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She was covered in a sheen of sweat, her legs darting across the bed, tangled in the sheets. Even in the moonlight, Colin could see her cheeks were rosy pink, her lips swollen from constant biting. Her chest was heaving, she was panting as though she was sprinting through her fever. Every now and then, a whimper would escape her, desperate, frantic. Her eyes were clenched shut as if trying to block out some phantom bright light.
Colin’s heart hammered in his chest; he hadn’t realised how bad it was.
When Eloise had told him their dear friend had been struck down by a mysterious illness, he’d hoped it was naught but the common cold. He’d grown more concerned as the days crept by; he could feel the anxiety seeping like poisonous sludge from the Featherington home. Doctor after doctor was ushered in and out with whispers, the household staff were only seen leaving in the dead of night; Portia Featherington had even declined an invitation to Lady Danbury’s ball yesterday evening.
Rumours were spreading like wildfire through the ton, even without the assistance of Lady Whisltedown’s quill, which had mysteriously gone silent. Some said it was a disease brought in by a trade ship; others claimed a curse or, worse, punishment from above.
Colin had to be physically restrained when he overheard Cressida Cowper claiming it had something to do with Penelope’s penchant for eclairs. Lady Danbury had struck her ankles with her cane, accidentally, of course. Colin had sent Lady Danbury a thank you note the following day.
He’d tried calling. Every day since he’d been alerted to her illness, he’d appeared at her front doorstep, flowers in hand. And every day, he was sent home, petals drooping. Varley was a fierce defender of the Featherington Fortress; he’d tried bribing her with toffees, which she’d gracefully accepted before curling her lip and slamming the door in his face.
So, Colin had been left with no other option than to climb through the window of Penelope’s bedroom in the middle of the night. Luckily it had been left open, likely in a futile attempt to cool her skin with the gentle Spring air. Colin was both thankful and furious that she was on her own. Although he wasn’t entirely surprised, he had managed to garner some information that Penelope was being isolated lest the illness be catching.
Colin couldn't give a flying fig about catching anything from Pen.
Good heavens, had it only been a week since he’d last seen her?
He’d paid her a visit after returning home from Cyprus. She’d been so full of life, the gentle, lovely friend he so fondly thought of while he travelled. Although admittedly, her reception of him had been slightly below freezing, dashing any hopes he’d held that she’d never received the numerous letters he’d written her on his travels.
Instead, he’d discovered that not only had she received them, she’d chosen not to respond. His attempts at understanding what he could have possibly done to deserve such silence from her had led nowhere. She was torturously polite, her smile never quite meeting her eyes, eyes which had once sparkled whenever he was in her presence.
Colin had no choice but to grimly push through the awkward courtesies and behave as if nothing was the matter. So, he’d gifted her an exotic yellow plant he’d discovered at a market in Nicosia.
“It blooms at midnight,” he’d muttered, his face flushing red as he’d all but shoved it into her delicately gloved hands. “The woman who sold it to me said it would bring its carer whatever they desire most. And I thought that, well, if there’s anybody in my acquaintance who deserves all that she desires and more, then it is you, Pen.”
She’d looked at him wide-eyed, her curiosity forcing her to drop her frozen walls momentarily. “However did you manage to bring it back to Mayfair?”
The relief had been instant.
He’d regaled her with a long tale about packaging, sunlight, water, soil. She’d listened in such rapture that he may have added a few details along the way that weren’t necessarily steeped in the truth. But who could hold him accountable for that? He was but a flower himself in that moment, basking in the warmth of her sunny smile.
Eventually, she’d remembered herself and begged his leave, claiming an excuse that was flimsy at best. He hadn’t allowed himself to be crushed by the disappointment, instead clinging to that one morsel of hope that even if just for a few minutes, he’d been able to hold her attention once more.
A soft moan drew his attention back to the woman writhing in her bed before him.
