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/celticwanderer

Sandor stood at the bow of his ship, tugging open the buttons of his breeches with maddening slowness. He gazed down at Sansa, kneeling at his feet, staring up at him with luminous eyes. The brilliant blue was filled with lust and passion, not a drop of fear or indecisiveness marring the perfection of her stare. Her smooth ivory skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, her naked body fully exposed to the cool night air.

His thoughts went back to the confrontation earlier of the day that she had first seduced him, thinking what a shame it was that she was never more beautiful than when she was furious with him. He had to amend that statement, for when she was naked at his feet eagerly awaiting a new sexual experience, she was even more breathtaking than she was when angry. The pure lust in her eyes, the trust that was there, knowing that what ever he was about to teach her was going to be wonderful.

Sansa gazed up at Sandor, fighting the urge to tear open his breeches for him. She knew he was teasing her, making her wait. He had told her that they were going to do something new and from the position she was in she had a pretty good idea of what it was. Memories of his head nestled between her thighs flowed through her mind as he finally pulled his cock from his breeches. Licking her lips she stared at it hungrily, wondering what it would taste like. His hand gently stroked the throbbing length, aiming it at her parted lips.

"What do you think we're going to do?" he whispered, his other hand tangling in her hair.

"I'm going to taste you?" she asked, not sure exactly what she was to do.

"That's right," he replied, his excitement rising, eagerly anticipating her warm mouth on him.

Tentatively she licked the large head of his dick, exploring the taste of him. A low groan slipped through his lips as she licked again, swirling her tongue around the head. Taking him in her hand, she trailed her tongue over the full length of him.

"Take me inside your mouth," he gasped. "Just watch your teeth."

Glancing up at him for just a moment, she parted her lips and slipped the head inside her mouth.

"Suck," he breathed.

She complied and was rewarded with another deep groan. Sucking him deeper into her mouth, she was encouraged to take as much as she could as he continued to make his approval known.

"Pump and suck," he instructed, his voice raw with lust.

Her head was soon bobbing back and forth over his groin, sucking him deeply into her mouth. "Oh God, Sansa, oh yes," he rasped. His desire to orgasm in her mouth was tremendous but he thought it best not to go that far her first time and gently pulled away from her.

"Oh," she pouted, looking up at him. "I wanted to taste you," she lamented.

With a groan bordering on pain, he gripped her hair in his fist and guided himself back to her eager lips. "You are going to be the end of me, Littlebird," he growled as she sucked him into the soft warm confines of her mouth.

As she eagerly pleasured his cock with her mouth, her mind again drifted to the possibility of some one watching them. Sandor had told her there was a rumor spreading amongst the men that the two of them were enjoying the solitude of the deck late at night and she speculated that that would encourage some to creep up and see if they could catch the two of them. A shiver raced down her spine to think that one or more of his men might be watching her at that very moment, naked at Sandor's fully dressed feet, sucking hungrily on his engorged manhood. At that moment, his grip in her hair tightened and with a deep moan, thrust his cock deep into her mouth he, filling that warm cavern with his seed. Gulping back every drop she neatly cleaned him off and sat back staring up at him, hoping she had pleased him.

Keeping his hand clenched in her hair, he steadied himself as he tried to catch his breath. How was he going to manage to leave her behind when they reached Williamsburg, he wondered. How could he possibly live without her sweet pleasures?

"Was that good?" she whispered shyly, licking an errant drop of milky white fluid from her lips.

"Yes, oh yes," he replied, pulling her to her feet, holding her tightly against him.

She loved being held tightly by him when he was clothed and she wasn't. Relishing the feel of rough wool, cold metal buttons and smooth braided trim against her soft skin as he pressed his lips to hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, tasting himself on her lips.

"My turn," he murmured with a wicked smile.

She wasn't quite sure what he meant as he dropped to his knees at her feet. Pulling her feet apart, he tipped his head back and buried his face between her thighs. Flinging her hair back, she had to bite her knuckles to keep from crying out loudly. Gripping his shoulders, she desperately tried to keep her balance as he drove her to the brink of sanity with his fingers and his tongue.

