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Quick-tempered Alliser Thorne, who ruled the drivers of Raven Express for close to twenty years, was finally terminated after being caught on camera kicking a dog viciously on his way back to the truck after dropping off a package. The dog’s owner threatened a lawsuit. Local news picked up the incident. Raven Express was a trusted and successful courier delivery service. It refused to have its name sullied and the dog was the last straw. An hour after Alliser Thorne cleared his locker, the remaining staff celebrated with chocolate cake.
His old route was given to Brienne, then just starting out but already with one, and thankfully, just one, run-in with the unpleasant former employee. She kept to herself although she was on smiling basis with Samwell Tarly and she and Jon Snow knew each other because his girlfriend Ygritte was her flatmate. Their boss, Jeor Mormont, was impressed with Brienne’s six-foot-three height and her big, powerful body. Thus, huge and often fragile deliveries were assigned to her. But always within reason.
Jaime Lannister was part of Alliser Thorne’s old route. This was how they met. Brienne parked the black-and-white Raven Express truck in front of his house. She straightened her black cap, made sure her black polo shirt was without visible white flecks and her khaki shorts wrinkle-free. Her Nightwatch sneakers, sturdy, comfortable, very expensive but necessary, were also black. She went to the back of the truck to retrieve a small box for Mr. Jaime Lannister and walked up the curving path to his front door. She raised the lion’s head knocker twice.
“Raven Express for Mr. Lannister,” she called out.
The door opened a few seconds later.
And she saw the most handsome man to exist on this side of Westeros.
Golden blond hair grown a little past his ears, sharp, clear emerald eyes, an elegant nose and a pair of slender lips whose smooth, moist seam made her look away quickly and flush. He was close to her height so he looked at her right in the eye. Brienne saw his eyes squint at her and gods damn it, not this again, she though, thrusting the box at him, clipboard on top.
“Mr. Lannister? This package is for you,” she said crisply.
His expression cleared although she detected mockery in his smile. “Ah, Mr. Lannister. Nice of Raven Express to start employing someone with manners. Did old Thorne finally croak?”
Brienne did not like the man. He was nasty and a bully. But she didn’t like talking about people behind their backs. “If you could just sign here on the dotted line---“she started to say, surprised that her voice was shaking. Jaime raised an eyebrow at her and scrawled his name on the digital form with the special pen.
“So. You’re a woman.”
As soon as he said that, he stared directly at her breasts. Brienne was shocked. She was flat-chested so she didn’t wear bras. With her height and build and her coarse, homely features, she was often teased and ridiculed. How did a boy from her high school once describe her? “A sow in silk,” he sneered.
Brienne ignored him and took the clipboard. “Thank you, Mr. Lannister.”
“What’s your name, lady?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Definitely not lady, sir. Have a nice day.” She turned and walked down the path. When she turned to get back in the truck, Jaime Lannister was still standing by the door. From his too-bright smile, it was clear he had been staring at her the whole time. Her cheeks burned and she started the engine, eager to get away.
******
The second time she made a delivery to Jaime Lannister, it was an enveloped crammed with documents. The door opened as she was getting out of the truck.
“I’ve been expecting you,” he called out to her. “Brienne Tarth.”
Brienne, who was waking on the path, stopped and nearly dropped the envelope in shock. “How did you know my name?” She demanded, her cheeks getting warm.
He smirked. Dimples. The man had dimples. Huge ones. She didn’t notice them the first time.
“I had a friend run your fingerprints.”
“What?”
“Yeah? They were all over,” he paused dramatically, “my package.”
Brienne’s thick pale eyebrows came close to meeting at the center of her forehead as she stormed the rest of the way toward him. She was going to a professional. She had been dealing with people like Jaime her whole life. He was just one man. A fucking, stupid man with nothing better to do. Wordlessly, she handed him the envelope and the digital form.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or did I?” He asked as he signed for the envelope.
She gave him a wary look. “What you did was illegal.”
“Of course but I wouldn’t care if I paid for it. You think I’m stupid, Brienne?” Jaime asked, his eyes flicking over her cap and down to her legs. “I called Raven Express to thank them for sending a pleasant albeit very quiet delivery person at last. A septa’s probably more talkative than you, wench.”
“My name is—” She protested and Jaime waved a hand at her.
“I know, I know. Fuck the Seven but you’re red as a tomato. Is everything as red? I mean, evenly distributed?” He drawled, this time giving her a slow, assessing glance from head to toe.
Brienne kept her tightened fists on the sides. “I hope you have a nice day. Sir.”
Then she walked away, ignoring Jaime who was still standing by the door. She pretended not to notice him wave goodbye.
*******
When she saw him the third time, she was not expecting it and a month had gone by. Not that she thought about the obnoxious Jaime Lannister. It was an adjective often tied to him. If he was going to ask around about her and get information under false pretenses, than she’d try to do the same. A quick Voogle search yielded at a hundred thousand websites about him and mentioning him. He was a big-shot detective fiction writer famous for the Kingslayer series. There were currently four in circulation and a fifth in the works.
Brienne swung by Higharden Publishing. The person she met was a harried-looking assistant named Sansa. The package was wrapped in brown paper bag, rectangular, flat and big. “It’s cover studies of the latest Kingslayer novel,” she explained to Brienne as she filled out a delivery request form. “You’ve heard of it?”
Brienne hoped her reddening ears didn’t give her away. So she just nodded.
“It’s best if Mr. Lannister comes here but he’s writing and refuses to be bothered. I’d bring these over myself but we have a book launch in three hours and I’m overseeing it. Please take good care of them.” Sansa requested.
“Don’t worry, I will.” Brienne assured her, taking the wrapped package in her arms.
“You’re an angel, Brienne. I appreciate it. Tell Mr. Lannister he can give his answer this Monday. No rush.”
So this was how Brienne meeting Jaime for the third time.
