Yay! It's done! Sorry if this one took a bit longer to update. It's here now though! Enjoy! :D
As Sandor paid their bill, Sansa went to the washroom again. While she did truly have to go, she also used the occasion to text Jeyne and warn her that she'd probably come back home late tonight. She wasn't sure if she'd get a moment alone after she arrived at Sandor's place and still preferred not to have him read over her shoulder as she wrote to her friend. After having inspected herself in the mirror and applied some more lipstick, she walked out of the washrooms and rejoined Sandor just out the pub's door where they had agreed to meet.
It was fully dark now and much colder without sunlight. Sansa stuffed her hands into her coat's pockets, shivering. Sandor was waiting a few metres from the entrance, his stare darting to her as soon as she stepped out.
"You're ready?" he asked her, his voice low and gravelly. His eyes gleamed under the dim street lamps' lighting and the shadow he projected over the sidewalk was incredibly long. He made quite a sight, one that would've unquestionably frightened her had she not known him.
Her heart beating very fast, Sansa approached him and nodded. "Uh-huh," she mumbled.
Sandor put his hand between her shoulder blades to lead her and they both started walking.
After the din of the pub, the quietness of the street was unnerving – that, and the fact that they both knew they were heading to his place to have sex. Sansa wasn't used to things being stated so plainly, especially where seduction and sex were concerned. Although she appreciated Sandor's honesty, the situation still made her feel very awkward. The truth hung heavily between them, she felt, and the fact that she had agreed to this date while being well aware there were high chances they'd once more end up in his bed didn't change anything in the matter. She had believed it wouldn't happen so soon in the evening and that Sandor would be less frank about his intentions, so the turn of events was certainly unsettling.
Unlike her, the man seemed perfectly at ease with his transparency. "My place's less than ten minutes from here," he informed her, gazing down at her with barely veiled desire. His hand was resting on the side of her ribs, just over her waist, his long fingers curled over her. "We can stop by the liquor store on our way. I have beer at home, but if you want one of your girl's drinks, I'll have nothing to offer you."
Sansa nodded, peeking up to meet his eyes briefly. "Yeah, I'd like another drink, I think, but I don't want to get drunk. Just one would be fine," she whispered. She already felt a bit tipsy after her two mojitos and while it was probably better for her nerves, Sansa didn't wish to repeat last's week's events either. It was important that she kept her head about her this time around so that she could make up her mind about Sandor for good, as had been her plan. And, yeah, that included his performance too...
"I'd rather you don't get too drunk also," Sandor replied. Out the corner of her eyes, Sansa could see the smirk that curved his lips as he spoke. "We'll buy you a bottle of something, but don't you feel any pressure to finish it. Take only what you need and we'll have what's left for some other time."
Sansa bit at her lip. Their first date was not even over yet and he was already making plans for when they next saw each other. He apparently really wanted to see her again. Sansa wasn't sure what she thought about that. She didn't regret her decision to go on this date so far, no matter how unusual it was, yet she preferred not to think ahead.
The liquor store was just a corner away from the pub and they reached it in a couple of minute's walk. It was full of people, mostly young adults looking to supply themselves for a night of partying. As she entered, Sansa gazed around herself worryingly and breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't recognise anyone she knew from school. Still, she didn't miss how most peeped at Sandor. He was indeed hard to miss with his height and build and in this light, his scars were anything but discreet. She could discern them in great detail, as she had as they walked towards the pub in the sunset, and there was no doubting everyone could as well.
As Sandor looked through the different brands of whisky available, Sansa allowed herself to examine his burns more closely, taking in the dark, leathery skin and deep cracks, but she abruptly averted her gaze when he returned his attention on her.
"You know what you'd like to drink, Sansa?" Sandor asked her, apparently oblivious to how she had been staring.
A blush creeping on her cheeks, Sansa pointed at the raspberry vodka bottle before her. "I love raspberry vodka with grapefruit juice," she said.
Sandor snorted and seized the bottle by the neck. "Was this that pink stuff you drunk at the Strangerween party?"
"Yeah," Sansa answered, surprised that he remembered.
Sandor smirked but he didn't add anything to that and walked to the checkout, grabbing a large box of grapefruit juice on his way. As they waited in line, Sansa noticed people were glancing in their direction again, though this time their stares didn't just stay on Sandor but went to her as well. They must wonder what they were doing together. They had to appear very mismatched and she so young next to him. What would they think if they knew they had already slept together and that they would do it again very soon? she wondered, the pace of her pulse hastening.
