tagErotic CouplingsThe Reclamation

The Reclamation


Ramsay gazed pensively at the dim screen of her cell phone. Three days, no word from Seth. Considering that their so-called relationship generally involved almost daily contact, Ramsay found his elusiveness worrisome. Then again, she mused, glancing for the hundredth time at her maddeningly silent phone, it was absurd to expect Seth to play the doting lover. Her sister's 25-year-old ex-boyfriend was hardly a paragon of chivalry. But far more to the point, their liaison seemed destined to die on the vine: Gaby was still calling her regularly to mope over her breakup with Seth, her mother was still furious at Seth for causing Gaby so much unhappiness, and Seth himself seemed to regard Ramsay as little more than an addictive distraction. It was not the stuff of great romance. In fact, if she continued to "distract" him, domestic disaster was sure to ensue.

And yet he was all she could think about. In the weeks following her eighteenth birthday party, which Ramsay dimly recalled as the night Seth granted her drunken request to be rid of her virginity, he had practically turned her into a nymphomaniac. The mere thought of his bruising kisses and shameless fingers never failed to get her wet. She had never really made a habit of touching herself, but every time she lay down on her bed to savor her memories of watching Seth eagerly tease her pussy with his tongue and fingers, her own fingers invariably found their way into her panties.

Placing her cell phone on her night table, Ramsay lay down, closed her eyes, and conjured the image of Seth's mouth, his seductively slow-blinking eyes. She thought of the full lips that could--and often did--kiss her with punishing force, of the hardness of his arms as he knelt over her. He had, on several occasions, called her his fuck slut, and rather than being insulted, she'd been aroused--perhaps because the epithet seemed more his way of asserting ownership over her than anything else. And, wrong though it seemed, she wanted very much to be his possession. "Fuck slut," she whispered to herself as she imagined feeling Seth's hot breath on her neck, imagined hearing his thick growl in her ear.

She traced her lips with one finger while the other hand glided down her neck and gently cupped one breast and then the other. But although her own touch felt pleasant, it was almost more soothing than stimulating. Seth's lovemaking had conditioned her to crave rough, possessive touches: she needed to be held down and groped, not caressed politely. She groaned in frustration.

What would Seth say, she wondered, if he were there? She shut her eyes tightly and recalled the many orders he had barked at her, the many demands he had made of her. The way he posed questions--especially questions regarding her desire for his cock--never sounded interrogatory: they were more like bald, vaguely mocking commands. Ramsay reached for the fly of her blue jeans as she struggled to remember exactly the way Seth sounded when he asked her whether--or, rather, told her--she wanted to be fucked. Usually by the time he was demanding to be inside her, her nipples were hard and wet with his saliva, her pussy so wet that the insides of her thighs felt slippery. He always reduced her to a puddle of raw need.

Ramsay ran her middle finger tentatively along her slit. The thought of Seth's voice, of his alarmingly arousing words, had made her pussy a bit moist. She bit her lip as her finger ventured into the tight folds. "So fuckin' tight," Seth had once groaned as he drove his cock easily into her. He had then reminded her--in language that made her blush--that her body was for his exclusive use.

"Oh, God," she murmured, gently pumping her middle finger in and out of her pussy.

"Oh, fuck."

Ramsay's eyes snapped open. Her hand froze. She knew that voice.

Seth was standing in her bedroom doorway, his gaze fixed lewdly on Ramsay's hand. She lay there helplessly, her blush so deep she could feel her cheeks burning. Her mouth was ajar, her body paralyzed.

"Well, don't let me stop you," he drawled, a smile curling his lips.

Ramsay regained her faculties at last, removed her hand from her panties and sat bolt upright. How had Seth gotten into the apartment? Where had he been for the last three days? Why hadn't he called her? There were too many questions to ask.

She started with the simplest one. "How long have you been standing there?" She stood up and began refastening her jeans.

"Long enough to get a fucking hard-on." He leaned against the door frame.

Ramsay's eyes traveled involuntarily to the bulge in his jeans. The frequency and duration of his erections had always fascinated her, but at the moment she was too embarrassed and too angry with Seth to indulge in any sexually charged repartee.

"So what was I doing?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What?" She had moved over to her vanity.

"What were you thinking about while you were frigging yourself? What was I doing?" He strolled over to her bed and sat down on it.

