Time & Tide - Original Wattpad Version

Chapter Twenty-Nine: In Which Jessie Is Hurt

I followed dutifully in Margaret's wake, like a forlorn tugboat, as we made our way to our shared room via the back staircase. We met a startled maid on the way and Margaret told her about my mess. She didn't even bat an eye at the request to clean up for me and it left me feeling squirmy and guilty. The one thing I had promised myself was that I wasn't going to turn into one of those self-important snobs who didn't take care of herself when she very easily could.

The window in our room was open to let in a brave breeze, and Margaret's hair kept was fluttering out of the loose bun at the nape of her neck, that curl I liked so much beckoning me just as surely as my desperate need to make Margaret understand how much I need her, and how much I was terrified that any change meant that we would lose what we had. Dread yawned in my guts, and I shut the door behind us with a slam, surged forward, and attacked the back of her neck with my lips.

"Jessie!" she laughed.

I tugged the ties out of her hair, letting it fall down her back, golden and curling slightly and glossy. No hair dyes here to ruin hair texture, no over blow drying, just soft, natural, smooth to the touch.

"Shh," I said, then wrapped my arms around her shoulders, and walked us over to the bed. I sat and scooted up to the headboard. " Lay down. Lean back on my knees."

I tucked my feet under her bum and she leaned back, hair spreading across the triangle of my thighs, into my lap, intimate. I ran my fingers through her locks, combing down any knots I found carefully, setting aside the pins. Margaret hummed and let her head fall back to rest on my knees, and closed her eyes. I moved up, until my nails were scraping lightly across her scalp, her hair tangle-free and sleek. I gave into the temptation to dig my fingers in, scratch the nails lightly across her skull, rub at the tension lingering against her temples, across her eyebrows.

She started panting, cheeks flushing red, and I grinned, leaned down to lick and nibble on the shell of her ear.

"Really?" I whispered. "From this? Kinky."

She chuckled, reached back with one hand to curl her fingers around the nape of my neck, redirected my head so she could arch, thrusting her very pretty, pillowy breasts into the air, tilting so our noses wouldn't bump. Her mouth was wet and warm and hungry, nibbling at my lips.

"Hm," I said as the strain of the position proved too much and Margaret collapsed back against the mattress. "No, come back, do that again. I liked the view."

She swatted my thigh and sat up. "Now I am completely distracted. I cannot possibly write today." She pushed her hair back over her shoulder.

"I have an idea on how we can fill the time," I said, pushing my dress up and out of the way to collect around my ribs. Margaret's pupils blew wide. I tugged her back around so she was seated between my legs, her back against my chest. Slowly, sensually, I pulled her dress up her calves, fingers brushing her stockings, teasing. She wriggled in my lap, made a high sweet sound that made me want to bite her shoulder, so I did. She squeaked and giggled and then pressed her own hands to her mouth to stifle any louder sounds.

"That's it, shhh," I said, as tongued the bite mark I'd left in her pale skin. She'd need to wear a fichu tonight to cover it - perhaps a full shawl. I like that idea, the thought of looking up at Margaret over the dinner table, knowing that she was wearing my mark in a room full of people, and being forced to keep it secret. Keep it safe.

I sucked at the hickey, really going to town now, and her head dropped to the side. She moaned into her own palm, muffled and so fucking sexy. I pulled her dress up all the way, arranged the mound of fabric across her waist, and then slipped my hands under her knees, pulling her legs, up, over my own knees, holding her open, exposed.