Her Rescuer

Ramsay peered up and down the windswept street and sighed. She was a little drunk, and even though she'd always heard that alcohol was supposed to keep you warm, she found the November night air nothing short of arctic. She thrust her hands so forcefully into her coat pockets she feared the seams would rip.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself as she looked around again for Claire. At what point, she wondered, had her birthday celebration turned to shit? Was it when she silenced her better judgment and accepted the fake ID Claire offered her? Was it when they walked into the deafeningly loud bar on the corner--the one Claire called "frat-tastic"--and drank the fruity martinis that left Ramsay's feet numb. ("Are these martinis 100 proof or what?" Ramsay had screamed over the music. "Aren't they awesome?" Claire had screamed in reply.) No, Ramsay decided as she shivered under the streetlights, the night had officially gone to hell when Claire had caught sight of the blond meathead across the bar. He'd leered at Claire for a long time before swaggering over to their booth and asking if they wanted to hang out with him and his fellow binge-drinking Greeks. Claire had ignored Ramsay's dagger stares and let the meathead escort her out of the bar. By the time Ramsay had pushed through the crowds and dismissed a few frat guys looking to get laid, Claire and the meathead had disappeared.

And now here she was: cold, a bit drunk, and alone on a bar-lined street. A few late-night carousers jostled her as they passed, their conversation punctuated by wolf-whistles and lewd comments. Ramsay ignored them and glared at the snow-dusted street. Her high-heeled boots were pinching her toes. Claire was ignoring her "Where R U?" texts. Her eighteenth birthday celebration had, in one short hour, turned into a debacle.

"Ramsay?"

She breathed a sigh of relief and turned toward his voice, eager to see who had come to her rescue. Her heart nearly stopped as he strode toward her. Even through her martini haze, she felt herself become both nervous and unaccountably happy as he approached. She always felt that way when Seth was anywhere near her.

"Hi, Seth." She studied his face in the fluorescent light from the windows of the pub he had just left. His dark green eyes looked focused, his smile genial. Nothing about his demeanor suggested intoxication. And he looked handsome. God, he looked handsome. She found herself desperately hoping that she didn't look as bleary and peevish as she felt.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he said with a vaguely amused smile. He pulled a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket.

Ramsay watched him light it, transfixed by his coarse hands. How would they feel against the softness of her neck? Would his touch be demanding or tender? She liked to think it would be the former.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

She snapped out of her reverie and giggled uneasily. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I'm just--it's, uh, my birthday, and--"

"No shit! Seriously? How old are you?" He grinned and cocked his head to the side. "Or am I not supposed to ask?"

Ramsay felt a twinge of disappointment. Seth was her sister Gaby's 25-year-old boyfriend--or, rather, her ex-boyfriend as of the week before. Much to Ramsay's delight, he had always appeared to take an interest in her life, had always appeared to listen when she spoke. He should have known how old she was.

"Oh, wait a minute!" Seth turned to blow a puff of cigarette smoke into the frosty air. "You're eighteen today, right?"

"Yeah!" She silently prayed he didn't find her tone as childishly exuberant as she did.

"Yeah," he echoed, taking another drag. "No longer jailbait."

Ramsay giggled nervously again, mostly because she had caught his eyes wandering from her face down the length of her body. His gaze somehow embarrassed, thrilled, and terrified her all at once.

"So I return to my original question," he drawled, returning his attention to her face. "What are you doing here? Do you need a ride?"

"I--oh, wait!" Ramsay's cell phone chirped tinnily in her pocket. Claire had finally gotten around to texting her back. She squinted at the glowing screen: "With Chad @ party. TTYL!" So the meathead's name was Chad. Ramsay rolled her eyes as she made a mental note never to go out with Claire again.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. My friend ditched me, that's all." She looked up through her lashes at him. "I guess I could use a ride, if--if that's okay with you."

"Sure, yeah." He grasped her gloved hand and placed it in the crook of his arm as he started walking. "I'm parked just down the street."

Ramsay watched her boots scuffle through the powdery snow on the sidewalk and silently marveled at the sinewy hardness of his arm, palpable even through the fabric of his winter coat. She wondered how it would feel to clutch and claw at his arms as he knelt above her, urging her thighs apart with his knee. The mere thought of lying beneath him nearly made her dizzy. She glanced furtively up at him. "So what were you doing before you ran into me?"