He looked about the room for anything he could use to help relieve her suffering. With a small smile, he noted that the plant he had gifted her was sitting in pride of place on her vanity. He glanced at the long case clock in the corner of the room; in just a few minutes, he might witness it blooming.
Colin spied a washbasin filled with water and some cotton rags on the floor beside her bed. He quietly moved to kneel down and wetted a piece of cloth before gently placing it on her head. “You’ll be well soon, Pen, you’ll see,” he whispered.
Her eyes blinked open at his voice. “Colin?” she gasped between stuttered breaths.
He placed a finger to her lips. “Hush, darling Pen, it’s late, and you should be sleeping.”
“Am I dreaming?” she whispered.
He smiled gently at her. He couldn’t help but lean forward to cross the distance between them, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. Her skin was scorching beneath his lips, salty with sweat. He was unable to linger, though, as a loud groan ripped through her chest; he could feel the tremors of it echoing in his own.
Her eyes were like a crashing storm. “You shouldn’t be here,” she wailed, reaching a hand to clutch at her cheek as if to soothe the place he had just kissed.
“Pen, I– I’m sorry, I was just so worried. I–” He moved to push himself up and away from her, but her hand flung back to clench at his forearm. Her fingers squeezed like manacles at him through his shirt.
“Don’t leave,” she breathed.
Colin’s stomach lurched; she looked frantic, desperate. “Of course,” he said, covering her hand with his. “I’ll be here as long as you need me, Pen.”
She bit her lip, her eyes trailing over his face. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.
“I know, but I had to see you. I-”
“Will you come closer?”
Colin paused, momentarily caught by surprise by her request. He glanced about the room as if expecting to see the judging, thunderous face of Portia Featherington. But they were alone amongst the shadows. Their only accompaniment was the faint ticking of the clock in the corner, reminding him that it was drawing closer and closer to midnight.
He looked back down at his friend; she looked almost ethereal in the light of the moon. Her red curls were wild across her pillow, her eyes bright and shining, her skin like strawberries and cream. She was beautiful, even when caught in the midst of this mysterious war. He vaguely heard Benedict’s voice in his ear as he moved to sit on the bed next to her…
There is no such thing as propriety after midnight.
Penelope instantly shuffled closer to him as soon as he was on the bed. Her head nuzzled into his waist as if trying to meld them together.
“Pen!” he exclaimed, even as his hand was drawn like a magnet to her curls.
He threaded his fingers through them, marvelling at how soft they were. She moaned against him, the sound making him tremble, and then he felt her fingers trailing along his thighs; even through the fabric of his trousers, he could feel their light touch lighting little fires.
“Pen, I–” But his words caught in his throat as he felt her hands walk a dangerous path along his in-seam.
He grabbed her wrist, his jaw clenching as he willed his manhood not to react, but he was fighting a losing battle. As soon as she’d laid her hands on him, he’d become entirely aware of the fact that she was in nothing but a sheer chemise. He hadn’t thought much of it when he’d made his escape in only his trousers and white linen shirt earlier this evening, but now he wished he’d thought to wear more layers. A cravat, even, anything to put more distance between her skin and his.
It felt dangerous.
What the hell was wrong with him?
All Penelope needed from him was to place a cool towel on her forehead and hold her through her latest wave of fever. And yet his cock was hard and aching against his breeches.
Penelope whimpered again, “Please, Colin, closer, please.”
He swallowed, his eyes desperately scanning her face, but there was nothing to say that she’d registered his heated feelings. So he nodded once more and shuffled down in the bed, lying beside her so that they were face to face. He reached a hand to brush her damp hair behind her ear.
Her eyes were shining in the moonlight, bright and wide. For a moment, it was as if they were standing at the side of a ballroom, trading barbs and witticisms about society’s frivolities. He gave her a gentle smile.
And that was when she kissed him.