If Sandor was bothered by the attention they were receiving, he didn't show it. "You like wine, Sansa?" he asked, his eyes on a display of wine bottles on sale not far from the checkout.
"Yes, I like white and rosé wine, but it needs to be sweet."
"You like everything sweet, don't you?" Sandor rasped with a little, mocking smile on his lips. "Myself, I prefer red wine. Nothing fancy though. I like those old sour varieties which aren't very popular these days. Hard to find and not sweet at all. You'd probably stick out that little, pink tongue of yours at tasting some. You'd hate it," he advanced chuckling roughly.
The cashier greeted them at that instant and Sandor gave her the vodka and juice.
"I'll pay for that," Sansa insisted, fumbling through her handbag.
Shaking his head Sandor took hold of the debit machine before she had a chance. "No, you're not. I'm inviting you, remember?"
"Alright," Sansa agreed reluctantly as he entered his PIN. She did appreciate his desire to pay for everything. It was gallant, no matter how much the term didn't seem to fit with him. Yet at the same time, it made her feel indebted, which was less nice given that she wasn't sure of where their thing would be going. She'd rather not owe him anything.
Once the transaction was approved, Sandor replaced his wallet into his jeans' back pocket and took hold of the plastic bag with their purchases inside the cashier was handing him. They both headed outside, Sandor laying a hand on the small of her back.
"We can get to my place through the building's parking lot and enter by the backdoor. It's a shortcut," Sandor told her as they strolled away from the store.
Sansa nodded and moments later, he was leading her into a back alley. The place was very dark and unexpectedly seedy in contrast to the street they had been walking in just an instant before. There was graffiti on the walls, rubbish on the ground and Sansa was almost sure she had glimpsed a syringe on the floor. That was one of the things which had most surprised her with King's Landing when she first arrived. Even in the city's nicest areas, there were always those shabby little corners, hidden just behind the buildings' elegant facades.
"Wow, this is a bit sordid. Not sure I'd walk here alone," Sansa let out, keeping close to Sandor.
"Yeah not too nice, I'll give you that. Don't ever take this shortcut on your own."
Sandor didn't have to worry she would. Sansa was too much of a scaredy-cat to ever take unnecessary risks. This evening with Sandor by her side though, there was absolutely no reason she feared anything. You'd have to be insane to attack such a strong and fearsome looking man! Besides truth be told, Sansa was secretly relieved that they wouldn't enter through the main staircase. She had dreaded that they might bump into Margaery or Loras on their way up, so this was certainly preferable as far as she was concerned.
As they exited the back alley and stepped into the well-lit parking lot of Sandor's apartment building, a parked grey van caught Sansa's eyes. The Hound Electrical Services was written on its side in bold yellow and black characters.
"Is this yours?" she asked.
"It is," Sandor answered cockily, glancing down at her. "Bought it brand new when I started my company."
"Oh, that's great," she replied, though she wondered why he had picked that name. The Hound? What a strange choice.
They climbed up the building's metallic outdoor staircase, Sansa ahead of Sandor. As they went up, she could feel his eyes on her body. She was sure he was gazing at her butt, yet what else should she expect from him? Then, Sansa remembered what they had planned for the evening and she felt her knees grow weak under her. Thankfully, she managed to keep going until they reached the third floor where Sandor lived and they both entered through the backdoor.
As he locked the door behind them, Sansa removed her ankle boots. She took a look around herself. It was dark, yet she instantly recognised the living room-kitchen open plan. The last time she had been here, apart from her two minutes in the entranceway yesterday evening, she had just woken up with the mother of all hangovers, naked in Sandor's bed. The thought was a bit nerve-racking, knowing that was where he wanted her again. Would he soon jump on her as he had warned her he might?
"You want ice for your drink, I bet?" Sandor demanded her as he turned on the dimmer switch just enough for them to see where they were going.
"Yeah," Sansa whispered, strolling toward the kitchen table. The place was pretty tidy. There was not even a dirty dish on the kitchen counter, though Sansa spotted some dust heaped near the wall. For an old bachelor's apartment, it really wasn't bad.