"Not much," he said, watching her face as he spoke. "Just blowing off some steam after another week of work." He paused to stamp out his cigarette on the pavement. "How's Gaby?"

Ramsay winced inwardly. So that was why Seth had offered her a ride home: he wanted to know how her sister was faring post-breakup. Maybe he even wanted to float the possibility of a reconciliation. She took a deep breath. "I guess she's doing okay," she said a little too nonchalantly.

"Good," he replied as he fished in his coat pocket for his car keys. "There's my car right there."

As they walked up to Seth's coupe, Ramsay silently waited for him to ask follow-up questions about Gaby, who, truth be told, had been a wreck ever since the breakup. She'd cried endlessly in her room for the first three days and spent hours staring maniacally at her cell phone, willing Seth to call her.

"So who is this guy?" Seth asked as he unlocked the passenger door. "What kind of dipshit ditches a girl like you on her birthday?" He held the door open for her and smiled affably. "Do you want me to kick his ass?"

"No!" she laughed, relieved . "It's not a guy. My friend Claire ditched me." She settled into the passenger seat and gathered up her skirt to avoid getting it caught in the door. As Seth closed the door and ambled over to the driver's side, she inhaled deeply, enchanted by the heady, masculine scents that pervaded the car. The blend of tobacco and freshly hewn wood was intoxicating, as was the mental image of Seth expertly cutting timber and pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow. In her fantasy, he was shirtless. She smiled to herself as he sat down beside her and put the key in the ignition.

"You want me to take you home?" he asked as they approached the first stoplight.

Ramsay was taken aback by the odd question. "Where else would you take me?"

He grinned at her and arched one eyebrow. Her heart rate instantly quickened. So he was flirting with her, and she had just inadvertently flirted back.

"I could take you to your boyfriend's house," he said, still smiling.

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "You know I don't have a boyfriend, Seth." God, it felt good to say his name, she mused as she noted the way his strong hands clutched the steering wheel.

"Who's going to give you a birthday kiss, then?" he asked, his voice suddenly a bit huskier.

Ramsay bit her lower lip and studied his face, handsome even in the blue glow of the dash lights. "You," she replied, immediately feeling a blush rise almost painfully to her cheeks. Had she really said that? Had the martini emboldened her to be so forward? She looked at Seth, who seemed no longer focused on the task of driving her home. Was he really going to kiss her? Or was she the brunt of a callous joke? Would he tell his buddies over a round of beer how she had practically thrown herself at him? She slumped down in her seat and closed her eyes, too embarrassed to speak.

Suddenly the car lurched to a stop. Ramsay snapped to attention and looked around. Seth had pulled into the parking lot of a large brick building.

"You okay, baby?" he asked softly, concern written in the lines that creased his forehead. "You got quiet all of a sudden."

"Yeah, I--" Her stomach was turning somersaults now. He had called her "baby." She peered through the window at what appeared to be an apartment building. "Where are we?"

"My place."

"Oh." She turned back to look at him. His eyes seemed to have gone opaque--as if her were visually devouring her without really seeing her.

"Mind if I wish you a happy birthday?" he murmured, looking intently at her lips.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and blushed again as his eyes followed the movement avidly. "Yes. I--I mean no." She rolled her eyes self-deprecatingly. "I mean that I don't mind if you--"

His crushing kiss cut off her words. She had been kissed before, but never like this. His lips were demanding, overpowering--yet expertly deliberate in the way they teased and suckled her lips until she couldn't help but invite him to deepen the kiss. She gasped as his tongue invaded her mouth immediately. There were too many sensations to take in: the warmth of his hand as it cradled the nape of her neck, the heat of their rapid breathing, the sound of Seth's shaky groan as her tongue tentatively tasted his, the abrasiveness of his stubble as he angled his head to kiss her even more deeply. He was plundering her mouth, but unlike the handful of overeager boys who had kissed her in high school, he was alarmingly good at it.

Seth abruptly broke off the kiss and backed away as Ramsay, breathless for more, leaned in. "Jesus," he whispered raggedly. She blinked at him dazedly as he placed both hands back on the steering wheel.

"Don't take me home yet. Please, Seth."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Ramsay," he said brokenly, "I don't want to take you home. I want to take you up to my place and fuck you mindless."