It was the middle of the summer and the sun was at its most merciless. By the time Brienne reached Jaime’s door, she was as red as a boiled lobster and sweating heavily. She knew what she looked like and was ready for more of his inappropriate comments. She stood there, unable to stop the smug expression from forming in her face as the door opened.
Jaime blinked up at her and demanded, “What the fuck happened to you?”
Brienne held out the package to him. “I was asked to pick this up. It’s from your publisher. Sansa. I mean the publisher’s assistant. I don’t know. Just from your publisher. Covers of your next book.”
But Jaime ignored them and instead swept the door wide open. ‘Get inside. You look like you’ll burst into flames any second.”
“Mr. Lannister, I have deliveries—”
“Which you won’t make if you pass out behind the wheel because of heat stroke. Seriously, don’t you guys have a uniform for the summer? Get inside. Now, wench,” Jaime growled as she stood her ground hesitantly. But when he made that sound, she thought it a better to obey. So she entered his house. Before Jaime closed the door, wonderful, cool central air conditioning enveloped her.
The groan was out of her lips before Brienne could stop herself. Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening. The grin Jaime gave her made her wish for the floor to open up and take her.
“Positively the filthiest sound these walls have heard. Why don’t you take a seat while I get you something cold,” he said, taking the package from her and flinging them carelessly on a luxe, white table in the hallway. Brienne squawked and he looked at her swiftly.
“What is it?”
“Please be careful. Those are cover studies for your novel.”
Jaime shrugged but paused. He looked at her. “You know about my novel?”
Brienne blushed and met his curious stare. “I was asked to pick it up by your publisher.”
“Oh. So that’s how you know.” He sounded disappointed.
“Well,” and she didn’t know why she was saying this, “I looked you up on Voogle too.”
He just smiled at her then told her to have a seat on the couch. “Take off your shoes if you want. Kick back. You’ve earned it.”
“I really mustn’t---deliveries—”
Jaime silenced her with a look. “I insist. Wench.”
Brienne glared at him. “Brienne, sir.”
“If you say so.” He said, dimples flashing just before he turned away.
She didn’t sit down nor did she take off her shoes. Instead, she walked around the living room.
Because of the cool air, her sweating stopped but her shirt remained unpleasantly moist. She wished she had packed her extra shirt but it was in her locker. To distract herself from her discomfort, she continued walking around the room.
It was spacious. The high ceilings and partial open concept gave much room for light and art pieces to grace the walls. Brienne knew little about art but she knew that ones on the wall were not reproductions but the real thing.
The features and objects in the room were clearly expensive, judging from their quality, but not ostentatious. There was clearly a designer’s touch but Jaime’s tastes were kept in mind. His taste ran to eclectic, Brienne determined, noting the antique, beige and black tapestry on a wall with swirling patterns, and the soft, pale butter-yellow leather armchair under it. The side table was whitewashed wood similar to the furniture she and her father kept back in Tarth. Brienne was on her knees examining it when Jaime returned to the room with a glass of iced tea.
“Sorry,” Brienne mumbled, getting to her feeet and rubbing her knees. “We have stuff in the style like that back home.”
Jaime handed her the glass and she thanked him. She almost gasped at the wonderful, icy chill from the glass. The clink of ice was practically musical.
“We?” Jaime asked, heading for the couch. He sat on it and gestured Brienne join him.
She hesitated before sitting beside him.
“Me and my Dad,” Brienne said before taking a sip of the iced tea. Gods. This heaven to her parched throat. “Back in Tarth.”
“Ahh. I wondered if you came from that place. So your Dad is still there?”
“Yeah. So. . .um. . .” Brienne glanced pointedly at the delivery he had simply dumped on the table. “Aren’t you going to open it? See the cover design for your latest book?”
Jaime shrugged. “I don’t really care.”
“What?”
“But if you’re firm about opening my package, why don’t you, then?”
“Huh?”
Jaime took the glass from her and took a sip. She watched as his beautiful throat bobbed at every swallow. “Yeah, wench. Open my package.”
Brienne frowned at him. “Look, I know you think you’re not saying what I think you’re saying but we both know that’s exactly what you’re saying so maybe you should quit finding ways to talk around exactly what you want to say because I’m on to you and it’s becoming tired.”
“Interesting,” Jaime said. He was smiling way too happily. “What do you think I’m saying when I say I want you to open my package?”
Brienne blushed. “Huh? What—don’t make me say it. You and I both know. You just want me to say it so you can deny it and I’ll be embarrassed.”
“Why don’t you try me on for size, wench. You might find I’m not so contrary—“
“There!’ Brienne exclaimed, pointing a finger at him. “Really, sir! The innuendos—”
“Innuendos? What fucking innuendos?”
“Oh, please! You’ve been basically sexually harassing me. I just haven’t said anything. Who’s going to believe me? Look at you. Then look at me.”
Jaime snorted. “Really. You think I’m sexually harassing you.”
“Or whatever it is you get a sick game out of it. I ignore you and you win. I play and you win.”
“I’m not playing games.” He said softly.
Brienne shook her head. “I’ve been played my whole life, Mr. Lannister. If you have no one to talk to during the day, there are ways. You’re a successful author. You have the money. You can pay or hire someone. I wouldn’t judge. You won’t hear from me. But I refuse to be someone’s sick enjoyment. I’m here to do my job.”
She stood up and said stiffly, “Thank you for the iced tea, Mr. Lannister.”
Jaime got up and she tensed. But he didn’t approach her. His expression was grim.
“I meant no harm and I was certainly not playing games, Miss Tarth. I’ve never thought ill of you. I offered you a drink and an opportunity to rest. I was going to offer myself as company too but you clearly don’t want it. My apologies.”
But Brienne wasn’t having it. “Don’t make me out as the bad guy here. You’ve been ogling at me since day one.”
