Chapter 13
Hans stood outside Anna's bedroom door, heart pounding harder than it had when the rebels had shot at his marching column on their way to Trenton.
He knew he had nothing to fear — Anna had invited him to her room, after all, reminding him with a whispered word and a gentle hand on his shoulder as he and Sarah cleared the supper dishes — but somehow that made it worse.
Did Anna have expectations of him? Would he disappoint her with his inexperience, with his clumsy fondling and inexpert lovemaking? He feared that he would fall far short of her desires, and would have to retreat in shame and dishonor.
When Sarah had come to him, unbidden, Hans had nothing to do but lie prone and receive her attention.
Sarah had taken charge, had dictated the tempo and rhythm of their lovemaking, and had guided him with a gentle hand to his completion.
He had barely even considered her pleasure, though the recollection of the little noises she made when she mounted him, the mask of desire that clouded her eyes and softened her lips when she brought him to his climax, made Hans quiver with excitement.
Had she known that he had never been with a woman?
Did it even matter to her, when she had simply taken what she wanted, leaving Hans sated and drained in her wake?
But surely Anna expected more! She certainly deserved more than he could possibly repay for her kindness and hospitality; a quick and unsatisfactory tumble, a coupling over before it had even begun, would be the worst thing Hans could offer. But what else could he offer?
He raised his fist to strike the door, then froze.
His arm trembled and his heart pounded, his mouth dry and vision blurred.
Only a thin barrier of wood stood between him and Anna's bed, a mere tap at the door would be enough to gain him entrance, and there was no going back over that Rubicon.
On one side of the door stood everything Hans had ever known — his youth in Hesse, his months on the march, his brief sojourn in a foreign land — and on the other stood a future he could not possibly imagine.
He feared that a night with Anna would transform him into something unrecognizable to himself, his comrades, and his family.
Just as Hans was steeling himself to cross that treacherous barrier and knock at Anna's door, the hinges made a soft, sighing sound and the door swung into the room. Hans let out a gasp, nearly tripping backward, and froze at the sight of Anna in the doorframe.
The shutters on the windows and the dark clouds across the moon blotted out all but the faintest light from outside.
In the dark room behind her, a single candle danced beside the bed, throwing shadows into the corners and a pale glow behind Anna's figure.
She stood before him in a plain white shift, nearly translucent, clinging to her hips and breasts like the mist over an icy river.
Her long black hair hung loose over her shoulders, catching the candlelight like cut and polished onyx gems. She balled her small fists against her hips and looked up at Hans with a playful grin.
"Hans," she said, a taunting tone in her voice, "where have you been? It is impolite to keep a lady waiting when she has invited you to her chambers."
"I ... I'm sorry, Anna, I ..." Hans stammered, shifting from foot to foot, and glanced quickly behind himself.
The hallway seemed longer and darker than when he had first climbed the stairs and made his way to Anna's door, and with his legs turned to jelly he wasn't sure he could beat a retreat even if he wanted to.
"And whatever are you wearing?" she asked, reaching out to tug at his shirt with nimble fingers. He thought his heart would burst when her warm hand brushed the bare skin behind the bone buttons of his homespun shirt. "I gave you a nice shirt at dinner last night; why would you rather wear this?"
"It ... it was a little ... tight, Anna ..."
She laughed while quickly undoing the buttons and tugging the tails from his breeches.
His shirt fell open, and she pressed her hands to his chest, standing on her toes so her lips could place a quick, hot kiss at the base of his throat.
Hans could barely contain the moan that threatened to burst from his lips.
"You won't need clothes for very long, Hans," Anna whispered.
Her hands slipped under his shirt and across his shoulders, pulling the fabric down along his arms until it fluttered behind him.
His hands trembled helplessly in the air before he slowly, tentatively, brought them down against the small of her back.
He could feel her body beneath the thin shift, warm and firm, taut as a bowstring.
She kissed her way down from his throat and across his hairless chest; her tongue drew a burning line between his nipples, and her teeth nipped playfully at his skin.
Hans let out a yelp of surprise, and Anna laughed against his belly as she lowered herself before him.
