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I am busy reworking my 2/3rds done first draft of She Whom I Love, because I actually isolated what had gone wrong from the beginning. And now I’m in love with this story again. 

I also added another smut scene. Part of it is below the cut, because… because, that’s why! F/F, regency, no content warnings except smut. (For those who have read chapters of Rite of Summer, ‘Sarah’ is also ‘Sophie.’ It will all make sense later, I promise.) Unedited. 

Meg tugged at
the lacing of her short stays and let them fall open. The pink silk brushed
away beneath Sarah’s questing hand, then the white linen beneath, exposing
Meg’s breasts. They were perfection, small, round and firm, her pink nipples
riding high and tight.

Sarah cupped one
in her palm, rolled her hand across the fullness, and Meg gasped when Sarah’s
palm smoothed over the hard pink of her nipple. Sarah bent her head and tasted
it, gently, with the tip of her tongue, circling and flicking, laving and
growing bolder with every whimper and gasp Meg made. Her skin was sweet, a
faint trace of powder lingering against the warmth of musk.

Her nipples
begged to be bitten, Meg’s hips starting to rise and fall with the press and
pull of Sarah’s mouth. She ran her hands up Meg’s thighs, still braced on
either side of Sarah’s knees, and tugged at the fabric enveloping her
legs.  

Sarah’s own body
burned, her breath coming in short pants, her heart pulsing loud in her ears. Her
cunt ached, empty and untouched. If Meg slid her thigh between Sarah’s, then
she could find the pressure she needed so desperately.

“Come here.”
Sarah cupped Meg’s bottom in her hands, rising up on her own knees to maneuver
them into a better position. Meg didn’t seem to understand, until she did,
pressing one leg between Sarah’s and riding high on Sarah’s own thigh. Meg’s
pantalets were a ridiculous affectation, just one more place for her to pin
lace. But they were split at the top, and the contrast between the rough edges
of the linen and the silken heat of Meg’s skin, the divot of her inner thigh,
the damp curls of hair, oh! Sarah could understand now why Meg wore them.