“Why wouldn’t I? Yours are the longest legs I’ve ever seen. And you have really pretty eyes.”
Brienne grunted under her breath and turned away. “I won’t be mocked!” She growled over her shoulder before throwing the door open. She stalked back to the truck and tore out of the street.
******
There came the time that the drivers switched routes. Brienne was grateful. Days after the argument with Jaime Lannister, she was on pins and needles waiting for a complaint from him. But Mr. Mormont never asked her to step in his office. Brienne’s old route was given to Sam while she took over Jon’s.
Jon, now Brienne, delivered to offices in the gold and financial of the city. Unlike in residential areas, the secretaries and assistants barely gave her a glance. Once or twice, she caught the tall, ginger-haired security guard from Eastwatch Acquisitions looking at her with undisguised desire. It was shocking and embarrassing, and a lot more annoying than the looks Jaime would give her. At least Jaime attempted conversation with her, albeit it was often inappropriate and very loaded. The security guard stared at her as if she was naked.
It was her fate in life to be mocked and simply disrespected because of the way she looked. So much for thinking that the uniform will conceal her ugly appearance. Maybe next time she should just cover her face. Or work in the dark.
Jaime’s latest Kingslayer novel, A Joust with the Dragon, was published a month into her new route. The book as well as his photo were in all bookstores, magazines, newspapers, websites. This was Brienne’s explanation to herself when she bought a copy. There was no escaping him so she might as well give in.
She ended up buying the early Kingslayer series: A Sword At Your Back, Chains on a Lion, The Queen’s Poison Kiss and Rosethorn. She thought it clever how he worked the murder weapon in the novel into the title. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Detective Jonas Lefford, though. The handsome, cocky detective was reckless, impulsive and too sharp-tongued. And a massive idiot. There was no question that brains were left elsewhere for the detective to confront the leader of the Dragon mob, surrounded by his well-armed lackeys, with a fucking sword. But she liked that the novel ended in a cliffhanger—Jonas Lefford bleeding from a gunshot wound to the chest and struggling from the growing darkness surrounding him.
And it turned out she was the only one.
The reviews for the novel were positive as always but the fans were not happy. Every novel was tied up neatly—the criminal behind bars, justice prevailing, Jonas Lefford fucking some gorgeous woman—usually blond and unattainable due to certain limits of marital status. The cliffhanger had fans wondering if the end was near for the smart-mouthed detective. There was also buzz that Jaime Lannister was tired of the character and was going to kill him soon. It was the question he was asked in the talk shows. Brienne was getting ready for work one morning when she caught him in one.
He was handsome on TV but Brienne knew first-hand his god-like looks socked you right in the stomach in person. She paused in the act of pulling up her panties as Jaime’s smug grin and bright green eyes filled the screen as he was introduced. She flushed and hurriedly pulled up her underwear. She stepped into her shorts.
His blond hair was shorter now. He had traded his plaid shirts and jeans for a tailored dark navy suit and a crisp white shirt. Brienne felt her heart thud extra hard in her chest as the talk show host complimented Jaime. His name was Oberyn Martell.
“That’s a nice suit, man. Really nice. You don’t see a lot of blue suits and you really make it work!”
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off either. But recently, I don’t know,” he said in a tone that said of course he knew, Brienne was sure. “I’m really liking the color blue.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Blue is especially a good color on some people. Especially the eyes.”
Brienne frowned.
“Sad to say my eyes are brown,” Oberyn pretended to pout.
The banter between Jaime and Oberyn continued for a few more minutes. Then the interview was steered toward the cliffhanger at the end of A Joust With The Dragon.
She sat at the foot of her bed, eyes riveted to the screen as Jaime tried to mask his irritation at being asked that question for the thousandth time. Serves you right, she thought, for all the times you called me wench
“Did I plan for the novel to end the way it did? No. Not really. I do have a plan when I begin writing and there’s a general idea of going from point A to Z. But it’s not always set. Things change. But halfway through the writing, I realized that the world of Jonas Lefford—Jonas Lefford himself—needs shaking up.”
“Does this mean what he has is a near-death experience?”
Now Jaime was smiling with relish. Brienne locked her knees together and squirmed. The room was suddenly stifling despite her limited clothing. “I honestly do not know the answer to that.”
“Oh, come on, Jaime!”
Jaime Lannister laughed. Brienne thought he had a nice, hearty one.
“Love?” Ygritte was knocking on her door. “Sorry, but do you have tampons?”
“Come in,” Brienne called out.
Ygritte entered the room. Her hair was wrapped in turban and she was wearing a thick, pink bathrobe. Brienne pointed at her vanity, where she kept a stash in the drawer. As Ygritte rifled through them, she said, “He’s a handsome one, isn’t he? A most beautiful man. I wouldn’t mind squeezing that face between my thighs.”
Brienne laughed and blushed. “Will Jon like that?”
Ygritte grinned. “I have to admit he does know what to do down there. Say, that’s a good look on you.”
Brienne glanced down at herself. She was still nude from the waist up. “The shorts, you mean? Iggy, it’s my uniform.”
“I meant your tits, love. Small but they’re firm and nice. You have the long nipples that make men drool. You should ditch the bras,” Ygritte took a tampon and put it in her pocket. She went to Brienne and took her white bra from the bed. “Besides, your tits are too small for this,” she added, peering at the plain white bit critically.
“Thanks a lot.” Brienne grumbled.
Ygritte giggled. “It’s a compliment. I mean it. Men can’t think right when women don’t wear bras. Why do you think Jon pants after me? Because I don’t wear bras. Or panties.”
And with that sassy revelation, Ygritted winked then sauntered out of the room. She pulled the tampon out of her pocket and waved it. “You’re a lifesaver, love.”