As she had suspected several crew members had snuck up on deck at a most opportune time and were eagerly watching the pair. They had witnessed her pleasing him and were now enjoying the spectacle of her own pleasure. Her head flung back, her flaming hair being tossed by the night breeze, her back arched, thrusting her heaving breasts forward, the erect nipples standing proudly atop the lush mounds. Sandor's hands were roughly squeezing her round buttocks as he laved her mound with his tongue.

Thinking the pair was oblivious to everything around them, one eager crew member, attempting to get a better view, emerged from his hiding place. Sansa's eyes opened at that moment and locked onto his startled gaze. A lusty smile curled her lips as she held his stare for several long moments until Sandor's tongue hit a sensitive spot and she again flung her head back with a barely muffled cry, her body tensing as she reached her climax.

An hour later the two spent lovers were catching their breath in each other's arms back in the private confines of the cabin.

"Do you like being together out on deck?" he asked her.

"Oh yes," she eagerly replied. "Very much so. It feels so wonderfully naughty," she said with a smile.

Laughing at her response, he said cautiously, "We have to be careful though. That rumor spreading amongst the crew could eventually cause some of them to come looking for us."

"But they already have," she told him, a sly smile curling her lips. "I saw one tonight."

A surge of jealously suddenly filled Sandor's chest. "You what? Saw someone? Who?" he demanded. He was surprised that it angered him so much that a man had seen Sansa as only he was to see her.

"I'm not sure who it was," she answered him, giggling at his jealousy. "It doesn't really matter. I liked that he was watching us," she finished shyly.

"You liked it?" His anger evaporated, he was so surprised by her admission. "You are turning out to be a very naughty girl indeed."

Three weeks after Sansa had seduced Sandor, he crawled into bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. "Do you want to go up on deck later?" he whispered in her ear.

"No," she murmured, trying to wriggle away from him.

"You'd rather stay here?" His lips brushed her ear as he spoke in that low voice that was usually her undoing, but instead she tried to push his arms away.

"Not tonight, please," she pleaded, not looking at him.

Surprised by her coolness, he pulled back. "What's the matter?" he asked, worried he had done something.

"Nothing," she lied. "I guess I'm just tired." She was still not looking at him and he knew she wasn't telling him the truth.

Gripping her chin in his hands, he forced her to look at him. "What's going on? What's the matter?" Staring deeply into her wary eyes, he urged her, "Tell me."

Her mouth opened and then closed, her eyes looking everywhere but into his, her discomfort obvious. "It's...well...um...my monthly...um..." Her face was red with embarrassment as she tried to explain.

Comprehension swept his face as he released her chin, a smile tugging at his lips. "Ah, I see." Watching as she moved away from him, he said, "It's actually a good thing it's happened. I was beginning to wonder."

"You were?" she gasped, her eyes wide, clearly aghast that he should even think of such things.

"Well, of course. I do know about such things, and was a bit worried. You could easily explain away or even fool someone about your lost virginity but to show up in Williamsburg expecting a child would be difficult to explain or hide. When it comes to babies, people love to count on their fingers and figure out the circumstances of the little one's creation and believe me, folks would figure out that you conceived here on the ship. How would you explain that?"

She could only stare at him in utter shock as he spoke so casually about such delicate matters. Things that men should not speak of at all, especially to a woman.

"Come back here, Littlebird," he urged, his eyes laughing at her shock and embarrassment. "Let me fall asleep in your arms."

Amongst a tangle of limbs, Sandor sighed contentedly. What is this woman doing to me, he wondered sleepily, leaving the answer to his dreams to figure out.

One day, near the end of the voyage, Sandor noticed that she was lost in thought and seemed a bit depressed. They were in his cabin having just finished lunch when he gently inquired what was on her mind.

She hesitated before answering him. "It's my birthday today," she said simply. "My father always sang me a silly little song he had made up for me. This is the first year I won't hear it," she said, blinking back tears.

