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The Flared Skirt

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I spotted her first across the stone island full of empty red solo cups, half empty glass bottles of every type of alcohol you can imagine, and the living room, which had been turned into a makeshift dance floor.

She stood in conversation with another girl; her dark hair was unbound, cascading down her back in a multitude of soft curls. I wondered if they were natural? Or if she’d spent an hour precariously curling each individual strand like most of the other girls I knew. A silk red ribbon had been woven through her locks, and tied sweetly at the back.

I wanted to pull it loose with my teeth.

The rest of her body was covered, or should I say hardly covered, in a cheerleader uniform. Her own cheerleader uniform. The one she wore every weekend at our college rugby tournaments. The tournaments I starred in as one of our college’s best rugby players.

That uniform was the bane of my life; the bane of most of my teammates lives.

A short, red skirt sat across the cheerleader’s hips, reaching a tad higher than mid thigh. Sometimes it was flared out, with old school pleats throughout, and sometimes tight, hugging every curve.

It made my mouth water, whichever way it was worn.

A white crop top accompanied the skirt, short sleeved in spring and summer, long sleeved in autumn and winter.

I knew from past experiences that some of the girls didn’t wear a bra under their crop tops. It was tight enough not to really notice, unless it was cold, (nipply, as Angus would say). Or unless you were Stacy Youngman, who I’d slept with last summer when I was a reckless eighteen-year-old. She had poured an entire jug of water over herself on purpose, proudly showcasing me her bare tits under her uniform, in a ploy to get me to fuck her.

It worked like a charm.

In the kitchen, I pressed my tongue into the side of my cheek, bringing my nearly full bottle of beer up to my mouth and took a sip. To my left, one of my teammates, William, was being felt up by a girl dressed in a bunny costume, complete with lacy ears and a white pom pom tail. Not seeming to be bothered by her wandering hands, William purposefully squeezed the girl’s fluffy tail. Earning a squeal that rang through my ears, before his hand travelled further down south, squeezing real flesh this time and being earned a more human-esque sound.

Did I forget to mention it was Halloween?

I’d chosen to just show up in my college rugby uniform. Not the most inventive of costumes, especially compared to some of my other classmates who had donned tight spandex superhero costumes for the boys, and just as equally as tight, slutty costumes for the girls. But I knew my rugby uniform got me wet pussy, so that was good enough for me.

Quite obviously the brunette exchange student, who had flown in from London, England just under a year ago, had had the same idea to wear her uniform as a costume.

I certainly wasn’t mad about it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted another girl dressed in a black, bunny costume - an exact matching pair to the lass beside me grinding all over my teammate - treading down the stairs. Her black hair, cut into a blunt bob, kissed her jawline as she walked.

I knew she’d set her sights on me when our separate lines of sight crashed.

Bypassing somebody in a bright green teenage mutant ninja turtle, with a purple shell on his back, who tried to grab her attention, she continued on her path, undeterred.

I searched in the back of my mind for her name; I swear I knew it.

Katie? Katherine? Kate?

“Hi Jamie,” she uttered once she’d reached me, her hand brushing where my green shirt stretched across my broad chest.

Through half-mast lids, I peered at her; smoky brown eyes, long, bambi-like fake eyelashes, pink lips. Her lips did look rather pillowy, she smelt good, something powdery and feminine, and the strands of her hair did look soft to the touch… but there wasn’t enough to wrap around my fist as I took her from the back.

“Hey...”

“Kaitlyn,” she supplied, filling in the blank.

If she was bothered about the fact that I couldn’t remember her name, she didn’t show it.

Taking three bigger glugs out of the round top of my beer bottle, I wondered if I’d slept with her before.

Surely not…

Surely I would have remembered a lassie like her… but then again, most of last year had been a blur – my last year of proper freedom, before I really had to get my head down if I wanted any chance of graduating from college with a scholarship.

“You busy right now?” Kaitlyn tried again, fluttering those lashes for days. It was a miracle her eyelids weren’t aching. “I could use some fresh air… you know? Down by the shack, where--”

“Jamie, kiss me, quick!” Another lassie’s voice, harried this time, stopped Kaitlyn mid sentence.