After Jaime’s interview, Brienne considered Ygritte’s words. Not wear a bra, indeed. But a seed had been planted and growing. Brienne stood in front of the mirror and, blushing, unzipped her shorts.
Then pulled down her panties.
Naked in the daylight, there was no missing just how unfeminine her body was. Her breasts were small, more bumps than mounds. She had not paid any attention to her nipples until Ygritte pointed them out. Were her nipples long? She didn’t know. But her aureoles were puffy and pink. She skimmed a hand down her flat stomach, toward her wide hips. Her bush was a thick, dark blond. She wondered if she should ask if Ygritte kept herself completely bare or had a landing strip down there. It was information she’d rather not know so she left her cunt as it is. She also left her panties on the floor, putting on only her shorts. The black polo shirt followed.
Brienne took her cap from the dresser and went to work.
******
Brienne had to admit there was wisdom to Ygritte’s suggestion. Cooler nights were up ahead but the warmth of the departing summer lingered during the day. Back in the truck with air conditioning, the lack of that extra layer under her clothes was liberating. When she was outside grunting while wheeling a heavy package under the heat of the sun, it was nice that her panties wouldn’t be sticking to her when she got very sweaty.
She pulled over in the underground parking lot of Eastwatch Acquisitions. There were five deliveries to be made in this building, two on the seventh floor, and one in the ninth floor and two in the eleventh. She pulled out the cart from the truck and started loading the packages on it.
“Ah, lass. There you are.”
Frowning, she turned and saw the ginger-haired security guard. He was as tall as she was but skinny. She tried not to grimace at the sight of him in a pale blue shirt, cheap black tie and cheaper black pants. He wasn’t an unattractive man but he stared at far too boldly that even the blind would know what he was thinking about.
“Yes. What do you want?” She kept her tone formal as she loaded the last of the boxes.
“You need help with those?”
“No. I’m good.” She raised her arms to pull the door down. She didn’t notice how her shirt raised and revealed the splash of her freckles on her toned tummy. The security guard licked his lips.
And he was still licking his lips when she faced him again. “What the hell are you doing?” She demanded.
“The logs say your name is Brienne. It’s a pretty name. I’m Tormund. Tormund Giantsbane.”
The emphasis wasn’t lost on Brienne. “Uh-huh. Nice to meet you, Mr. Giantsbane. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have deliveries. I can’t be late.”
She pushed at the cart. Tormund fell in a step beside her. “Now that we’ve met, how about coffee?”
“I’m sorry. Are you implying that because we now know each other’s names I should have coffee with you?”
He grinned. It if wasn’t a dark parking lot and he didn’t look at her and lick his lips the way he did, she might consider his offer. Brienne gave the cart an extra push.
“I always knew you were smart, Brienne.”
“Thank you. I know that too. Which is why I’m saying no.”
“W-Why not?” Tormund suddenly grabbed the bar of the cart, stopping Brienne.
Her eyes flashed. “Unhand my cart, Mr. Giantsbane.”
“Come on, lass,” he tried to coax her. “It’s a cup of coffee. You can even have two brownies. That and a fancy cup of coffee. What do you say?”
“I say if you don’t remove your hand from my fucking cart in five seconds they’ll have to feed you through a tube for the rest of your life.”
He opened his mouth to try convincing her again but Brienne began her countdown. “Five, four, three. . .”
*****
Brienne was done for the day but still had half an hour before she must return to headquarters of Raven Express. She went to a diner and ordered a tuna sandwich and iced tea.
Ygritte had messaged her. She and Jon were off to the movies and hoped she could join them. Brienne typed yes.
As Brienne was finishing her sandwich, her phone rang. It was Jeor Mormont.
“There’s been an accident,” he told her. “Sam’s truck was hit by a bus. He’s alright but I’ll have to go with him to the hospital just until they give him the all-clear. Could you take over the rest of his deliveries?”
“Of course.” Brienne said, worried for Sam. “He’s alright? Where is he?”
Jeor gave her the location of the truck. As soon as the police and paramedics cleared, she was to get the packages from it. Then the truck will be towed for repairs and assessment.
Brienne arrived at the scene ten minutes later. There was an ambulance, police and onlookers. She quickly spotted her boss.
Sam had a gash on his forehead and insisted he was alright. The paramedics, Jeor and Brienne had to convince him to go to the hospital to be examined. As the ambulance drove away with Sam, Jeor and Brienne loaded the rest of the packages into her truck. She scanned the list of the deliveries Sam made and hoped the people won’t get too mad at him. Jeor had to stay behind to oversee the towing of the truck before going to the hospital.
Sam had seven more deliveries. At least most of them were in the same area except for one. Brienne rolled her eyes upon seeing the name. Of course. Just as well as it was the last stop.
It was early evening by the time she pulled up in front that familiar driveway. As she turned off the engine, she heard the front door opening. With a sigh, she stepped out of the truck.
Jaime Lannister stood in the middle of the path. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and faded jeans. His expression was tight then relaxed when he realized who he was looking at. Brienne closed the door.
“Sorry. There’s been an accident.”
“An accident? Are you alright?”
“It wasn’t me. It was Sam.” Jaime looked puzzled so Brienne thought to clarify. “He’s the guy I switched routes with.”
She walked around the back of the truck to retrieve the box there. She heard Jaime following her.
“Oh. Fat guy. Yeah. How is he?” Jaime asked. He stood on the sidewalk as she unlocked the rear door.
Brienne pulled out the box. It was marked fragile so she was careful. “A gash on the head. My boss is with him right now.” She handed him the box, with the digital form on top. “Here you go. Sorry for the delay. It couldn’t be avoided.”
Jaime glanced at her as he signed his name. He held the box to his chest as he handed the device back to her.
“How are you?” They asked each other at the same time. He grinned and Brienne felt her cheeks warm. She looked at her sneakers.
“Did you switch with this Sam guy because of what happened?” Jaime asked.
