Chapter 25
Alfred
Ihave lost my mind.
I know that by the laws of the only world that I have ever known, the common decency of society, I am irrevocably lost.
But as I undress in my new bedchamber, the one that adjoins Annabelle’s, it is hard to ignore the obvious. I prefer insanity.
Because when I was sane, I lived every day in deprivation and want, denying my deepest desires, the ones most natural to me, to please others.
We may confidently assert that no man is entitled to the character of being chaste who by any unnatural means causes expulsion of semen.
Those words used to fill me with awe and terror.
I think of the books that once sat in my desk drawer at the vicarage and which now sit in a trunk at my feet: the Acton and the green book.
I used to think of the Acton as my true self—and the green book as my guiltiest pleasure that meant nothing.
But now I see that, in fact, they represented two paths in life.
For a long time, I traveled along the path Acton had laid out for me and only visited the other path in secret.
Now I have reversed it. I have taken the path of my little green book.
Now Acton seems a ridiculous definition of morality, of righteousness, even of chastity.
In the pleasure Annabelle and I have together, I have found nothing corrupting.
No, it is not the pleasure that is the problem between us.
After she came to me at the vicarage, I returned to Trescott with her.
I know what the world will say.
I will be humiliated and ridiculed.
But I cannot face the alternative: no Annabelle.
I don’t know if she can feel more for me than fondness, than a desire to bed me. But I can no longer deny how I feel for her.
It is as I told her.
I love her.
I am desperate for her.
I will follow her like a dog until my dying day.
I have surrendered everything in the face of this truth.
And in a way that gives me power.
Because I have nothing to lose.
And I plan to show Annabelle de Lacey exactly how dangerous a man who loves her with nothing to lose can be.
When we returned to the Abbey, Annabelle fled to her study, and I was left to acclimate to my new environment. For our evening meal, we dined together in near silence.
Now I stand in my dressing gown and night shirt, looking at the door that adjoins our chambers.
I do not know if she plans to come through it this evening. But I do not care what she wants.
I walk to the door and push it open.
When I enter, Annabelle is standing by the window.
“Please, Viola,” she says without turning. “I do not need any help undressing.”
“I’m sorry to say that someone much less useful has come to visit you, Annabelle.”
She whirls around. “Alfred.”
“Did you not expect me to come? After the pains you took to bring me here.”
“I was going to let you rest.”
She crosses her arms over her body.
“I do not need to rest.”
“Very well,” she says in her haughty manner, not meeting my eyes.
I swell as I drink in the sight of her. She stands in her night dress, long blonde hair loose around her shoulders. The dress is sheer, almost translucent. It shows the shadow between her legs and her sweet, pink nipples.
“You promised me that if I came to live here with you under such sinful conditions, then I could have you morning, noon, and night.”
“I promised you nothing,” she hisses.
“Yes, you did promise,” I say, stepping forward, not countenancing her evasions. I do not understand why she would even be evasive. Perhaps because she does not want me in control. Well, she should have thought of that before she had me give up everything for time in her bed.
“Take off your night dress. And lie on the bed.”
“Why would I obey such a command? You do not give me orders, Alfred.”
“Because you want me here too, Annabelle. Perhaps you really would have dismissed me if I refused you. Only you can say. But you can’t pretend that you don’t enjoy bedding me. And I need to have you. Right now.”
Her eyes widen. She looks, perhaps for the first time in our acquaintance, a touch innocent.
“I was not kind with you today, Alfred. I was rough—and—”
“I don’t care about that. I will always want you, Annabelle.
It doesn’t matter what you do. You could dismiss me, betray me a thousand times.
You could tell me I’m nothing to you. Perhaps it’s a flaw in me.
Maybe I have no proper respect for myself.
But wanting you appears to be the new condition of my existence.
Now take off your damned night dress and get on the bed. ”
“Fine,” she says, her voice irritated. “If you are going to be so difficult about it.”
