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The Sweet Mess of You

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So fucking worth it joining the dessert expo.

In the two months since Jaime began fucking Margaery , he had come to know her naughty, adventurous streak. It was reason enough to keep fucking her, although her curling, caramel-brown hair and doe-like brown eyes were bonuses rather than justifications.

Tonight, the only hardship he might have to deal with was keeping up. He smirked as Margaery devoured the full, pink lips of a redhead fresh to their play.

The latter’s name was Sandy or Nancy. Jaime didn’t really care, not right now. What was hard to forget was the body promised under the form-hugging suit she was wearing at the expo earlier. Her breasts were fuller than he expected and topped with cute little pink nipples that Margaery kept plucking through their kiss. Brown hair spilled over rich, silky auburn spread over the pillowcase. When the other woman opened her eyes to look at Jaime, he saw a light blue stare.

Margaery had the redhead’s face between her small hands, eating at her mouth as if starved and diving for slops. Jaime wished she would finesse it but Sandy or Nancy (Sally?) was moaning like a bitch in heat, drawing Margaery between her slim thighs. He watched as their naked bodies writhed and rubbed against each other.

With their lithe limbs and smooth, creamy skin, they looked like graceful marble figurines come to life for a sapphic interlude dictated by him. Keeping his eyes on their twisting, thrusting bodies, he loosened his belt, lowered the zipper of his jeans.

Probably-Sally closed her eyes again, sighing against Margaery’s tongue. Jaime tilted his head, the dimples framing his grin deepening as Margaery’s fingers slid towards the redhead’s smooth cunt. Slim fingers probed the labia, revealing inner skin the color of rose and little clit. Jaime’s cock thrust in their direction as Margaery pushed a finger between the spread folds, drawing a groan from the other woman.

Jaime wanted to punch the air and howl. This was the prize deserved by all gamblers.

And the gods rewarded him more when Maybe-Nancy suddenly turned and put Margaery on her back, her long legs pushing her thighs apart. Jaime grunted from the hot wave of lust that swept through him as her auburn head lowered to Margaery’s cunt. Loud, wet slurps followed, then Margaery’s shrill cries.

Hands gripping the bars of the headboard, she looked at Jaime over the woman’s head. “Come here.”

“You seem to be getting along fine without me,” he drawled. He made no effort to hide his growing arousal and was in no rush walking to the bedside table to retrieve a condom packet. The redhead suddenly sat up, smiling at him with shiny lips. Her heavy, firm breasts swung as she sat up and folded her long legs. His eyes dropped briefly to her cunt.

“I can help with that, Jaime.”

“Oh, you are,” he drawled, retrieving condom and lube from the drawer. “But do you know what would make me really happy?”

He beckoned her to come  forward with a crook of his finger. Margaery giggled as Likely-Sally crawled to him on all fours. He swiped a thumb around on her lips before whispering in her ear. She sat back on her heels, smiling at him and then they turned to Margaery.

“Think you can do that?” Damn. Now would be a good time to remember her name. “Uh, baby?”

Margaery stretched languorously on the bed before turning on her hands and knees. She looked at Jaime and then. . .Baby(?)“Do it.

Sammy/Baby turned back to Jaime, sucking on her middle finger. He nodded as she pressed it against Margaery’s opening before pushing inside slowly. Margaery threw her head back, instinctively resisting. Jaime kissed her on the mouth, urging her with every press of his lips to relax and let go. He kissed her long enough to distract her and pulled away when she yelped and tumbled forward as the finger fucking her gained speed.

It was fucking sexy, seeing the two little globes of her ass jiggling from the force of Sandy/Nancy’s plunging finger. Jaime kissed her hard on the mouth, cupping her breasts from behind to play with her nipples. As Margaery’s cries sharpened, Jaime nibbled on her neck

Margaery groaned into the pillow as Jaime and Sandy/Nancy continued to kiss, him drawing her further in the heated world of want and lust with every thrust of tongue. He continued to grip her wrist, guiding it to the rough pace he wanted delivered into Margaery’s ass. Her cries sharpened from the quickening strokes of the finger. Pleased, Jaime kissed Probably Annie deeper, taking a deep draw of her tongue to get the full punch of Margaery’s flavor there.