“No. But I was relieved when we had to.” At his puzzled look, she explained, “Every three months we’re switched around. It’s to discourage over-familiarity with the place and the people. It might lead to things.”
“What kind of things?”
“I don’t know. Not really anything good.”
“Well, not all the time.”
“Maybe. I saw you on TV.”
Jaime crossed his arms. “Hmm. Interesting. Keeping tabs on me, wench?”
“You’re ruining it. Stop.”
“I’m honestly surprised that a guy whom you think is a life form lower than, say, an amoeba, is someone you’ll watch on TV.”
“I was getting dressed. I wasn’t really watching.” Brienne hoped that with only streetlights giving patches of illumination in the street, he wouldn’t see her blush.
“For bed? For work?’
“See, that’s why I said you sexually harass me.”
“It’s sexual harassment asking you why you watch me while getting dressed for bed?”
Brienne was blushing furiously now. Jaime chuckled. “Look at you.”
“Yeah. You like doing that. Listen, I have to go.” Brienne headed back to the front.
“You have to return the truck?”
“Yeah. And plans.”
Jaime nodded. Something in his eyes darkened. “A date.”
“Sort of.”
“This guy knows it’s a sort-of date?”
Brienne couldn’t resist saying it. “I haven’t really outlined the boundaries with them.”
Jaime looked surprised. “Them?”
“Them.”
“Huh. Didn’t expect that of you. But with long legs like yours---”
“Shut up, will you, Jaime? I mean, I was just beginning to think it’s nice to see you again.”
“I’ll shut up then. But yeah, it is nice to see you again. Brienne.” She froze, realizing she had called him name. Her teeth worried her full bottom lip.
He watched her climb back inside the truck. As she started the engine, she said, “I read your books, by the way.”
Now his surprise was evident. “You don’t say.”
“I say. I like the cliffhanger.”
“So far you’re the only one.”
“There’s no one like me, I suppose.”
“No.” And with the way Jaime said it, she had to look at him. She couldn’t read the expression on his face but her heart raced. “There’s no one like you.”
******
With Sam recuperating for the next two weeks, Brienne and the other delivery staff had to absorb some sections of his route. She still covered the gold and financial district as well as the residential area where Jaime Lannister lived.
Since the day he kind of ambushed her in the parking lot, Brienne had not seen that ginger-head creep in Eastwatch Acquisitions. Thank the gods.
She saw a lot of Jaime.
Like, a lot.
Aside from spending four hours a day writing, Jaime also wrote book reviews, articles, as well as editorial work. Some the boxes she brought to him contained books. He also collected fountain pens. Brienne finally asked him why some of the boxes were marked fragile and that was when he told her that they contained those pens. He sent them away for professional cleaning and maintenance regularly.
She didn’t know when it began. But when she had deliveries to Jaime, it became a practice to join him for iced tea or coffee. She didn’t take no more than ten minutes but it was enough time for their awkward conversations to blossom into spirited ones. It was nice that someone with Jaime’s intelligence spoke with Brienne the way he did. She only had two years of community college before she chucked any pursuit of a degree for work. However, she was intelligent and insightful.
Once, while having coffee with Jaime, she remarked, “You’re Jonas Lefford, aren’t you?”
Jaime snorted. “Why’d you say that? That’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, please! I can’t believe I didn’t notice it right away! But he’s blond like you. Yes, blue eyes instead of green. But the cockiness, the arrogance, the devil-may-care—it’s you, Jaime.”
“Hold on. Did you just call me arrogant?’
“Aren’t you?”
He smirked and sipped his coffee.
“So, like Jonas Lefford, do you fuck a blond after writing your latest novel? I mean, I suppose that’s where Jonas fucking blonds after solving a case comes from.”
“Do you see me with a harem of blondes, Brienne?”
“For all I know they live under the floorboards.”
“You have a sick mind.”
Brienne grinned. “So. Do you?”
“Look, not everything about Jonas Lefford is from real life. That’s why it’s fiction.”
“Yeah. Alright. But the fact that it’s so consistent. I mean the type. Unattainable, blond. Leggy. Unnamed. I sometimes wonder if they’re. . .professionals.”
Jaime put his mug down and sat back on the couch. “You read too much into it, wench.”
“Maybe I do. But why a blond? Why not a brunette? Or a redhead?”
“Why not blondes?” As Jaime spoke, he reached out to tug at the short strand of her hair.
They were suddenly sitting so closely. Brienne could smell the coffee form his breath.
She wanted to move closer.
Red began to climb from her neck. “I should go.”
******
On Brienne’s last day substituting for Sam’s route, the sky crashed unceasingly to the ground. There was no way to deliver all packages on time. All radio stations reported floods in the subway stations, resulting in their closing. Flights were cancelled. It was the middle of the day but the sky was as black as a starless night.
No matter how vigorously the wipers swept the glass clean, it was no match for the might of the deluge. Brienne grabbed her bright blue raincoat from the passenger side and went to the back to retrieve Jaime’s package.
It was a bitch pushing the door open due to the wind. Brienne groaned as she pushed it fully open. Her victory was momentary. Lighting suddenly slashed through the sky, striking the tree next to the truck. Brienne screamed as she saw it split in two and begin to fall toward her.
“Brienne!” But she wasn’t sure if it was Jaime. Shocked, she could only watch with an open mouth as the tree wavered before hurtling toward her. Then something yanked at her from behind. She toppled right on top of a body, on a lawn. “Jaime—“she began to say but he suddenly pulled her down to his chest, rolled to the side and wrapped his leg around her. Brienne gritted her teeth as she heard glass shatter and metal groan.
She didn’t know how long they remained curled in a ball on the lawn. When thunder boomed, they jumped and sat up. Brienne risked a look at the damage to the truck and was horrified.