I glanced to my left, almost forgetting myself, as I stared into the whisky coloured eyes of the foreign exchange student, turned all American cheerleader, who I’d been not-so-secretly staring at only a few minutes before.

Claire, her name was.

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.

I kent it, not because I’d ever spoken to her, but because I’d asked around – gathering my intel from any source who would give it up… and as an all star rugby player, sources weren’t hard to find.

“What?” I choked out, surprised that the beer bottle dangling from my fingers had dropped and smashed all over the tiled floor beneath my feet. I prided myself on being confident around the lasses… but something about the Englishwoman…

“I said, kiss me!” She repeated herself, pressing herself against my front, and essentially barging Miss Bunny Girl out of the way.

Before I could say anything else, or even blink, Claire’s lips were against mine. I couldn’t stop the groan bubbling out my throat as she threw her arms around my neck, causing her soft breasts to rub on my chest.

Christ, she smelt good.

I was man enough to admit that my knees nearly buckled when the tip of her tongue traced the seam of my own lips.

Of its own accord, my empty hand not precariously holding my beer bottle squeezed her waist, meeting a sliver of bare flesh between the bottom of her crop top and the band of her flared skirt.

“Is he gone?” Claire whispered, her breath hitting my cupid’s bow. She tasted ridiculously sweet, like she’d been drinking something resembling grenadine.

I chased her lips for another kiss, before answering. “Who?”

“Frank.”

I scoured the crowd above Claire’s head, searching for the bespectacled mathlete, Frank, that I kent she’d been dating for the past seven months. He was tall enough to usually spot. Always dressed in cream coloured chinos and a jumper, even when the weather outside reached soaring temperatures. Plus, he certainly didn’t strike me as somebody relaxed enough to come to a college Halloween party – so it wasn’t like I would find it hard to see him in a crowd of sweaty, drunk and high teenagers.

“Can’t see him,” I replied, my eyes flicking back to Claire’s face.

“Oh, good,” she huffed, moving backwards just enough to prop herself up against the stone kitchen island. Only a handful of centimeters separated us.

Stretching out my left leg, I gently tapped the top of her trainer covered foot with my own. “I’m guessing ye’ve broken up with him then, huh?”

I was glad that it was just us two (Miss Bunny Girl number one and William had slithered away, most likely to fuck and Miss Bunny Girl number two must have left once she realised my attention was elsewhere), particularly when Claire’s lips (glossy from our mixed saliva) parted in a pout. I placed my now empty bottle of beer in front of my half hard cock, lest it be visible straining in my tight black shorts.

Not that any of the horny teenagers here would really give a flying fuck.

“How do you know I was the one to break up with him?” She’d crossed her arms over her chest now, but it did nothing to hide the hard nipples that I’d seen peeking through her crop top. “What happens if Frank broke up with me?”

“So ye did break up?” I countered, unable to stop my smirk growing across my face.

“Yes. Now answer my question, Fraser.”

Bossy – I liked it.

My skin shouldn’t have flushed so hot when I realised not only did she ken my name, but she was using it in a sentence.

The ridged bottom of the green beer bottle clinked on the marble countertop behind me, as I placed it downwards, and covered the tiny gap between Claire and me. I needed her back in my hands, ASAP.

“Because look at ye, lass.”

To be fair to her, she raised her chin upwards to glare at me.

“What on earth does that mean?”

As the palms of my hands came to rest on her bare skin again, my thumbs wiggled beneath the hem of her crop top, brushing, what I felt to be, the curved bottom of her heavy breasts.

The lass was even more mesmerizing than I’d fantasized as she arched into my touch, face going slack with sheer pleasure.

“Ye’re gorgeous, Claire.” I nuzzled my way into her neck, leaving a wet kiss there.

“But--”

For a second, I pulled away to stare back into her glass face. “Did ye kiss me tae make him jealous, lass? Is that what that kiss was?”

“I--”

“Coz if it was I want a do-over tae make sure dear old Frank gets the point.”

Christ, her eyes were even beautiful when they were narrowed. “You said he wasn’t anywhere to be seen?”