Colin let out a muffled noise of surprise, which soon turned into a deep shuddering groan as he relished in the feel of her soft, plump lips against his own. He had thought that his first kiss with Penelope would be sweet, soft, but this, this was fierce and searing. She kissed him with abandon, her lips bruising, punishing, as if she were trying to devour him, body and soul. And he gladly offered himself for the taking, opening his mouth to her, gliding his tongue against her own, luxuriating in the sweet, hot taste of her.
He scrambled to move on top of her, pressing her down into the mattress, his hands sliding along her hips, feeling her soft curves beneath the thin fabric of her chemise, his lips never leaving hers. Her hands were everywhere, scorching trails along his chest as she shoved them under his shirt. He pulled back a moment to rip his shirt off before leaning back down to kiss her again.
He needed more of her. He licked and nipped his way down her jawline to her pulse point, sucking at it until he marked her. She keened beneath him, her head thrown back as she reached to the buttons of his trousers. Colin palmed her breasts over her chemise, his thumb rubbing her nipple.
“Colin!” she cried out, her voice raw and hoarse.
He pulled back to look at her, their breaths echoing each other in desperate pants. “We should stop,” he gasped, “we should–” but he couldn’t finish what he was saying as she’d reached down for his hips and pulled him against her. He groaned at the delicious friction.
“Don’t you dare stop,” she hissed in his ear.
He studied her face; for the first time since he’d seen her this evening, she almost looked herself. A tempting siren, but still, Pen.
And it had been a long, lonely winter of nothing but ice from her. So he melted, claiming her lips with his again. His hands glided down her body, mapping every curve, squeezing and exploring. He hadn’t realised, until now, just how much he had always wanted her. Like he was born for her.
A distant chime tolled through the room, a melodic announcement that it was midnight. Colin barely registered it as he stripped Penelope bare. Kicking his own trousers off over his ankles, there was nothing but his breeches between him and her wet, hot centre. He leaned forward and captured her nipple in his mouth, his teeth grazing the tip as he sucked at it. She cried out, and he pulled away to shush her lest they awake the entire ton.
Only then did he notice that the air had become thick with a bright yellow fog.
“Pen,” he gasped, “What’s-”
“It’s the flower,” she whispered, “it’s pollen.”
She took a deep, heaving breath in. He watched in horror as her chest expanded and the pollen cascaded into her open mouth. And then, in a blink of an eye, it was gone. The room returned to dark, grey and white shadows, the moonlight shining bright on her form again.
“What in the-”
“It happens every night at midnight,” she whispered, her hands clawing at his skin, lips pressing urgent kisses on any part of him that she could reach.
Colin tried to pull away from her but she was so strong. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you see?” she asked, briefly pulling her lips away from his burning skin, “It’s as you said, the flower gives its carer her deepest desire.”
Colin was finally able to grab her wrists, wrenching them away from his body to lay in his fist above her head. “You desire to be ill?”
She keened below him, rolling her hips up against him. “I desire you, Colin. I ache for you.”
“No, Pen, we mustn’t,” he grunted, holding her hands firm, even as he let out a deep groan at the feel of her grinding against him. “This isn’t what you want; this is some-”
“Please, Colin,” she begged. “I fear I’ll explode into nothing if I do not have you.”
He pushed himself away from her, dragging himself into the corner of her room, his eyes darting between her naked, heaving form and the flower that glistened in the moonlight. “I cannot take advantage of you, Pen; I mustn’t.”
Penelope sat up in bed, her breasts bouncing with the movement, catching his traitorous eyes. “Colin, please, it is torture. I know you do not want me, that you do not see me in that way but-”
“How can you say that?” he exclaimed; surely his very form spoke of his desire for her.
She laughed, and for a moment, she was Pen again. “No, I think you’ll find you said it. That you would never dream of-”
“Well then, I was a fool,” he interrupted. “You are beautiful, Penelope, a divine temptress, but I cannot let myself compromise you. I would never forgive myself.”
Penelope’s eyes started to well as she scrambled across the bed, kicking at the sheets as she moved to the edge, “Please, Colin, I’m begging you!”