"Are you afraid, Hans?" Anna whispered. She knelt between his feet, hands on his hips and face tilted up to him.
The dim candlelight danced across her features, making her appear like some deadly creature from a fairytale, or a wicked sorceress intent on seducing hapless sailors who wash up on her shores.
"I ..." His voice caught in his throat, and his tongue seemed to swell to twice its size. "No ... no, I ... of course not ..."
"You are," Anna said. She ran a nimble pink tongue across her lips, making them glisten wetly and making Hans tremble. "You're absolutely terrified, Hessian soldier — afraid of me, a tiny woman who surely means you no harm!"
"I ... I am not," Hans insisted, though the quaver in his voice surely betrayed him. He considered stepping back from Anna, perhaps making his escape, but she had a firm grip on the waist of his breeches and held him fast.
"You are," she said as her nimble fingers worked at the buttons holding his breeches closed. "Surely you didn't tremble like this when you first faced the enemy, Hessian soldier ..."
"Anna, I am ... I must ..."
"Show courage, Hessian soldier," Anna said, though her eyes were fixed on the front of his breeches and not on his face. "Be brave as you face the foe, and make sure your musket is at the ready ..."
Hans let out a gasp as Anna grasped the waist of his breeches and yanked them to his knees, and he closed his eyes and turned his face to the ceiling when she felt her fingers grasp his rigid shaft.
Heat coursed through his body, reddening his cheeks and throat, and he felt that he would die of shame and terror.
But Anna seemed not to care at all that Hans was almost laid low by the indignity of his nakedness.
She let out a delighted sigh and took him firmly in hand, fingers teasing nimbly around the swelling crown and dancing along the stiffening length.
Hans opened one eye and glanced down just in time to see Anna lean forward with her tongue extended, dragging the tip up his length and swirling it around the purple crown, and he nearly came undone.
He touched Anna's soft hair with trembling fingers, and groaned as she took him into her warm, wet mouth.
Hans was panting, heart racing, when Anna stood, pressing her body to his. His hands slid over her back and grasped her buttocks through the thin fabric of her shift; his erection pressed against her belly, trapped between their bodies, and she stood on her toes to place a kiss on his lips.
"Come to bed, Hessian soldier," Anna whispered, taking him in hand and gently guiding him through the door.
***
Hans' mind went through the steps of loading his musket, slowly and deliberately — pour the powder, roll the wad, drop the ball, tamp the shot, pull back the frizzen — to distract himself from the intense sensation of entering Anna's warm, yielding body.
And when that proved insufficient, he considered the intricate drills that Colonel Rall made the regiment perform on the parade field in front of the barracks, keeping in step and listening for the sergeant's barked commands.
He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, struggling against the overwhelming desire to release himself into Anna's willing womb.
Anna, for her part, held nothing back. She raked her fingernails down Hans' back, threw her legs about his waist, and rose to meet his every thrust. Her head rolled from side to side on the pillows, raven hair a wild tangle, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut.
Hans dragged a finger up her chin and along her lips, and she caught it in her teeth, biting down on it in ecstasy as she let out a cry.
He whimpered when her channel grasped his shaft in a vise-like grip, and he clung to her shoulders for dear life when waves of ecstasy shook her lithe body.
"Pour the powder ... roll the wad ..." Hans whispered, his jaw tight with strain. "Drop the ball ... tamp the shot ..."
"Hans!" Anna gasped, her fingers gripping his buttocks, her hips rising from the bed to meet his and grind against him, pulling him deeper, deeper, until he was afraid he would be lost forever inside Anna's embrace. "Oh, Hans!"
The sound of his name on her lips, the ecstatic timbre of her voice, was too much for Hans.
With a roar, he released his shot, firing hot and hard into Anna's womb, not caring if his aim was true, caring only for the blessed relief that followed his release.
His body shook upon Anna's, first going rigid as an iron rod and then suddenly collapsing into her, soft as a feather.
He shivered and shuddered as every drop of his seed trickled into her, while Anna stroked his head and cooed his name, lulling him into the depths of sleep.