Olive Branch

Author's Note: This is the final installment of the story of Seth and Ramsay. I'd like to thank my readers for sending me so much thoughtful, encouraging feedback and for waiting so patiently.

*

So that was it. Gaby had moved on. God, she sounded happy. Ramsay kicked a chunk of rapidly melting ice as she recalled the phone conversation with her sister. "It feels so easy," Gaby had said. "It's comfortable, you know? I don't have to constantly be afraid that I'm about to lose him." Ramsay had said everything that one should say when one's sister is rhapsodizing about a new relationship. And Gaby's relationship with—did she say his name was Jake?—certainly sounded rhapsody-worthy. In the space of a month, the guy had proven himself to be the sort who calls when he says he will, who really listens. A nice guy.

Gaby was happy. She hadn't mentioned Seth once.

Seth.

Ramsay checked her cell phone clock again. He was ten minutes late. She watched her fellow college students trudge through the late-winter slush. The days were getting longer. The trees were still bare, but the ground was soft and sodden, and the damp air smelled unmistakably of the impending spring. Her relationship—was it a relationship or an affair?—with Seth, Gaby's 26-year-old ex-boyfriend, had somehow survived the winter. They'd even established routines, Ramsay mused as she watched students file out of Barclay Hall. Well, sex was the principal routine, she supposed. Whether Seth picked her up after class or appeared at her door on evenings when her mother was working late, he invariably made it quite clear that sex was the chief order of business. And he'd grow tired of that eventually, right? His obsession, for that's surely what it was, would ultimately burn itself out and he'd stop coming around.

Only she was every bit as obsessed as he was. She peered down at her pointed toe boots and recalled the way he'd stripped her down to those boots just 48 hours before. He'd knelt before her, lifted her leg over his shoulder, and licked her pussy until her moans left her short of breath. Just before coming, she had caught sight of herself in the mirror on her closet door and marveled at the wanton figure looking back at her. Her nipples were hard and slightly sore from his attentions; her back was arched provocatively; her kiss-swollen lips were ajar, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded. Her hands were buried in Seth's hair, silently urging him to finish her off. She'd watched herself beg for her orgasm, and then Seth's masterful fingers and tongue had nearly made her black out.

That was two days ago. Her desire for him had again sprung up as inexorably as a weed. She needed him again, needed to breathe in the musk of his skin and hear him tell her what a fucking nymphomaniac she was. And it was true, she thought as she consulted her cell phone clock again. He had made her shockingly sex-hungry. Even now, as she paced the sidewalk, she could feel her nipples tighten, could feel the soft cotton lining of her bra suddenly become a source of pleasurable friction. God, what a freak she had become.

"Hurry up, baby!"

Ramsay snapped to attention. There was Seth, smoking and holding up traffic at the busy campus intersection. The bus driver behind him looked ready to slam on the horn. She leaped into the car, and he charged through the yellow light as the bus honked its disapproval.

"Hey, are you okay?" He tossed his cigarette out the window. "Are you cold?"

"You're late."

"Not that late. Traffic's fucking horrible tonight."

Ramsay stared straight ahead. She could think straight as long as she didn't look at him. Her thoughts were sure to go skittering every which way if she let herself drink in the sight of his sensual lips and slow-blinking gaze. And she needed to stay focused, needed to figure out why her phone conversation with Gaby had destroyed what little peace of mind she had.

She could feel his eyes on her.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong?" His voice had softened a little.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

She crossed her arms and sighed impatiently. She was acting like a brat—she knew it—but she didn't know how else to be at the moment. Seth undoubtedly wanted to take her to his apartment and fuck her at least once, and she wanted it so badly that she couldn't keep her legs still. But that wouldn't help her think. It never did.

The stoplight turned red. Seth braked hard. "Come here," he said, reaching for her.

She pushed his arms away. "Not now."

Experience had taught her that phrases like "not now" and "stop that" were not in Seth's lexicon. He seemed to regard "no" as a quaint sort of come-on. So she was astonished when he pulled away and placed his hands back on the wheel without another word. She hated herself for feeling a stab of disappointment.