Colin tore his eyes away from her and stormed toward the plant, picking it up, “There has to be another way; we could-”
“I’ve already tried disposing of it,” interrupted Penelope, her voice dripping in desperation, “It just appears again, every night at midnight, the pollen heavier, thicker than before.”
“Well, what if we got a doctor or a clergyman or I don’t know, a witch, surely-”
“What do you think I’ve been doing this past week?” she snapped.
He glanced over at her; she was shaking, gripping at her bedsheet, clenching it against her chest, wrapping it tightly around her, as if physically trying to hold herself back from launching at him, “Pen, I-”
“I do not know if there is another way, Colin,” she said through gritted teeth, her face a mask of pain and longing, “but if I’m honest, I’m not sure I want another way. I just want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
“Pen, I want this to be right. I want-”
“So leave!” she cried, her eyes wild and fierce, “If you cannot give me what I desire, then please leave. It is cruel for you to stay when I feel like I might tear apart from within just at the sight of you.”
“Pen, I cannot leave you; I want to help you. I want-”
“So, help me!” she exclaimed, “You say you desire me. Show me.”
He swallowed. “You do not know what you ask of me.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and then smirked as if accepting a challenge. She kneeled on the bed, letting the sheet drop from her form. She was like Venus arriving in her shell, bathed in pearlescent moonlight. Colin’s mouth went dry, his cock twitching at the sight of her, begging him to discard any attachment to his gentlemanly upbringing.
So this was Temptation.
She started to move her hands, her fingers lightly tracing a path from her neck, down, down, to her breasts, pausing a moment to trace a circle around her nipple, one hand squeezing at her breast, his mouth watered at the way it fell from her hand, so large and luscious. Then, eyes still locked on him, she ran her fingers lower, threading them through the wet curls on her mound. She let out a breathy moan as her fingers started to massage there.
He swallowed and scrunched his eyes shut, but the image of her wanton form was tattooed against the back of his lids. For the rest of his days, he was sure he would blink and see her against the inky darkness, breathless and begging for him. He clenched his fists, letting the pain of his nails digging into his palms remind him of who he was and where he was. No good could come of staying any longer. Penelope would see a doctor, and all would be well. He strode over to her bedroom door. He grasped the brass door handle, willing himself to turn it and leave as a good gentleman should, as a good friend should.
“I know what I ask of you, Colin,” she whispered, drawing his attention to her once more, “I’m asking you for relief.”
And that’s when Colin knew he was going straight to hell, but he was bloody well going to enjoy the descent. He reached for the heavy brass key and turned the lock. The loud clunk, like a judge’s mallet, sentencing him to eternal damnation.
—
Penelope could have cried when she saw him turn the lock. The past week had been hell. Vivid dreams of his lips, his hands, his flesh had been tearing her mind apart. It had been pure torment, as if she were being ravished by the ghost of him. Every time she reached out to touch him, he was nothing but a shadow, a dream. And so she had been able to do naught but writhe in her bed, begging for some sweet relief whilst constantly being poked and prodded by the cold, withered hands of doctors and men of God.
It had been Penelope who had suggested that the illness might be catching, that they should isolate her. She needed these strange men gone, her family and friends gone, so that she might have some privacy. She had lain in her bed alone, feverish and desperate, her hand aching from trying to relieve herself, but she was never able to cross that final pinnacle. And she knew why. It had to be him, his touch; it could only be Colin.
When he had climbed through her bedroom window, she had thought it another dream, and then he had kissed her on the cheek. It had sent wildfires blazing through her; a simple touch had felt like a thick drop of rain on a scorched desert. Sweet, sweet relief. She had tried to warn him, to tell him he shouldn’t be there, but she had been weak. Because she knew in her heart of hearts, underneath the haze, that he should be with her, that she belonged to him. That as much as she had tried to banish him from her heart, he would always own it. She didn’t need a flower to tell her what she desired most, not when her soul cried out for him.
