Ninety Seven

 Sansa tried to ignore his seductive voice. Tried to ignore his mouth on her breast and his teeth plucking at her nipples. Tried to ignore it when he thrust against her and pinched her clit. Tried, but wasn't successful. Maybe she should just say please this once. She wouldn't really be begging, she would just be repeating what he asked her to say, right? That wasn't the same thing at all.

Watching her squirm and writhe and hearing her seductive moans,

 James knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Looming over her, he fisted his other hand in her hair and wrenched back her head, forcing her to look at him. His eyes pinned hers. "Say it, Sansa ."

 "Please."

 He smiled at how begrudgingly it was said. "I don't think that was very sincere. You know what I want from you."

 She did. It wasn't about the begging, it was about what the begging signified—he wanted her to submit, to accept that she was his.