For those you following it, the little Round Robin fic featuring Geoffrey as the Marquis de Sade in "Quills" has been updated!:-) Chapter 1 is expertly written by Rushysgirl, and Chapter 2 is written by myself, who is very much hoping I have complimented the wonderful efforts put forth by RG!:-) Here is the link to Chapters 1 and 2:

http://movies.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600091360&chapter=1

Comments are always welcomed! Please let us know what you think! If we "move" you, we'd love to know it, so we can do it again!;-)

Grace

I don't know if any of you Barbossabeth fans out there missed this story or not, but you really should check out "His Pirate Bride" by Scarlett_O!  Here's a link (you might have to cut and paste this into your browser): http://movies.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600091280  (Okay, the link won't work...so, she's at aff.net in the Pirates of the Carribean category, under Barbossa.  She's also at barbossabeth a smart match, barbossafic, and if you click on her icon, it will take you to her page where you can read it in her journal!)

This story is worth the read, and the sex scene won't let you down!  I'm not sure why more of us haven't read this!  Just thought I'd get the word out.  Be sure to leave Scarlett a comment!

Thanks!

Grace

From one thing to another...yeah, still graphic...the next best thing to being there.:-)

Pairing: B/E
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters
Chapter 4 Description: Barbossa and his prisoner Elizabeth trade places.
Link to Chapter 1-4: http://movies.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600091191

Thanks again for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Comments do make the writer!

A Pirates of the Carribean Fic
Pairing: Barbossa/Elizabeth
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters
Description: Barbossa rescues Elizabeth and uses it to his advantage.

Parlait: Chapter 2


Barbossa ignored her, moving over and taking a seat at his charts, picking up a compass and beginning to trace some mysterious course as if nothing had ever happened. But he knew well that she stood there, scowling at him, wanting to spit fire at him. It was hard to fight the smile that kept pulling his lips back, but he did. Harder still to fight was the erection coming more and more to life against his thigh.

How dare he? How utterly disgusting of him to cast her off, just like that? Tell her to ‘get out?’ It was he who brought her in here, it was he who took her aboard ‘The Reproach,’ it was he who cut down three men in the tavern to rescue her from that humiliating cage! It was he who’d forced her, made her, against her will, pressed the most dreadful of kisses to her mouth, and made her…no, she wouldn’t think of that again! But he would hear it for turning her out, in fact, perhaps she would turn him out! She straightened her posture, gathered her indignity into that which hell hath no fury like. “Captain Barbossa—“

“Departure be a simple action,” He didn’t look up, just sat there coolly plotting an imaginary course, almost as if talking aloud to himself. “It begins by puttin’ one foot behind the other.”

“And what if I won’t go?” The words leapt from her mouth and in that instant Elizabeth knew she was stupid. Stupid…he’d wanted this to happen, he’d toyed with her until she stood there saying that she refused to leave him. How was it possible that anyone could be so infused with such an evil, cunning charisma?

Barbossa lay the compass down gently, taking his time as he swiveled his chair around to face her, elbows resting on the wooden arms and his hands leaned one against the other in front of him as if in prayer. Good, that bit of breaking her mind had been easier than he’d thought. “If yer of a notion to stay, then y’ll make a better sight of yerself for me.”

He gestured towards a trunk at the foot of his bunk, and even though Elizabeth was certain of what she’d find within it, she turned, stooped down and opened it. Sure enough, the maroon dress. In a strange sort of way, nostalgia washed over her, like coming home to a place she’d nearly forgotten ever having been. She was so certain and so afraid the first time she wore that dress, so sure that this grizzled old salt of the sea pirate had rape on his mind. He of course couldn’t then; but he could now, and she’d even verbally refused to leave and remove herself from that threat. Did that somehow equate to her having asked him to defile her in his mind? Is that what he thought?

This damn dress…what was it about this dress that bound him so? Or was it merely some other prop he was using to manipulate her into thinking, or feeling, or wanting something? She remembered the last time she wore this dress, standing there on a plank, suspended out over the ocean, noticing irritably how Barbossa stood with his crew, still eyeing her as if rape had not been beyond him at the time. “Seems a pity to waste somethin’ so fine,” he’d said, eyes traveling her body, and for a moment Elizabeth was sickened to realize she appreciated that he thought so. And then the bastard had smirked and demanded the dress back. Oh! At that moment she still didn’t know who she was angrier with; Barbossa for making a joke of her, or herself, for wishing he’d actually considered her “something so fine.” No! This dress would not incorporate her into some sort of sick folly once again! She took it up and clutched it in an irate fist, digging her nails into the fabric and threw it across his lap. “And what if I don’t want to wear it?”