He wasn’t.

“Kiss me, Claire,” I told her, giving no room for another answer.

This time, I didn’t stop myself from smiling against her lips when she went in for another kiss. Even more so, when my left hand landed on her bonny, round arse, pulling up the hem of her flared skirt just enough to bare the bottom of her cheek and palm it.

Mmh, I could do this forever.

Chapter Text

“Claire?” I heard him shout from downstairs, the way he must have kicked the front door shut behind him with his foot, making the entire attic floor vibrate.

“Bedroom!” I hollered back, rearranging myself on his bed for what must have been the fiftieth time. The palms of my hands were unusually sweaty, a sign of just how nervous I actually was.

The creaking of the bottom step, as my boyfriend ascended the stairs upwards towards me, made my heart in my chest beat even faster, bumping both blood and adrenaline around my body.

He had no idea what surprise I had in store for him.

In the three weeks that had followed after the halloween party, Jamie and I had become practically inseparable; one never going far without the other.

Of course, before the party, I’d heard of the famous Jamie Fraser, one of the best rugby players that our college had seen in a long time… but I’d never actually spoken to him. Instead, I’d only watched from afar as Frank droned on about something or other, buzzing in my ear like a rather annoying fly.

I’d stayed with Frank for over seven months because he was familiar. He’d been the person to show me around the college campus on my first day, answering all my questions, and helping me get used to the idea that this would be my new life for the next four years.

But when he’d become too clingy, forever asking where I was going, who’d be there, how long would I be, I cut him off. I was young, just starting my life, and I certainly didn’t need somebody to be holding me back. It wasn’t that I thought I was too young to be in a relationship, it wasn’t that at all, but rather if I chose to be in a relationship, I wanted it to be with somebody who trusted me, who pushed me to be the best version of myself, who wanted to live their life alongside mine. Not somebody who appeared to be trying to fill the role of my Father… I already had one of those back at home, for God’s sake.

In walks Jamie Fraser, who just so happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

I knew he’d be the perfect person to make Frank jealous. I’d listened for what must have been hours on end, as Frank made snide remarks under his breath about the Scottish rugby star; how Jamie Fraser was nothing but an airhead who had played the field more times than Frank could count (and that was saying something), how Jamie Fraser didn’t deserve to be on the team, he didn’t deserve to be here at all, but should go back to his actual home instead, all the way back across the pond.

“No offence to you, darling,” Frank would then say to me, as if it was okay to insult Jamie by saying he should go back to Scotland, but it was all right that I, an Englishwoman, stayed.

Bloody hypocrite.

So I’d chosen Jamie as my target, not expecting what would come after, and definitely not expecting to like it as much as I did.

Jamie Fraser had become more important to me than I’d ever imagined, and when he’d asked me to be his girlfriend only two days ago, I could have jumped for joy.

Frank, and the rumours that he made up about Jamie were nothing but false lies… well, for the most part anyway. Jamie wasn’t an airhead, in fact he was so smart, so practical, that sometimes it blew my mind. His common sense was even better than mine. He wasn’t hard inside, uncaring and unfazed by most things, like the gossip mill liked to portray. Yes, Jamie wasn’t massive on talking about his feelings, but that didn’t mean he didn’t show me in other ways just how much he liked me, just how high he thought of me, just how much he admired me.

The only thing the gossipers had gotten right, was Jamie’s reputation as a bit of a player in the romance department.

But to be fair to him, Jamie had told me himself right away.

“I’m no’ exactly a player like they say,” he explained in our first week together, stroking my hair, as we lay in his bed, in the attic of the frat house he currently lived in. “I dinna mess lasses around, pretending tae give them a false sense of hope. But I have— I have slept wi’ a few of them.”

I didn’t want to know exactly how many a few meant, so I didn't ask.

Instead, I’d gazed up into those startingly blue eyes of his, hoping he’d give me an honest answer that I could trust. “How do I know you won’t do the same thing to me?”

He’d stayed quiet for a moment, fingers still carding through my riot of curls that had become messier as the day went on. “Ye’ll just have tae trust me, lass,” he’d said in the end. “This feels different between us, I just ken it.”