He stared at her tenderly. "How old are you?" he asked, suddenly realizing he didn't know.

"Twenty," she replied.

"I wish I had known it was your birthday today. We could have done something special, as it is I can't really think of anything."

"It's alright," she said, forcing a small smile.

"No, it's not. We should be able to come up with something." A smile suddenly lit his face as he rose from the table. "And I think I may have an idea." He quickly left the room and she heard him running up the stairs.

Later that afternoon Sansa was just finishing reattaching a sleeve to a shirt for a crew member when she heard a most dreadful screeching sound from the deck. She rushed up to see what was the cause of the noise and found Simpson tuning a violin. He looked up to see her pained expression and sheepishly said, "I'm afraid she's quite out of tune miss, but don't worry she'll be singin' pretty in no time."

"Are you going to be playing for us Simpson?" she asked hopefully. She suddenly realized she hadn't heard music since leaving Liverpool.

"Yes miss, me and a few of the lads will be playing tonight. We usually have a music night and we heard that today is somewhat special."

She blushed and asked, "Is this for me?"

"In honor of your birthday, miss," he replied with a small bow.

"Will there be dancing?" Sansa asked, and then suddenly realizing that her presence was a rarity she corrected herself. "I mean, I'm sure you don't usually have dancing, but tonight, perhaps?"

"Oh, no miss, there's always dancing. We just won't dance with each other. It's not really the kind of dancing you're used to. We dance to jigs and such, although I'm sure we could play some waltzes, if you'd like."

Realizing how much she had missed music and dancing, she eagerly replied, "Oh, anything at all will be fine, Simpson. I've never danced a jig, do you think one of you could teach me?"

"Oh, that would be highly inappropriate miss. A lady, like you, dancing a jig?" Simpson exclaimed, wide eyed.

"Who's going to see me? Are you going to go back to Liverpool and spread the nasty rumor amongst the genteel society that I was seen on a ship dancing a jig? And even if they did find out, so what? I'm never going to see them again!" she said joyously, suddenly realizing that it was true and finding it strangely liberating. She could do as she pleased and didn't have to worry about what anyone thought.

Simpson took a long look around the deck. "Well, if we're going to have a proper party for you, then we'll have to make tonight special." He took her arm and began leading her back to the stairs down to her cabin. "It's going to be a surprise, miss. Off you go now, and don't come up until we fetch you." he said with a broad, excited smile.

"But, what are you going to do?" she asked as she reached the stairs to take her below deck.

"You'll see miss, you'll see. No peeking, now," he admonished.

"What time will it begin?" she asked just before disappearing from sight.

"At sunset," Simpson called out.

Sunset, she thought. She had just enough time to make a few modest alterations to one of her dresses to make herself look a little fancier tonight. With some lace borrowed from a few of her undergarments and if she wore the underskirt she had abandoned since being on ship she should be able to do quite a nice job of it. She was in the midst of attaching a ruffle to her sleeve when Sandor entered the cabin.

"Well, well, it looks as though we're going to be having quite a party tonight," he said with a smile as he entered the room. "And what is it you have there? Having you been hiding a party dress this whole time, Littlebird?"

"No," she said with a smile. "I'm attempting to create one." Seeing that the sun was close to the horizon, she continued, "And I think I've managed to finish just in time."

Sandor removed a large flat box from his clothes cupboard and said, "Then I shall leave you to dress."

Sansa removed her dress and took the full underskirt out from the bottom of her bag. She shook it out and slipped it on. She then pulled the modified dress over her head. Sandor only had one small mirror which he used for shaving so she couldn't really see how she looked. She wondered if there wasn't something she could do with her hair, but without hairpins she was at a loss. With a sudden thought she dug back into her bag and pulled the silk ribbons out of every garment she could. She pulled her hair up with one and made a number of small braids intertwined with ribbon. She was able to tie some of them up and was left with a very pretty arrangement. Rather pleased with herself she sat down to wait for someone to let her know that everything was ready. She had been hearing a lot of noise and activity up on deck for the last couple of hours and was extremely curious as to what was going on.

