"What do we have here?"
Rose glanced up in the direction that Jack was indicating. Across the cargo hold, a shiny new Renault sat amid the many boxes and crates that scattered the floors in the belly of the Titanic.
Jack, fascinated by his discovery, dropped her hand, moving across the hold to inspect his prize. Rose watched on, slightly amused by his curiosity. The automobile was very similar to the many owned by the DeWitt Bukater family. As a matter of fact, Rose was pretty sure that her family had owned one exactly like it when she was a child. She retained vague memories of long rides through the countryside with her father--the only occasions where Rose was allowed outside of the stuffiness of society. She could remember her father pointing to a particular plant or bird and quoting a name or species. She had always been spellbound by her father's voice. He seemed to know everything.
Wiping the sweat off her brow, she followed Jack to the car, ripping herself away from her reverie. She stepped up to Jack, who was still gawking marvelously at the automobile.
She raised her eyebrows with amusement at his childlike curiosity.
Rose cleared her throat expectantly.
Jack looked at her, momentarily confused, before breaking out into a boyish grin. Taking the hint, he opened the back door for her, waving his hand in presentation. Taking his proffered hand, she lifted herself inside the vehicle. "Why, thank you," she said with exaggerated arrogance.
Glancing up, Rose noticed the small vase attached to the upper corner. It contained two single red roses. She smiled, thinking of it as a good omen.
Playing along, Jack climbed into the front, seating himself behind the wheel. He honked the horn twice, raising his nose into the air. "Where to, Miss?" he asked with mock-snobbery.
Grinning with mischief, Rose pushed down the glass that separated her from Jack. She leaned through the opening, snaking her arms underneath his. She leaned forward, putting her silky lips against his ear. "To the stars," she whispered.
Chills traveled up his spine--from both the sensation of her lips on his ear and the content of the words she spoke--words that promised so much.
Tightening her grip on his body, she pulled with all her might, hoisting him into the backseat and into her arms. They sat like that for several moments, both speechless as they studied one another, both wondering what the other was thinking. The heat of the small backseat was almost stifling, but neither seemed to notice.
Rose could not believe that she was thinking about doing what she was thinking about doing. They had known each other for mere days, but it no longer seemed to matter. Nothing that she had ever been taught seemed to matter now. Up until this moment, her life had been so...fake. Now, there was something real--and Jack was that.
"Are you nervous?" he asked gently.
She thought about the question. She supposed she should be nervous, but she realized that she wasn't. Nothing in her life had ever felt so right. How could she be nervous? "No," she answered honestly as she took one of his fingers--oh, God, the fingers of an artist--deep into her mouth, sucking gently but firmly. She thought she heard Jack gasp with anticipation as she let it go, kissing the tip slightly, before moving on to the next. She continued, suckling each one in the same manner as Jack waited patiently.
But patient or not, she could feel the desire and arousal emanating from him. He wanted her. His body literally ached with his desire. This scared her and excited her all at once. She never dreamed that she would have sex until married--much less with someone she had known for mere days. It was so unthinkable; so forbidden; so...right.
And suddenly, she realized that she had already made the decision. She wanted Jack to make love to her. She wanted him to make love to her like it would be the only chance they would ever have. She wanted him to make her body ache with desire, the way he made her heart ache with love.
She stopped suddenly, searching Jack's face. His eyes, although glazed over with arousal, were pools of understanding. If she told him to stop right now, she knew that he would, without a single complaint. But that wasn't what she intended to say. "Put your hands on me, Jack," she said huskily.
He gazed at her momentarily, his eyes searching her face, asking if she was sure. Rose thought that she would cry from the love that invaded her heart and soul. Had a more wonderful person ever been born to this mortal coil?
Without saying a word, Rose told him that she had never been more sure of anything in her life.
Slowly, Jack brought his hand down to gingerly caress her left breast through the material of her dress. Oh, God, how he had wanted to do this since he first got a glimpse of her voluptuous curves before he drew her portrait. It had taken all his control not to put down his drawing pad, go over to where she lay, naked and aroused, and put his hands all over the soft flesh and generous curves of her body. How he had wanted her.
Now here he was, kissing her soft, generous mouth almost feverishly as he laid her down on the seat. Both of his hands were on her breasts now, and he rubbed them with desire, feeling her taut nipples through the fabric of her dress. He wanted to taste those tiny little knots. She gasped out loud as his fingers tightened on her nipples, her face crimson.
It was painful, but at the same time, deliciously arousing. She widened her legs beneath him, allowing him to settle in the small berth as the desire raced through her body, originating in her most private area and spreading outwardly. She could feel his own desire--rock hard and throbbing against her belly.
Reaching between their bodies, she touched the hardness through his pants. She was delighted by his reaction as he pressed himself into her hand, groaning into her mouth with fiery desire.
She tilted her head back, allowing him to trace her jawline with his tongue, his hands roaming every inch of her body. As his hands drifted lower, she squirmed impatiently against his erection, and suddenly, his artist’s hands were drifting up her dress, contacting skin beneath the material. Soft, delicious skin. He slowly lifted the hem of her dress over her legs, tracing the curves of her legs teasingly with his fingertips. He pulled back long enough to smile at the way she squirmed beneath him, cheeks flushed with her desire for him and her obvious arousal.
Jack's hands found her thighs, and he massaged upward until he reached the upper part of her inner thighs. There, he stopped, once again searching her face. When he didn't continue, she glared at him with malice.
