lips in broken phrases. "Want you all the fucking time," he growled as he lowered his head to watch his cock slam into her. "Won't fucking share you."

The phrase sent a pang of anxiety through her chest. "You don't have to share me," she breathed, reaching up to cradle his face in her hands.

She gasped as he pushed her hands away. "I know I don't." He seemed to be muttering to himself. "Mine to do what I want," he gasped. "Fucking mine!" He was thrusting quite hard.

His right hand closed over her throat.

Ramsay lay submissively with her hands at either side of her head. Seth's grip on her throat was firm but not frighteningly so. She found his words entrancing, arousing. He'd never made a secret of his possessiveness, his jealousy, but he seemed to have found a new way to lay claim to her body. She closed her eyes and listened to his rambling. She focused on the hot grip of his hand on her throat. It was a threatening gesture, she supposed; but more than that, it was a gesture of unmistakable dominance, of ownership. Her body was his to do with as he wished. The thought sent delicious spasms through her pussy. She moaned.

Seth's grip tightened a bit. He pushed her head back. Ramsay watched him through lowered lids, marveling at the intensity of his expression as he continued to spit half-coherent phrases at her between thrusts.

"Can't dress like that." His gaze centered on her mouth for a moment. "Only for me."

"Only for you," she moaned in echo.

"Fucking...mine!" he groaned brokenly. He was getting close.

Ramsay watched him reach for his orgasm, felt him pound her pussy with all the desperation of a drowning man. Yes, she was unquestionably his. And she wanted him to be entirely hers, too.

"I love you, Seth."

Oh, God, had she really just said that? Had he heard? She closed her eyes, half expecting him to withdraw immediately.

Instead he came. His grasp on her throat tightened again. She felt his cock pulse inside her.

His body settled heavily over hers as he struggled to catch his breath. He had released her throat, and she gratefully took in full, gulping breaths. Why had she confessed her love for him? And how long had she loved him? Was there any point in hoping that he would eventually return her feelings? Was it a good sign that he had come immediately after her declaration, or was that merely a happy accident? Dear Lord, what would happen now?

Seth rolled off her body, and Ramsay took the opportunity to stretch and take a few more deep, refreshing breaths. She chanced a look at Seth, who had risen from the bed and was now scanning the floor for his boxers. His body looked beautiful in the moonlit room.

"Seth, I—" she started, hardly even knowing what she wanted to say. Did she want to take back her "I love you"? Did she want to ask him whether he'd even heard it?

He had located his boxers and jeans. "I'm going to pick up your guitar in a few days," he said, his voice still a bit hoarse from their exertions. "Hope you like it."

Ramsay hugged her knees to her chest and smiled. She had never expected a gift from Seth—and certainly had never expected a guitar. He had listened to her—really listened—and ordered the guitar in effort to make her happy. "Oh, I'm sure I will," she said gently. "Thank you, Seth."

He continued to pull his clothes on in silence.

"Seth—" But what was there to say?

He strolled over to the bed, leaned over, and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Don't ever dress like that again," he said flatly, "unless I tell you to."

She nodded.

"I've got some clothes you can cover up with."

She nodded again.

As he pulled his t-shirt over his head, Ramsay rose from the bed, came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He turned and encircled her in his arms.

This, she decided, would have to be enough.