She pulls the thin material of her night dress over her head. Then she stands blessedly nude, the most beautiful creature I have ever seen or will ever see. Her heavy breasts, full and bountiful, cry out to be touched. Her tight velvet quim clearly needs to be claimed.
“Get on the bed. With your legs over the edge.”
She complies, although her manner is not soft. She is haughty even when obeying me.
I walk over and sink to my knees. I hook my arms roughly around her legs. When I touch my mouth to her pussy, she is already wet. When I open her with my lips and tongue, she moans.
I lavish attention on that sweet bud at the apex of her quim. Then I plunge my tongue deep into her, savoring her sweetness. She cries out. But I can tell it is almost unwillingly done. She does not like obeying me. She does not like yielding.
But I am done hiding my feelings for her. I am done letting her set the terms of our relationship.
I stop my ministrations and say, “Tell me, Annabelle. Do you want me to love you?”
“No,” she pants. “What a ridiculous thing to ask.”
I return to teasing her. I work her back up again until her fingers twist in the coverlet. Then I stop.
“You said today that you were only fond of me. But I do not feel the same.”
“I do not care what you feel.”
I play with her again, licking and sucking until she is panting once more.
And then I stop.
“Oh, but you will,” I say softly. I cannot believe that I am trifling with her in such a way.
I used to fear her—but now, now that I have lost everything that I thought I cared for, I am less scared than I ever have been in my entire life.
“What if I cannot help but love you? What would you do then? If you were merely fond of me—but I was your slave, so in love with you that I couldn’t see straight or think of anyone else? Would that please you?”
“It is no matter to me.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you care or not, Annabelle. You cannot stop how I feel for you.”
I return to tantalizing her and then halt my progress.
“Please,” she pants. “Please continue.”
In the dim light of the room, I can see her plump clit yearning for release. She is so swollen and bothered that she must be truly aching.
“Not until you give me leave to love you.”
Her clit looks so delectable that I can’t resist bringing my mouth to it. I give her one shallow lick, one sweet dip of pleasure, then cut it short.
She lets out a truly ragged moan and tries to move her hands down to touch herself. I catch her wrists and pin them down.
“Just give me leave, Annabelle. Then I’ll give you everything you want. We needn’t keep secrets. We can be honest with each other about our desires. I understand that you will only ever be fond of me.”
I reward her again with another sweet long lick and she tenses in ecstasy. “But I love you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. My heart and my cock don’t work in half measures.”
“You—don’t—mean—it.”
“Of course I do,” I say. “You are a complicated woman. I, however, am simple.”
I lick her again and am rewarded with another desperate cry. Her clit has swollen even further.
“I will never expect your love in return, but tell me, Annabelle, do you give me leave to love you?”
I put my mouth to her again and thrust two fingers inside, finding that little rough spot that drives her to climax faster.
However, I don’t stroke her. I just hold her there, not letting her go over the edge.
I will not give it to her until she agrees.
I am doing what she did to me today. It is her version of ruin, somehow, to accept my love.
“Or I can leave you like this, Annabelle. Because the truth is I might as well if you don’t want me loving you.
If you won’t let me, then I should leave you panting and squirming for me, and I should go wander the world as a penniless and broken and ruined man, because I will love you whether you let me or not.
The only way that I could not love you would be if I had never met you.
I could try to forget you, but it wouldn’t work.
I would love you from afar if you banished me.
But you won’t banish me, will you? Because I can give you this. ”
I dip my head and with one last long suck bring her right back to the edge. And then I hold her there.
“Alfred, please.”
“I will give you what you want. Just say the words. Let me love you.”
“Fine,” she says, her voice breaking on the word, her breath nearly a scream. “You may.”
And so I give her what she has earned, stroking that spot inside of her and giving her clit everything with my mouth.
Three seconds later she is crying out, spasming over my fingers, clutching my hair.
And I am satisfied.