He pinched her little nipples as she kissed him back frantically, gripping them to jiggle her tits. She whined and moved closer to him. He startled her into a stop with a hand around her neck, forcing it a hard angle so she looked up at him.

“Has a woman made you come with her mouth?”

She shook her head. “I’ve only kissed one woman before. In college.”

He smiled. “You’re a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

She frowned. “I’m not a virgin.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said patiently, catching her wrist so she will stop fucking Margaery with her finger. “I meant to say you do belong in the sugar business.” He remembered that much. That she was in the sales and marketing distribution of Winterfell Sugar Company.

“So, how about it? You want to know what it’s like to have a woman’s mouth on your pussy?” He swept her hair away from a slim shoulder. “Margaery’s talents are vast. Especially in the bedroom.”

“Sansa,” Margaery turned to her. Ah, yes. That was her name. Sansa. Jaime kept the smile on his face. A most ridiculous name in his opinion. The problem with rare names was they could be difficult to remember. He did remember the essentials, he thought, pinching her nipple again.

“You’ll love what I will do to you,” Margaery continued, holding out a hand to her. “Come.”

Sansa whimpered as Jaime twisted her nipple harshly. “You make it hard to say no.”

He kissed her. “Good girl.”

Margaery took her by the hand and kissed her on the mouth again. Sansa kissed her back. They tangled their fingers into each other’s hairs as their kiss deepened. She was lowered to the bed, moaning as Margaery licked her throat and cupped her tits. She settled on top of her, taking a nipple in her mouth then the other. Jaime uncapped the lube, watching intently when her fingers fluttered to Sansa’s cunt and spread her labia open.

Sansa’s legs bent and squeezed around Margaery’s hand. Still kissing, muffling her mewls, Margaery settled on top of her. She pulled her finger out of Sansa and Jaime caught her hand, licking it clean. She tasted like raw sugar. He hummed in approval and circled the women.

Again they were two writhing bodies, cunts rubbing each other, moans growing richer by the second. Sansa quaked from Margaery’s long, indulgent pulls of her nipple. Brown eyes slid to Jaime as her tongue trailed down Sansa’s stomach. He stared back at her, giving a slight nod of encouragement as he stroked his cock.

He hissed softly from his calloused hand closing around his smooth, hardening shaft. Though he wore the look of calm watching the women, his body got more tensed with every dive of Margaery’s head between Sansa’s breasts, Sansa’s round nails leaving pretty scratches on her shoulders. His thumb swiped firmly around the plump head of his cock when Margaery pressed a little kiss on her cunt before sweeping the lips open again.

When Sansa’s mouth opened to let out another cry, Jaime seized his cock and pushed it inside her. He closed his eyes, thrusting firmly into her while her mouth strained. Her quivering slender throat was a welcome sensation to her moist mouth and tongue. Margaery continued to flay her cunt with tongue, and a hand reached for one of her breasts to pull at her swollen nipple. Jaime took hold of another and twisted it harshly.

Sansa thrashed through their combined assault, trying to roll against Margaery’s face, her hand gripping Jaime’s thigh. He continued fucking her mouth, heedless of the other woman’s pleasure and comfort. Only himself. When he was hard enough, he dragged her by the hair off it.

“Wait—wait—” Sansa protested, reaching for him, looking at Margaery eating her out then back at Jaime. “More—I want—”

“Later,” Jaime told her. “Get on your knees now.”

Margaery let go long enough for Sansa to do as he told. She rose on her knees too, kissing her on the mouth. “He tastes good, doesn’t he?” She whispered, smiling at him.

Sansa nodded, looking hungrily at Jaime. “You should come in my mouth next time.”

“Noted,” he said, smiling as he put the condom on. He knelt behind Margaery, pressing a hand on the small of her narrow back to signal he wanted her on all fours. She slanted another smile at him and obeyed, burying her face in Sansa’s cunt again. Jaime grabbed Sansa by the shoulder to steady her, looking at her intently before smearing lube in and around Margaery’s asshole.