And so, here she was, wanton and wild, kneeling on her bed, naked and begging him to touch her. Her breath hitched at the sight of him as he turned and slowly stalked toward her. His eyes were ebony and gleaming, trained on her like she was his prey. He licked his lips, and she whimpered. It was like he was walking through molasses, his movements smooth and graceful, the broad planes of his chest and his taut stomach rippling under the moonlight. She longed to trace his dips and contours with her tongue, to map every part of him, to claim him. Even more, she longed for him to touch her. She was so close to coming, had been stuttering on the edges of it for days. All she needed from him was one merciful push.
Finally, finally, he was standing before her, closing that last stretch of distance between them. He raised his hand to her cheek, gently caressing her with his thumb. She leaned into his touch and rested her hands on his shoulders. Everything was still for a moment as if time had stopped. There was nothing but the pulsing warmth of his hand against her cheek, his eyes on hers. She finally understood what it was to be lost in someone’s gaze; she felt like she had been swept away by his current, happily drowning.
And then he leaned forward, his lips a hair’s breadth from her own, “You’re sure?” he whispered, his breath dancing across her lips.
“Please,” she breathed.
He captured her lower lip with his own, sucking gently.
But she had no patience for gentle.
Not now.
She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him by the back of his neck flush against her. She revelled in the feeling of her soft skin against his broad, rough chest. Every part of her was so sensitive it was almost as if she could hear the buzzing of her nerves vibrating across her skin. He made a muffled noise of shock as she dragged him with her falling back onto the bed.
She was writhing and wriggling underneath him, grinding her wet pussy against him, shamelessly rutting against his thigh, which had dropped between her legs. She could feel him attempting to regain some kind of control, trying to grasp at her waist, but she couldn’t stop moving, wrapping herself around him. She scrambled to grab his hand, shoving it onto her breast; she cried out as he squeezed it, a moan ripped from her as he tweaked at her nipple.
“Pen,” he said, his voice like gravel, “you must be quiet.”
“Is that what you want?” she breathed as she kissed across his chest, tongue sliding across him, tasting him. “For me to be quiet?”
“If we were to awake anybody–”
She reached for his manhood, running her fingers along the velvety length of him. “They would be jealous, I am sure.”
He grunted, his hips jerking toward her. “Pen, we-”
She pulled back a moment to look at him. “I cannot be quiet, Colin, not if it is you.”
His jaw twitched as he considered her words. “Then let us make them jealous,” he growled before reaching his hand between her legs, his fingers dipping inside her as his thumb played at her clit.
Penelope’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, her mouth dropping open to let out a ravenous cry. After days of trying, she had finally fallen over the edge, her orgasm overcoming her in wave after earth-shattering wave. Her pussy clenched and twitched around his fingers, her hips stuttered beneath him as her back arched.
For a moment, she felt light, loose, herself again.
Colin was watching her, his gaze soft.
“Are you well, Pen?” he whispered. “Is that what you needed?”
But her reprieve was brief; she could feel the burning feeling returning, starting from her core, slowly expanding to her belly, her hammering heart, her heaving lungs. “More,” she whispered, “I need more.”
He gave her a nod and leaned forward to kiss her neck, down to her collarbone, sucking at the tips of her nipples until she gasped, crying out. He licked his tongue down to her belly, swirling in her belly button, his hand still between her legs, slowly pumping two fingers in her.
He dipped in a third finger, and she moaned as she stretched around him. But it wasn’t enough. She needed him; she needed his hot, hard manhood. She tried to grasp at his hand, tried to pull it away. She was just about to scream at him that it wasn’t enough, that he was torturing her, that she would die if he didn’t fill her when she felt his hot, wet lips on her clit.
She bucked up into his mouth, her entire being alight, her fingers tangled themselves in his hair, holding him in place. He groaned against her as he sucked at her clit, sending sparks of lightning jolting through her. His fingers continued to pulse into her; every now and then, he’d curl them hitting a spot that made her cry out.