"Lucky you. I have some. Made a batch no sooner than yesterday," Sandor told her. He removed his leather jacket and placed it over the back of a chair. Then, he took an ice cube mould out of the freezer, found an old fashion glass in the cupboard and put both on the kitchen counter. "Here. I'll let you prepare your drink yourself. I'd rather you make it to your taste."
Sansa nodded and walked to the counter, her stomach pulled in a tight knot. She could sense Sandor's stare on her, but was unable to look back directly at him. He was most likely already picturing her without her clothes and thinking of what he'd like to do to her and the idea was adding to her building nervousness.
As Sansa prepared herself a drink, pouring just a few drops of vodka on the ice in her glass, she watched Sandor out the corner of her eyes as he took a beer out of the fridge and opened it with his bare hands. He took a long gulp, straight from the bottle, before heading to the table at her back, out of her sightline.
"Is my place cold, Sansa?" Sandor's gravelly voice came from behind her just as Sansa was settling the juice box back on the counter.
"Huh?" she asked, jerking her head back to gaze up at him.
He was standing less than a half metre behind her, watching her through dark, narrowed eyes. Sansa swirled around to face him completely, her glass in hand. Gods, now that she had removed her boots, he seemed even taller! He well and truly towered over her! Recoiling against the counter as much as she could, she took an anxious sip from her drink.
"You still have your coat on," Sandor remarked lowly, seizing the garment's collar between two fingers. "It'll be hard for me to get you naked if you're too cold to take even that off. Want me to turn on the heating?"
Sansa blushed. He was not beating around the bush indeed. "I'm not cold. It's just that... that..."
Before Sansa could find something to say, Sandor closed the gap between them in one slow step and cupped her cheek with his hand, his fingers so long they circled behind her head. With his other hand, he removed Sansa's glass from her fingers and put it down over the counter by her side, bending over to kiss her even as he did.
His mouth felt good on hers and his palm on her cheek was pleasantly warm. Sansa liked the way he kissed and how possessively he was stroking her waist. It was obvious he was used to taking the lead and she let him have it gladly, her lips and tongue following the cadence he set. To feel his sturdy body against hers and have his entire attention on her was certainly intoxicating, yet though she tried, something was keeping her from totally abandoning herself. She was worried.
Apart from on the previous week when she was so very inebriated and acting as she would never in her right mind, Sansa had only ever slept with Harry. And they hadn't done it all that often to be honest. It wasn't as if they had had a place of their own while they were together and Sansa hadn't felt comfortable doing it at home when her parents or siblings were there. Thus now that she was in the arms of a man fifteen years her senior, she felt like such a novice and so shy in spite of the couple of drinks she had drunk. She feared Sandor had set his expectations high from their previous encounter and how eager and rash she had been. Sansa didn't want to disappoint him, yet she couldn't force herself to act in ways which didn't feel natural either!
When after she didn't know how long, Sandor removed his lips from hers, Sansa decided to speak what she had on her mind, no matter how much to say it aloud made her cheeks burn. Sandor had been very direct with her so far, perhaps she should be as well. "Last time... I... I was drunk," she murmured, their faces inches from each other. "I'm not like that usually. You may find me boring tonight..."
Sandor snorted a rough laugh and straightened his back, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you fucking crazy, girl? You could just lie on my bed and do nothing and I still wouldn't be bored. But you won't do that either, won't you? I know last time was special for you and I'm not expecting you to jump on me like you did, still if you keep kissing me as sweetly as now and trail your little hands on me, you'll make me a very happy man, no worries to have."
Sansa lowered her gaze bashfully, unsure what to say. Had he just referred to how she had sucked his dick of her own initiative a week ago? If he thought to put her at ease doing that, he was mistaken! By the Maiden, but he really was a boor! She knew she ought to be repelled by his tastelessness and yet, a part of her couldn't help but feel a hint of arousal at the memory of how his penis had felt in her mouth. It had been so big, her jaw had ached.
"Now, you come over here, princess," Sandor muttered. With no further warning, he slid his hands around her waist and lifted her from the ground as effortlessly as if she weighted nothing.
"Ah!" Sansa let out as he installed her over the counter, her eyes rounded. She had not expected his move at all and brought her hands over his upper arms by reflex. They were as solid as steel and unbelievingly wide.
