pinky promise - jamie tartt

『 BONUS SCENE 』

[content warning: this chapter contains explicit sexual content. 18+ minors dni. this chapter is optional, as in the plot will not be affected if you do not read it. enjoy, or skip to the next part.]

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"Bedroom," 

"Fuckin' alright, then." Jamie grinned at her order, not wasting any time in carrying her to their destination at the opposite end of her tiny apartment. "Didn't realize you'd be so bossy." 

Tate rolled her eyes, pinching his arm as she continued to press open mouth kisses against his neck. She knew better than to leave marks, and she hoped to gods she didn't believe in that Jamie knew better, too. 

A yelp broke past her kiss-swollen lips as Jamie dropped her onto the mattress, grinning like the cat that got the canary down at her. And Tate thought about cursing his name, because no one had a right to look as mouth-wateringly delicious as Jamie Tartt did with a grin so smug he put all of his actions on the pitch to shame. 

"C'mere," She ordered again, leaning back on her elbows, her pajama shirt riding up just slightly and giving Jamie a clear view of what little amount of fabric kept her center concealed from his sight. 

"Yes, ma'am," His eagerness was endearing, and in seconds he was crawling up the mattress so he could crowd into her space, the weight of him pressed deliciously between her open legs. Mouths connecting, Tate wondered how it was even possible for him to make her feel so needy with just a few kisses. 

"Jamie," She mumbled his name in a breathy moan as his clothed crotch pressed into hers at just the right angle. It was more of a plead for him to do something more than a call for his attention, but he still paused, head pulled back slightly so he could study her panting face below him.

"That feel good, yeah?" He asked, voice so incredibly sensual that she bit her lip to hold back a second moan caused by just him talking. She knew Jamie saw what she was doing, a disapproving pout etching briefly on his face until he rocked his hips into her again and she lost all ability to remain quiet. "Tha's it, pretty girl. Wanna hear how good 'm makin' ya feel." 

And if she hadn't bee able to feel how turned on Jamie was, his hard on pressing against her core with every purposeful roll of his hips, the way his Mancunian accent got thicker the longer he stayed under her touch was a dead give away. 

"Stop teasing, Jamie," She hissed, desperate to feel more, to feel everything. He laughed quietly to himself at her expense, and Tate tugged on his hair just slightly, growing very pleased at the fact that his slow rhythm against her stuttered. 

So Jamie Tartt liked getting his hair pulled, then. 

"I can't tell ya how long I've been thinkin' 'bout this," He whispered, propping himself up on one elbow while the other slid under her shirt, calloused hands against the soft skin of her ribs. She writhed under his gentle touch, so desperate to feel his callouses on other parts of her body. "What I would do if I ever got to touch ya."

His hand slide higher, until he was cupping her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple far too lightly for her liking. 

"What you would do if you ever got to taste me?" She blamed the question on how turned on she was, but she had never really stopped thinking about Jamie's mouth between her legs after he oh-so casually mentioned that he wouldn't fight to return the favor. They had been talking about Callum's inability to reciprocate head, once, and Jamie had acted like it would have been his pleasure to eat her out. 

And from the way he smirked at her suggestion, she was starting to think it would very much so be his pleasure. 

"Gotta take this off, first, yeah?" He asked, though he was already pushing her shirt up and she was leaning forward to remove one less barrier between them. Jamie had already felt her up under her shirt, but his smug grin returned once she was laying topless underneath him. "Fuck, you've got great tits. How the fuck do ya expect a man to last with ya lookin' like that?"