Her voice was ragged and raw; her vocal cords felt like they were ripping even as she begged him for more. She thrust herself down on his hand, trying to have him deeper within her. She pushed at the back of his head, desperate for more pressure. She was starting to twitch around him; she was an incoherent, babbling mess. She was cursing at him, riding his fingers, surging forward on another wave of building pleasure.
Bang, Bang, Bang.
Colin pulled back a moment at the sound of somebody thundering their fists on her bedroom door.
Penelope quickly pushed his head back down between her thighs. “Don’t stop!” she cried.
Bang, Bang, Bang.
This time the noise was followed by her mother's voice. “Penelope! Are you well? I heard noises.”
Penelope’s head fell back on her pillow, her mouth dropping into a silent scream as Colin continued his assault on her pussy. He was lapping at her folds, his tongue tracing a delicious path from her centre to her clit and back. His fingers curled within her, thrusting at that spot that made her tremble.
“Everything’s fine, Mama!” she managed to cry out, her voice weak and breathless. “Just night terrors!”
She bit down on her lip to prevent another loud moan from escaping her; she could feel it rattling against her ribcage. She tasted blood but kept her mouth clenched shut, even as she shook and twitched around Colin. She looked down at him; his eyes were gleaming and wicked between her thighs. He swirled his tongue sinfully around her clit, and she cried out, unable to keep the sound within her any longer. She could feel him grinning in victory against her as she came. Her entire being shattering around him, her voice a desperate wail, her legs twitching until they became jelly.
She flopped back against the bed, her chest heaving, her heart pounding against her chest as she revelled once more in the feeling of lightness. Colin crawled over her, bracketing her with his arms as he leaned down to kiss her. She moaned at the taste of her in his mouth, gliding her tongue against his. She vaguely heard the departing footsteps of her mother.
“You’re wicked,” she breathed between kisses.
He reached a hand to her breast and thumbed her nipple, causing her to gasp, that familiar burning feeling once more pooling in her core. She could feel his hard cock against her thigh; dripping and throbbing hot.
“You wanted to make them jealous,” he whispered.
“Colin, it’s not enough,” she whined, reaching down to run her fingers along his cock.
Colin’s hips jerked at the contact; he dropped his head into the crook of her shoulder, breathing heavily against her. “Pen, we can’t.”
She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him against her. “Please,” she whimpered. “It is the only way this will end; I know it. I swear to you, I will not trap you.” She rutted against his cock, feeling the hard length of it glide between her folds. He was so torturously close to her centre.
Colin groaned against her neck, sending goosebumps prickling across her skin. “Pen,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “It is I who does not want to entrap you. You deserve more than a forced marriage-”
“I am already ruined, Colin,” she whispered. “In every sense of the word.”
Colin pulled back to look at her, his brows knitted together. “Pen, that’s not- no one has to know, we-”
She placed a hand against his jaw, running a thumb across the rough stubble that had started to grow there. “How can I ever be with another man when I am yours?” She reached down for his hand and brought it to her chest, just above her heart. “My heart, my body, my soul, I am yours.”
Colin’s eyes scanned her face as if searching for a hint of a lie.
“I do not and will not expect anything from you, Colin,” she murmured, “You must believe me. I am content with your friendship. You have more than proved yourself to be a good and loyal friend this evening.”
“And what if I want more, Pen?”
She smiled at him, her heart aching at his pretty lie; for a moment, it felt as if the molten heat thrumming beneath her skin had subsided. She leaned up and captured his lips in hers, “Whatever you want,” she whispered.
—
Colin surged forward and kissed her, his tongue delving into the depths of her hot mouth once more. She tasted sweet and sinful; he wanted to inhale her. He reached a hand to her breast, luxuriating in the weight of it, the way it spilled over his hand, soft and so sensitive. He would happily die in her breasts, suffocating with a smile. She was rutting against him again, her wet folds tracing along his aching, desperate cock.