What a beast he is! she reflected. She had come to the same conclusion on last Friday when he threw her over his bed mere instants after they'd left the Strangerween party. For all that Sansa would never have expected it, his brutish ways had gotten her off then... and still did now. There was an appeal to such a strong and daring man, she couldn't deny it.
"You've too many layers, Sansa," Sandor complained, unzipping her coat. "Take that off."
Her pulse resounding loudly in her ears, Sansa removed both her coat and denim jacket, Sandor taking the garments from her hands and throwing them over the nearest chair. Her dress was sleeveless and Sansa got goose bumps at the kitchen's cool air's contact, yet Sandor swiftly returned his hands on her waist and kissed her, his proximity warming her.
The back of Sansa's head was leaned against the cupboards and her thighs rested halfway over the counter, halfway in the air. Sandor was standing between them, his hands travelling from her ribs to her hips. They were so big, he could entirely circle her waist with them and the sight brought butterflies to her belly.
"I'm not being very patient, I know. We should probably still be chatting in that pub I brought you to, but I just want you too much to think straight," Sandor rasped, even as he lowered his face to her neck to kiss and sniffle her skin, his mouth wet and hot.
Sansa stretched her neck to the side to give him better access, rolling the back of her head against the cupboard behind her. She raised her hands to his shoulders, feeling their broadness through his sweater. Though she was still nervous, warmth was also pooling in her lower belly and her mind, increasingly free of apprehension.
One of Sandor's hands rose to her boobs and he began moulding them just firmly enough over her dress and bra. She let out a moan, sighing as he brought his other hand over her thigh, his fingers sliding under her skirt. Sansa looked down at herself. The hem of her dress had bunched over her lap and she was pretty sure Sandor could see her panties.
"Take off your dress, Sansa," the man bade her, tugging at it.
Sansa blushed deeply but she didn't object and, squirming in place, she pulled it over her head with his help. Her core was aflame and her breathing getting a bit ragged. The prospect of finding herself unclothed before him was exciting, however, she couldn't help from feeling a little timid. At least she was wearing her favourite bra and panties and knew she looked very good in them. They were of a soft, pale shade of pink and made of lace, cute and comfortable as well.
"Look at you, girl. You're as hot as the Seven Hells," Sandor muttered, gazing down at her curves thirstily. "I've a few layers too much also, I think."
With that, he pulled his sweater over his head. Underneath, he was wearing the same white tank top he had had on when they first met, but he took it off almost just as soon. Sansa's breath caught in her throat at the sight of his powerfully build torso. By the Maiden, but how impressive his body was. It was hard for her to wrap her head around the fact that she had met a man who looked like him, let alone that she had slept with him and that they would soon do it again. You didn't meet guys with his physique in real life! He reminded her of one of those loutish villains from those stupid action movies her younger brothers liked to watch and with the dark, coarse hair he had over his chest and arms, he looked even more like a brute. Never in a million years would she have thought she might one day be attracted to someone like him; she'd always wrinkled her nose in distaste at the hypermasculine protagonists of her brother's action movies. Yet for all of that, there was no escaping the fact that she longed to touch him, to feel those huge muscles under her palms, to be crushed under his weight...
Sandor kissed her and even as they both moved their lips together, he brought his hands to her back and attempted to undo the strap of her bra. After a few seconds of struggle, he removed his mouth from hers and peeked behind her back, cursing. However, even before Sansa had time to reach back and help him, he had achieved undoing it on his own, the bra rejoining Sansa's dress on the floor.
His mouth was on her nipples almost just as soon, his large hands cupping her breasts, and Sansa lifted her palms to his biceps, exploring the vast, sinewy expanse of them. His lips and tongue were greedy on her, and many little groans escaped her mouth.
"Mmmm," Sandor murmured, freeing the stiff, pointy nipple he had between his teeth to brush his face against her breasts. "What do you say we go to my room now?" he asked as he straightened his back, his voice hushed and gravelly. "We'll be more comfortable in my bed."
"Okay," Sansa whispered breathlessly, her lips slightly opened.
With an arm under her knees and another around her shoulders, Sandor lifted her from the counter, gathering her in his arms. Sansa instantly snaked her arms around his neck, her heart hammering with so much strength she was sure he could hear it. She had never been carried like that by Harry! But it was nice, really nice indeed. There was something almost romantic about it, if you were to forget how uncouth Sandor was and the fact that so far, their relationship had only been about sex.