A deep laugh built in Barbossa’s chest, but he sustained it, unable though to stop his eyebrows from rising up with his bemusement. Was this truly happening? He hadn’t even purposefully tried to make her say that! He looked down at the dress and casually brushed it off his lap. “Well,” he sighed and looked at Elizabeth, who glowered at him like she was daring him to even so much as drape her in the maroon silk. He stood, stepped close to her, put his hands softly on her shoulders. Quickly, he thought, move quickly and treacherously and have it done before she has time to even notice. “If yer preference be to wear nothin’, then nothin’ it shall be!”

Fabric had never ripped so quickly or so thoroughly. His strong hands and long fingers seemed to turn to claws, and he pawed the flimsy muslin chemise off her body in nearly two full pieces, winding them around his hands and then flinging them across the cabin. She was naked before she knew it, and before she even had the opportunity to cover any part of herself, Barbossa covered her, with his body. His mouth taking hers, biting her lower lip to the point of numbness, his arms around her waist as tightly as they ever had been, but his hands dropping lower and lower. An indubitable shape and stiffness tried to bore into her ribs, making Barbossa growl deeper and deeper with each twitch of her besieged body. Elizabeth struggled, but it had suddenly grown so dark…her eyes…she’d closed her eyes…and then felt his hands smooth over the round globes of her ass, and he began to lift her from the floor, forcing her legs to part around his narrow waist.

“No!” She managed to shout at him when his mouth left her lips and trailed down to her neck as he leaned them both forward, letting his weight crush her against his bunk, her legs spread wide around him. She lay trapped beneath his mass and his hunger, balling up her fists and beating him against his shoulder blades and back, but there must have been too much hard spun muscle there for him to be effected. He had her pinned now, utterly pinned, and one of his hands reached down between them, she could feel him pulling at his belt. This could not happen, what would she ever do if this were to happen? “No!” She said to him again, but this time it was more of a pitiful wail than an order, though she stopped short of allowing herself to cry. “Stop this perverse affinity for taking what is Jack’s!”

That was enough to make Barbossa suddenly halt his advances and look down at her, eye to eye. “Be that what ye think this is, Missy Sparrow?”

She’d distracted him, but he was going to do this to her, there was no escaping it, she could tell from the look of carnal intention in his ever darkening eyes. He kept his pelvis thrust forward against her body, and Elizabeth wasn’t exactly sure if the throbbing she felt through to her very core was her own heart, or his rigid organ. “Why then?”

“It could be many reasons, my sweet,” Barbossa knew he should just keep going, get his cock free of his breeches and plunder her, there was a lack of blood to his brain, his concentration was altered by the physical demands of that which made him male, his usual gift for the ministration of words as a weapon was not at full power. And yet, he kept talking. “It may be because I can. It may perchance be due to how that husband ‘a yers gives ye too long a leash,” he paused, had to shift, had to get his cock out for it spasmed so against his thigh, dampening the material of his breeches with an ooze of urgent need to hone his length into Elizabeth fierce and true. His head spun momentarily as he cast a quick glance over his shoulder towards the pile of maroon silk on the floor and then back down at his wide eyed captive. “Mostly it be the cause of that havin’ been meant as yer weddin’ dress!”

“What?” But there wasn’t even time for Elizabeth to gasp completely before the blunt head of Barbossa’s cock was bullying against her vulva, pushing hard all the way down to her drawn tight opening. No! No! Don’t let him, she wasn’t ready, didn’t want to be ready, did it not matter to him that she wasn’t at least wet? Jack had always went on about how good it felt, the wetter she was. Elizabeth tried to move, tried to push against him, but couldn’t get her arms free, and then it was too late. She’d felt something like a pinch at her entrance first, Barbossa’s finger, prying her open, and then she felt as she had the very first time Jack took her virgin body fully, the pain and the burning sensation as he forced himself within her had been nearly identical, and Barbossa groaned so lowly and deeply above her she could feel it reverberating against her own chest. She’d only ever been beneath one man in her life, and he was not like this man, not as big, not as strong, not as wonderfully heavy above her. Oh, that groan, the sound of pleasure as a man was taking it from her body, one of her greatest weaknesses!