“Keep touching her,” he encouraged Sansa, nodding at Margaery. “Tell her what you want. Her tongue on your clit? Her fingers in your pussy?”

“I want them all,” Sansa exclaimed breathlessly, pushing her fingers through Margaery’s hair. “Do it. I want it.”

 

With Margaery distracted with the next phase of pleasing Sansa, Jaime spread her cheeks open and slowly pressed inside. She tensed instinctively, freezing from kissing Sansa. He put a hand on the small on her back, stilling her. Sansa, catching on what was needed, buried her fingers in Margaery’s hair and pulled her closer to her cunt.

Jaime only had to wait a few seconds to pull out and thrust in Margaery again. Fuck. She was pretty much used back there but no less tight. In and out he went, gripping the silky skin of her ass while looking at Sansa’s mouth falling slack from more kisses and tongue. Her breasts swayed as she thrust back and forth against Margaery, her eyes meeting his stare.

Feeling his imminent release, he suddenly grabbed her. With Margaery’s body between them, his cock fully imbedded in her, he kissed Sansa on the mouth, gripping her by neck and chin to ply her mouth as roughly as he liked. She dragged her lips from the kiss to cry out as she came, her throat trembling under his hand. Jaime’s hold tightened as he spilled into the latex soon after, thrusting into Margaery until spent.

A while later, as Margaery and Sansa slept, Jaime took a shower. His body was heavy and would be grateful to crash on the comfort of the mattress. He actually spent a full ten seconds with his forehead resting against the wall, eyes closed and warm water raining on him. For all his tiredness from preparations concerning the expo and then going on two rounds with he women, he had been restless in bed.

It was not a matter of the crowded space—he had slept with more than two women in a bed before but tonight, the appeal of sleeping between two, perfumed nubile bodies was quick to wear out. He sighed loudly, scrubbing the soap a bit too hard on his arm. Fucking was his favorite way of unwinding after a long day on his feet yelling at staff to not whip the egg whites too hard or giving them hell for the inedible pie crust. Sliding his tongue in the warm mouth of a gorgeous woman, riding hard between legs willing to remain open for as long as he wished—there was no better indulgence on earth.

Jaime was probably the only chef who would want a woman for his last meal. Kissing a sweet, full-lipped mouth. Fucking a dripping cunt. He would be happy to die between the legs of such a woman. And if there was love between them. . .if that was even possible then that was how he would choose to go. In the arms of the woman he loved.

He rinsed, threw on a robe and headed back to the bedroom. Once there, however, all he could do was stand at the foot of the bed. And stare.

All the lights were off except for the pale glow of the moon sneaking between the gaps of the window blinds. Any man would have gladly fallen asleep between women as beautiful as Margaery and Sansa. Any man.

Yet here he was, just looking at what little he could see of their entwined bodies. Remembering the pull of Sansa’s mouth on his cock. The heat of Margaery’s ass. Their tongues and mouths warming his cock as they passed it back and forth with kisses later. Then how they licked them clean following that. He would be eighty years old and it was still the hottest thing he had seen.

He sighed and turned away to leave. In the living room, he tossed the throw pillows to the floor except for one and squeezed himself in the limited space. His body seemed to melt into the leather at once.

Sleep came to him on the next breath. A deep, dreamless sleep that was exactly what he needed. A bomb going off right next to him would most likely be ignored.

And for this reason, he wouldn’t know about the missed phone calls until a few hours later.

 

 

********

With something akin to fire spreading within her body, Brienne gasped and grunted as she felt her orgasm approach. Her fists tore a pillow at the seams, releasing a fluff of feathers. Renly, panting heavily behind her, slammed so hard in her cunt that the entire bed moved and banged against the wall.

She could taste the sweetness of the release. It was at the tip of her tongue. A hell of a hot, hellish tease. She firmed her hands on the pillow, thrusting against Renly as she strived to meet her orgasm halfway.