So I had decided to trust him, even though most people around me thought I was crazy.

I’d trusted him with stories of my childhood, stories of my hopes, dreams, aspirations for the future, and I trusted him with my fears and worries, the things that scared me if they went bump in the night.

The only thing I hadn’t quite trusted him with yet was my body.

But that would all change tonight if everything went according to my plan.

I’d seen firsthand how hard it was for Jamie not to push us to go further at a more rapid pace. I’d felt his cock growing semi-hard, and then fully hard beneath my thighs on more than one occasion, when I’d slithered into his lap and coaxed his lips into a heated kiss. I wasn’t exactly innocent in the situation either; grinding my wet heat all over his bulge and his hard thigh, purposefully grabbing his hands and placing them over my bare breasts, guiding his talented mouth to suck my nipples hard, all while moaning out his name.

But he’d not persuaded me into doing anything that I didn’t want to do already. We just hadn’t made it the final step yet, or to a home base, as these Americans were so fond of calling it.

Tonight though… Tonight would be different.

As it was the last weekend before we left for the week-long Thanksgiving holiday, a sorority house down the campus was hosting a big blowout party; anybody and everybody was invited. But with my plan of seduction already in my head, I decided to pull out all the stops to prevent Jamie from wanting to go.

First, on Wednesday, I explained part of the plan to the three other boys that Jamie lived with. I didn’t tell them all the finest detail, although I’m sure Jamie would have told them we hadn’t had sex yet, and they probably had pieced together my idea by now, but still… Each of them were polite enough not to say anything.

“Don’t come back here on Friday night, okay?” I’d said, standing in front of the tv, and essentially blocking them from watching the rest of the baseball game playing out behind me. It had been the only way I’d been able to grasp, and hold, their attention. “If you get with a girl, make sure you go back to hers. I don’t want anybody coming back here, just for the night, all right?”

They agreed, mainly, I think, to get me out of the way of their beloved sports game.

Next, on Thursday, I began to fake the beginning of a cold.

“Ugh,” I’d dragged my bag behind me, filled to the brim with textbooks and notepads, as I stumbled into Jamie’s room and fell face first into the pillow.

“What’s up?” Jamie had chuckled, pausing his computer game and throwing the controller to one side in favour of brushing a hand from the top of my spine, to the bottom, and copping a feel of my arse.

“I don’t feel so good,” I groan pitfully, not having to fake the sound all that much. My feet really did hurt from walking around all day, heavy books weighing down my petite frame. “I think I’m getting ill.”

“Aw, poor baby,” Jamie crooned, tucking his head into the safe space between my shoulder and neck, and blowing a loud raspberry on the bare skin he found there. “Ye wanna just order in chinese and watch a movie tonight?”

I nodded my head, smiling to myself.

Stage one and two successfully completed.

Now onto stage three. Bright and early Friday morning, I continued up the pretense of feeling poorly.

“Do ye think ye’ll be all right tae go tae the party tonight?” Asked Jamie, tightening the towel that he’d wrapped around his waist after jumping out of the shower. I couldn’t answer for staring at a drop of water making its way between his abs.

I wanted to lick it off with my tongue.

To hide my blush, which most likely was covering the apples of my cheeks and maybe even the tip of my nose, I snuggled under the soft duvet. “No,” I croaked out, voice low from lust not illness. But Jamie didn’t need to know that right now.

“We’ll give it a miss then, aye?” He began to spray deodorant under his arms.

“You don’t have to,” I pretended to argue, knowing he was too much of a gentleman to just leave his new girlfriend in bed, to be ill, while he went off and got drunk.

“Don’t be daft, Claire.” I heard the hollow sound of his underwear drawer being pulled open, and then closed shut. “I’m sure we’ll just have the house tae ourselves, because the boys are all going. It’ll be nice, just the two of us. I’ll even let ye watch some of the crap reality television ye like so much.”

“Okay,” I agreed, poking my head out just enough to see the towel drop to the floor, and his black boxers cover the important bits. “When you come back from training tonight, will you bring some soup for my throat, and maybe some fresh bread to warm in the oven?”