Ramsay's face burned with a confusing mix of shame and raw desire. She had never heard anyone talk like that. He had rendered her utterly speechless. She only knew she wanted to hear him say her name again.

"Do you have any idea," he continued, "how fucking hot you are?" His gaze raked over her body and returned to her mouth. "God," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Seth?"

He pounded the steering wheel once with his fists, startling her. "Don't say my fucking name," he said, still shaking his head. "This is hard enough...." His voice trailed off.

"What's wrong? What did I do wrong?"

He chuckled mirthlessly. "Ramsay, you did nothing wrong." He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. "It's me. I shouldn't be kissing you."

"But I want you to kiss me," she said softly, placing her hand gently on his arm. His silence emboldened her to continue. "I like kissing you."

His arm tensed under her touch. "Baby, you're Gaby's kid sister."

Irked by the phrase "kid sister," Ramsay consciously ignored the mention of her jilted sister. "I'm eighteen," she muttered peevishly.

He laughed joylessly again.

"Seth, please," she purred, leaning in to press soft kisses along the line of his jaw. Her hand slid slowly, sensually up his chest, and she smiled to herself as he groaned in response. If the mere pressure of her hand against the wool of his winter coat could provoke such a reaction, she wondered how he would respond to her hands on his bare skin. God, the thought of touching his bare skin made her breath quicken.

"Don't you want me, Seth?" Her lips brushed against his ear as she half-moaned the question.

He pulled her hand away from his chest and pressed it firmly against his erection. "What do you think?"

Ramsay gasped softly as he guided her fingers up and down the hard ridge of his arousal. Even through his clothes, she could tell he was rather large--certainly larger than the callow high school boys who had made so many doomed attempts to claim her virginity. Seth, by contrast, wouldn't have to say a word: she was dying to give herself to him.

She gently drew her hand away and opened the car door. The chill night wind stung her eyes as she closed the door behind her. She began walking briskly toward Seth's apartment building.

The parking lot was quiet. A little too quiet. She heard Seth lock the car, then listened intently for his footsteps. But she heard only the snow-muffled clip-clop of her boots against the cold concrete. She took several more steps and paused.

His arms were locked around her waist before she could even turn around.

"You want it so fucking badly," he whispered, his breath almost stinging her ear. "You're not going to be happy until I'm shoving my cock up your little pussy, is that it?"

She wanted to turn and face him but couldn't move in his relentless grip. His words were making her stomach practically turn cartwheels. His forcefulness both frightened and aroused her.

"I'm going to make you come so hard," he said thickly, relaxing his grip on her waist and taking her hand in one swift movement.

The next few moments were a blur. Ramsay followed him docilely up the stairs to his apartment, scarcely conscious of her surroundings. Seth's words, and his burning grip on her wrist, were all she could focus on.

The studio apartment was dark, but Ramsay could perceive that it was just the sort of place Seth would choose: its exposed brick walls and hardwood floors communicated solidity and masculinity. The scent she associated with him--the woodsy blend of tobacco and manual labor--hung heavy in the air.

As her eyes continued to scan the darkness, she felt him at her back. Her wool coat was wrenched from her shoulders and tossed aside. His hands gripped her shoulders, branding them with his heat. "When I saw you standing in front of that bar..." His voice trailed off, and she held her breath as his hand slid up to cup her breasts. He fondled them masterfully; she could feel her nipples tighten against his touch even through her bra and sweater. "God, Ramsay," he murmured, pulling her sweater over her head, "you're so fucking hot." He discarded the sweater and immediately turned his attention back to her breasts. She instinctively arched her back as he pulled the cups of her bra down to reveal her hard nipples. Seth groaned quietly as her ass pressed against his erection. As his fingers plucked gently at her nipples, she felt her hips start moving of their own volition. She was, she realized as she arched her back again and ground against his hardness, giving him a standing lap dance of sorts. It was simply impossible to stand still as his fingers toyed so expertly with her nipples. The mounting tickle between her thighs demanded constant movement.

"These tits," Seth sighed as he brushed his palms against her nipples, sending shivers down her spine, "are amazing." Ramsay looked down watched his hands stroke and tease her breasts. She had always been a bit embarrassed by her large chest, but as Seth all but worshiped them, she surprised herself by taking pleasure in the sight of their soft roundness. "I'm fucking obsessed with them," he said hoarsely, pinching her nipples lightly. She moaned in response--more loudly than she meant to. He was making her sound like a porn star, for God's sake. It was shocking and embarrassing and terribly exciting all at once.