After a few minutes there was a knock on the door and Simpson called out, "Miss Stark, are you ready?"

She opened the door and was delighted to see Simpson in his formal dress. "You look very handsome tonight, Mr. Simpson."

"And you are truly a vision of loveliness Miss Stark," he replied with a deep bow. His expression turned serious as he said, "I'm afraid some of the men are somewhat disappointed that this has turned into a more formal affair with slower music and proper dancing. I hope you don't mind a few glum faces."

"Oh no, Simpson. I don't want this to change too much just for me. You play your jigs. I'm just hoping for a few pieces that I recognize. I certainly do no want to monopolize the evening." With a sudden gleam in her eye, she continued, "Although, I think I may have just come up with an idea that might make the crew a bit happier." Taking Simpson's elbow, she said, "Shall we?"

Sansa swept on deck with a rustle of skirts and a swirl of lace. The surprised looks of admiration lifted her spirits even higher. She then noticed what the crew had done. There were lanterns everywhere. They had brought chairs from the mess hall for sitting and had even managed to arrange a small buffet with a punch bowl. They had taken the fabric from a badly torn sail and made bows to adorn the tables and chairs. Sansa turned around and around gazing with wonder at the decorations. "It's lovely. Just lovely," she exclaimed.

She then noticed the glum faces and remembered her idea. "I understand that some of you are not very happy with tonight's program," she began. "However, I'll make a deal with you. If you dance with me, I'll give you a kiss on the cheek." She looked around. "How does that sound?"

All at once the men jumped up and ran for the stairs leading to their quarters. Dismayed, Sansa turned to Simpson. "Are my kisses that distasteful?"

With a laugh he replied, "No miss. I would wager that they're all washing and shaving!"

She heard a polite cough behind her and turned to see Sandor standing before her in his formal captain's uniform. He looked so handsome, she momentarily forgot herself and just stared at him. He approached her and with a bow and said, "May I have the first dance, Miss Stark? With your generous offer to my crew I fear I may not get another chance tonight."

Looking at him warily but with a merry twinkle in her eye she replied, "I seem to remember another occasion where we danced and you behaved most improperly."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," he replied with mock innocence.

With a nod to Simpson to begin, he took her in his arms and began to twirl her about the deck of the ship. Dancing with him there did indeed bring back memories of the Summer Ball and the events of that night. She remembered dancing with her father and her eyes clouded with tears.

Seeing her tears he stopped dancing and asked tenderly, "Sansa, what is it?"

"I was just remembering the last time I danced with my father, at the Summer Ball."

Looking into her eyes, he asked, "Do you want to stop?"

"No, please, continue," she said, holding up her arms for him. Firmly she said, "I refuse to think about that night for the remainder of the evening."

Sandor knew that she meant Joffrey and Meredith, but all he could think of was the way she had felt in his arms when they had danced that night and the kiss they had later shared on the terrace. He knew now what she had meant when she said that his statement about her deserving to be loved and adored by someone that she too loved and adored was a fairytale. Maybe it no longer was and she did have a chance at true happiness. He was beginning to wonder if he could be the one to give it to her.

"I'd forgotten what a wonderful dancer you are, Mr. Clegane," she said to him as they glided effortlessly across the deck.

"Why thank you, Miss Stark," he replied with a smile.

She looked up at him and remembered that during their previous dance she had been so mesmerized, she hadn't even realized at first that he was holding her so closely and so tightly. She even remembered what he had said to her when she had demanded that he not hold her so close 'You're far too delightful to hold at a distance'. She couldn't help but giggle when she recalled her fury at that statement.

"What are you giggling at?" he asked with a smile

"The last time we danced together, how angry I was with you," she said, giggling again.

"Were you? Whatever for?" he asked with mock innocence, teasing her.

"You know very well why. Your behavior was disgraceful." She tried to give him a stern look but she was having too much fun and couldn't keep from smiling.

