A/N: Hi everyone! Happy Mother's Day to anyone it applies to. lol So... uhh... April was a HUGELY busy month for us with all the birthdays (like 5), anniversaries (3), and what nots (like 12 - don't ask). With summer right around the corner, I don't know how much time I'll have to update here, but keep in mind, I have it all in here *points to brain and nods* and in a doc file, so I'll do my best to update at least once every 10 days if nothing else. I'm thinking another 6 chappies or so. We shall see. Anywhoo... thanks for stickin' with me. I love reviews - good, bad, ugly, or fugly! :D
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This night just got better and better, Sarah groaned inwardly. And it'd only been an hour and a half since he'd met her at the hotel entrance. Well, there goes my fantasies of running my hands through his silky angular locks, she smirked.
Seriously, though...what the fuck? Had his hair always been a wig? She pondered questions and discarded the idea of asking the rudest ones.
"So uhh... that's not your hair. Wow. And since when do Fae go grey?" Her voice came out breathy and seductive. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms against her heaving chest. His kisses could totally throw her off her game, she decided. Sweet, silky, and sinful.
Jareth pulled off the wig entirely; his skin now flushed – with anger or embarrassment she guessed – and threw it on the floor. He rose from the bed gingerly, still aching from the earlier contact with his balls and her knee. Pulling up to his full six foot plus height, his eyes coldly bore into hers with intent.
He glared at her décolletage with interest for a moment, then his gaze focused on her face once again. His voice low, clipped, and very sexy upper class Brit as he spat, "A simple costume malfunction, I assure you. Should you like to see the real hair?"
Sarah quietly nodded, shifting her crossed arms under her breasts, a bit uncomfortable and wholly uncertain.
"Take it off, pervert." He motioned to the hair net and brought himself closer for her to reach the silver strings criss-crossed against his hair.
"Sure thing, dirty old man," she retorted deadpan.
She moved as he bowed his head so she could reach and tugged off the offensive netting- darting her hand out to grasp it and pulling it back swiftly. His real hair sprung free in a wild disarray of blond and silver – not grey; it was glittery silver! - and Sarah could only gasp.
"OhmyGod, you look like a short-haired Troll doll!" Belatedly she realized he probably wouldn't get the reference.
His face became thunderous; "Troll? You compare me to a troll!"
"It's a toy – it has hair that stands up all crazy and- nevermind!" She quickly shut up when it was apparent she was digging herself in deeper. Apparently he was a little sensitive about his hair and trolls, probably in that order. Sarah smothered a smile.
"Are you finding this funny, Sarah Williams?" he snarked, his eyes gleaming with annoyance.
Sarah reached up to smooth back a tuft over his pointed ear; he caught her hand in his; she winced and looked away. Her hand tingled, sending shivers to the rest of her nervous system. Her heartbeat sped up; he was holding her hand and she couldn't even look at him. "Pathetic!" she mumbled to herself.
Jareth's eyes grew large. "I'm pathetic?" he growled, truly on the edge of losing control.
Sarah swung her body to force him to release her hand and sighed. "No, I'm pathetic. My childhood crush wears a wig, and some of my illusions have been shattered – and yet, I still want to touch you. See? Pathetic." She moved a few feet away from where he stood, then turned once again to face him. "You are still incredibly attractive, and a dirty old man, but wow... those tights. They tend to make a girl lose focus," she licked her lips and brought her eyes back to focus on his shocked face.
"Admit to fancying me, do you?" He circled her; she grew nervous as he whispered in her ear, "I know a secret of yours, Precious."
Jareth proceeded to grasp the neckline of her scarlet bodice with one hand; she squeaked, "Hey!" but didn't stop him as he slowly delved with his index and second finger between her breasts, searching.
Sarah couldn't move as the sparks of awareness skittered across her sensitive skin.
The Goblin King has his hand down my dress! kept flashing in pink neon lights within her stunned brain. She felt his fingers brush the underside of a breast and practically purred. Cool air hit her skin and she tried to fight her way back to sanity.
"Uhh... what are you doing? Excuse yo- Oh!"
