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Her arms were crossed over her chest, not from modesty, but from the sheer, simmering energy of waiting. The scent of creosote, hot metal, and coal dust was her perfume, the only thing covering her.\n\nOutside and across the river, low locomotive whistle echoed, a familiar, appreciative sound that made her heart hammer against her ribs. Boots thudded on the plank floor, heavy and deliberate, each step a promise. There he was, the Irish wolfhound. Chief. Her man. His gaze was a physical weight, scraping over her from the soles of her bare feet to the flush heating her neck. He took his time, his eyes lingering on the slender curve of her waist, the fierce jut of her hips, the way her crossed arms pushed her modest bust together, creating a shadowed valley he knew intimately.\n\n“I see you started without me,” he rumbled, his voice like gravel under a heavy wheel.\n\n“I got tired of waiting in my clothes.” She stood up and uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her sides in a gesture of defiant exposure. The cool air pebbled her pierced nipples into tight, aching points. Let him look. Let him see what his lateness has cost him.\n\nHe stopped a few feet from her, close enough she could smell the faint, clean scent of soap on his skin, a contrast to the grime of the railyard he commanded. His eyes, dark and hungry, finally locked with hers. “You’re a vision, Missy. Better than any painting.”\n\nA hot flush, entirely different from the one of annoyance, spread across her chest. She held his stare, her chin tilting up. This was their game. Her boldness against his command. Her fire against his iron will.\n\n“You talk too much,” she breathed, the challenge clear.\n\nA slow, predatory smile touched his lips. “Is that so?” He closed the final distance, the rough denim of his trousers brushing against her thigh. He didn’t touch her, not yet. His hands stayed at his sides, clenched into loose fists. The anticipation was a live wire between them. “You want me to do something about it?”\n\nHer pulse raced. Yes. The word screamed in her head, but her pride wouldn’t let it out. She gave a slight, jerky nod, her eyes dropping to the prominent bulge straining against the front of his trousers.\n\n“Use your words, Missy.” His voice dropped, a low command that vibrated right through her core. “Tell me what you need. That brilliant mind of yours must have a precise instruction for me.”\n\nShe swallowed, her mouth dry. “I need you,” she whispered, the crude word feeling both shocking and right. “I need you to stop looking and start touching.”\n\n“Where?” he prompted, his hand rising to hover just beside her breast, the heat from his palm radiating onto her sensitive skin.\n\n“Everywhere,” she gasped, her bravado crumbling under the sheer force of his focused attention. “and I want it, now.”[/i]", "description_bbcode_parsed": "“You’re late.” The words cut through the hot summer air of the riverside cabin, sharp and impatient.

Aleu stood bare on the worn wooden stool, her skin prickling in the cool dusk filtering through the high windows. Her arms were crossed over her chest, not from modesty, but from the sheer, simmering energy of waiting. The scent of creosote, hot metal, and coal dust was her perfume, the only thing covering her.

Outside and across the river, low locomotive whistle echoed, a familiar, appreciative sound that made her heart hammer against her ribs. Boots thudded on the plank floor, heavy and deliberate, each step a promise. There he was, the Irish wolfhound. Chief. Her man. His gaze was a physical weight, scraping over her from the soles of her bare feet to the flush heating her neck. He took his time, his eyes lingering on the slender curve of her waist, the fierce jut of her hips, the way her crossed arms pushed her modest bust together, creating a shadowed valley he knew intimately.

“I see you started without me,” he rumbled, his voice like gravel under a heavy wheel.

“I got tired of waiting in my clothes.” She stood up and uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her sides in a gesture of defiant exposure. The cool air pebbled her pierced nipples into tight, aching points. Let him look. Let him see what his lateness has cost him.

He stopped a few feet from her, close enough she could smell the faint, clean scent of soap on his skin, a contrast to the grime of the railyard he commanded. His eyes, dark and hungry, finally locked with hers. “You’re a vision, Missy. Better than any painting.”

A hot flush, entirely different from the one of annoyance, spread across her chest. She held his stare, her chin tilting up. This was their game. Her boldness against his command. Her fire against his iron will.

“You talk too much,” she breathed, the challenge clear.

A slow, predatory smile touched his lips. “Is that so?” He closed the final distance, the rough denim of his trousers brushing against her thigh. He didn’t touch her, not yet. His hands stayed at his sides, clenched into loose fists. The anticipation was a live wire between them. “You want me to do something about it?”

Her pulse raced. Yes. The word screamed in her head, but her pride wouldn’t let it out. She gave a slight, jerky nod, her eyes dropping to the prominent bulge straining against the front of his trousers.

“Use your words, Missy.” His voice dropped, a low command that vibrated right through her core. “Tell me what you need. That brilliant mind of yours must have a precise instruction for me.”

She swallowed, her mouth dry. “I need you,” she whispered, the crude word feeling both shocking and right. “I need you to stop looking and start touching.”

“Where?” he prompted, his hand rising to hover just beside her breast, the heat from his palm radiating onto her sensitive skin.

“Everywhere,” she gasped, her bravado crumbling under the sheer force of his focused attention. “and I want it, now.”", "writing": "", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "", "pools_count": 0, "title": "You’re late", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/png", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "1", "type_name": "Picture/Pinup", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "14" }