She shrieked when Renly suddenly moved, dragging her with him until they lay on their sides, her back flat against his chest. Eyes of varying blue met as he pulled her leg up, widening her cunt. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as his cock pushed deeper in her. Cradling her in one arm and the other holding her leg up, he resumed fucking her, his breaths kissing her open mouth. She sent her fingers down to her cunt, to her clit. To play.

“Yes,” Renly hissed, suddenly taking her mouth in a kiss. She kissed him back, rubbing hard circles on her clit as he thrust in and out.

Brienne yanked her mouth from his kiss to shriek as she came, her fingers frantic on her clit. Renly panted against her cheek as he hit his release too, his cock rutting mindlessly in her until he sighed. She let out a breath too, her head falling limp and heavy on the pillow. He stole her breath with another kiss on the mouth.

They grinned at each other, their faces gleaming with sweat. Her fingers caressed his smooth jaw before wearily glancing at his cock, now soft but still inside her. He kissed her again and pulled out. Gratefully, Brienne fell on the bed.

Tired as she was, her eyes warmed with appreciation watching Renly pull off the condom and toss it away. She turned to face him, and he put a hand on her thigh.

“You’re a slob.”

“Proudly.”

Fucking really was the best way to unwind. It was a religion where Brienne was a fairly recent convert, and Renly happy to function as a naughty septon eager to guide her with interludes on the copier, on the desk in his office and then his apartment.

Two days from now, she will be pitching a new campaign for The Golden Company, an exclusive, luxury brand of jewelry. Until Spectrum, through Brienne, made the pitch six years ago about the necessity of advertising, The Golden Company had never done anything close to it except through word of mouth within its very discreet, very rich clientele.

Brienne was only a junior copywriter then, who used to walk past  The Golden Company’s store on her way to work when she was inspired to convince Spectrum to make a pitch. She had wowed her bosses at the advertising agency and from The Golden Company with her copy, the visuals designed according to her instructions and her own market research. It resulted in nailing a seven-million-dollar account for Spectrum and a promotion as art director two years later. The jewelry company’s sales increased by thirty percent too as a result of the advertising.

As a result, Brienne nurtured her relationship with the company. When they called two weeks ago requesting for a new campaign, she had quickly assembled her team to prioritize it.

Another reason was she hoped their pitch, besides pleasing the client, would also mean another promotion. One of Spectrum’s creative directors had left due to a promotion in another company. The position had been vacant for six months and she wanted it.

Creatives and the practical side involved in  a campaign were still exciting for her, but she craved a more supervisory position now. She had gleaned everything to be learned and done as art director and was  angling for a new challenge. Becoming creative director was the juicy challenge she hoped to sink her teeth into, and one she was happy to relieve from Renly. Renly was one of the account managers in Spectrum but due to the vacant position, currently handled its duties too.

Relaxed as she was from fucking, Brienne found herself wide awake an hour later. She glanced at Renly, who now slept with his back facing her. Her eyes warmed looking at the thick, black curs of his hair, the rich, even tan of his body. She would rouse him for another round, but his snore felled her plan.

She threw on his robe and went to the kitchen in search of nibbles.

From the cupboards, she found a package of salt-and-vinegar potato chips. The perfect complement was the ice-cold beer the fridge yielded when she opened it next. She sat at the counter stuffing her mouth with the heavenly, bad-for-your-heart saltiness of the junk food in between swigs of beer, hoping that once satisfied she would rejoin Renly in bed.

Instead, eating and alcohol made her even more restless. She tuned in to Netflix but that only snagged her attention for a few minutes before she was on her feet again, walking and just going around mindlessly. Finally, she made her way to his study. He kept his laptop there and she used it to work sometimes when sleeping over. Sometimes they also looked at porn there together.

Renly’s laptop was open. She clicked a key experimentally and found it had only gone to sleep. She punched in his password, expecting to see the familiar background of a wall of neckties. Instead, she was confronted with an image that at first didn’t make sense to her despite recognizing the logo and every word and every image.

And when she realized what it was, she got all the more confused.

She blinked and clicked the mouse. No. It couldn’t be.