She was so tight, as if he’d hit a wall, but the feeling made him need more, and he kept thrusting forward, out of breath and growling. He hated to admit it, but his body trembled under the strain and pursuit of having her, the pleasure it brought nearly making a school boy of him again. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Barbossa swore he could feel her beginning to well up with hot slickness, if he could only reach it. He growled again and jammed himself forward, only to have Elizabeth wince and retreat beneath him.

The pressure was dangerous and fabulous, she knew she was losing this fight, not so much the one against Barbossa as much as the one with herself; there was a voice within her head, like a parent screaming to a child, ‘come back from that edge,’ but like a child, Elizabeth paid no attention. She blamed her primal needs, but damn she wanted to know what it felt like to be taken by Captain Hector Barbossa! If he’d only give her a moment, let her move; he held her down and stabbed at her so viciously that her body was stunned, locked up, choked on his. “Wait,” she breathed, “ease back.”

He was barely able to note that she sounded more in need of rest than she was panic stricken. His cock swelled and thrummed so badly the ache was spreading to his balls, all he wanted was to be inside her, “No quarter, missy!” He took more of his weight on his knees, slipping his arm under the small of her back, lifting her bottom off the mattress and pulling her against him hard and driving her more onto the spike of him, but it wasn’t enough. “Slacken up that quinny!” He snarled, and swiftly slapped her across her smooth buttocks with his sweaty palm.

The loud, crisp crack and the sudden burn of a slap jolted her body and Elizabeth stiffened, but then as if magic, relaxed and fell against him as he knelt there, holding her onto him. He popped inside of her suddenly, making them both exhale quickly and harshly, their bodies greeting one another with a mix of fulfilled need and furthered desperation. She held all of him now, for he’d stopped trying to force himself in, and Elizabeth shivered at the feeling of the man between her legs; she’d now bedded two men in her lifetime, and both were legends. The thought made her shudder and her dampening channel squeezed around his full cock, making him moan and bite her shoulder. She could feel all of him now and could tell that despite being taller, brawnier and stronger than Jack, that he was not hung like Jack. For that Elizabeth was thankful, she knew right away that this would not be gentle. He was thick though, and hard, perhaps the hardest cock she’d ever been impaled with.

Elizabeth was beyond fighting this now, she just wanted it, wanted him…broad shoulders, broad chest, not like Jack…she’d glimpsed Barbossa’s chest through his shirt before in the lamplight, but now she wanted to see it in full view. She grabbed his shirt in her hands and began to pull it away from his skin, seeing more and of his red chest hair, but Barbossa wanted to move, gave another growl as her fingers crossed his skin, and threw her onto her back, sinking himself as deep inside her as he could go. The sheer power of him made Elizabeth cry out, she tried still to remove his shirt, she’d hardly seen his body and wanted to; if not for having undone his breeches enough to set free his raging erection, he’d still be completely dressed. It wasn’t fair!

Barbossa no longer had a strategy for what he did, he allowed the instinct of a man, the instinct of a pirate, to take over, and began to thrust so hard and fast the sound of it filled the cabin. She felt better than he’d imagined she would, but with a bit less fight, however he was finding that he didn’t mind at all. She took all he had in the most delightful way, the head of his cock throbbing within her in time with his racing heart; he offered a quick word of appreciation to Calypso, for it was she who had resurrected him with that touch of stamina usually associated with younger men. He ground into her with more and more, astounded to feel that Elizabeth’s young body matched him and met him at every thrust, tightening around him when she could, holding him as long as he would allow her to before he tore himself from her sheath, to plow back in again, where she again gripped him. Barbossa had died once, and was close to doing so again, not even the best whores, the most expensive of whores, went after a man’s cock this way. And she moaned so, louder than himself and all his chesty grunts and grumbles, her legs wrapping around him, but he was too strong and too crazed to be held by her in any fashion. The head of his cock bristled within her, the sweet friction of her sheath traveling up his shaft, setting his balls pulsating in between their wanton bodies. He reached for her hands, pinning them down on the mattress, not wanting her to move away from him now, not now, not when he was so close.