"Ah, yes. My disgraceful behavior," he said, as if trying to recall the moment. "I'm having trouble remembering, was it something like this?" Gently he pulled her tightly to him.

With his body pressed against hers and the way he was staring into her eyes, she began to feel those butterflies again. Butterflies that always took flight when she was pressed tightly against him were fluttering about. Once again lost in the warm and inviting depths of brooding eyes, they continued to twirl about the deck and she didn't even realize when the music stopped and that they were no longer dancing until a burst of applause broke the spell. She looked around and saw that the crew had returned and was the source of the clapping. Quickly stepping out of her embrace, he took her hand and bowed over it.

Straightening, he quietly asked, "Was the offer of a kiss for a dance only open to my crew?"

Standing on tiptoe she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Captain. It was a pleasure," she said, returning his bow with a curtsey.

Not yet letting go of her hand, he asked, "May I have the pleasure of another dance later this evening?"

Remembering how that question had angered her at the Summer Ball she gave him the same response she had given him then, "With the behavior you have displayed this evening, you expect me to accept another dance from you?" she said with exaggerated indignation. "I would be delighted," she added with a giggle.

He let go of her hand and she turned to Simpson who was organizing the rest of his ragtag band. "Well, Simpson, what will it be next?" She danced four more in a row before begging a rest.

"Could one of you please get me a glass of punch?" she asked, sitting in a chair fanning herself.

A few of the crewmen looked at each other and one said to her, "Are ye sure, miss? It ain't jist punch. It 'as li'l somt'in extra, if ye know what I mean."

"Oh, well, maybe just a small glass then," Sansa said, curious as to what it would taste like.

One of the men fetched her a glass of it and she tentatively took a small sip. They all roared with laughter as she screwed up her face at the strong taste of whiskey. Feeling daring she tossed back the remainder of the drink in one shot and beamed a bright smile. This time the men cheered and applauded her. She continued to dance for the remainder of the evening and had two more glasses of punch. They even taught her how to dance a jig. She picked up the steps quite quickly and found it to be great fun.

Sansa was sitting and enjoying the cool night air, chatting with Simpson after the crew had retired and the rest of the musicians were packing away their instruments when Sandor approached her. "I believe I still have another dance?" he said holding out his hand to her.

She took his hand and rose. As she stepped into his arms, Simpson began to play. Once again they were gliding across the deck.

"Are you enjoying your birthday party?" he asked.

Smiling up at him, she replied, "Yes, thank you so much."

"It's my crew, especially Simpson that you should thank. It was his idea, and their work that made this possible," he admitted.

"I'll have to make sure to thank them in the morning," she said, still smiling. Feeling emboldened by the drinks she had consumed, she said to him, "Hold me closer."

Without further encouragement he gently pulled her to him. They twirled around the deck lost in each others eyes. He could see the passion beginning to spark there, and it warmed his own blood. They were both suddenly aware of the silence and realized that Simpson had stopped playing and was no longer on deck. They were alone.

"I think the dance is over," he whispered.

"Yes, it is," she replied quietly, not moving out of his arms.

"Do I still get a kiss if it's the second dance?" he asked.

"Oh yes," she breathed. She reached up and drew his head down to hers. He turned his head for a kiss on the cheek but she took his chin in her hand and turned his face to hers. "I think we can do better than that," and she pressed her lips to his.

Sandor immediately responded and holding her tightly, he kissed her back. Their lips moved over each others as the kiss deepened. Sansa's mind was in a whirl. All she knew was that she didn't want this kiss to end. She wanted to feel like this forever. She parted her lips and slid her tongue into his mouth. As their tongues swirled together, his hands caressed her back and her arms. Her hands wound through his hair, once again pulling it out of its ribbon. As his hair fell into his eyes, he began to laugh. "I'm going to have to cut it all off if you continue to do that," he whispered, sprinkling kisses along her cheeks.

He pulled back enough to stare into her eyes. Gently stroking her face, he pressed his lips to hers in another passionate kiss. Their hands roamed over each other's bodies, once again caressing the flesh they both knew so well. They had spent hours exploring each other with their hands, lips and tongues, discovering every sensuous curve, every erotic dimple.