“Of course, lass.” A soft kiss was pressed to my forehead. God, he smelt ridiculously good. “Text me if ye need anything else.”

That had been hours ago.

Jamie had practically skipped off to his final day of classes, and hour of rugby training, while I stayed in his bedroom. I couldn’t possibly go to my last classes of the week, if I was that ill, right?

While waiting for him to get back, I made the bed, straightened up the four throw cushions I’d brought from my own dorm room, and ran myself a bubble bath. I heard Jamie’s flatmates shout their goodbyes, one by one, as they left for the party. But Jamie still hadn’t returned; probably caught up in the supermarket that I’d asked him to visit, helping an old lady with her shopping or something.

His absence was fine by me. It meant I got extra time to carefully apply a light dusting of makeup to my face, leaving my lips bare (Jamie would only kiss it off anyway), spritz perfume on both wrists, behind my ears, my neck and my cleavage, and then shimmy into my cheerleading costume that had started it all.

I smoothed out the pleats of my flared skirt for a final time, as I allowed my legs to stretch across the bed, my forearms propping up the upper half of my body.

“Claire, I couldna remember want kind of soup ye said ye wanted, so I got ye tomato and chicken and mushroom, which–”

The rest of Jamie’s sentence tailed off as he pushed open the door to his bedroom, finding me definitely not cooped up in bed sick, but splayed out wearing my uniform.

“What–?”

“I thought we could have the night in,” I bent my knees and spread my legs, revealing the fact I was bare beneath my skirt, “just the two of us.”

“I–” The loaf of bread he’d been holding, fell to the floor with a soft thump. “I thought ye were–ye were never really ill, were ye?”

“Nope,” I popped the ‘p’, grinning. “It was all just a ploy.”

Placing both tins of soup onto the top of his chest of drawers, Jamie turned around again to face me, slowly. The shock had left his features, leaving behind the look of a predator about to devour its prey.

“So what was yer ploy all along, Claire?” He asked, voice rough, advancing towards me at what felt like a snail’s pace.

I swallowed harshly, eyes bouncing from watching his face darken, or the growing bulge now tenting his running shorts.

“Hm?” His hands were on the bed now, close to my ankles. “Use yer words, lass.”

“T–To get you to sleep with me.”

“Hm.” Jamie hummed again, but it wasn’t a question. Grabbing a hold of my ankles in either hand, he forced my legs further apart, putting my pussy even more on display.

I wondered if he could see how wet I was already.

Licking his lips, he drew his eyes away from the apex of my thighs, resting his gaze on my face.

“I’ll do more than just sleep wi’ ye, lass, I’m gonnae fuck ye into next week, hard. So much so, that when we’re apart over the holidays, ye’ll still ache wi’ the thought of me every time ye move, wi’ the thought of my cum filling ye up and then dribbling oot of ye.”

I couldn’t possibly get enough oxygen into my lungs.

Especially not when Jamie’s lips glided over mine, his tongue coming out to tangle with mine, stealing any bit of oxygen that I had managed to suck in.

I needed him on top of me, inside me, all around me, now.

His hands came up to skirt either side of my body, reaching for the hem of my white crop top and peeling it away from my skin. I obliged gladly, stretching my arms upwards, but not detaching my lips from Jamie’s. I couldn’t get enough of him if I tried.

Flinging my crop top somewhere behind him, Jamie cupped both of my breasts, bringing them closer together, and laving kisses between both of them.

My skin felt too hot, too tight, too restricting. A fierce pulse had begun to pound between my legs, making me ache something rotten.

“Jamie,” I moaned into the air, tilting my head back as far as it would allow, to give him unlimited access to every inch of the column of my neck. I needed him all over me.

His kisses trailed down further; across my collarbones, back to my breasts, paying special attention to pull a nipple with the edges of his teeth - a sharp tang of hot pain shot through me, mixing in with the heat of my blood - and then down, scattering kisses all over, from the bottom of my ribcage, to the top of my trimmed mound.

