It was exactly like it had been in the barn, with Brienne going up in flames, a match set to parched tinder. There was a sharp taste to his mouth, like a dry champagne, and his tongue was forceful and skilled in coaxing hers to respond. She combed her hands through his hair and delighted in how the cool silk of it slid between her fingers. He groaned into her mouth and she whimpered back, relief making her almost dizzy.
Gods, she wanted him badly, had wanted him all these weeks since Westerlands. He was so confusing, so awful and so wonderful at the same time, and she was so damned disappointed in herself for not being able to excise her weakness for him.
How many times, in the intervening weeks, had she contemplated what she would do if she ever saw him again? If, miraculously, he made a pass at her? She'd come up with a dozen different scenarios, all of which included improbable rejections on her part and shamefaced regret on his. In only one case had she been honest with herself and pictured it ending up precisely as what was actually happening: with them yanking on each other's clothes and frantically kissing.
That sole case, though, had been a humdinger of a fantasy. It had featured her giving him an enthusiastic blow job while raking her nails down his thighs, and quite a lot of orgasmic shouting, and she'd used it as her primary wank-fodder when she masturbated since the first moment she'd thought of it. It never failed to bring her— within a shockingly brief time, in fact.
But the reality of Jaime, of the sound of his voice and the heat of his body, his spicy, peppery scent and the sight of his face and the taste of his mouth, came as close to her thwarted imaginings as a wheel of cheese to the moon. There was just so much to him, such immense presence in every way, overwhelming her ability to protect herself. She felt herself drowning in him even as she knew how deadly he was going to be to her heart.
A streak of heat against her thigh had her wrenching her lips from his and looking down. At some point they'd torn their trousers open, the garments bunched inelegantly around their knees, and their shirts were open so they could align their chests, feel each other's skin and heat. Jaime's cock was long and thick, straining toward her, the wet tip kissing her clit where it peeked from her labia, eager for attention.
The memory of her lone realistic fantasy of Jaime had her slipping down, desperate to take him in her mouth, but his hands under her arms prevented it.
"Oh, no, you don't," he growled, and spun her to face the door. "It'll be over in five seconds if you do that."
He pressed his whole body against her, his erection slipping between her thighs and gliding wantonly through her drenched folds, making her jerk and whine in frustrated arousal.
"Another time," Jaime continued. His hand was gentle on the nape of her neck as he bent her forward, just a little, just enough to cant her hips into position. "And you can suck on me all you want. I'll come in your mouth, anything."
Brienne's lungs seized at his words, and she felt horribly empty, aching for him to penetrate her. "Fuck me," she panted, "I need you, Jaime—"
The head of his cock found the wet notch of her core. There was a moment's resistance, easily overcome as her body accommodated his size, and then he was buried fully in her. The coarseness of his pubic hair was scratchy against the soft flesh of her buttocks but she loved it, loved the proof that she'd taken all of him, that he was sunk in her to the base. She felt stretched and swollen, invaded, taken, but his moan in her ear told her he was in just as much thrall of her, too.
The steel of the door was pleasantly cool against her flushed cheek as he pressed her against it. He withdrew, then slid back in, and there was some secret part of her being stroked that she'd never before knew existed, that had never seen stimulation prior to this night. Brienne let out a startled mewl and pressed back against him, desperate to feel it again. When he thrust out and in another few times, her mouth opened in a wordless cry as she fell into a shockingly sudden climax.
"Brienne," Jaime gasped against her shoulder, "did you just come?"
"Mmm!" was all she could manage, shaking in the circle of his arms. "Ssso good!"
"Gods," he muttered, his voice dazed. "You're incredible." He fucked her harder, somehow even deeper, and with a half-dozen more strokes she was moaning helplessly and clenching around his cock in a second peak, palms flat against the door to brace herself.
"What is happening with you?" he demanded breathlessly, his voice guttural. Sweat from his chest had dampened her shirt against her back. His hands were hard on her tits, her nipples rubbing and rolling between his spread fingers. He brought one hand down to cup her pussy, to thumb her clit and feel the thick intrusion of his cock as it speared into her. "You're so wet, shit, Brienne, you…"
"It's the— the angle," Brienne gasped. Pleasure was spiraling and winding through her, tighter and tighter, a warning that another peak was approaching. If the orgasms of before had been good, this next one was going to end her. "It's so good, it's perfect, Jaime, don't stop, don't—"
Her voice rose in pitch and volume as each thrust nudged her closer to coming. Jaime brought his other hand to her mouth.