“Oh, fuck, no.” There was no way to deliver anything now. The tree had crashed right on the driver’s side. There was glass everywhere.
“We have to get inside!” Jaime had to shout because the rain and thunder were drowning out other sounds.
“But the deliveries! I have to call—”
“Fuck them! The phones are dead! The power’s out!” As he spoke, Jaime pulled her to her feet. She was still looking at the truck so he had to give her a hard shake. “Brienne! Look at me! We have to get out here! Look at me!”
Brienne snapped out of her shock and nodded dumbly at Jaime. He seized her by the hand and pulled her behind him.
Jaime slammed the door behind them. It was dark in the house. Brienne spied a rechargeable lamp on the table. “You don’t have candles?” She asked Jaime as he took it and led her deeper inside the house.
“The wind’s too strong and knocking windows open. I can’t risk it.” Jaime answered. “We have to get you out of those clothes.”
Brienne nodded and began to rid herself of her dripping raincoat. Jaime gave her a hanger but stashed it outside of the hall closet.
She saw he was soaked to the bone too. “You too. Out of those clothes.”
“Are you hurt?”
“What? No. I don’t think so.”
As she spoke, Jaime set the lamp down on the coffee table and started taking off his t-shirt. Brienne watched as he revealed beautiful golden skin and lean muscles slicked by rain. She couldn’t tear her eyes away as he got rid of his pants next, revealing the tight, black boxers he was wearing. The hairs of his chest and on his legs gleamed like wet gold. He turned around and she blushed.
“I’ll get you clothes,” he said.
While Jaime was gone, Brienne spied a small, dark crimson blanket on the couch. She decided to get rid of her sticky t-shirt and shorts.
Jaime moved a lot faster than expected. Brienne was down to her shorts when she heard him returning. It was too late. Brienne blushed violently, embarrassed at being caught. Jaime was still in his boxers and held a bundle of clothes in his arms.
“Sorry. I was---I wasn’t comfortable,” she managed to say, giving him his back and hugging herself to hide her breasts.
“You have a bruise.”
Then Jaime was right behind her, running a finger down the side of her naked waist. Brienne froze at the sparks from his touch. Her eyes widened. She breathed sharply, loudly.
“Did I hurt you?” Jaime asked.
She shook her head. “It wasn’t that.”
Jaime retracted his hand. “Sorry.”
So was she.
Brienne took his hand and Jaime glanced at her. She still kept one arm over her breasts. Her eyes remained big and disbelieving. But her heart. Her heart. It banged louder than the thunder outside. It whipped at her sharper than all electricity packed in single lightning strike.
Jaime wrapped a hand around her nape, stilling her for the first meeting of their lips.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drawing closer until the hairs of his chest tickled her nipples. It ignited a silver burst of want, of need. Their kiss deepened, Jaime’s jaw knocking sharply onto hers, their tongues clashing with violence. She was confused at the wild rush of feelings welling up in her all at once. Emotions. . .longings she wouldn’t acknowledge, not even in the protected darkness of her room, with only the walls to hear. Desires she buried so deeply inside her that sometimes, in her pretense of forgetting, she would believe she truly forgot.
What sounds the walls heard now. The slide of wet skins. The rasp of a palms roughened by work caressing muscles. Breathing. Loud. Quick. Lips. Kissing.
Her hand worked slipped between their bodies, seeking the hard, turgid flesh pressed against her thigh. But Jaime snatched her hand away, murmured, “No,” against her tongue. He picked her up, pulling a gasp from her because she was heavier, taller. And then she was being laid on the couch, as if she were the most delicate crystal.
Jaime, standing at the foot of the couch, yanked his boxers down. Brienne sat up to unzip her shorts. They stared at each other, taking in the sight of their skin still dotted with rain, their eyes dazed but dark with lust. He stared at her nipples and she felt them tighten. Somewhere in her mind was a voice, she couldn’t recognize whose, telling her why men would like nipples like hers. From the way Jaime eyes darkened, the voice was right.
His eyes followed the jerky movements of her hands as she fought at her zipper. It parted open, revealing first a column of dark blond curls before she got rid of the shorts and revealed the full, thick tangle of her bush.
She kicked off her shorts and leaned up on her elbows, her legs spread. But Jaime didn’t come to her.
Instead he started touching himself.
Oh, what a beauty he was. Wet hair. The rapture in his face as he stroked his cock. Blood rushed to Brienne’s head, heightening her alertness. She swore she could see the texture of his hard flesh, smoother than the rest of him. A thick vein ran on the underside. The head was a perfect, round plum.
Maybe she was right to deny herself imagining Jaime naked, or any part of him she hadn’t seen until this afternoon. It wouldn’t do him justice.
“Promise me you won’t run away,” Jaime suddenly said. He squeezed himself and hissed.
“R-run away?” Brienne had to tear her eyes away from his gorgeous cock to his face.
“Every time I try to kiss you. Every time I feel like I’m past all these walls you have, you run away.”
Brienne began to shake.
“I want your word, Brienne.” Jaime grunted and suddenly freed his cock. He stood before her, a tensed mass of muscle and very aroused male. Make that hugely aroused male. “When we fuck, you won’t shut me out. You won’t do a repeat of that idiotic change of route.”
“I didn’t! That’s part of the job!”
“Your word.” Jaime was persistent even though it was clearly torture for him. “Or I don’t fuck you.”
“You seriously want me to vow to refuse any route changes just so we can fuck?”
“It’s going to be a monumental fuck, wench. I’d hate if it I don’t see you again after this.”
For the first time, she saw in his eyes the desire she had begun to bury deep inside almost on instinct. He really wanted her. All of her. Her.
“I won’t leave,” she whispered and held out her arms to him.
Jaime threw himself toward her. She caught him, holding tightly as they fell on the couch. She had no time to realize the brunt of his weight on her because they were kissing again.