They drove on in silence. Ramsay leaned back and closed her eyes. Gaby was happy. Jake or Jack or whoever was giving her what Seth never had: a sense of security. There was no way of knowing how long the relationship would last, but the guy was at least giving the impression that he had every intention of sticking around. He had taken Gaby to museums, introduced her to his work friends, and spent entire evenings just watching bad TV with her. Ramsay had done none of those things with Seth. She scarcely knew his life. And even though he had bought her an expensive acoustic guitar and listened patiently as she struggled to learn her very first song, he knew very little about her. He knew how to make her come in 60 seconds or fewer but couldn't name her favorite movie if asked at gunpoint. Maybe he found her so unspeakably dull that he couldn't be bothered to learn such things. The more likely explanation, she supposed, was that he wanted to be able to divest himself of this liaison quickly and easily, and casting her aside would be much easier if she were merely a body—albeit a well-used one.

Ramsay opened her eyes just as Seth pulled the car into a side street.

"I need to get home," she snapped.

"Bullshit." He pulled the car over and parked in front of a 1960s-style apartment building. The interiors probably had that awful faux wood paneling, Ramsay thought as she scanned the windows to make sure no one was peering at them. She had provoked Seth's temper, and the last thing she needed was a witness to the scene that was surely to follow. He looked ready to make a scene.

She closed her eyes and waited for him to speak. The seconds passed. Suddenly his hand was on her knee, and she jumped a bit.

"Seth, someone might see." She watched his hand move as if she were paralyzed, watched it glide along her inner thigh. Her eyes widened as it disappeared under her wool dress. She felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment when his fingers stopped at the top of her thigh.

"You think I wouldn't fuck you in front of an audience?" He squeezed her thigh possessively and smiled.

She looked at him at last. His eyes were fixed on her mouth, his fingers were idly working their way between her legs. She suspected he actually would fuck in her front of an audience. The thought was appallingly exciting.

"Come on," he murmured, and she was moaning and pushing against his hand before she could even decide what "come on" meant. He was stroking her hard through her tights, through her panties. He was so good. She'd gone from silent and sullen to writhing and panting in a matter of nanoseconds.

"Stop," she said, but it sounded like a moan even to her ears, and Seth only laughed to himself. She'd felt that familiar quiver of arousal the instant she sat in his car and breathed in the scent of clean male skin, but now her panties were so wet that his fingers, slick with her juices, slipped as he stroked her. She pushed against his hand again.

"Spread your legs wider."

No sooner had she obeyed than he ripped away the flimsy cotton gusset of her tights. Ramsay gasped in shock. Maybe he really was going to fuck her right there on the front lawn.

"Kiss me." His eyes looked just a little wild. She didn't dare disobey. Not that she really want to. She closed her eyes and felt his tongue enter her mouth just before his lips came down on hers. He had schooled her to be rather bold with her tongue; she gingerly sucked his tongue between her lips and silently congratulated herself as he groaned.

Ramsay could not get enough of his lips, not even when she felt his fingers push her panties to the side and plunge into the wet heat of her pussy. She moaned loudly into his mouth, moaned and gasped as his adept fingers found the spot that had once sent her into what felt like three consecutive orgasms. Well, no, he had sent her into all those orgasms, she thought blearily as she squirmed under his touch. Her body came to life—became one great electric current of desire—every time he put his hands on her.

Seth swallowed her moans as his fingers coaxed her pussy. Ramsay kissed him as if her life depended on it and hoped he would be satisfied with fingering her in the car. It would be her task not to let things go any further—no matter how heatedly her body screamed for his cock. She would come on his fingers, and then he would take her home so that she could actually think.

He broke off the kiss and smiled to himself as she dazedly leaned in for more. She moaned plaintively and closed her eyes as she felt his fingers withdraw. She had wanted that orgasm so badly. The sensation of his fingers pulling at the buttons of her cardigan finally roused her. "Seth, no." She slapped at his hands.

He covered her mouth again with his. God, she'd never get anywhere. His fingers had already undone most of her sweater buttons. She gasped against his lips as he cupped her breasts through her camisole. "Baby, I want to see your tits," he said between kisses.

Ramsay knew what that meant. Looking would not be enough: he would tease and playfully torment her nipples until her pussy ached. "Not now," she said, a little shakily. She didn't dare look at him. Her fingers trembled a bit as she refastened a button. Never mind that she was buttoning crookedly.

Seth grabbed her wrist and squeezed it until she winced. "You want me to rip the fucking buttons off, is that it?"