Once they had gotten to his bedchamber, Sandor lowered her over the mattress. It was dark in here, but Sansa could tell the bed was unmade by the uneven feel of the blankets under her. Sandor turned on the accent lamp on the night table, the lighting it emitted warm, though not very strong. In its orange glow, his body looked like a succession of hills and shadowy valleys. As Sansa lowered her gaze to his abs, she noticed the bulge in his jeans. He was clearly aroused, and though it was anything but surprising seeing what they had been up to, she still felt her whole body grow red.
Sandor sat at the edge of the bed and unlaced his boots, kicking them off once they were loose enough. As he did, Sansa watched the muscles of his brawny back flex and unflex with his every movement. There were mean looking scars marring his skin, one of them going from his shoulder to the centre of his back. Sansa remembered having noticed others on his arms also on Saturday morning. She was curious to know their story, as well as that of that of the burns on his face, but figured now was not the time to ask. Still without thinking, she approached him and traced the longest scar with her fingertips.
At the feel, Sandor twisted around to gaze at her, a wicked grin spreading on his lips. With a smug air about him, he rose to his feet and unbuckled his belt. He removed his jeans and boxers and in just a couple of heartbeats, he was already standing naked by the bed, his swollen member in hand.
Gods, Sansa had certainly not dreamed. His cock was huge indeed! When she'd first seen it a week ago, she had been in no state to control the urge to suck it which had uncharacteristically taken her. Now she wouldn't do that of course, she was nowhere nearly inebriated enough, yet she could understand the appeal.
Titling his head to the side, Sandor narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm not going to be the only one naked now, will I?" he rasped, his tone strangely at once playful and threatening. Then, he climbed over the bed and trailed his hands all over her body, his fingers shortly finding their way to her crotch. He stroked her there with his thumb, just over where Sansa knew the fabric of her panties was getting moist. She shivered in pleasure at the delicious sensation it triggered. "Take this off, Sansa," Sandor urged her, tugging at the garment.
Sansa was not about to object. She raised her pelvis and slid her panties down all the way to her ankles. Once they had landed over the floor, Sandor placed himself at her feet and spread her legs, his stare immediately flicking between them.
"Such a pretty, little pussy you got there, Sansa," he breathed huskily.
Sansa threw her head back in embarrassment, squeezing her eyes shut. It was nice to know he liked what he saw, but this was so direct it sounded rather vulgar.
Sandor was oblivious to her discomfort. "Won't let my chance to get a taste of it pass me by this time around."
His mouth was on her a split second later, licking at her in an intoxicating mix of hunger and meticulous attention. Sansa arched her back. Oh, gods, that was good. Her folds were so sensitive and responded to his every caress. She was surprised at how enjoyable it was. It just felt so right. With a hand, Sandor was holding her hip, his weight propped on his elbow and when Sansa glanced down at him, she saw he was jerking off with his other hand, the sight heating her blood even more.
"You're honey sweet, girl," Sandor told her as he removed his mouth from her a few blissful seconds later. "You ready for me now?"
Meeting his gaze with half-lidded eyes, Sansa nodded. Her whole body was warm and flushed and she was dizzy with arousal. She had never wanted Harrold so much.
Shifting from her, Sandor stretched sideway and reached for the night table. He opened the first drawer, fumbled through it and fished out a condom. Opening the seal, he slid it over his dick. His member was so very wide and long, Sansa wondered what size he could wear. And to think Harry had once told her his prick was too large for condoms and that he didn't find them comfortable for that reason. Thankfully, she had never bought it.
With his hands, Sandor spread her thighs even wider and installed himself in-between. Sansa laid her palms over his sides to guide him. Her loins were aching with anticipation and her folds throbbing with desire. She sighed as he placed the head of his penis at her entrance, bracing herself for what she knew was coming. Sandor started rocking his hips against hers and with each of his small thrusts, a bolt of lightning went through her, making her gasp and whimper.
"Seven Hells, Sansa. You really want me, don't you?" Sandor rasped, sheathing himself in and out of her, each time more deeply.
His cock was gliding in her as smoothly as butter in a hot pan and Sansa was surprised and even a little embarrassed at how soaked she had gotten. But he was right, there was no denying that she wanted this. Her insides were so slick and moist for him.
