Chapter Thirty-three

Brienne paced the floor in Jaime's bedchamber, waiting for him to return. She didn't know where he was at that very moment, but she assumed he was still with Tyrion. She had made a conscious decision not to go in search of Jaime, knowing that he and Tyrion needed the time to talk. Besides, it wasn't as if she had good news for either one of them.

Although it wasn't Brienne's place to care who Sansa Stark married, she still felt oddly disappointed that it wasn't going to be Tyrion Lannister. Despite everything, Brienne truly believed that the drunken, whoring dwarf of Casterly Rock would be a better match for the Queen in the North than Gendry Baratheon. She might be the only person in all of Westeros who felt that way—besides Jaime, of course—but that didn't sway her opinion in the least.

As Brienne idly walked the floor, her eyes suddenly settled on the bed in the center of the room. The maids had already been in to change the sheets and put everything to rights, and the bed looked just as pristine and inviting as it had when she and Jaime had first entered the chamber the night before.

Brienne's heart skipped a beat, and a flush of warmth flooded her veins, heating her skin. In an instant, all thoughts of Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister slipped from her mind as she remembered every last moment she and Jaime had shared. Brienne closed her eyes, swaying on her feet as the memory overpowered her. Making love to Jaime had been pure joy! It had been everything Brienne had ever dreamed of, and it had been more than worth the wait.

Jaime had been so gentle, so patient, so loving. Every time he'd touched her, she'd forgotten what she really was—a lumbering giant of a woman, too awkward to ever truly be considered a lady. Even though Brienne loved the pleasure Jaime gave her in his bed, there was nothing she loved more than the way he made her feel about herself. When she was in his arms, she felt small and feminine and delicate, a lady to rival Sansa Stark herself.

There was movement at the door, and Brienne was startled from her reverie. She opened her eyes just in time to see Jaime slipping into the room.

"I was hoping I'd find you here," he said, closing the door behind him. "What happened with Sansa?"

Brienne frowned, feeling no need to hide her emotions. "She is determined to announce her betrothal tonight. It seems she is to marry Gendry Baratheon after all."

"Fuck," Jaime swore softly.

"Yes, I tend to agree."

Jaime cocked his head to the side, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Really? I know you don't think Gendry is a good match for Sansa, but if she thinks he's good enough for her, I'm surprised that you object."

"Would you believe that I was hoping she would marry your brother?" Brienne asked with a wry smile.

"I find that very hard to believe. You don't even like my brother."

Brienne sighed, a soft sound that barely carried across the room. "It's not that I dislike Lord Tyrion. It's just that I'm not fond of his arrogant nature, nor his meddling."

"Well," Jaime said as he crossed the floor, his lips curving in a provocative smile, "if it wasn't for my brother's meddling, I wouldn't have had you in my bed last night."

Jaime stopped a hairsbreadth away, and Brienne's whole body responded on a visceral level. Her pulse quickened, her skin flushed, and a familiar heat pooled low between her legs. If Jaime had tried to take her in his arms at that moment, she would have been helpless to resist him. Although they had made love into the wee hours of the morning, she already wanted him again. She had gone so long without him, been starved of his affection for so long, that now, she was ravenous for him.

But Brienne tried her best to ignore the urges burning inside her and focus on the matter at hand. "I'm not so sure about that," she replied, straightening her spine and inching her chin higher. "The majority of Tyrion's efforts in that regard have proved useless. It is you and I who have done the hard work. We owe very little to Lord Tyrion."

Jaime's smile broadened. "You just can't admit it, can you? If it wasn't for Tyrion, neither one of us would be standing here right now. I would have left the Red Keep the day after my arrival, never to return, and we would never have seen each other again."

Brienne knew Jaime was right. Had it not been for Tyrion, he probably would have left King's Landing just as quickly as he'd returned, and she would have just let him go. She would have let her pain and her pride get in the way of her happiness, and she would have never seen him again. As much as Brienne hated to admit it, in some part, they did owe their happiness—temporary though it might be—to Tyrion and to no one else.

"You're right," Brienne reluctantly conceded. "For all his meddling, for all his annoying little ways, Lord Tyrion did force us to work together. Had he not done that, we never would have mended things between us."

"And are things mended between us?" Jaime asked, one eyebrow arching in the most tantalizing way.

The breath caught in Brienne's throat, and for a moment, she wasn't quite sure how to answer. There was so much that was still unsettled between them, and yet, she couldn't ignore the fact that, in the course of a single evening, their relationship had taken a giant leap forward.

"Yes, for the most part," Brienne replied. "There are still some things that I don't know if I'll ever understand or ever be able to forgive, but I love you, Jaime, and I'm tired of punishing myself by keeping my distance. I want us to be happy together while we still can. Because I know this can't last forever."

Jaime moved closer, lightly wrapping his arms about her waist and drawing her to him. "And why not?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

"Because you are the Lord of Casterly Rock and I am Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and soon enough, you will have to marry and return to your ancestral home and produce an heir."

Jaime lowered his head and began placing soft, sweet kisses against Brienne's neck, just below her ear. "And what if I renounce my title?" he whispered softly, his breath fluttering against her skin.

Brienne was quickly losing the ability to think, but somehow, she managed to answer him. "You can't renounce your title."

Jaime's lips glided lower. "Of course I can."

Despite her best efforts, Brienne leaned into him, fighting to keep her eyes open. She tried to focus her attention on the door behind Jaime, anything to keep herself from falling under his spell. "King . . . King Bran bestowed that title on you for a reason. He would not let you renounce it. Not even to remain Master of War."

Jaime's lips moved lower still, teasing the sensitive flesh at the base of Brienne's neck, just where it met her shoulder. "Then I shall never marry, and when I am gone, Tyrion can produce an heir for Casterly Rock."

