#DailyLines #OUTLANDER #Book1 #horsemanship102 “Jesus God, Sassenach,” he said at last, snorting with mirth, “don’t ye know what’s the first thing you do when you’re getting acquainted with a new horse?” “No,” I said, completely baffled. He raised one arm, displaying a soft tuft of cinnamon-colored hair. “You rub your oxter over the beast’s nose a few times, to give him your scent and get him accustomed to you, so he won’t be nervous of ye.” He raised himself on his elbows, peering up over the slope of belly and breast. “That’s what you should have done wi’ me, Sassenach. You should ha’ rubbed my face between your legs first thing. Then I wouldn’t have been skittish.” “Skittish!” He lowered his face and rubbed it deliberately back and forth, snorting and blowing in imitation of a nuzzling horse. I writhed and kicked him in the ribs, with exactly as much effect as kicking a brick wall. Finally he pressed my thighs flat again and looked up. “Now,” he said, in a tone that brooked no opposition, “lie still.” I felt exposed, invaded, helpless—and as though I were about to disintegrate. Jamie’s breath was alternately warm and cool on my skin. “Please,” I said, not knowing whether I meant “please stop” or “please go on.” It didn’t matter; he didn’t mean to stop. Consciousness fragmented into a number of small separate sensations: the roughness of the linen pillow, nubbled with embroidered flowers; the oily reek of the lamp, mingled with the fainter scent of roast beef and ale and the still fainter wisps of freshness from the wilting flowers in the glass; the cool timber of the wall against my left foot, the firm hands on my hips. The sensations swirled and coalesced behind my closed eyelids into a glowing sun that swelled and shrank and finally exploded with a soundless _pop_ that left me in a warm and pulsing darkness. Dimly, from a long way away, I heard Jamie sit up. “Well, that’s a bit better,” said a voice, gasping between words. “Take a bit of effort to make _you_ properly submissive, doesn’t it?” The bed creaked with a shifting of weight and I felt my knees being nudged further apart. “Not as dead as you look, I hope?” said the voice, coming nearer. I arched upward with an inarticulate sound as exquisitely sensitive tissues were firmly parted in a fresh assault. “Jesus Christ,” I said. There was a faint chuckle near my ear. “I only said I _felt_ like God, Sassenach,” he murmured, “I never said I _was_.” And later, as the rising sun began to dim the glow of the lamp, I roused from a drifting sleep to hear Jamie murmur once more, “Does it ever stop, Claire? The wanting?” My head fell back onto his shoulder. “I don’t know, Jamie. I really don’t.”
Posted on: Wed, 24 Jul 2013 11:16:12 +0000
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