"Come here," Seth gruffed, grasping her by the shoulders and turning her around. Before she could get her bearings, he had reached under her knee-length wool skirt and pulled her tights and panties down around her knees in one fluid movement. "Here, help me," he said, yanking impatiently at the garments. Ramsay blinked dazedly in the darkness. The sight of him kneeling at her feet and pulling at her clothes left her reeling. "Step out of 'em," he ordered. She obeyed, placing her hands on his back for balance.

Seth cast the undergarments aside and slid his hands up her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat. "Seth, what are you--" Her words came out as small squeaks as she felt his middle finger run along her moist slit.

"Jesus," he sighed raggedly, fingering her until she could feel her pussy lips grow slippery with her juices. She was mortified--both because she had become embarrassingly wet and because his touch felt so good she was practically shivering.

"Seth," she whimpered, needing simply to say his name again.

"Moan for me, slut," he growled as his finger teased her.

Ramsay instantly stiffened. She'd never been called a slut before, not even by the tipsy, overeager boys she'd kissed at parties and then left disappointed. At what point, she wondered, had she lost his respect? Was it when she practically dared him to kiss her in the car? She closed her eyes.

"Come on, baby," he persisted, "I want to hear you." His middle finger slipped wetly into her pussy and began pumping gently.

She threw back her head and moaned, shame be damned. It just felt too good.

"Yeah, that's it," he drawled. "You want more, don't you?" He inserted a second finger, wringing another breathy moan from her throat. "God, what a little slut you are."

Ramsay blushed at his coarse language even as she moaned plaintively when he withdrew his fingers. She blushed more deeply still as she heard him lick her juices from his fingers. And when she watched him burrow under her skirt and felt his tongue tease the top of her slit, she bit her tongue to keep from squealing. Claire had once told her about a guy who went down on her, and the thought of it had been less than appealing. But as Seth nibbled gently at her pussy lips and just barely grazed her clit with his tongue, she suddenly understood Claire's enthusiasm. She could feel his hot breath ruffling the neatly trimmed hair down there, could feel his stubble gently scratching the soft skin between her thighs.

"You taste so good, Ramsay," he murmured, his voice muffled by her skirt. "So fucking good."

As he returned his attentions to her clit, she felt the stirrings of an orgasm. God, was he actually going to make her come with his mouth? Certainly she'd brought herself to climax plenty of times while thinking of Seth, but the sight of him kneeling before her, the sound of his hard breathing as he licked her--these things were so much more arousing than anything she'd imagined.

"Seth, I--oh!" A shiver of pleasure cut off her words. But it didn't matter. Seth instinctively redoubled his efforts, pulsing his tongue against her clit as he pumped two fingers in and out of her pussy. He clearly wanted to make her come, wanted to hear and feel her lose control. That thought alone was enough to push her over the edge. She leaned over and gripped his shoulders as the orgasm racked her body. Her moans echoed off the brick walls.

Seth stopped pleasuring her just as her clit began to feel too tender. He was still breathing hard as he emerged from under her skirt. "You like that?"

Shakily she sank to her knees. "Yeah." She worked to catch her breath. "You have no idea."

He chuckled to himself as he unbuckled his belt.

Ramsay immediately stiffened. The orgasm had left her body simultaneously relaxed and aroused, but as she watched him undress, the fluttering in her stomach grew into a churning. She hoped Seth couldn't see how nervous she looked as he casually removed his jeans and boxers. His erection was huge. Granted, it was the first she'd ever seen, but the thought of it entering her made her breath catch in her throat. What was it Claire had said? That the vagina was so elastic that it could accommodate anything a man could come up with? Clearly, Claire had never seen Seth naked.

Seth. Naked. She was about to lose her virginity to Seth--although he certainly didn't need to know that he was her first. Maybe he already knew. Maybe he could sense her virginity as if it were a fragrance that forever clung to her. Or maybe the fantasies that had kept her awake and squirming in the sheets at night--fantasies of being dominated by him--had lent her an air of sensuality and worldliness. She couldn't read him at all. She only knew she'd die before confessing her inexperience.