The thought aroused her a little, but she pushed it away. "I want to go home."

To her utter amazement, he let go of her wrist and started the car.

"I think you're tired," he said as he pulled back onto the street. "You can rest at my place."

"No, Seth, I'm just—"

"Just let me fucking take care of you!" He ran a stop sign as he bit the words out. "Can you do that?"

Ramsay was silent. He was right: she was tired. She felt it in her bones. She was tired of craving him, tired of feeling so powerless. Seth could never give her what she needed, could never make her feel safe. And the most heartrending thing was that the thought of asking him for a commitment left a cold knot of terror in her stomach. He'd never speak to her again—never fuck her again. The loss would be too great to bear.

She didn't say a word for the remainder of the drive to Seth's apartment.

****

Ramsay had come in her sleep before, but it had never felt quite like this. She was squirming and panting, and everything felt so...so immediate. Until now, whenever she woke from an erotic dream, she'd invariably find that the sheets had scarcely been disturbed even though her subconscious self had been writhing and trembling. But she was quite sure she was moving as she felt the sheets grow damp in her clenched fists and listened to her own quiet moans. She wasn't in her own bed, that was for sure. These sheets felt different. They seemed—

Oh, God, she was going to come. She arched her back, held her breath, and let the wet throb between her thighs give way to hot waves of pleasure. This pleasure—God, her pussy was convulsing with it. She moaned long and loudly.

Her eyes snapped open. Before she could even discern her surroundings, she recognized the familiar tickle of Seth's tongue on her clit. He had made her come in her sleep. The thought sent another shiver of pleasure down her thighs. She moaned sleepily and pushed her pussy lightly against his mouth. He groaned appreciatively.

Ramsay leaned up to watch him kiss and lick his way up and down her slit. She was, quite to her surprise, completely naked. But she was also unspeakably turned on. A few spasms still shook her pussy. She gasped as she felt two fingers enter her.

Seth paused and licked his lips. "Do you have any idea," he said, lazily pumping his fingers in and out of her sopping pussy, "how long I've wanted to do that?" He tickled her g-spot and smirked as her hips bucked off the mattress. "Just watch you wake yourself up while you fucking come like a little nympho...." His voice trailed off as he shook his head.

He began toying with her g-spot again, and she threw her head back and moaned. Her breasts felt suddenly heavy and in dire need of attention. She ran her hands up and down her body, savoring the feel of her hot palms against her nipples.

Seth sighed raggedly. "Jesus, baby."

Ramsay wantonly arched her back, thrusting her breasts into her self-caress. "You like that?" she purred. "Am I making you hard?" As if she had to ask, she mused, pausing to pinch her nipples lightly. Seth's fingers continued to stroke deep inside her. Her body positively thrummed with the sort of desire that comes with satiety.

"You want this cock?"

Her hands stilled as she met his gaze. His eyes darkened as he looked at her without really seeing her. She'd officially set the game in motion. He wouldn't stop now until he'd fucked her thoroughly. She nodded tentatively. Seth was always a little intimidating when he was fully aroused.

"Keep playing with those tits, slut."

Closing her eyes, she squeezed and cupped her breasts and imagined her hands were his. Seth began finger-fucking her in earnest. She moaned until her voice cracked.

"You want this cock?" he repeated.

"Mmmyeah." She tugged restively on her nipples.

"Yeah?"

"I want it." Her moans turned to pouts as he withdrew his fingers from her pussy.

Seth studied his glistening fingers in the lamplight. "Yeah, you do," he smirked. "Did I tell you to take your hands off your tits?"

Ramsay closed her eyes and went back to stroking herself up and down. It wasn't enough: her nipples were screaming for his lips, his tongue. She gasped as she felt his fingers, still quite wet with her juices, run along her bottom lip. Her lips parted obediently, and she moaned as she sucked his fingers clean. She squirmed impatiently; her thighs slid wetly against each other.

"You taste how fucking bad you want it?"

She nodded, his tongue still lightly lathing his fingers. She gave her nipples a frantic tug.

Seth withdrew his fingers from her mouth and swatted her hands aside. She watched him practically devour her tits with his eyes. If he didn't suckle her breasts, she would die. And if he did, her pussy would ache with thwarted desire.

