A Need to Suffer

Defraying

Chapter Twenty-One

Defraying

Sansa’s lips trailed across his shoulder like heated rose petals leading up to the nape of Ramsay’s neck. The sound of her leveled breathing coursed a thrill down his spine as her face came within mere centimeters of his; her proximity could be felt in a radiating wave that sent tendrils of eagerness to electrify his every nerve. Each hair prickled alive to stand on end as her breath caressed his cheek and her closeness branded him with her warmth and a flush of desire. Her words drifted to him in a sultry whisper, “You’re mine, Ramsay, and now that I have you, I’ll never let you go.”

Ramsay moaned longingly as Sansa’s words stirred a turbulent wave of emotions within him. He wasn’t sure what to make of these feelings as the implications of her statement conflicted with the remnants of his still bruised ego, but an even more deprived part of his subconscious heaved in satisfaction at the thought of Sansa wanting him so fiercely that she would be covetous of him.

In this safe place within his mind, Ramsay gave himself over completely to Sansa without hesitation, he wanted to be hers. His ecstasy swelled in a truncated gasp lost in the wake of her domineering kisses that fought to further stake their claim of him and push her own declaration of determination over his crumbling resolve to be in control. Letting go to be swept into her thirst sparked a deep seeded passion to rock through him as Ramsay clung to the wistful craving of fading into Sansa’s touch.

He envisioned her ghost hands shifting across the curvature of his body to grope at him in remembered figments of his time spent with Sansa since she’d taken him prisoner. Her hands slid smoothly over him in sensual and explorative sweeps but soon led to cascade into grasps and kisses that sought to wholly possess him with a savageness he’d never felt prior with any other woman. These handlings were laced with an aggressiveness Ramsay never would have willingly tolerated receiving before without equal exchange, but he found himself almost willing and wanting to succumb to what he could only now uniquely identify as Sansa’s will.

His mind scattered with fragments of her essence; the smell of orchids from the oils she lathered into her skin, the wispy tendrils of her red locks tickling his skin when they trailed across him, the flush that trailed down her neck when he saw she was aroused, the light quirk of her lip when she was amused, the heaving of her pliable breasts, her taste, her heat, all the things that spoke to Ramsay to be intimately Sansa. These lucid contemplations swirled within Ramsay until he found a solidity of imagining her the night before she’d left, the night where she’d punished him and more so also consoled him.

Ramsay’s mind altered onto this new track of reflections as his throat tightened in reminiscence of being brought to tears by her. He didn’t like being punished, hated it even, but those tears he’d shed had been a cathartic release. There had been so much pent up anger, anguish, and confusion warring for dominance of his subconscious that he’d never realized prior to her disciplining him he’d been practically drowning in a sea of white noise within his own head.

Ramsay inhaled deeply feeling the moment as if it were happening again then and there. He lay atop her firm thighs as the dull ache and irritation of his swollen flesh coalesced within his fevered thoughts to connect with Sansa’s words of concern telling Ramsay how she wanted him to stay safe for her because she hadn’t wanted to lose him. No, she had stated she was afraid to lose him, and this statement ratified to Ramsay’s heart that Sansa didn’t just see him as an object (as he’d feared when this had all started and he comprehended he was becoming attached to her); he knew through this pronouncement to him that Sansa cared about his wellbeing. She worried for him, and she was willing to take measures to protect him from harm (even from himself.)