Elizabeth’s heart couldn’t beat any faster, and her body couldn’t take anymore without coming undone in orgasm. She’d found her rhythm against his and had only to lie back and let him ride her to this point of spastic ecstasy that was approaching faster and faster. She couldn’t move at all anymore, he was too much on her, chasing his own quarry, giving her more of a thrashing than he had before, his thick, heavy cock moving more into her than out, demanding more space as it grew fatter and fatter. He was cumming too, about to awash her inside, she was making him cum! Tension wound and wound within her at the thought and she bucked up against him as much as possible, wanting to feel more of his cock, more of his body, damning the amount of clothing he still wore, and struck with a sudden and severe urge to suck his gorged prick, hard.

Barbossa came apart with a grunt usually reserved for battle as the bottom dropped out of the tension controlling his body, sending three long, strong jets of his decadence deep within Elizabeth’s channel. She lay there, shuddering beneath him, convulsing around him, her teeth chattering and her lips trembling as if she meant to whisper something to him. Her eyes remained closed and she arched her back off the bunk, her hard nipples barely scraping against his shirt and Barbossa felt her convulse around his softening organ again as she moaned quietly, tilting her head back and exposing her throat fully. Barbossa smiled, feeling victorious as he watched her, her bared throat indicated her submission to him, and then she writhed beneath him again, sucked in a ragged breath between parted lips and convulsed around him once more, still in the throws.

There was only one thing missing from this moment of perfect carnal sin, something he’d purposefully neglected during their cathouse style coupling. He hadn’t been sure she’d be accepting of it, and he for one had not deemed her worthy of it, until now. Just as her eyes fluttered open, he leaned down and kissed her, softly, letting go of her only to have her arms wrap around him and her lips move against his until the tip of her tongue begged the caress of his own. He slid his arms beneath her back and held her closer, letting her kiss him this time. He’d known she would give in this way, but now he found himself wondering, what did it mean?

mood: anxious tags: "parlait" chapter 2

Since there was some trouble getting to the story on the other site, I put it here...

A Pirates of the Carribean Fic
Pairing: Barbossa/Elizabeth
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters
Description: Barbossa rescues Elizabeth and uses it to his advantage.

Parlait: Chapter 1

What did he want? She didn’t like the way he leaned there against the table, didn’t like the way his arms were crossed over his chest. That posture only made him seem more menacing, for he stood that way to of course seem relaxed, despite how it emphasized the broadness of his shoulders and chest, made him look even bigger and stronger than he was…or perhaps there was no false advertisement; he was the only man Elizabeth had ever encountered who could make others so aware of his physical power with a mere flick of his wrist. And the way he was dressed, she didn’t like that either. He didn’t wear his coat, or his vest. A faded black scarf was tied over his head, the hat that made it impossible not to notice him lay on a chair. And yet she couldn’t help but notice him. The flickering lamplight wrestled over his body like a creature hungry to touch all parts of him, and Elizabeth’s eyes betrayed her good sense not to watch such an intimate display of shadows. He was bigger than Jack, she’d always known that, taller, broader at the chest and shoulders, had thicker arms. Her eyes wandered from his boots, up the long, strong lines of his legs to the transparent muslin of his shirt. She studied him as any woman would a man, was startled to see that despite being some years Jack’s senior, the body of a warrior still remained, strapping and capable. She wondered, did his flesh feel as hardbound as it appeared on his bones? Would it arch powerfully against her palm if she were to run her fingers through the red curls of chest hair she could see through his shirt. What?!!

“Three days sail?” Elizabeth repeated, but then was sorry she’d sounded stunned and unsettled and searched for a way to ground herself and clear her head. “We’re three days sail from The Pearl, if Jack isn’t already setting course to come for me, that is, Captain!” She informed him haughtily.

Barbossa only smiled smugly and stroked his beard. “And it be very forgivin’ of Jack to come after ye in spite of how ye ran away from him, wouldn’t it now, Missie Sparrow ?”

Elizabeth got to her feet fuming. She didn’t want to be reminded of her ordeal in Tortuga, the one Barbossa had rescued her from. She loved Jack, she truly did, but there just times when they each needed their space. “I didn’t ‘run away’ from Jack! I just wanted to have to rely upon myself and only myself for a time!”