The fervor of Jaime's kisses intensified, and Brienne finally lost the battle with herself. Her eyes drifted shut, and her hands instantly went to the back of his head, entwining in his hair as she drew him closer.

Jaime nipped and licked and sucked and drove her to absolute madness. Suddenly, all talk of titles and heirs and Casterly Rock was forgotten, and all that mattered was the feel of Jaime's body against hers, his lips soft against her skin, his cock hard against her sex. Brienne didn't want to talk anymore. She didn't want to argue. All she wanted to do was make love to Jaime again. They had a few more hours before the feast began, and although she knew she'd never have her fill of him in such a short amount of time, it might be just enough to hold her over until later that night.

Brienne and Jaime made short work of each other's clothes, kissing and touching and exploring until they were both breathless. Before long, they found themselves back in Jaime's bed, their passion for each other just as powerful as it had been the night before. This time, Brienne ended up on top, lowering herself down onto Jaime's cock with a soft gasp. He felt wonderful inside her! And the way he was looking at her, as if she were as beautiful as the Maiden herself, made Brienne's heart ache with love for him.

The fingers of Jaime's left hand sank into her hip, while his right hand nuzzled her waist. The smooth metal felt cool against her heated flesh, almost erotic. Brienne kept her eyes locked with Jaime's as she began to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that was intentionally meant to drive him wild.

Brienne sat up on her knees and then lowered herself down again, purposefully contracting her inner walls to squeeze his cock. Jaime inhaled a sharp breath, a groan escaping the back of his throat, and Brienne couldn't help but smile. Although she had very little experience with men, she was already beginning to learn what Jaime liked, and she would do anything in her power to please him.

Brienne relaxed her grip on Jaime's cock and slid upwards again, quickening the pace. She threw her head back and thrust her breasts forward, her own passion beginning to consume her. Without a hint of warning, Jaime shifted beneath her, and the next thing Brienne knew, he was sitting up, his arms wrapped around the small of her back as he lavished her breasts with fevered kisses.

Leaning forward, Brienne draped her arms over Jaime's shoulders and buried her face against his neck. While he took one hard nipple into his mouth, she trailed kisses along his throat, whispering sweet words of love as she continued to move against him in a heated rhythm.

Brienne could feel the tension mounting within her, her muscles pulled as tight as a bowstring, as Jaime's cock pulsed inside her. She wanted their coupling to last forever, and yet, she desperately wanted her release. In these moments with Jaime, she was as far from her natural self as she had ever been. Brienne of Tarth was a woman of duty and honor, always reserved, always responsible. But when she was with Jaime like this, all of that changed, and she became a wholly different creature, wild and wanton and reckless.

Overcome with desire, Brienne sought Jaime's lips, pulling his head to hers and kissing him hard. Jaime tightened his arms about her waist, moaning as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, and for a moment, the world went black around her. Brienne was so lost in Jaime's kiss that time stood still. It wasn't until her body started to tremble with release that she was finally aware of herself again.

Brienne tore her lips from Jaime's and called out his name as he kissed down her neck, pulsing and throbbing inside her. Brienne kept moving, determined to make Jaime come with her. She ground down onto him with astonishing force, and a moment later, a spasm rocked his body and his fingers bit into her flesh.

"Brienne!" The word was strangled from his throat, a reverent prayer in the heat of the moment.

Brienne rode him until her sensitive flesh was too tender for the contact. Reluctantly, she pulled away, placing a chaste kiss against Jaime's neck before collapsing onto the bed beside him.

Jaime fell back, his head resting against the pillow. For a moment, they both lay there, still and silent, staring up at the ceiling, trying to catch their breath. Without a word, Jaime's hand reached for Brienne's, entwining their fingers. She sighed softly, content to just lie there with him, hand in hand, until the end of the world.

It was Jaime who finally broke the beautiful, blessed silence, turning on his side so that he could look at her, their fingers still threaded together. "I really don't deserve you," he said, his voice hoarse. "I really never have."

"I'm not about to argue with you on that point," Brienne replied, a teasing smile curving her lips.

Jaime leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against Brienne's shoulder before lying down beside her and resting his head on that very same spot. His fingers tightened around hers, and he exhaled a long, contented sigh. "There are things we need to talk about," Jaime said. "About the future. About the past."

"I don't want to talk about them."

"But I think we must."

Brienne's heart skipped an uneasy beat. "Must it be now?"

"No, I suppose not."

Brienne didn't want to spoil what they had together. At that moment, she didn't care about the future or the past. She just wanted to lie there with Jaime for as long as she could, safe and warm and content.

The future looked far from promising, and as far as the past was concerned, Brienne already knew the worst of it—or at least, she thought she knew the worst of it—and she couldn't see any point in dragging it all up again now. She knew that Jaime loved Cersei—had always loved Cersei—and that that was never going to change. She'd believed him when he'd said he'd gone south to kill his sister, even though she knew he'd been wholly incapable of doing Cersei any real harm. Brienne was tempted to simply tell Jaime that she'd forgiven all his sins just so they could move on with their lives and never speak of it again. But his past betrayals were still too painful for her, and she couldn't forgive him. At least, not yet.

Brienne leaned her head to the side, resting her cheek against the top of Jaime's head. She snuggled up closer to him, happy to feel the warmth of his body against hers. She wanted to stay that way forever, but she knew they couldn't. Soon enough, they'd both have to be up and out of bed, getting ready for the feast, getting ready for Sansa Stark's announcement and Tyrion's inevitable suffering. It was not something Brienne was looking forward to, but both she and Jaime had a duty to fulfill and neither one of them could avoid it. For now, they would enjoy each other's company a little while longer. And later, they would face cold reality, whether they wanted to or not.