Chapter 17 #2
I shift against him, just slightly, and he stills me with his hands. I hear a small, almost imperceptible intake of breath and know that I am tempting him, even under the circumstances.
Madly, I bring my lips up to his mouth. He shudders against me.
“You’re right about witnesses,” Ludlow says roughly. “For what we have planned for her, we can’t have any of those.”
Oh Christ. These men are absurd—and yet dangerous for all their ill-conceived anger.
I let my tongue slip onto his bottom lip. He shifts against me just a little, and one of his hands comes to my arse.
“Pray, what is that?”
The footfalls come closer. We freeze.
This is it. I have finally gotten myself killed through my heedlessness. And maybe Alfred Saintsbury too. With any luck, Mrs. Ludlow will hear our screams and come running.
“A bonnet.”
I realize with horror that it is mine. I didn’t even know that it had fallen off.
“Take it,” Liddell says. “It looks fine. We can sell it.”
The men walk further into the forest, talking as they do so. After a minute, their voices fade.
“I think they’re—”
“Shh,” Alfred says. “Just wait another minute.”
I obey him, not wanting to be foolish. And truth be told, I am enjoying being so close to him—he smells of new books and bergamot-laced soap, the kind purchased at fine stores in London, and a little cinnamon. His cockstand has not abated either.
I move my leg so that my thigh brushes against it—and he stills me once more.
“Don’t,” he whispers.
“Why not?”
“Because we’re in the woods. Outside the Ludlows’ cottage. About to be murdered.”
“They’re gone,” I whisper. “It’s just us. And you do not decide what happens between us, Mr. Saintsbury. You are still at my mercy. Don’t you want to keep your post?”
“Alfred,” he corrects. “And don’t be a fool.”
I kiss him again. When I draw away, he looks fainty dazed.
“Fuck, Annabelle.”
“You picked the perfect hiding place.”
He groans then.
“Do you still want me?” he says. “After my mistake.”
For a second, I do not know what he means. And then I realize: the burst letter.
Ridiculous. He doesn’t understand that I want nothing less from him.
“I told you not to worry. I certainly am not. If I was gruff, let me make it up to you.”
“Annabelle,” he says, his voice full of warning.
I reach downwards, stroking my hand over the bulge in his trousers. He shudders at my touch, clutching me even tighter.
“You can’t. Not here.”
“No one can see us,” I repeat. “We are all alone.”
“You’ll make me spend.”
“Yes, that is rather what I want.”
He is so responsive to me, so alive to my touch.
“Please,” he says. I know that the plea is halfway between decency and indecency. He is begging me to stop and begging me to go forward.
“Don’t you want me to wrap my mouth around your cock, Alfred?” I whisper.
“Christ,” he whimpers.
“If you refuse, I will respect it. To make amends for my brusque treatment of you. If you truly refuse, I will not demand it.”
“I never—I never—thought—that you would offer—”
“Oh but I am offering. Don’t you think it would feel good? If I lick your cock until your seed fills my mouth?”
“Yes,” he says, the amber flecks flashing in the low light of the forest. He licks his lips. “Yes. Yes. Please. I want it.”
I travel down until my mouth is level with his cock. Then I undo his trousers and unleash him.
“You’re pretty here too,” I say. He rewards me with another whimper.
I take his tip into my mouth. He gives an exclamation of such wonder, of such surprise, that a shock of pleasure goes through me. He fists his hand in my hair.
“Careful,” he says. “Be careful with me.”
I suck him gently, only giving him a little sensation at a time. I can tell by the way he breathes that he is fighting back audible cries. I suck and lick until his cock is hard and swollen. Little spurts of seed occasionally fill my mouth but I purposefully keep him from going over the edge.
“Please,” he finally says. “Annabelle. I am—you must—”
“Shh,” I say. “I will make it better.”
He moans at the absence of my mouth.
“No, no,” he protests.
I won’t torment him any longer. I bring my mouth back to his member and suck harder, tonguing the head with exquisite care.
“You are so good to me, Annabelle,” he whispers, his grip on my hair tightening, his entire body tense. “You take such good care of me.”
I have never been accused of such things. I am frustrated that he misunderstands me. But now is not the time to argue.
I take him deep into my mouth so that his cock brushes the back of my throat.
“I am going to—you are going to make me—” And then he is, jerking beneath me. His seed fills my mouth, sweet and pure just like him, and I swallow it.
I hate myself for it, but I glory in giving him such a gift. In how happy he is to accept it.
He stills beneath me, his fingers still intertwined in my hair. I relinquish him.
Once I am upright once more, I look down at him lying on the forest floor in his bed of ivy.
A mistake.
Because he is lovely beyond imagining.
His eyes look even greener against the backdrop of the ivy. His hair is disheveled, his face flushed to perfection, and his lips pink and parted.
“Annabelle,” he says, his gaze burning into me, his expression stunned. “That was—you are—I don’t even know how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Alfred,” I say quietly, forcing myself to look away from him. “If you will recall, I have only led you to further sully your precious soul.”
“Annabelle,” he repeats, reaching for my hand.
I pull my hand away.
He is too perfect, too pure, for me. He is meant for another future. For a virgin bride who knows nothing of what they do together. I will dismiss him as soon as I am done enjoying him. No, once I know I’m with child.
My chest twinges uncomfortably at the thought. I imagine Alfred, in a few months or a few years, teaching some sweet young woman to take him deep into her throat. He will love her. She will be untouched and only his.
“What is wrong?”
I look back at him. His brow is furrowed.
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “We should return to the Ludlows. I am afraid Victoria’s pig is lost for good.”
While I was looking away, he put himself back in his trousers, thank God. His cock is a sight I can no longer bear.
“You just looked so…melancholy. What were you thinking of?”
“It is nothing,” I say, looking back at him and his perplexed expression. “Come. We must go.”
He hesitates but then nods. To my surprise, he stands and offers his hand to me. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet.
However, he doesn’t relinquish my hand. He pulls me close so that we are touching. His arms are around me. I am cocooned by his chest and arms. I hate that I enjoy it.
“Being with you like this,” he says, his voice low and rushed. “I never knew it would be so beautiful.”
I am shocked by his words. He doesn’t understand what I am.
What I have planned for him. He is so innocent.
He thinks I am kind because I give him pleasure.
He doesn’t understand how much more complex relations can be between a man and a woman.
He forgets about his profession, his soul, his religion, because I sucked his cock.
He is cunt-struck. A complete simpleton.
I should only have contempt for him.
“Mr. Vicar! Miss de Lacey!” yells a small voice.
I jump back and break apart from Alfred, turning in the direction of the girl’s voice.
She is standing on the edge of the forest where the Ludlows’ land becomes common forest.
“Splotches came back!” she calls. “You do not need to search anymore.”
Her grandmother appears over her shoulder, squinting into the forest.
“Please do not trouble yourself anymore on our account, Mr. Saintsbury and Miss de Lacey. You have already been too kind!”
“Come,” I say under my breath to him. “We must go.”