Rosie Wilson (
forthsofar) wrote2019-10-19 06:39 pm
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the cushy sheltered way of life was really no fun
She's kept quiet about it. Not because of any worry or concern, not because she feels as though she's done anything wrong--indeed, in a way this feels the furthest thing from incorrect. There's just been a lot to think about, thoughts and feelings and needs that she's been turning over in her head and trying to parse out on her own before she brings them up with either Nick or Sabrina. She'll need to, because they're the cause of it all, the ones that sparked that odd blossoming warmth within her as they asked questions that held just the barest edge of command behind them.
It could be that she's understanding it all wrong, her relative inexperience turning words murmured in the heat of passion into something that feels more weighty than it is. But somehow, she doesn't think so. Whether she's misunderstood or not, though, Rosie wants to be sure of herself, and sure of what she wants. As she'd been told before, so many times, that's the only way this works.
After a few days of thought, she's ready to open the conversation, and given that they already had plans this afternoon, Nick seems the perfect person to start with. Settled on his couch and entwined under a blanket, they watch--well, mostly--the season premiere of that awful witch show Nick had fallen in love with during his convalescence, the both of them laughing and shouting things at the screen. Once it's over, Rosie reaches for the remote control, clicking the television off.
"Nick," she says softly, a flutter of uncertainty starting up in the pit of her stomach, something she tries to ignore. She turns in his arms until she can press a kiss to his mouth. "Could I...there's something I wanted to talk to you about." Realizing how that might sound only once it's out, her eyes widen, just slightly. "Something...I think it's something good, I promise."
It could be that she's understanding it all wrong, her relative inexperience turning words murmured in the heat of passion into something that feels more weighty than it is. But somehow, she doesn't think so. Whether she's misunderstood or not, though, Rosie wants to be sure of herself, and sure of what she wants. As she'd been told before, so many times, that's the only way this works.
After a few days of thought, she's ready to open the conversation, and given that they already had plans this afternoon, Nick seems the perfect person to start with. Settled on his couch and entwined under a blanket, they watch--well, mostly--the season premiere of that awful witch show Nick had fallen in love with during his convalescence, the both of them laughing and shouting things at the screen. Once it's over, Rosie reaches for the remote control, clicking the television off.
"Nick," she says softly, a flutter of uncertainty starting up in the pit of her stomach, something she tries to ignore. She turns in his arms until she can press a kiss to his mouth. "Could I...there's something I wanted to talk to you about." Realizing how that might sound only once it's out, her eyes widen, just slightly. "Something...I think it's something good, I promise."
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"We'll add it to the list of things you obviously really like," he says, starting to fuck her harder now, keeping his hands on her hips. "Tell me how it feels, Rosie. Let me hear you."
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He fucks her harder, hard enough that she moves against the mattress with every thrust, hard enough that she can feel her breasts start to bounce and sway. "It feels so good, Nick," she moans. "And I'm so...I shouldn't like this so much, how it feels to be in this position, to have you i-inside me while I'm on the bed like this. So exposed and...and it's so filthy, Nick."
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"But you like it, don't you?" says Nick, still fucking her, knowing how it feels to be on all fours, to give up control like that. A point had come when it had fucked him up, the thought of how much control the Weird Sisters had over him, but, for a while, it had been delicious. "Being filthy."
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"I do," she says, her words a gasping exhale as he plows into her. "For you, N-Nick. I like being filthy for you, I want to be filthy for you, have you t-take me like...like this, or tie me up, or tell me what to do..."
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She can feel that pooling, building need reaching a familiar peak between her thighs, and she moans again, louder and needier. "Nick, I'm going to...I want to..."
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When she says that he goes still inside her, holding her still. It's torture, but a sweet kind. He rolls his head back on his neck, dragging in a breath through his nose.
"If you want it you need to beg for it, Rosie."
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It's desperate and practically incoherent, a run of words and cries that only barely fulfill what he's asked of her. She doesn't care.
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With his cock still buried deep inside her, he leans back enough to slap her already reddened ass.
"Come on, Rosie. You can do better than that."
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"I want to come, Nick," she cries, trying again to do what he asks; trying to do it better this time, good enough to satisfy him and get her everything she wants. "I want you to k-keep going, keep moving, keep...keep..." She's barely aware of what she's saying, begging pleas just tumbling out of her until she finds the one that makes him start to move again. "I want to come like this, blindfolded a-and on all fours and looking like...s-something obscene, because you want me to look like this and..."
She pants, knowing what she has to say, and knowing that it's so shamefully true. "A-and because it's the kind of good girl I want to be."
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"That's it," says Nick, starting to rock his hips again, starting to fuck her again, his hand smoothing along her back. "That's a good girl, Rosie. You can come. Let me see it."
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"Thank you, Nick," she moans, and then she's coming, shaking and crying out, curling in on herself as much as she's able to while still staying mostly in position for him.
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When she comes, harder than he thinks he's seen her come before, her cunt clenches around his cock and he sees stars. He keeps his hips moving, fucking her through it, getting closer and closer to the edge himself until he tips over, coming so hard he feels like he's going to pass out.
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"That was..." she sighs, once she's able to find the words at all. "I really liked that, Nick." It's so blatant and shameless, and Rosie feels her face go hot again.
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Nick takes the time to take care of the condom before he slips back onto the bed with Rosie, reaching up to pull the blindfold off her eyes, tugging her down into her arms.
"Yeah," he says, grinning and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I could tell."
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"Oh, hush," she murmurs, nestling against his chest as he pulls her into his embrace. She stays pressed close like that for a minute or two, quiet and thoughtful, letting both of them come down from the intensity of all that they'd just done.
"It was...you liked it too, right?" she asks, thinking she knows the answer already but wanting in this moment to be absolutely sure. "Being that, you know, forceful with me, it was alright for you?"
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"It's been a while, but that was a lot of fun," he says, still grinning as he twirls the ends of her hair, looking down into her face. "I enjoyed having you at my mercy, Wilson. And that's a pretty good list of things that we know you like to work with."
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Rosie trails off, briefly embarrassed all over again. "But now that we know we both like it, and know what I like most about it, it doesn't make sense not to do it again."
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"Whenever you're in the mood," he says, smiling. "I've got a little list in my head now, anyway."
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"Do you want to talk about it a little?" he asks, combing his fingers through her dark hair, playing with it the way he's been drawn to since they started getting close. "What really worked for you?"
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"The blindfold was good," she starts, after a moment of thought. "It made it all feel more...I wasn't sure what you were going to do, until you told me. It felt like being even more at your mercy, in a way."
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He kisses her temple, pulling a blanket up over them as they settle.
"Blindfold was good," he says. "I think you might get off on the humiliation of it all, a little bit."
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The blanket is warm and soft, the feeling of it against her skin providing another layer of comfort. "I liked it when you, um," she starts, looking up at him once again. "I liked it when you spanked me, too. Especially when it happened after I'd been a little impertinent."
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