|
Post by Sylvia on Dec 18, 2007 8:57:30 GMT -5
((Right there with you. I've missed you, Emily. So much.))
*Sylvia felt that she should faint if she couldn't loosen her corset, but as the only meager fabric between them, she felt the need to keep it. But this was steadily getting out of control. She had come here for grounding. Thatcher Caine had always been safe. Well, not safe, but predictable and cold. Efficient. Not like this. Never like this. The knot in her stomach got steadily worse.*
"Please...Thatcher...stop..."
*Even as she moaned the words, she sounded only half-sure, but with as much resolve as she could manage, she wriggled beneath him, trying to slip from under him.*
|
|
|
Post by Thatcher on Dec 18, 2007 21:48:13 GMT -5
*Thatcher vaguely heard her voice, but her words were lost in the rushing of blood thundering in his ears. He felt her straining against him and he sank his teeth lightly into her bare shoulder.*
"Sylvia..." *he gasped her name, shuddering violently as his lips found hers again, and his hands circled her delicate neck to steady her, and he barely noted his fingers squeezing against her windpipe.*
|
|
|
Post by Sylvia on Dec 18, 2007 21:57:27 GMT -5
"Sto.."
*The word died on her lips as her eyes rolled and her lashes shut. Sylvia felt her lips start to tingle as she tried to lift her hands against him, but she was overwhelmed and slumped beneath him as she slipped into a faint.*
|
|
|
Post by Thatcher on Dec 18, 2007 22:07:07 GMT -5
"God..." *breathed Thatcher as he pressed himself against her, fighting the layers of cloth between them.*
She's so beautiful...
***FADE OU--
*record scratches*
Wait...I would be taking advantage of her...
*Thatcher drew back from the unconscious Sylvia and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.*
I want her to enjoy this, too...
*He blanched.*
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?" *he bellowed, staggering backwards from Sylvia's prone form and fleeing the room.*
|
|
|
Post by Sylvia on Dec 18, 2007 22:15:06 GMT -5
*Sylvia came to with a sharp, if shallow gasp. She pushed herself up, confused at finding herself alone. She didn't pass up the seeming reprieve though. Gathering her gown, she dressed quickly and left the estate, quite shaken herself.*
|
|
|
Post by Thatcher on Dec 18, 2007 22:16:16 GMT -5
*Thatcher, in the meantime, had bathed three times--once in hot water, twice in cold--and dressed in a simple charcoal suit. Loading his gun, he set out to go to work. Killing never failed to take his mind off of things.*
|
|