He leaned down and seized her nipple between his lips.

"Oh!" she squeaked as he gently bit. Her hand almost mechanically reached over to stroke her neglected breast. He gripped her both her wrists and pinned them to the bed without breaking his stride. His mouth wandered over to her other breast. She wriggled restlessly under him.

"Seth!"

He sucked her nipple between his teeth.

"Seth!" She began to thrash a little. She bucked around as if sheer motion could relieve the humming ache in her pussy.

Seth settled on top of her. She ground shamelessly against the bulge in his jeans.

He kissed her hard. Her tongue met his stroke-for-stroke with a desperation that matched that of the rest of her body. She tasted just the faintest trace of her juices on his tongue.

He broke off the kiss; she leaned up for more.

"You want this cock?"

"Yes," she whined, still moving against him.

"Are you a fucking slut?"

"Yes." It no longer shamed her to say it. If the throb between her legs meant she was a slut for his cock, then so be it.

"You want my come in your hot little pussy?"

"Yes." She kissed him impulsively. He looked amused.

"You like lying here and begging for it like a dirty fucking whore?"

"Yes."

"You like moaning for my cock and getting so fucking wet?"

"Yeah." She could feel the stirrings of her next orgasm as she ground against him. "Yeah," she repeated, closing her eyes.

"Don't come, slut," he hissed in her ear.

She ignored him, moaning as she felt the pleasure escalate. The weight of his body on hers was too satisfying, his objectification of her too arousing.

"I won't fuck you if you come."

But he didn't move away, and she didn't stop grinding against him. As she held her breath and waited for the pleasure to wash over her, he covered her mouth with his. The feel of his tongue caressing hers pushed her over: she nearly screamed into his mouth as she came.

He finally broke off the kiss. "God damn it," he muttered, pushing himself up to a kneeling position. "On all fours, slut."

"But you said you wouldn't—"

"On your fucking knees," he said flatly.

Ramsay smiled inwardly as she struggled to get her trembling, post-orgasm body into position. Apparently, Seth couldn't help but fuck her, couldn't help but give her more even though he'd vowed not to.

The hard smack on her ass shouldn't have taken her by surprise, but it did. Her body went rigid with the shock of it.

"I told you not to come," he spat, landing another smack.

"I know."

"You're such a fucking whore,"—SMACK!—"that you couldn't wait."

"I know."

"You want to come all the time, is that it, slut?"

"Yeah." She was answered with another smack. The sting of his blows had melted into a warmth that radiated through her and, much to her own bemusement, made her crave more.

She heard the bed-springs groan under him and felt his hot hands grip her hips.

"This is what you want, right, slut?" He thrust hard. Thrust to the hilt, she was so wet.

"Jesus," he murmured to himself.

She grunted as he began to pound her. His fingers dug into the softness of her hips.

"It's all you fucking want."

"Mmmyeah."

The sudden pull on her hair—the violent yank that brought her to an upright kneeling position—shouldn't have taken her by surprise, but it did. He released her hair immediately and locked his right forearm around her throat as she struggled to catch her breath. The hardness of his body behind hers somehow comforted and aroused her at the same time. Her back and his chest, now both coated with a light sheen of sweat, stuck together a bit as they touched. Ramsay's hands moved almost involuntarily to her breasts.

"Jesus," he sighed, his breath at her ear a bit shaky. With one hand, he brushed her hands aside peremptorily and began fondling her breasts. Ramsay closed her eyes with a loud groan: Seth's cock was drilling her pussy; his hand was expertly groping her tits as his other arm trapped her neck in what must have looked to a voyeur like a particularly erotic wrestling hold. There was only one thing lacking.

"Touch yourself, slut." It was as if Seth had read her mind. As her fingers moved deftly to her clit, she decided that she wouldn't be surprised to find that he really could read her mind.

"You gonna come again?" His lips tickled her ear as he growled at her. "So fucking greedy—wanting to come all the God damned time." He gave her nipple a quick pinch and laughed as she squeaked.

Ramsay could barely register all the sensations: his cock slamming wetly into her, his hand pawing at her tits as they jiggled in time to his thrusts, her own fingers alternately tickling her clit and rubbing it feverishly. Her body had become one great pulse of erotic energy; every inch of skin was crying out for release. She arched her back and savored the overload of stimulation.