He hadn’t even put his mouth on the core of my body yet, and already I was thrashing against the pillow, static enveloping my hair, so much so that I knew if I sat up, I’d look like I’d stuck my fingers in an electrical socket.

I couldn’t help but giggle at the image playing inside my head. Even more so when Jamie glanced up at me to see why on earth I was laughing. He was lying flat on his stomach now, those long, toned legs of his, hanging off the edge. Anymore laughter died in my throat as I watched him peer at me; startling blue eyes, fawn-like eyelashes, a shock of messy red hair.

My legs shifted restlessly, my body needing something to do under his watchful gaze.

I’d tried to put it off all day; the anxiety.

I’d focused instead on the small tasks I wanted to accomplish, things to make our night be as special as possible; freshening myself up, donning my outfit, making myself look good as well as feel confident.

Even the laughter. It was all just a mechanism to shrug off how nervous I actually felt.

It wasn’t like I was a virgin, god, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. But I worried I wouldn’t be enough compared to Jamie’s previous sexual partners, in any shape or form.

If I’d maybe told him my doubts, I’m sure he would have done everything in his power to reassure me. But I hadn’t said anything to him, instead keeping my mouth closed tight. It had worked so far, but now my body language was betraying just how nervous I was deep down.

Sensing something was amiss, one of Jamie’s hands stroked the inner portion of my thigh. It wasn’t exactly meant to be in a sexual manner, although my pussy sure thought it was, but instead, comforting.

His eyes held a silent question, and I dipped my chin in a nod. I wanted to do this with him, and I wanted it to be now. I wanted to be as physically close to him as I could possibly get, and the hauntings of past partners weren’t going to stop me.

I breathed in a short, sharp gasp, as I watched Jamie’s head disappear under the pleats of my cheerleader skirt. He made no qualms to lift it up, out of the way, or even remove it from my person, so that I could see him.

Instead, I had to rely on touch and feel only.

The first swipe of his tongue through my already sodden folds, was enough to make my back arch off the bed. His left hand snaked out from where it had been tickling the inner spot of my knee, to rest on my lower stomach, gently pushing my upper body back down to lie flat.

My painted toes curled against the bed sheets as I felt one of his fingers, it felt like it might be his pointer finger, slipping through the entrance of my pussy without much resistance. I’d been wet since this morning, lying in the tub picturing exactly what he was going to do to me. I’d been soaking since I’d heard his familiar footsteps coming up to get me, to get his surprise.

A second finger, this one thicker than the first, slid in to join it’s twin, forcing a shudder to rack through my body as Jamie crooked them, and sucked my clit into his mouth at the same time.

I moaned loudly into the air, unable to force myself to be quiet. Thank God I’d sent all his roommates away, or I’d never hear the end of it.

“J-Jamie! Fuckkk!”

I was certain if his tongue wasn’t so busy lashing at my clit, he’d be smirking right about now. The insufferable prat.

When I felt the pressure in my core, in my womb, under my skin, begin to tighten, I couldn’t help but grasp a hold of the back of Jamie’s head, keeping him in place. The rumbled groan he let out, vibrating through the sensitive hood of my clit, told me he didn’t mind one bit that I was essentially using him for my pleasure.

As my orgasm barged into me, leaving me a breathless mess, I shivered, the heat of my blood now leaving me, as the strongest of waves ebbed away.

“Good?” Jamie asked, gently easing his fingers out of me, and removing his head from under my skirt. I squeezed my thighs together as he crawled up my body, wringing out any last spasms of pleasure.

“So good,” I managed to eek out, before those lips that had just been attached to my slit only seconds ago, met mine. I heard myself moan again as I tasted the tangy, sweetness of myself on his taste buds. My hands coming up to cup his cheeks, keeping him there, giving my thanks to him with a twist of my tongue against his.

My orgasm had relaxed out my muscles, and my mind, giving me my confidence back.

In one fluid motion (even I was surprised how smooth it was, what with my jelly legs and all), I bent my legs to wrap around Jamie’s waist, kissing him with everything I had, as I flipped us both over until he lay flat on his back.

Those eyes of his, the ones that had sucked me in, in the first place, blinked up at me, startled. Before he huffed a small laugh against my lips.

