Library Games
(while youwait for my next G&A tale here’s a little story from my regency collection)
CW: Sex
Tags: Playfighting, Literal bodice-ripping, Doggystyle
The fire crackles in the hearth; the smell of old books mixes with the sweetly-scented woodsmoke. The library is large; the bay windows let in the afternoon light; what little there is of it on this autumn afternoon. A storm blew in around an hour ago so she’d made her way downstairs to the library with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as her muslin dress was thin; her soft stockings made very little sound as she padded across the floor to find something to read. A book, a fire, a rainy afternoon sounded incredibly pleasant to her.
She’d settled in the big couch; cross legged on the chair and was deeply engrossed in the reread of her favourite novel; the hardcover copy had some fine illustrations scattered through it which added to the enjoyment when the door to the library creaked open. She didn’t look up, not at the sound of the door and not at the footsteps crossing the room to pause in front of her. Her attention was seemingly fully on the story but a small part of her was eager to see what he would do.
A hand slid into her vision; smart of him to have placed it over the illustration and not the words — she glances up, meeting amused eyes. “Yes?” she asks “something you wanted?” She looks back down at the book; takes note of her place and makes to turn the page as he hums low in his throat and moves his hand to cover hers stopping her from doing so. His hand is warm, his thumb stroking over the back of her hand.
“I want you,” he murmurs and she looks up as he leans in and catches her lips in a kiss; it goes from casual to heated near instantly; matching the promise that was burning in his eyes when she’d looked up. She makes a wanting sound in response and kisses him back. When they break apart, she’s trembling very slightly and her hand’s shaking as she picks up the bookmark, slides it into place and sets aside the closed book on the low table by the couch.
When she sits back up he leans back in; the heat of him even through their clothes is a warm temptation. He cups her face in his hands gently, slides them down the line of her neck and along the shoulders — pushing material out of the way, the sleeves slipping down so that he can touch bare satin-soft skin. He kisses her forehead and then pulls her up and into him and kisses her breathless. His tongue traces her lips causing them to part for him and they kiss long and deep; she moans into the kiss a low sound of want as her hands wander around his waist; pulling at the shirt-ends to untuck them.
They sink to the floor; he’s too impatient to undo the laces of her dress; the fabric tears beneath his hands causing her to hiss out something too low for him to catch; she moves then, getting his jacket and shirt off — the buttons must have been ill-attached because she can pop them off as they kiss fiercely, he dips his head down to kiss along the curves of her now exposed breasts; her gasp as she threads one hand through his hair to keep him there for a moment makes him harder yet.
When he gets the dress out of the way she smiles at him, a little feline smirk — clad in only the silk stockings she watches as his control snaps; surging forward he presses her down beneath him on the rug. He kisses her without wanting to stop for air, she hooks one stocking clad leg around his and rolls them so that she can start undoing his pants. But he’s not going to let her get away with it; and he pulls her close; back down into another kiss, gets rough and pushier until she’s back underneath him; her body arching up involuntarily against his.
He leans in, kisses her neck and then bites it; she shudders and moans out his name. He feels her tense as if to resume their fighting for dominance and presses her more firmly into the floor as he puts his mouth against her ear and growls out ‘you’ll be my good girl, won’t you.” He feels her whole body shudder and relax in submission as she hums out a broken assent. Satisfied by that he sits up, runs his hands along her legs, enjoying he feel of the stockings, the warmth and softness of her skin.
Guiding her to her hands and knees he runs his hands over the curve of her ass; dips on finger down over her folds and finds her already wet for him. “Fuck,” he hisses out, shifting so he’s draped over her — the proof of her desire gives him ample reason to praise her and he does; honeyed words in a low voice how good she is, how beautiful how much her want makes him want her more. His hand wraps around her, teasing one nipple and then the other as his cock slides against her ass teasing her and praising her until she start to beg him to fuck her properly, please, please, please, fuck me.
“As you wish,” he says and she groans with pleasure as he lines himself up and slides his cock into her wet heat. It burns just a little; a pleasure-pain that causes her to moan out his name and a yes that trails off into pants and gasps as he starts to fuck her; slow at first pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in until she screams for him. His hands hold her hips steady, digging in as he speeds up his thrusts — her first orgasms she screams herself nearly hoarse and he groans in response; can feel her coming around him and hangs on to his control by inches; he shifts, runs a hand up her spine and into her hair pulling on it as he starts rolling his hips; no longer pulling out just constantly thrusting into her over and over as she begs and moans and gives out cut-glass could be screams that shatter where she’s losing her voice.
He doesn’t stop; demands that she come for him again and she does, lost as she is to the pleasure of it she pushes back into his movements and he fucks her through the second orgasm into a third one that he can feel dripping out of her. As his own orgasm approaches he keep praising her and then pulls out spilling himself over her back; marking her with his scent. Her limbs give out and she collapses to the rug; he follows her down, slightly to the side and wraps his arm over her. They breath for a while; quietly content with each other.
Eventually he uses her ruined dress to clean her up and they shift closer to the fire. He picks up the book from the table and then sits on the rug, beckoning her over. She lays down curling up around him with her head in his lap and hums quietly. He begins to pet her hair, leaning over to give her a quick light kiss on her temple. She closes her eyes as he opens the book and picks up from where she’d left off, reading to her, his voice blending with the crackle of the fire and the patter of the rain on the window into a beautiful soundscape that leaves her incredibly content.
