Brown Plaid Doll: Chapter 11 - Take a Letter
A/N: Well, folks, this is the last chapter. I have more notes about that at the end of this, but let’s get right to the good stuff. Thank you for reading, thank you for commenting and reblogging, and thank you for sticking with me, Tom, and Kate over the last 2 years.
20’s slang: brown plaid- Scotch whiskey; doll- a woman; piffle- baloney, bullshit; get a wiggle on- get going; ‘The Great Impersonation’- popular identity theft/murder mystery novel from 1920; quiff- a slut or cheap prostitute
Contains: dom/bossy!Tom, so much dirty talk, sex, more sex, more dirty talk, and some fluff. Explicit/smut/NSFW
I stretched, arching cat-like in Tom’s bed, pushing my limbs out until they began to shake and my spine crackled. I collapsed back into the sheets, breathing out a deep sigh. I was still wrapped in Tom’s dressing gown, the worn silk luxuriously soft and slippery on my bare skin, my body still glowing from his attentions, and my mind quiet and content.
Tom wasn’t in the room. There wasn’t a breakfast tray or note, so after flipping idly through the book of poetry on his bedside table, I resorted to staring at the door. Huh. Where is he? Another ten minutes passed of me poking around his shelves and he still hadn’t come back.
My stomach gave a demanding growl. Well, that seals it. I looked in the bathroom for the clothes I’d worn yesterday, but whether he’d given them to William to launder or just thrown them away, I couldn’t find them.