From there, we were a tangle of limbs once again.

Seeing as I was practically naked, nothing but my damned flared skirt bunched about my hips to protect my modesty, I went about divesting Jamie of his shirt, and then pulling down his shorts and boxers together until they rested just under the curve of his toned arse.

His hard cock bobbed between us, already a smear of precum decorating the tip.

I couldn’t wait a second longer for him to be inside me.

“I’m on the pill.” I felt the need to whisper, even though there were only the two of us in his bedroom. “So we don’t really need a condom and I’m clean, unless–”

“Fuck–” Unable to wait, I’d wrapped my hand around the root of his shaft, twisting my palm ever so slightly. Jamie’s expression looked somewhat pained, before he surged upwards, abdominal muscles contracting with the strain, to lay his lips upon mine. “No condom,” he agreed. “I promise I’m clean too.”

I nodded, hair falling in my face. Jamie’s hand came up to tuck the unobedient locks behind my ear, his thumb tracing my jawline as he did so. “I wanna see ye ride me, Claire.”

A broken sound poured from my mouth, as I felt myself gush at his words, urging me to glide the head of his cock through my folds and then notch him at my entrance. Our simultaneous groans echoed off the four walls. Jamie’s hands came up to grab my hips forcefully while I took him in further and deeper and further and deeper, until I’d swallowed him whole and I sat comfortably stuffed on his lap, the pleats of my skirt falling across the tops of our thighs.

To stop himself from guiding my hips where he wanted them, Jamie dug his fingers into my flesh. I registered in the back of my mind that they were still wet from my pussy, hard enough to probably bruise. But I didn’t mind. I wanted him to mark me as his.

I could feel his cock already pulsing hot against my walls, and so with that thought in mind, I lifted up an inch or so, grinding back down before either of us could register what had just happened.

It felt so fucking good, so fucking right, that I couldn’t help but buck my hips up, breasts bouncing with the movement, finding my rhythm rather quickly and chasing the second orgasm brewing. I hadn't exactly imagined our first time together to be soft, slow and romantic, nor I hadn’t expected it to be this hard, fast and frantic either. But I couldn’t stop, and from the way Jamie’s tendons were straining in his neck, neither could he.

A part of his fringe had fallen into his eyes as his hips swiveled with mine, and I brushed it away, crushing my lips to his and then ducking my face into his neck to suck marks onto his delicate skin too.

If I was to be marked as his, then I wanted him to be marked as mine.

“Claire– shit…”

His hands came round to cup my shoulder blades, pulling me downwards every time I pushed myself up.

Sliding my dominant hand between our writhing bodies, I circled my clit, knowing it would only take a few more passes before I came all over again.

“On my cock, lass.” Jamie’s voice rumbled, brow furrowed as he held off his own ending until I’d finished. “I want yer cum all over my fucking cock.”

The moan from my second orgasm seeped into Jamie’s skin as I pressed my mouth there, breathing heavily, my body twitching. He came five more thrusts later, my name on the tip of his tongue.

We sat together in that embrace as the minutes trickled by, both of us too sated to move. When Jamie did eventually move, it was to lie us both down on our sides, facing each other. Our skin stuck together with sweat, and I could feel his cum dripping out of me, as his cock softened and slipped out.

Some other girls might be bothered about feeling wet and sticky and sweaty, the room permeated with the scent of sweet sex, but I wasn’t. No, I was content enough to stay like this, with Jamie, for the rest of the weekend, if not longer.

“I was the one supposed tae be fucking ye hard, but I think ye just blew my brains oot, Claire, lass.” Jamie chuckled, fingers following the curve of my shoulder.

I forced open one eyelid to peer at him, a ridiculously wide smile taking over my face. The toothy smile was reflected back at me like a mirror image, making my heart feel like it would burst out of my chest any second.

“It’s okay,” I muttered, feeling sex drunk, “you can return the favour in a minute when I can feel my legs again. But this time… we’re getting rid of the damned skirt.”

Jamie’s unexpected laugh rang loudly through my ears.

God, I could do this forever.