He smiled privately. All right, Miss DeWitt Bukater, how do you like this? Hesitating no further, he slowly slid his forefinger across the underside of her bloomers. Her eyes widened, hands clutching the hair on the back of his head. Her hips involuntarily thrust upwards, and Jack rubbed her sensitive spot there with a little more pressure.
"Jack..." she moaned, eyes wide, voice breathless.
He could take a hint. He slid his fingers beneath her bloomers, and this time, he was the one who gasped in surprise. She was so warm...so wet.
He explored her carefully, studying the expressions on her face to judge her pleasure. When he found the right spot, her hips spasmed again, and he slowly slid a finger into her tight slit. She gasped again, with a combination of pleasure and pain.
He knew he had to get her out of her layers of clothing, and fast. No longer taking their time, their clothes were quickly removed, even with shaking and fumbling hands. Finally, they lay naked together, their hot bodies pressed together and throbbing together. "You're so beautiful..." he managed to whisper through his desire-induced haze. Everything suddenly seemed surreal as his lips finally closed on one of her nipples, and then the other, tasting her delicious flesh, which was now slick with the heat of both their bodies.
He almost couldn't believe this was happening. He always knew that his first time would be with someone special--someone he truly loved with the core of his heart; someone he would be willing to die for. God knew he'd had many offers in the past. Some of the women he’d drawn had offered it to him in the past, telling him he was just too cute. But somehow, he refused. He supposed he knew all along that it would happen when it was meant to, but never in his life had he imagined that it would be with a beautiful, intelligent, strong, upper class woman. Rose DeWitt Bukater was more than he'd ever allowed himself to imagine. But here she was, her heart and body open before him, offering him everything she had to give--not just her body, but her love.
His mind was brought sharply back to reality with the feel of her bare hands against his member. She explored it experimentally, getting used to the feel and sight of it. Never having seen a man's penis, Rose really had no idea what to expect. Her first fleeting thought was that it looked strange, and she wondered if it was too large. Having no previous reference with which to compare, Rose could only assume that it was normal.
But despite its appearance, the way it made her feel was indescribable. Jack was positioned above her now, the tip just touching her sacred opening. She breathed roughly, anticipating--but he stopped, his blue gaze meeting her own, and once again, his eyes asked her that question. In response, she tightened her legs around his hips, as if attempting to pull him in.
Jack swallowed hard, resisting the urge to just push his way inside her body. "This is going to hurt at first," he warned her. He may not have experience himself, but many of his friends, like Fabrizio and Tommy, had shared with him more than enough information to know that to be true.
She nodded slightly, telling him she was ready. He took a deep breath. God, she was so wet...and then, with a single thrust of his hips, he was embedded in her body. He gasped, the sensation of her warm tightness enveloping him almost overwhelming. He fought the urge to pump himself into her as he saw her brow crinkle with obvious pain.
He became still, waiting for her to respond. Her nails dug into his arms, and Jack wondered if he should pull out. But then Rose opened her eyes, the pain subsiding. She smiled at him warmly. "Don't stop," she whispered breathlessly. "Make love to me, Jack."
He nodded, pulling out slightly before gently re-entering her body. He kept the pace slow at first, getting the feel of her body, as he allowed her to do the same. But as she started squirming, he steadily built up the pace, and before too long, he was slamming into her body with feverish passion. Her legs locked around his back, drawing him in, and she matched each of his thrusts with her own.
Their senses were clouded by each other. There were lips and hands and caresses and kisses--all the senses that drowned out the world around them. Momentarily, they forgot about the mighty Titanic on which they floated. The Renault disappeared from around them, as did the world.
Social status and worldly things were forgotten in this single moment, when time seemed to stand still and Jack and Rose were the only people in the universe. Everything either of them ever learned was forgotten, because this was the only thing that truly mattered.
Rose opened her eyes, looking up into Jack's intent and feverish face. The sight was strangely arousing, and she arched her hips up to receive him at a different angle. She gasped his name as his penis began hitting her clitoris from this angle. She brought her arms up, wrapping her lover tightly in her arms as he continued to pump himself into her, even harder still.
She rubbed her arms up and down his back, as she felt his hands on her breasts and stomach. He was showering her face in frenzied kisses, as suddenly stars exploded in the back of her mind as an intense orgasm ripped through her groin, wracking her body in waves of endless pleasure. "Jack!" she screamed with every ounce of breath she was capable of screaming with.
Involuntarily, her palm flew up and hit the back of the car window, smearing the moisture there, as her other hand dug into the flesh on the back of Jack's neck. Hardly a second later, Jack's body began to spasm as well, and he began to thrust into her desperately, all grace gone from his movements as he orgasmed violently, all conscious thought forgotten.
He locked tightly to her body, emptying every bit of his seed into her womb. A moment later, her hand slid down from the window, resting with the other one on the back of his neck.
They could say nothing for several moments, so they gazed at each other with fatigued awe. "You're trembling," Rose commented when she could gain enough sense to speak.
"I'll be all right," he assured her breathlessly, his voice trembling. Silently, Jack turned his head, resting it gently against the softness of her breast. She kissed his forehead tenderly as he did so, and closed her eyes.
She smiled tiredly.
Fleetingly, she realized that he could've impregnated her, but she realized she didn't care. To experience that sort of pleasure with this person whom she loved with all her heart, she would do it again and again. She realized then that she almost hoped she was pregnant.
No matter. Plenty of time for that. She would tell Jack soon that she planned on getting off the ship with him. After all, didn't he promise her he would show her how to ride horses, and he said they would go to the pier in Santa Monica and ride the roller coaster and drink beer...
They had their whole lives, and no one would stop them--not Cal, not her mother. Her decision was made.
The End.