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Slow Train to Chattanooga

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“How long does it take to get past Charlotte again?”

Scarlett’s come up off of his cock to ask him this, her eager hands moving in rhythm to the chugging of the train.

“Preferably after you finish,” he says, tugging at her hair.

“Oh Rhett,” she sighs, her fingers speeding up as she frowns. “I want to be ready when we stop! I’ll miss all of the…” She rocked into his heavy grip. “…Sights!”

“I assure you,” he says dryly, the pad of his thumb making gentle circles against her clit. “Chattanooga will not disappear in the amount of time it will take for us to finish congress.”

She shot him one of those come-hither looks, looking for all the world like an alley cat in heat. “You won’t last past the next stop!”

He tackled her to the bed. “Time me,” he challenged.

Her cry was swallowed by the train’s low whistle.