“Hmm,” Barbossa still looked smug. “And so when I came to find ye hangin’ in that cage like an overgrown songbird, I suppose that was you relyin’ entirely upon yourself, then?”

“Captain, I will not—“ she’d begun to yell, but cut herself off, realizing she’d only look like a fool. Barbossa likely new the story of her predicament; she was running out of money, gambled away what she had left, and then in an attempt to win at least something back in a card game, had gambled her own womanly body, only to lose on the very next hand and end up the possession of some sweaty, greasy tavern owner, who had locked his new prize in a large hanging cage, an actual cage!

Since his first meeting with her, Barbossa had been spellbound by the girl’s moxie and her high and mighty attitude. He’d never before met a woman more afflicted with free will, more difficult to intimidate, or more hopelessly out of any man’s control. He’d never seen himself with any woman, at least, not in a traditional family sense, but a woman like this one gave him thoughts. He admired her, at times was even in awe of her. And yet, the supreme irony was that his greatest desire in life was to destroy that which he loved so much about her; to take her and grind every ounce of spirit, courage, pride and fortitude out of her, and make the pretty little shrew love it so much that she begged him never to stop. Rescuing her from that cage had been the perfect opportunity.

Her anger was something that inflamed him like nothing else did. He’d always dreamed of intruding himself upon her and fantasized about how she would rant and rave and bite and scratch. Barbossa lived to put down such a rebellion! She was already angry, and yelling at him, but why let her think she had the upper hand? He kicked a chair out of his way with a hard slam of his boot and in one giant stride stood directly in front of her, grabbing her by her slim shoulders and shaking her. “You won’t what?” He demanded, yelling in her face, trying deliberately to frighten her and feeling his pulse quicken when her body jumped at the sudden shock and her eyes went wide.

He towered over her with a promise of strength in his large hands that he could easily crush her to bits. Elizabeth was too startled to breathe, but fought to contain herself, not let him know how much he scared her. Her first instinct was to push him away and foolishly she tried to, struggling against him and losing her breath. “Let go of me!” But oh, she was touching him, her palms flat against the thin gauzy material that separated his solid chest from her fingertips, the heat from his body burning in her blood now. No! No! What was she losing herself to?

“This be my ship, miss! I be givin’ the orders.” He tightened his grip on her shoulders, took a half step closer, bringing her body closer to his and had to steady himself. Elizabeth exhaled a frightened breath and he could taste it on his lips.

“If you touch me, Jack will—“ Jack, think of Jack, she willed herself too. She’d been married to Jack for over a year now, and though she came to him a virgin bride, he’d well taught her how a man’s body responded to a woman’s; damn if she weren’t seeing that response from Barbossa now. His eyes were dilated, a light sweat clinging to his skin, his breath and pulse rapid, and dare she admit that she’d noticed, but his thin shirt pocked by his hardened nipples.

“Jack?” Barbossa laughed heartily, sensing that as afraid and as disgusted by his behavior as she was, she was also looking at him, assessing the male specimen he was. “Jack’s no match even for you, now is he, Elizabeth?”

“He killed you once!” She reminded him, but her remark only made Barbossa’s strong hands grab hold of her trim waist and he pulled her so roughly against him she nearly screamed, turning her head away from him, not wanting him to be able to look her in the eyes when she could so prominently feel his belt buckle pressing above her navel. Did she feel anything else?

She had the most remarkable ability to say that which made him even more heated than he was, and again, he loved it about her. “There be no Jack to save ye here and now!” He growled and wrapped one arm around the small of her back, violently taking her by the chin with his other hand and wrenching her face towards his. “Y’ll look at me when I speak to ye, girl!”

She fought him; he could feel it, this little slip of a thing actually trying to pry herself away from him, to keep her head turned towards the door of his cabin. He would have laughed had he not been in such a passionate and angry throw. The moment he could see her pink lips he lunged at her and kissed her with a furious and bruising force, swallowing the scream her taut mouth tried to let escape. She tasted of panic and torment, he felt her small hands clawing at his back, her feet stamped upon his insteps, it was exquisite! He tightened his hold on her, kissed her harder, jacked her lower jaw down with his hand and pushed his tongue deep into her mouth, allowing himself to experience the brief shudder of excitement that rolled over him without trying to hide it.