“Hey,” Renly’s sleepy voice startled her, sending a hand to her heart. “Sorry,” he continued, rubbing his eyes. Normally, Brienne would be blushing and all excited seeing such a beautiful, naked man standing less than five feet away from her. “Can’t sleep?”

Brienne looked at the monitor again then him. “Renly, what’s this?”

“What are you talking about?” Now that he was done rubbing his eyes, he directed his clear, navy blue gaze at her.

Wordlessly, she turned the laptop to him. She stood up from behind the desk, crossing her arms as Renly stared at the screen then at her. “Brienne—”

“I thought I was doing the pitch for The Golden Company. They want me to do the pitch, Renly. That has always been the way. One of their requirements when they agreed to do the advertising with us. You gave me and my team the go-ahead for what we will be presenting. I thought it was, ‘As golden as your dreams.’ What’s this thing about. . .” she squinted then read it aloud. “`Our word is as good as gold.’”

Renly hung his head and sighed loudly. “I was hoping to talk to you about this later.”

“Later?”

“Yeah. At breakfast.”

“What’s there to talk about? I’m doing the pitch, Renly. Where did this come from? Who’s doing this?” She gestured angrily at the laptop.

Renly sighed again and reached for her. “Brienne, it’s late. We’ll talk about this in the morning when we’re both rested—”

“No. We’re talking about this now. What’s going on?” When he just stared at her, she spoke again, surprised to find herself break. “Renly. . .Renly, this pitch. . .you have no idea how important it is to me. You know. . .in my last evaluation I made it clear I was hoping for a promotion and wanted to do the work it entailed. I’ve been saying the same thing for two years. This pitch is a lock with The Golden Company, Renly. And I—I hope you and your bosses would see at last. . .I deserve to be creative director.”

She hated how her voice trembled. And hated it more when Renly looked at her with a mix of pity and sympathy. He looked ridiculous with his cock out while staring at her as her the rug was pulled from under her. Hissing in frustration, she grabbed the pillow from the chair and tossed it at him.

“Cover up,” she ordered.

Renly, covering his cock with the pillow, spoke up. “I know you deserve to be creative director, Brienne. But. . .but the  top brass had decided to get Hyle Hunt. Randyll Tarly himself made that decision.”

“Hyle Hunt?” Brienne couldn’t believe it. “Renly, that man is just a fucking senior copywriter from another agency. And they loathe him. Why. . .” She shook her head and declared, “I’m art director. I’m next in line for creative director.”

“Randyll Tarly would like to transfer you to the athletic and leisure department. They don’t have an art director right now.”

Randyll Tarly was CFO of Spectrum. Though he wasn’t president, he had enough power regarding who got hired, fired and stayed on. Brienne knew for a fact that he had not been too keen to hire her when word got around that she was the new junior copywriter. He was a hardcore traditionalist who still believed women were only good for secretarial positions and not much else. It explained why there were few women in the agency in supervisory positions.

Brienne enjoyed advertising and gobbled up trends, studied what she could from fields related to it. Besides copywriting, she had also worked as a photographer’s assistant, took classes in food styling and finished an MBA. While these things was often met with approval from others, Randyll Tarly viewed it as overly ambitious.

“Beer and footlocker division,” Brienne growled. “That’s not my area and you know it. I’ve always been luxury and indulgence, Renly. Why am I being transferred? Who will take over my position?”

Renly looked at her. “Podrick Payne.”

Her copywriter. A diligent, earnest man who made a great sparring partner when bouncing off wild campaigns with imaginary companies. Brienne didn’t know whether to be pleased that a person she mentored was moving up or that this same person was going to take over her position.

“This doesn’t make sense. My campaigns from various clients have netted Spectrum at least twenty-five million dragons in revenue. That’s just me, Renly. Me. It’s my name every prospective client hears of behind a campaign, my pitch that they want. I’m not asking to be god of fucking Spectrum. I just want the position I’ve worked hard for all these years. Six years, Renly. Six years.”

“Brienne. . .I don’t control Randyll Tarly, okay? He wants you in that other division and there’s nothing I can do.”

“Nothing you can do? You’re my boyfriend!”