"I want to hear you scream," he ground out, sounding wrecked, at the very end of his endurance, like it was killing him to hold on so long. "But—"
She nodded in comprehension. They couldn't be too loud and risk waking the twins. The empty feeling in her mouth, the thwarted longing to suck him, had her taking two of his fingers between her lips, running her tongue over the sensitive pads, and Jaime groaned, bucking helplessly.
"Fuck, Brienne, gods, you're unbelievable—" He pressed her so hard against the door she couldn't take a full breath. The steel was cold against her flattened breasts and hard nipples, and Jaime was an unyielding bulwark against her back, shoving closer and closer, hips snapping against her harder and harder. The head of his cock dragged over that amazing, miraculous place inside, all that was needed to cut the last thread of tension holding her back. She writhed, keening around his fingers in her mouth, sucking hard on them, grinding back to make sure she was taking every bit of him.
Jaime tried to muffle his roar against her shoulder, and she realized dimly that he was biting into her shirt in a desperate bid to keep from rattling the windows from the force of his climax. They shook against each other, wrenched by long, drawn-out spasms of pleasure. Brienne leaned her head against the door, gasping, and reality slowly began to encroach once more.
With reality came an unlocking of tensed muscles, however, and she slumped back against Jaime while sincerely hoping he was not suffering likewise, or they'd both go crashing to the floor.
Fortunately, he still had working use of his muscles and was able to hold her upright.
"I've never had sex like that before," he murmured against her neck, scattering open-mouthed kisses over the sweat-damp skin. "I didn't even know it was possible. Was that your G-spot?"
"I think so," she mumbled. His semen was beginning to slide out around his cock, but rather than repulsing her, she only felt— somehow, after all that— aroused again. "I need a towel."
"Yeah, we're both sweaty," he misunderstood, and withdrew from her, releasing a flood of come. "…oh."
"Yeah, not for the sweat." She smiled blearily against the door. "You've drenched me."
Jaime groaned, and his hot wet mouth opened over her neck again, sucking on the sensitive patch over her pulse. He was so damned sexy, the situation was sexy, his come running down her legs was sexy. She felt filthy and perverse and reckless and better than she ever had in her life.
Except, perhaps, for that first time with him in the barn… that was burned into her mind as the A++ experience of all time.
Though this was a very close second.
Strength was returning to her limbs at last. "Towel," she repeated, and lurched around to face him.
He shuffled back a step before reaching for his pants, hauling them up from where they'd pooled at his ankles. It should have looked ridiculous, but with his mussed hair and flushed cheeks and lust-brightened eyes, he was just as appealing as ever.
"We dripped on the tuxedo," he said. He grinned ruefully. "A lot. I can't send these to the cleaners, they'll never come clean."
"Maybe burn them, instead?" Brienne suggested in a weak, fucked-out voice. "A sacrifice to the gods of good sex."
"That was good sex," Jaime agreed. He yanked up his zipper, grimacing a little at the dampness of the fabric, and stepped close to her again, nuzzling against her cheeks and chin. "That was amazing sex. The best sex. Sex we need to have over and over again."
"I'm not quite sure we survived," said Brienne. "Let's wait until we're positive we're still among the living before we make plans for anything else." She gathered her courage and nuzzled back, enjoying the feel of his skin on hers. "Towel?"
"Right. One towel, coming up." He smiled and moved away. "Give me a second."
He padded away, disappearing down the hall. She heard water running, and then he returned with a damp wash cloth in one hand and towel in the other.
"No, let me," he said when Brienne tried to take them from him, and surprised her by kneeling at her feet. Jaime made cleaning up post-sex into a sensual event, moving the warm cloth in long strokes along her skin, darting into the swollen cleft between her legs just enough to make a tiny gasp escape her and her hips pulse toward him in reaction. He touched a kiss to the gentle roundness of her belly below her navel and then smiled up at her with gleaming green eyes.