"You were leaving my bedroom and going back home," she retorted, struggling to look blasé as she pretended to preen before the mirror.

"Are you sure I wasn't fucking you from behind?" He caught her gaze in the vanity mirror. "Or maybe I was licking your pussy?" He smiled and arched one eyebrow.

God, he was making this hard, thought Ramsay as she planned her next move. She wanted to kiss him so badly she felt a small shiver run down her spine, but she wanted even more to find out why he'd pulled a disappearing act.

She spun around to face him. "My mother will be home any minute," she said coolly.

His grin broadened. "Oh, yeah? Is that why were you playing with yourself with the bedroom door wide open?" He cocked his head in mock curiosity.

The fact was that Ramsay's mother wasn't due back for a few more hours. How, she wondered, did Seth know he'd find her alone? Fresh out of retorts, she sighed.

"Come on," he said, patting the bed playfully. "Sit with me."


"Why not?"

"Because you can't walk into my room after ignoring me for three days and expect me to jump into your arms."

"I'm not asking you to jump into my arms," he replied, his smile gone. "I'm asking you to sit with me." He patted the bed so emphatically she heard the mattress springs groan.

She glowered at him and crossed her arms defensively, mostly because his gaze kept resting on the bit of cleavage that peeked out from the neckline of her sweater. "Where the hell were you?"

He lay back on her bed and rubbed his eyes. "Pub crawl in Chicago. My buddies and I."

Ramsay snorted. "For three days?"

"It was my birthday." He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her. "We got carried away."

Ramsay's mouth dropped open. "It was your birthday?"

She shouldn't have been surprised, really. Seth had never given her any reason to regard herself as his girlfriend, so why was she so shocked to find that he'd excluded her entirely from his birthday plans? She turned and looked absently out the window. Seth was many things, she thought sullenly, but he was not her boyfriend.

"Aren't you going to wish me a happy birthday?"

Ramsay snapped out of her reverie and looked at him. His dark green eyes looked a bit tired; no doubt his bacchanalian birthday festivities had worn him out. She wondered whether he'd drunkenly bedded another girl while in Chicago.

"I'd like you to leave." She looked at the floor as she spoke.

Seth sighed loudly. "Baby, you know I fucking love it when you resist, but let's skip the bullshit for a second and recall that little show you put on for me earlier."

She blushed and turned away. "I didn't know you were there." She heard the bedsprings creak a bit as Seth stood up. No doubt he was formulating his plan of attack.

"Tell me what you were thinking about," he murmured as he stepped slowly toward her, "when you were fingering that slutty pussy of yours." He stood directly behind her. She could smell the blend of tobacco and freshly carved wood that always left her weak-kneed, could feel his hot breath ruffling her hair. But it was his voice that was wreaking complete havoc on her resolve.

"Come on, baby," he whispered hoarsely as he twirled a tendril of her hair between his work-coarsened fingers. "Tell me what I was doing to you."

Ramsay closed her eyes and sighed. Seth had never taken "no" for an answer, and she doubted he was about to start now. He drew her back against him--God, the warmth of his body behind hers was somehow both comforting and arousing--and wrapped his arms around her midriff. She reached up to stroke his hair, which always looked delectably sleep-tousled, and gasped softly as she felt his hands glide up to cup and stroke her breasts. His hot, demanding touch felt so much more satisfying than her own tentative caresses. His absolute hunger for her--evident in his knack for fondling her as if he had just that moment discovered the soft roundness of her breasts--was more arousing than anything.

"Are you going to tell me?" he growled, almost peremptorily. She pressed up against his hands as they once again closed over her breasts. The fact was that she was in no mood to talk. The prospect of listening to Seth ravish her verbally, however, was all too tempting. Determined to goad him on, she moaned softly as he kneaded her breasts.

"Cat got your tongue?" He spun her around to face him. She looked hungrily at his mouth--at the lips that had, on more than one occasion, nuzzled and teased her clit until they were glazed thickly with her juices. She felt her pussy begin pulsing with desire for him. Jesus, he hadn't even kissed her and she was already half ready to spread her legs for him. She silently chastised herself for being so weak-willed. But even as she did so, she found herself gazing lustfully up at his always impenetrable eyes. Their eyes met.