Bite down! Bite down! A voice in Elizabeth’s head screamed over and over again, but her body would not obey. Fighting him was of no use, she’d never come up against a man so strong, and she was losing her own strength. What could she do? She had but a split second to think of something, and in that split second her body gave up its fight and she stood there, letting Barbossa have his way with her mouth, his red mustache and beard tickling her upper lip, chin and neck, his tongue moving nearly at the back of her throat, cutting off her air. She felt dizzy, needed a breath, for he held her against him so tightly that all the air had been squeezed from her lungs. Passing out was not an option, not with him. Some small whimpering noise escaped her as she attempted once more to break free, but he held her with the intensity of a snake coiled around its prey. He was strong, so strong, and bigger than Jack, rougher than Jack, and in a way she abhorred to admit exciting, demanded more from her than Jack. If he’d just give her a moments breath? Just a tiny gulp of air? She could think if she could only get that breath; she could concentrate on…the muscle of his broad chest was hard and strong as the iron sides of a warship…his beard, it tickled her neck…

The silly little minx probably didn’t realize she was beginning to return his kiss now. Her lips were full and moist under his, her tongue not active against his own, but she hung there at his mouth, allowing herself to be explored. Barbossa heard himself growl and then hoped the sound hadn’t awakened her from this trance she’d fallen into. But Elizabeth didn’t move to pull away, not until he relented first, pulled back momentarily, taking his lips away from hers for only an instant, seeing, hearing and feeling her draw in a quick breath, and then to his utter amazement, it was she who fused her mouth back to his, lips parted. This had been unexpected indeed, but what happened next was not.

Oxygen flooded Elizabeth’s sleepy brain and what she’d done crashed down upon her like a rogue wave. With adrenaline fueled strength, she ripped her body free of his, scowled and slapped him harder than she’d ever hit anyone before in her life, the slap itself so vicious it stung her own hand. She stood out of breath and shaking, more afraid now than she was at any other moment tonight, but it was not solely Barbossa that scared her so badly. It was herself too.

He hadn’t expected her to strike him with quite so much enthusiasm, it had impressed him, caused him to bring his hand up to his cheek and press against his skin until the stinging ceased, noting a faint taste of blood at the corner of his mouth. He smiled with great amusement, his desire overtaking him…oh this girl…she would pay! “Well, now,” if he sounded pleased, he was, but that didn’t stop him from raising his hand and returning her the favor.

His open hand struck her and knocked her backwards, her face burned, but Elizabeth knew she’d gotten off lucky. And then he captured her again, pulled her closer than was comfortable, kissing her throbbing lips and worrying them with his tongue as if to ease away the pain. She hadn’t actually believed that hitting him would put him off…why had she done it? Because she’d kissed him, that was why…because she’d felt herself begin to think, “such a man,” and swoon. Jack, think of Jack…she missed Jack…Barbossa’s tongue slipped back into her mouth…Jack…she wanted him here so badly…Barbossa, still strong against her, but not quite as forceful as before, stroking her stiffened tongue with his…Jack had never hit her…she was being pulled even more into the powerful form that held her…oh what Jack would do when she told him that Barbossa had struck her…Barbossa, pulling her knee up to his hip and grinding the unmistakable hardness of his arousal against her, her arms locking around his neck…Jack…her neck kissed and sucked hard as that red beard bristled over it…Jack!

Barbossa had never fancied himself blessed with any sixth sense, but he could read Elizabeth’s thoughts nonetheless. He nearly had her, not that she was ready to go willingly, but he didn’t want that anyway. He wanted her to fight him; he wanted her to be the insurmountable force of nature he’d come to know her as, but he had to keep her hooked on enough that she no longer sought escape. And how did any gentleman encourage the attentions of a lady who played hard to get? Why, by feigning loss of interest, of course. It was now he who tore himself away from her, spinning her out of his arms so quickly she fell to the floor and looked up at him astonished, confused and somewhat disappointed.

“Y’ll not be kissin’ me and thinkin’ a him!” He spat at her, and turned his back to her, pushing his broad shoulders out as far they would go, letting her see the powerful “V” shape of his torso. “Get out!”

“What do you mean?” What had she said? Elizabeth clamored to her feet, angrily rubbing the sore elbow that had broken her fall. Was he really letting her go? Just like that? Was she really going?

mood: anxious tags: "parlait" chapter 1