"Your outfit's a goner," he commented when done. "Take it all off, I'll throw it in the wash for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Brienne had been floating in a euphoric haze but now felt her muzzy brain sharpen even as she obeyed his command and stepped out of her shoes, then pulled off her jeans and panties. "Am I staying until tomorrow?"
He blinked at her in surprise, eyes narrowing a little. "Of course you are. If you think I'm letting you go now, you're out of your mind." He took her discarded clothes, then tugged her shirt off the rest of the way. "I might keep you chained in my sex dungeon forever, after that."
With that pronouncement, he left her standing in his foyer, completely nude and a little confused. She didn't put any credence in his nonsense about a sex dungeon— not that she'd object to exploring the wonders of handcuffs and perhaps a little light domination— but it sounded like he had something a little more long-term in mind. Suddenly, she felt completely out of her depth. She didn't have much experience with relationships in the first place, and none where this level of intensity existed. Was it normal to go from 'fucking like rabid minks' to being in an actual relationship? What was the etiquette?
"I have so many questions," she told him when he came back, the washing machine beginning its rhythmic sloshing from elsewhere in the apartment.
"Same," said Jaime. "We'll get to them all, eventually."
He'd lost the rest of the ill-fated tuxedo and was prowling around as naked as the day he was born, without an iota of self-consciousness to be seen. He was gorgeous. Shouldn't three orgasms have wrung all the desire out of Brienne? And yet the sight of him, all golden skin and flexing thigh muscles and wide shoulders, was reversing Jaime's hard work with the washcloth and towel of a few minutes before.
"Have I mentioned how much I like that you don't wear a bra? Because I really, really like that you don't wear a bra," he continued, blithely unaware of the tenor of her lascivious thoughts.
"Uh, thanks," Brienne said faintly, "but my questions are more along the lines of 'what the hell is this?' and 'what do we do next?'."
He took her in his arms and kissed her lightly. "This is us getting along, for once, so don't do or say anything to jinx it."
"But—"
"As for what we're doing next, I thought perhaps you'd appreciate a quick shower, though my tub is the size of a small pool and we could always have a bath instead." He dropped another kiss on her lips. "Then, after we're clean, I thought we could get dirty again. Wasn't there mention of sucking me off? I distinctly recall mention of sucking me off."
Brienne felt her knees wobble, from reawakened lust but also relief. If he was going to try to not be an ass at least for the rest of the night, perhaps— maybe— it might not end in her wanting to wring his neck. Again.
"A bath," she therefore said, "since my legs can't hold me up long enough for a shower."
"Smart thinking," said Jaime with a naughty grin. He hooked his arm around her waist and started guiding her toward where his bathroom lay in wait.
"That's why they pay me the big bucks. To think smart." To hell with it. Apprehension could wait until tomorrow.
He huffed a laugh and nuzzled her throat. "And every dragon well-deserved."
Jaime turned on the water and as soon as it ran hot, dumped half a bottle of the twins' bubble bath into the tub. The scent of artificial mangoes filled the air and the room quickly steamed up, making the room feel close, intimate. Condensation mingled with a bead of sweat on his neck and trickled down to pool in the hollow of his throat. Brienne swallowed hard as the urge to lick him all over surfaced once more.
He turned to her with an inquiring glance and gestured in a courtly, butler-like manner. "Your bath, madam?"
Dork. It was unnervingly, frighteningly endearing. Brienne mentally started building a wall around her heart. It would not do to care for him, since that way lay ruin and despair and misery. She was a modern woman, a cosmopolitan and urbane woman. She knew what was what. She was aware of hook-up culture, despite never having participated in it much, more for lack of partners than willingness.
I can handle this.
Brienne thus wrestled all her worries into submission and hastened into the tub, shifting so he could sit behind her with legs stretched along hers to either side, then relaxed back against him. His cock made a half-hearted attempt to stiffen but he told her with a laugh to ignore it for now.
I won't love him. I won't.
Based on prior experience, it was just a matter of time until Jaime reverted to type and the post-orgasmic glow of good behavior faded. But… while it lasted? While his mood stayed good, and his tongue remained civil? Yeah, she was okay with enjoying it as long as possible.
Brienne dropped her head back against his shoulder and let herself be happy, for once.