Sandor knew the weight of her breasts, how they overflowed his large hands when he squeezed them, had memorized how her nipples hardened beneath his palms. He knew her musky scent when he dipped his head between her silky thighs and knew of the secret delights to be found between her sweet folds.

Sansa knew the silky soft skin that covered his well muscled body, knew how delicious it felt beneath her finger tips. She knew the length of his manhood as well as the smell and taste of it. She knew the broadness of his back and how it moved beneath her clutching hands when she lay trembling beneath him. She knew how he always flinched under her touch when she carefully cupped the burned side of his face in her hand.

Without breaking the kiss he effortlessly picked her up in his arms and carried her to their cabin. They tumbled to the bed impatiently pulling at each other's clothes. With a cry of frustration, Sandor flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her hips in the air. Flinging her skirts up, he soon had her pantalets yanked off and her knees spread wide.

She lay gasping beneath him, loving it when he was so aroused that he was a bit rough with her. The sound of ripping fabric met her ears as he tore his breeches in his haste to free himself of the suddenly restrictive garment.

His hands tightly gripped her hips and she prepared herself for his deep plunge into her. With a hard thrust of his hips he drove into her welcoming body, her wetness easing the way for his full penetration. Gasping loudly, Sansa ground against him, eagerly taking every inch of him deep inside her. He began to move within her, hard, fast strokes, his urgency to have her matching her own desire. He raised his hand and spanked her behind several times as he continued to roughly plow into her.

"Oh Sandor, oh yes, Sandor," she cried out as he pummeled her softness, her orgasm building deep within her, threatening to burst through at any moment. His urgency, his roughness and the spanking all worked to enhance her excitement and quickly drove her to the brink of ecstasy.

"Oh God, Sansa, you feel so good, so damned good," he growled, leaning back watching himself entering her.

With a muffled cry Sansa reached her climax, hearing Sandor's own cry of release as the sudden clutching heat of her was more than he could bear. After remaining behind her for a few lingering moments, he flopped down beside her, and she gazed at his profile, his eyes closed, lips parted, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. As she slowly lowered her hips, she couldn't help but smile as he was still fully dressed, he even had his stiff formal jacket still on.

She knew they were getting close to America and that the voyage would soon be over. A sharp pain hit her stomach whenever she thought about it. She had been meaning to talk to him about it, but was afraid of his answer. Yes, he had told her weeks ago, when she had first seduced him that he wouldn't marry her, but that had been then. Surely he had changed his mind during all that time. The closeness that had developed between them had to mean something to him. Judging from how much she saw of him in Liverpool, she knew how long he stayed in port between sailings and he didn't have to go back right away. He could wait awhile before accepting another cargo shipment back to England. And during that time, they could get married and find a nice little house and start a new life in Williamsburg. She had no reason to fear what he would say, for she was sure her fantasy was his as well.

She didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she felt him tugging at the lacings on her dress. "What are you doing?" she asked, a sleepy smile curling her lips. He had removed his jacket, vest and boots and was kneeling on the bed beside her.

"Undressing you," he answered, returning her smile. "You don't want to sleep in your gown do you?"

"Maybe I will sleep in it," she teased, pulling the blanket over herself.

"Oh no you don't," he admonished, tugging the blanket away from her. "I want to feel your smooth skin against me as I fall asleep," he whispered, removing her dress, slowly revealing her naked body.

Rising to her knees, she knelt before him and staring into his eyes that reminded her of the storm he saved her in, began to slowly remove his clothes, revealing his body inch by agonizing inch, her fingers trailing over him with a feather-light touch. The warmth of his eyes soon blazed with passion as her teasing fingertips once again ignited his desire for her.

Hours later, as the last of the pink and orange streaks of dawn were fading away, the night watchman handed Sandor the spyglass, and squinting against the eyepiece he watched the unmistakable Virginia shoreline come into view.