Jareth had found what he was looking for; his triumphant smoldering smile highlighting his pointy teeth as he slowly tortured her by pulling out a linen handkerchief from her bodice.
Slightly scratchy to her tender skin, it slid seductively against her smooth skin, pinpricks of pleasure made her gasp when it tugged on around and over her already distended nipple. The rough weave against her sensitive breasts stoking a fire low in her belly. Sarah bit her lower lip and tried to stifle her moan; closing her eyes, she had to grasp Jareth's arms for support to keep upright.
His wicked smile went unseen as he divested her of the first off-white handkerchief tossing it to the floor, and returned to her bodice with his warm, masculine hands again. His fingers playing on the undersides of both breasts now, searching out the other padding Sarah had used.
He bent his head to bring his lips to her ear as she clung to him. "How many are there, love? And why would you ever think you have to pad your bosom?" His whisper was low and sultry. He nibbled her earlobe gently. Still, they stood, although Jareth had backed her against one of the bedroom walls for support.
Sarah shuddered, "S-six of th... em...oh gawd..." Jareth's fingers were slowly drawing out the next linen scrap, toying with her by swirling it around her breast; the aureole and the nipple the last circled before he tugged it gently from her scarlet bodice. She inhaled sharply as her fingers contracted on his arms, her body humming with desire.
So many nights when all I've wanted was him... and here he is... touching me... tormenting me... wow, he's good at this shit, Sarah mused and moved into his skillful fingers without thought. The tension in her belly was coiling, coiling tighter and tighter. She felt like her breasts were on fire as he returned to them, caressing and tweaking her nipples between his fingers; a flick and a tug here and there kept her squirming and wanting. It was so good, but it wasn't enough. She wanted more, dammit!
He flung offender number two to the ground and moved on to linen squares three, four, and five. Each successive handkerchief's removal elicited a low groan of pleasure and a shuddering breath – or ten – as the heat and wet built within Sarah. Oh yeah, I'm ready, but this is wrong, so so very very wrong, she reminded herself. I'm supposed to be treating him as a client – and screwing Jareth is totally against the rules. Okay, I can do this, I can play it off cool and he'll take out the last one and then... a kiss. I just want one last kiss for the rest of the weekend, she promised herself. Just one kiss.
Jareth was breathing harshly; his chest rapidly rising and falling as his dilated eyes took in the flushed countenance and décolletage of Sarah, who was having just as difficult a time breathing evenly herself.
Sarah was perspiring from the onslaught of his sensual attention; her eyes were glazed over with need, barely able to stay open. He bent his head to her again, this time to align their lips. His tongue reached out to trace her lower lip, so petal soft, as his fingers started their terrible magic again of the tugging and tweaking, pulling and pinching on her nipple.
Sarah flowed forward into Jareth's body, her lips fusing of their own accord to his, her pelvis seeking out his straining erection. The kiss wasn't pretty; it was brutally honest in it's horny want and need. It was the deepest and darkest sexual sight as they sucked and lick, bit and meshed lips over and over again in the need to become one with their mouths. Sarah's keening cry as he manipulated her nipple roughly made him whip out the last offending handkerchief and start to shove her bodice down.
"Wait!" She huffed, trying to pull it back up and away from his greedy hands.
"What?"He puffed, still trying to strip the scarlet gown from her rosy skin.
She held her hand up and kept dragging in air, "I think... I think we should stop. Now. Things got out of control -" Sarah waved her hand around in dismissal, " - and no matter what, you're my client. I can't sleep with you." Until after this weekend is over, she continued in her own mind.
His pale face and carved features topped with his troll-doll hair all turned a bit thunderous; his eyes narrowed, "That didn't seem to bother you -" He clenched his fists at his sides. A vein pounded in his forehead dangerously.
"Hey, wait just a minute there bucko, you were the one who decided to start pulling my grandmother's handkerchiefs from under my breasts. You totally started this!" Half-righteous indignation filtered through as stood akimbo, having re-situated her dress on her person.
"Well I'd better finish it then." His wicked smile sped up her pulse.