"Ramsay," he whispered. "Talk to me, baby."

The sound of her name coming from his absurdly sensual lips was too much. She kissed him hard. To hell with her reservations, she thought as she plunged her tongue into his mouth. And to hell with her self-respect. Her body needed Seth's cock too badly. She moaned into his mouth.

Seth abruptly broke off the kiss. She blinked dazedly up at him.

"Well?" He was smiling.

Ramsay sighed resignedly. "Yes, I was thinking about you."

"I know that," he replied as he traced the neckline of her sweater with his fingers. She held her breath as he paused to run his index finger up and down her cleavage. "So tell me what I was doing to you."

She watched his hands slide down and gently cup her breasts through her sweater as she spoke. "You...were calling me your fuck slut," she whispered.

"Oh, yeah?" He was smirking. "What else?"

"You were telling me how tight my pussy was. And that--" She closed her eyes and bit her lip.

"What, baby?" he coaxed hoarsely as he fondled her.

She took a deep breath. "That you were going to fuck me mindless."

Seth wrenched her sweater over her head before she could get her bearings. Her bra quickly followed. "Do you know," he gruffed as he unfastened her jeans and pulled them down, "how many times I had to fuckin' jack off to you while I was gone?"

Ramsay would have preferred to hear that Seth had missed her, but as she stepped quickly out of her jeans and panties, she realized she'd have to content herself with knowing that she had at least made several appearances in his sexual fantasies. The thought of Seth pleasuring himself to mental images of her wasn't exactly heartwarming, but it was undeniably arousing.

"All I could think about," he said, his gaze traveling restlessly up and down her naked body, "was bending you over and fucking you." He clutched her body firmly to his; she wondered whether the cold metal studs on his leather belt would leave indentations on her flesh. "I could almost hear you begging for it," he growled as his fingers dug into her ass.

Ramsay could feel his erection pressing against her belly. She reached gingerly between their bodies and tentatively stroked him through the rough denim. He closed his eyes and threw his head back. She'd never seen him so aroused--so on edge. "Is that what you want for your birthday?" she purred, inwardly shocked by her own brazenness. "You want to fuck me from behind?"

He looked at her, his gaze opaque with lust. "What I want," he said, shoving her harder against his erection, "is to fuck you every which way until you can barely stand." He arched one eyebrow. "Or sit."

Ramsay's stomach turned a flip. She closed her eyes and waited, lips parted, for his mouth to crush hers.

The shrill chirp of her cell phone broke the electric silence. Ramsay reluctantly opened her eyes. Seth had turned away from her and was leaning over her night table, squinting at the blinking screen of her cell phone. She read the name on the screen and rolled her eyes. It was Christian from her European art history class. In her pre-Seth days, Ramsay might actually have been quite excited to receive a call from a guy like Christian. He was cute, affable, and obviously attracted to her--at least if his insistence on walking her to the bus stop after class was any indication. They might have had a lovely time dating and losing their virginity to one another. But ever since Seth had swept in and made her almost sick with desire, guys like Christian didn't have a chance.

Seth snatched her phone from the table. "Who the hell is Christian?" he snapped after the third ring.

"No one. Just let it go to voicemail," she said impatiently. What a ridiculous scene this was. She was standing stark naked, arms crossed, while Seth stood indignantly holding her hot pink cell phone. If Christian hadn't called, she thought sullenly, Seth would have been doing unspeakable things to her by now.

"Who the fuck is he?" He grabbed the phone and held it as if were about to hurl it across the room.

Ramsay struggled to keep a smile at bay. The idea that Seth might feel threatened by Christian--a freshman who wore preppy sweaters and "geek chic" glasses--was just too amusing.

But Seth was obviously not amused.

The phone stopped ringing at last. Ramsay held out her hand. "Give me the phone, please."

"Who is he, Ramsay?"

She paused. This wasn't the first time jealousy had gotten the best of Seth. She recalled the night he had hunted her down at a frat party and wrested her away from the cute philosophy major who had been chatting her up. He'd taken her to his apartment and fucked her for hours on end. God, the memory of it made her head reel. She was tempted to keep silent and let him work himself into another fit of jealousy. She reached up to wrench the phone from his grasp.

With lightning quickness he threw the phone hard against the wall and grabbed her. She pushed ineffectually against his chest.