Sandor groaned and looked her in the eyes, lust plain in them. Pressing his lips to hers, he accelerated the rhythm of his comings and goings. Sansa kissed him back and moved her pelvis with his with just as much eagerness. With her hands, she was touching his chest and arms and squeezing the muscles with her palms, amazed by the size of him. He was so huge, every part of him was, and she felt like the most small and delicate thing in the world next to him. For some reason, the impression was getting her off. And his dick was so big, the sensations it roused in her as he kept taking her were super intense in an ecstatic sort of way. She had a hard time keeping her eyes opened for more than a second of two and she was moaning and moaning with no restraint or shame whatsoever, like she never believed she might one day.
Sex had always felt mechanical to Sansa when she did it with Harrold. She would intellectualise everything she did all the way through the act, would wonder if she moved or touched him as she ought to rather than let herself go. With Sandor, there were no such questions. She didn't have to think about what she did – or more exactly, she was simply unable to do so. But it didn't matter, for her instincts guided her and gave her all the confidence she needed, as if nothing had ever been more natural than what she did now.
"Fuck, Sansa. You're so beautiful, I could fuck you all night. I'll do it if you let me," Sandor was rasping.
His shoves in her had gotten quite frantic by now, but it was all good, for Sansa was just as agitated as him. She followed each of his movements and bucked her hips with his, her legs clutched after him. The pressure at the juncture of her thighs was growing so acute that she wondered if she might not come soon. No it's impossible. It never happened while in the act. So far, Sansa had only ever reached climax while touching herself. She had not come close even once otherwise. And yet today, she could almost feel it within her grasp...
Still before this could happen, Sandor groaned and cursed, his thrusts in her growing even more powerful. Sansa knew what was coming and closed her arms around him, enjoying the manly sounds which escaped his lips as he spilled himself in her – or more exactly, in his condom.
Oh, Seven Heavens... Sansa mused as Sandor grew still and collapsed over her. That was... that was... wow...
Though she was not totally fulfilled, she had never been so turned on while doing it before and neither had she ever been so participative either. Her friends, Margaery and Randa mostly, had always spoken of sex with great interest and so far, Sansa had not understood what all the fuss was about. Things had just taken a dramatic turn this evening and the prospect of what it meant was quite frankly thrilling. It was as if a whole new world had just opened up before her, one that she had been totally unaware even existed. Unlike Sansa had secretly feared ever since she had lost her virginity, she now knew for a fact that she could learn to truly enjoy sex. It was just a question of getting to practice.
Getting to practice, Sansa repeated inwardly, her enthusiasm dampening. Of all the scenarios she had envisioned when she tried to predict how her date with Sandor would go, this was the one which had always concerned her the most. What would happen if they slept together again and she liked it a lot? Gods, she was about to find out. Among all the men on Earth who could've made her feel that way, it was him who did! Him who was so much older than her and who could never, ever pass for boyfriend material!
But this doesn't have to become serious. Not at all even! Sansa tried to reassure herself. We can see each other and have sex, be some sort of fuck friends. She was foolish for worrying about this, was thinking too much ahead. In all likeness, either she or Sandor would lose interest in the other shortly enough anyway. That was what happened to Margaery and her many flames all the time! When a relationship was all about sex, it lost its appeal as soon as the novelty had worn off. Yes, their thing would last only for as long as it needed and the thought of it made her feel instantly better.
"Am I crushing you?" Sandor asked, stirring over her.
"Perhaps a little, but I'm fine," Sansa answered. Still, she was glad when he moved away from her. Her breathing was starting to get a bit laboured. Shivering from the sudden cold, she found a sheet by her side and wrapped it around her.
"Sorry. Took me a moment to come round," Sandor commented. After he had rolled onto his back, he folded his arms behind his head and let out a snort. He had a wide grin on his lips and seemed very relaxed. "And to think you worried I'd find you boring," he said, glancing her way through narrowed eyes gleaming with amusement.
Sansa blushed. She had not expected she'd be so much into it, otherwise she might not have said as much.
"I didn't last nearly as long as I'd have liked. I'll be good for another round soon enough though, if you'd like. You just need to give me a moment to regain my strength," Sandor continued, his voice low and hoarse. "We have time, don't we? The night's still young."
Sansa smiled shyly at that. "Yes, the night's still young," she agreed. And as Sandor's thick arm pulled her against him, she resolved not to let her concern about the future bother her, for tonight at least.