Renly looked away.

Brienne felt sick. “I don’t believe this. You pursued me. I told you it’s not right, but you still pursued me until I caved. I was so fucking stupid. I learned to care for you because I thought you cared for me too—”

“Of course I care about you, Brienne!”

“Then why didn’t you fight for me? Why don’t you believe in me?”

“Baby, I believe in you, you know that. You’re nothing short of amazing. Most women would have run screaming in the other direction when their boyfriend tells them he’s bi—”

“Fuck the bloody gods, Renly. This isn’t about you. This is about us. My boyfriend claiming to care for me when he took part in screwing me over!”

In her anger, Brienne suddenly grabbed the laptop. Renly yelled but it was too late. He could only duck out of the way as she threw it at him. It cracked upon hitting the wall, shattered in two when crashed to the floor. Wiring, jagged glass and bits of steel and plastic lay exposed on the carpet.

She scowled at him as he stared aghast at the scattered pieces of the computer  before turning back to her.  

“No wonder that fucking campaign reeks. I’d bet that was Hyle’s first project with the agency, isn’t it? ‘Our word is as good as gold’—pitch that to the Golden Company and let’s see if they won’t take their business elsewhere.”

She stormed past him and headed back to the bedroom. Her strides remained swift and sure even as Renly came after her. “You can’t take any clients from the agency, Brienne, and you know it. You do that and you’ll have an ugly lawsuit in your hands. Do you want that on top of destroying private property?”

Brienne glared at him. “How would you like it if I go to the press and tell them my boss still pursued me even when I told him many times I wasn’t interested?”

“Everyone knows we’re fucking, Brienne,” he scoffed.

“But do they know that you used the company credit card when we had that weekend at Dorne?”

She smirked as Renly shut up. She went back to the bedroom, flinging off his robe and picking up her clothes. Renly could only watch her. He still held the pillow below his waist.

“Where are you going?”

“Do you honestly think I will stay here for another minute after what you’ve just done? That I will still fuck you after you screwed me over?”

She shoved her dress on, pushed her feet into the stilettos and grabbed her phone and purse from the nightstand. She stomped to the hall closet to grab her coat, covering the dress left unzipped at the back.

“Brienne, come on. It doesn’t have to end like this. You still have a job. And you can give it another try. I’m sorry, I should have fought for you. But it’s done, baby. It’s done.”

Brienne finished belting her coat closed and turned to him. Her eyes were blue ice. “You’re right. It’s done.”

Renly opened his arms. “Come here. Come on. We can talk about this.”

Her lips curled and she reached for the door. “Consider this my two weeks’ notice, Renly. Effective immediately. I will send for my things at the office before the end of the week.”

“Brienne—”

She walked out and slammed the door behind her. Then hurried down the hallway, ignoring the elevator. Instead she went for the fire escape. Climbing down seven flights of stairs in stilettos would calm her. Probably.

In theory, it should. Concentrating putting one foot in front of the other, keeping her balance in the blasted, three-inch high things. But by the time she reached the fifth floor, her ankles were too wobbly. With a wail, she sank on a step, shaking. She hugged herself, a hand over her mouth to muffle her whimpers.

Every time she cared for someone, for something, her heart was dragged through the mud.

She hated it when the tears began to fall. And wanted to kick herself as sobs left her mouth. She wanted to cling to anger, to hatred, but hurt was a fast, efficient motherfucker. There was nothing she could do. Nothing to do but hug herself and cry.

As she trembled and sobbed, her phone rang. “No,” she moaned. Please don’t let it be Renly. No. Not Renly. Not Renly. She took the phone from her bag and swiped the screen to answer.

“H-Hello?”

 “Hi, Brienne.” A familiar voice said from the other line. “It’s—It’s Gilly.”

Her dad’s nurse. “Gilly.” She sniffed and sat up. “Gilly, is dad okay? Why are you calling?”

“I’m sorry, Brienne. I’m so sorry—”

“What---” she started to say and then it hit her. Gilly’s quiet sobbing confirmed what it meant.

This time, Brienne let out a broken, pained wail.