"That was my phone!"

He tightened his grasp on her arms. "You like driving me fucking crazy, is that it?"

She blushed slightly and stopped resisting. The fact was that she did like driving him crazy--liked watching him grow fiercely possessive every time another man so much as made lingering eye contact with her. All that jealousy had to mean something, she thought. Perhaps it meant that he loved her.

She had just opened her mouth to speak when he kissed her with bruising force. As his tongue stormed past her closed lips, Ramsay groaned uncontrollably. He gripped her arms so tightly she felt tears sting the corners of her eyes.

He broke off the kiss and looked at her naked breasts. The sight of them crushed against his chest, was, she had to admit, rather alluring. Seth released her arms, now mottled with red fingerprints, and sat on the bed. She didn't wait for an invitation to sit astride him.

He clutched her ass and pushed her against him. The fabric of his t-shirt tickled her pussy. He caught one nipple between his lips and sucked hard, sending a jolt of pleasure down her spine and between her thighs. As he rolled her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, she found herself grinding her hips against his torso. She began to wonder if he could make her come just by fondling and suckling her tits. The feel of his lips alternately teasing and tugging at her nipple had made her clit almost painfully engorged.

Just as she had started grinding against him in earnest, he released her taut nipple. She groaned in frustration.

"Are you fucking that guy?" he asked, entangling his fingers in her hair.

"No." She leaned in to kiss him. He pulled away.

"Are you going to fuck him?" He pulled her hair so hard she found herself suddenly looking at the ceiling.

"No," she replied, wincing.

His grip on her hair loosened, and she felt his lips begin trailing kisses along the tops of her breasts. She looked down at him, watched him intermittently pause to lick her diamond-hard nipples between kisses. She wanted to ask him whether he'd slept with another woman in Chicago, wanted to demand his fidelity in exchange for hers. But she didn't dare ask him what he'd done on his birthday trip. She didn't want to hear the answer.

And in any case, Seth was making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than the sensations he was giving her. His hands had begun gently kneading her inner thighs, working their way to her pussy. She was even wetter than usual. His protracted assault on her breasts had provoked a liberal flow of juices, and the mere sight of his large hands preparing to lay claim to her pussy was painfully arousing. She leaned up to give him better access.

"This," he said hoarsely as his middle finger entered her, "belongs to me." He finger-fucked her slowly. "Got it, slut?"

"Mmmmyeah," she moaned, her eyes closed.

He shoved a second finger up her pussy and gazed hungrily at her mouth as his fingers slid noisily in and out of her. She licked her lips provocatively for him.

Seth smiled and abruptly removed his fingers. Before she could even groan in frustration, he held his drenched fingers up to her mouth.

"Taste it, slut," he said thickly.

Ramsay made no effort to conceal her shock. She looked at Seth. His lips were parted, his eyes bleary with lust. God knew she wanted to please him, wanted to make him desire her more. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes as she felt his wet fingers enter her mouth. He hissed as she licked his fingers clean.

"Holy fuck," he whispered, pumping his fingers very gently between her lips. Ramsay opened her eyes and found that he had begun rubbing his erection through his jeans as he watched her taste her juices. She moaned, delighted to have reduced him to such a state.

"Baby," he said, carefully removing his fingers from her mouth, "I need to feel that hot mouth of yours on my cock."

Ramsay's eyes widened. Seth's request hardly surprised her—after all, he had pleasured her orally on several occasions—but she was nervous just the same. She frantically tried to recall conversations she'd had with her more sexually experienced girlfriends. What was it they had said about avoiding jaw fatigue? And what was the area just behind the balls called, and what was she supposed to do with it?

But there was no time for a crash course in oral sex. Seth was guiding her to a kneeling position and standing to remove his jeans. She sat and watched him release his erection from his boxers. It was hardly the first time she'd seen his cock, but it was the first time she had been mere inches away from it. What would it taste like, she wondered as he stroked it a few times. She looked up at him. He looked eager. And just a bit impatient.

"Come on, baby," he coaxed. "I'll tell you what to do."

Ramsay couldn't suppress a small smile. She should have realized that Seth would have no problem giving her shockingly specific instructions. She leaned forward and tentatively touched her tongue to the base of his cock. Then she ran her tongue up and down the underside of the shaft.

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