Return to his Chambers

Jon withdrew, cold air sweeping in to claim the space between them.

His fingers traced the line of Jocelyn's jaw, thumb grazing the flushed curve of her lower lip, still tender from the press of his mouth.

“I’ll see you both at the feast,” he murmured, the low timbre slicing the yard's silence.

Jocelyn's gaze sharpened, her hold on his tunic easing without fully releasing.

She tilted forward, her exhalation grazing his skin with warmth.

“You better,” she whispered, command woven through the syllables. “Sit beside me. No one else claims that spot tonight.”

Sandra shifted deeper into the shadows, lantern light tracing the smooth lines of her restored face. She held back any words, her gaze locked on him with the relentless focus of a hound tracking its quarry.

Jon dipped his head in silent agreement, then drew Jocelyn in with a firm grasp at her waist. Their mouths met in a lingering goodbye, the contact evolving into something profound as he captured her lower lip between his teeth, tugging gently before releasing.

His tongue swept across the soft barrier of her lips, coaxing them apart with insistent pressure until she opened to him, a quiet gasp slipping free. He delved inside, tasting the faint spice of her earlier wine, his movements deliberate and thorough, mirroring the depth of her surrender.

As a result Jocelyn melted against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as if anchoring herself to the intensity, her body arching to press every curve flush against his frame, conveying a devotion that pulsed through the way she yielded completely, her breath mingling with his in rhythmic urgency.

When Jon eased back, Jocelyn almost surged forward, her lips seemingly wanting to chase his with **** hunger, unwilling to let the connection sever.

He pivoted toward Sandra, hands encircling her waist to draw her near.

Sandra's fuller lips met his in a rush of raw urgency, her arms coiling around his neck with crushing strength that hoisted him upward, his toes dragging through snow as her massive stature curved to envelop him entirely. Armor grated cold against his tunic, the metal gradually heating at their fusion point, her tongue surging ahead in a wild pursuit to absorb all of him, inhalations blending in uneven surges that laid bare her profound yearning.

Each gesture radiated longing—the press of digits into his scalp, yanking him nearer as though he might slip away; faint sounds humming from her throat, unfiltered expressions of an affection nearing veneration.

The fierce onset mellowed beneath his hands framing her jaw, thumbs sweeping the unmarked surface once distorted, drawing her into a softer cadence where she submitted wholly, frame quivering in mute assurances of lifelong concession.

A ragged breathe broke from the sworn shield when Jon eased back, her eyes aglow with exposed passion beneath the dim radiance.

Jon stepped away, the bundle from Cersei clamped tight under his arm.

His boots broke the snow's crust with crisp snaps as he faded into the yard's murk, leaving the duo near the wheelhouse amid swirling cloaks caught by the breeze.

Unnoticed, he crossed the exposed space, the fortress's subdued din dwindling as he slipped past a hidden door into the First Keep.

Echoes bounced off the confined spiral steps up to his quarters, the package growing heavier in his grip.

From the dim corner, Ghost roused with a resonant hum, red eyes vigilant.

Jon slid the bolt home and laid the attire across the narrow bed, opulent fabrics tumbling over rough covers with a subtle, dangerous sheen.

Just then again he heard a knock on his door. it seemed he was not going to be left in peace unti lthe feast began.