She threaded her fingers through his wet hair as licked down her throat, grazing his teeth on the wildly beating pulse. Moaned when his hand settled on her breast and cupped it, squeezed it, plumping it so her nipple was thrust up and ready for his mouth. Their groans rivalled the crashing rain outside the window.
Brienne eyes were half-closed, allowing her only minute glimpses of Jaime’s golden hair, the brightness of his emerald eyes. But she felt him. Everything of him. The rough hairs of his legs scraping against the pale, freckled pillars of her own. His knee pressed against the inside of her thigh. His cock. Thrusting against the sensitive crease between her cunt and thigh. His abs sinking in the soft flesh of her stomach.
His tongue. His lips. Laving. Lashing at her nipples. Kissing every freckle on her breasts and between them. She pulled him by the ears so he could crush her mouth under his again. He smiled at first, once again blinding her with those dimples that she had to laugh. And there it was. His lips on hers.
How could she have denied herself just imagining this? Maybe because it felt so right. And hardly did reality match fantasy. No. The touch of Jaime’s smooth lips against her dry, chapped pair, his tongue wetting the rough patches, was a reality she wouldn’t be able to imagine at all. Nothing in her life could come close as to the wonder of their kiss.
Jaime was determined to kiss her everywhere. It wasn’t fair that on her back she could only kiss his face, his throat, collarbones, shoulders. Yet Jaime shuddered and groaned her name at every swipe of her tongue on his flesh, every press of her lips. He would grab her and slam his mouth on hers, both as reward and punishment for nearly undoing him. This was a game she would play. But only with Jaime.
His tongue was wet fire trailing down her abdomen. The tip circled her navel, tasting the rain and sweat that had gathered her. Brienne was beginning to buck against him, her body eager for the promise of their joining. But Jaime instead sucked and nibbled on the taut flesh, taking his time. When she was sure he was going to tongue her cunt, he traced the long length of her thighs and legs with more kisses. Even down to her toes!
Brienne flung an arm over her eyes. Her fingers dug in his shoulders. “Jaime,” she whined. “Please. Please. I promise. I won’t leave.”
She thought she heard him chuckle. He was now kissing her knee.
By the Seven, she was going to come from being kissed there!
“Jaime, please,” she pleaded, removing her arm from her eyes so she could see him.
“Swear to me you’ll always come with the package, wench,” Jaime said, crawling up her body until his chin was just above her cunt.
“I do,” she whispered raggedly, helpless as her hips instinctively picked up, enticing his tongue with her wet slit the pink button peeking from between.
“What?” He said.
Dear gods, she thought. In a past life Jaime Lannnister must be a skilled and most feared torturer.
“C-Come,” she spoke through gritted teeth. She was trembling from the anticipation. “I swear to always come with the package.”
She had no idea what the fuck he meant but she would swear anything and everything if he would just relieve her of the emptiness, of the ache in her cunt.
Jaime buried his lips in her cunt.
Brienne was sucked in a black vacuum.
And just as quickly, thrown back in the light.
She held on, tried, tried so hard because Jaime’s shoulders were wet from the rain and sweat, as was her own palms. His tongue thrust so hard into her head kept hitting the arm of the couch. She braced a hand above her head, gasping loudly as the full length of Jaime’s tongue pushed inside her cunt.
Shit. Fuck. Gods.
Jaime rained kisses and licks in and around her cunt, seeming to enjoy how she thrust sharply and wailed. He circled his tongue around the inner seam of labia but only until the point of the sharpest tease, keeping her right on the edge of a cliff. Brienne grunted and shouted, tears falling from her eyes as she begged, over and over to let her come. The more she pleaded, the more vicious he got. “Hateful! Bastard!” Brienne screamed as once again she was left painfully, helplessly hanging.
He interrupted her rant by rearing up and taking her mouth in another kiss. She tasted herself on his tongue, moaning. He hooked her leg over his hip, but she was through, knowing this was another tease.
Jaime suddenly grabbed her by the hair, arching her neck sharply. He panted against her parted lips as he guided his cock inside her.
Brienne sobbed. Her cunt was a wreck though she hadn’t come yet. Despite the violence outside drowning out other sounds, the sounds of their fucking were clear and seemed to echo throughout the house. She had never been so wet. She could rival the storm outside.
For all her desperation for release, she was tired but far, far from wanting this interlude to stop. She kissed Jaime back. Lost herself in his beautiful eyes. Cradled his face in her hands as his breathing sharpened and his thrusts sped up. The couch began to jerk and move across the floor, inch by inch. She held on to him with all her might, arms and legs. Jaime managed to push a hand between their sweaty, stick bodies to give her clit a few sure flicks that at last sent her over the edge, hurtling through the chasm. She shouted, squeezing him so hard that it yanked a cry from him. She collapsed on the couch, head lolling heavily to the side as Jaime fucked her a few more times before rewarding himself with a well-deserved release.
******
As the storm raged outside, so did their hunger for each other. Brienne got on top of Jaime, planting her hands on his chest as she fucked herself on his cock. He roused her awake from a nap with his tongue in her cunt. They fucked against the wall, in the kitchen, in his bedroom. On the carpet, Brienne got down on her hands and knees, grunting as Jaime’s cock was inside her again. Her nipples rubbed against the rough fibers of the carpet. He soothed the burning tips with the gentlest licks.
Brienne had no idea when she fell asleep. Hours upon hours had been in the darkness. But now there was light. White and bright. She frowned and turned away from the window, quickly burying her face on Jaime’s shoulder.
Jaime.
As if sensing her surprise and disbelief, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.
She risked opening her eyes, raised her head.
Jaime’s eyes were open. In the light of the day, the emeralds looked golden.
“Hi,” she said. Her voice was husky.
“Good morning, pretty eyes.”
There was no stopping the pink spots forming in her cheeks. He told her before she had pretty eyes. Jaime thumbed at one of her cheeks, his eyes softening as the pink deepened.
Brienne pulled the blanket over her breasts. Jaime rolled to his back, taking her with him. She was too tall to rest her head on his chest without her feet sticking out past the mattress. She continued to lie on her side, staring right in his eyes as he put her hand on his chest.
“Why’d you make me swear that?” She asked suddenly.
Jaime held her hand. His eyes twinkled. “That you’ll always come with the package?”
She nodded.
He wiggled his eyebrows and glanced pointedly down his body before returning his gaze on her. He did it a few more times because her forehead was furrowed in thought, trying to understand. When she did, she burst out laughing. Pink spread from her face down to her chest.
“Gods, Jaime. ‘Come with your package.’ I should have known,” she groaned.
“You mentioned some time ago yesterday was your last in this route,” he told her.
“I did. Yes.”
“Wench,” and he was practically gleeful at her frown. “You don’t always have to come here with a package.”
Brienne stopped breathing. Did he--?
“I missed you, you know. Though in the early days, talking to you was a lot like talking to myself. You were so fucking quiet and just muttering under your breath.”
She scowled and kicked him under the sheet. He laughed and hauled her to his chest. He threw his leg over her hips. Brienne blushed as his erection prodded at her cunt. He kissed her and despite her mild irritation, her lips yielded.
“That’s because you were so fucking inappropriate,” she gasped when she came up for air.
“I was,” he admitted with a shrug. His face was flushed. “I am.”
Brienne nudged him to lay on his back. He obeyed, his face brightening as she leaned over him. Brienne pulled the blanket away from their bodies.
“Why did you start talking to me?” She wondered out loud, pressing random kisses around his face and neck. She nuzzled his Adam’s apple.
“You were the most unusual thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Jaime admitted, pushing her hair away from her face.
“You asked if I was a woman, you idiot.” But her tone was more chiding than admonishing.
“Well,” Jaime smirked and gave her body a lingering look. “Now I know for sure.”
Brienne got ready to hit him but he caught her arm quickly. He used his grip on her arm to push her back onto the bed. As she looked up at him, her heart racing, he whispered, “Maybe I should remind you how much you loved feeling like a woman last night, wench.”
She grinned. “Hmm. Maybe. . .”
Her voice trailed off in a dreamy sigh for Jaime had lowered his head to her breasts. His mouth wrapped around a pouting red nipple. “Oh, Jaime.”
He didn’t drag out her pleasure as he had the first time but Brienne still went wild begging him. She was embarrassed but Jaime, kissing her and fucking her so perfectly, clearly didn’t mind. His smile was strained though delighted as he surged inside her, his cock plunging deeper and harder at every thrust. Brienne was grunting, overwhelmed at the size of him, the feel of him inside her. She came with a gasp, her spine curving sharply upwards. Jaime bathed her face with kisses as he held and soothed her. He followed her seconds later with a groan of her name.
They slept for another hour. This time they woke up together.
Fucking away the rest of the day, and night, plus their sweet tussle this morning, had clearly not abated once they were in the bathroom. Brienne clung to the slick wall tiles, gasping at their cold kisses on her nipples as Jaime fucked her from behind. She drank from Jaime’s mouth, his kisses the only thing that could quench her thirst. Her legs were butter by the time it was all over. She was blushing and embarrassed while Jaime laughed and delighted in holding her in his arms.
Her clothes were still damp so Jaime found her a sweater and jeans. At least he gave her a break this time, dressing quickly and kissing her on the cheek before he jogged downstairs. He was going to make eggs and coffee for breakfast.
After putting on Jaime’s clothes, Brienne took her phone and tried to call Raven Express. She called Ygritte and tried sending a message but nothing. The phone lines were still down. But the power was back on. She looked out the window, her plump lower lip jutting out as she saw the damage to the truck. Only the front and the driver’s side. The rear of the truck was untouched but she was still concerned about the packages.
Downstairs, she asked Jaime if she could borrow his car.
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” she said, grimacing. “But I really need to get word with work. I can’t move the truck until the insurance comes here.”
“Let’s see first if it’s safe to be driving around, wench,” Jaime said, handing her a mug of the coffee. “And I can drive you.”
“Will you? That’s. . .are you sure? You’re not writing today?” He mentioned to her last night that he wrote every day.
“Not today. I take a one-day break every time I’m done with a chapter. I just finished the seventh in the next novel.”
“Oh my gods!” Brienne exclaimed and startling Jaime. “Is Jonas Lefford alive?”
Jaime rolled his eyes. “I’m keeping his lips sealed.”
“You’re cruel.”
He grinned and kissed her. She shook her head. “I’m hooked. I need to know.”
“You’ll find out just like everyone else.”
“You’re sure I can’t make you an offer you won’t refuse?”
Jaime stared hungrily at her mouth. “Oh, wench. I will never refuse anything you offer. But it doesn’t mean I’ll give you exactly what you want when you want it.”
As Brienne pouted exaggeratedly, Jaime continued, “But I can tell you something that maybe you’d like to know. About Jonas Lefford and why he must always fuck a blond after solving a case.”
“Really?”
Jaime crooked a finger at her. “Come here, wench.”
Brienne still looked doubtful so he grabbed her by the waist of her pants.
She smiled.
******
Two years later, the much-awaited sequel to A Joust With the Dragon came out. It was titled A Slash of Blue. In the acknowledgement page, Jaime wrote the usual roster of names: Highgarden Publishing and his editor, Olenna Tyrell, his agent, who was also his brother, Tyrion, members of the Westeros Police Department. A new addition was his mysterious note to a certain R.E., who delivered “my favorite package.”
In the dedication page, Jaime Lannister wrote:
For my wife, Brienne, and her pretty blue eyes.
The blond of my dreams. The best partner in this life.