He could feel her moving to reach down for him, but he batted her hand away, terrified that one more touch from her might send him over the edge, and then he’d be useless to her, at least for a little while. And he had to relieve this torment she was still going through; he had to save her from it.
She had always been his to protect, to care for; if this was what she needed, he would give it to her. Despite the risks to both of their reputations, the risk of his family and her family’s wrath, he would make it right in the morning. But for now, it was after midnight, and they were alone.
He pulled away from her, settling between her legs. She lay back and watched him through hooded eyes, her hand reaching to squeeze at her nipple; he bit his lip at the sight. She probably didn’t even know she was doing it, so far gone into the haze that she was. He kneeled back between her legs and kissed the inside of her creamy thighs, slick with her come already.
He gently pushed them apart so that he was faced with her rosy, pink pussy, wet and needy. He swirled a finger in her centre, and she moaned, her walls clenching around him. And then he shifted forward, placing the tip of his cock at her entrance. He paused briefly, considering whether the tip might just be enough. Perhaps, he could save her maidenhood for marriage yet. But he had barely considered the idea when she wrapped her legs around him and dragged him deep within her.
He yelled out as he fell into her, barely able to prevent himself from crushing her as he quickly reached his hands out to the mattress beneath them. Christ, she felt incredible around him. Hot and tight, soaking.
“Pen,” he grunted, his eyes scrunched shut as if blinding himself might return some self-control. “Are you well? Does it hurt?”
He felt her start to squirm beneath him. “Only a little,” she gasped, “I feel so full.”
He smiled into her neck, allowing himself a moment to preen at her assessment of his member.
She shifted beneath him, her hands reaching to run hot, scorching trails along his back. “Colin,” she whimpered, “I need you to move.”
Colin nodded and moved above her, opening his eyes. She was writhing beneath him, her body burning up again, demanding another orgasm. Colin haltingly withdrew from her until he was again at her entrance. And with all the self-control he had left, he slowly sheathed himself within her again. She jolted her hips up at him, causing him to cry out.
“Faster,” she hissed, “More, please, Colin, I am not a delicate flower. I need- I need-”
He snapped his hips forward, cutting off her pleas. And then he started to thrust within her, faster and harder with each movement. He felt like he was sparking, like gunpowder, ready to explode. He reached a hand between them and furiously rubbed at her clit. He wasn’t going to last long and needed to feel her shatter once more around him.
She was moving her hips to meet his now, shouting at him, begging him, more, harder, faster, fuck, more. Her plush red lips were swollen, the filthy words falling from them were something from a dream, the wildest of his fantasies.
And then, with a strength that overwhelmed him, she somehow managed to flip them, so that she was riding his cock. The sight was mesmerising, her tits bouncing as her hips ground against him, using him for her pleasure. He reached forward and pressed his thumb against her clit, rolling it and massaging it as she moved. Her head dropped back, and she palmed at her breasts, tweaking her nipples. Fuck, he was so close; just the sight of her alone was enough to send him over the edge. The headboard of her bed was pounding against the wall, a brutal accompaniment to the punishing pace she was setting.
She was crying out, shouting at the ceiling above; she was so close, the entirety of the Ton would know it. He moved to sit up and captured her final wail with his lips as she came, her entire body shaking and stuttering around him. He could feel her clenching and twitching around his cock as he came with her.
He fell back, and she collapsed on top of him. He held her in place, not wanting to separate from her, his manhood softening inside her. He could feel the mixture of their warm come dripping down around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the mess. She lay there panting for a while, her sweaty skin slick against his own, he wasn’t sure where he started, and she ended. He trailed a hand through her curls, drawing lazy patterns down her back. This was bliss.
He kissed her gently, sweetly, slowly in worship.
He tasted wet salt on his tongue. When he pulled back, she was crying, and Colin could feel his heart breaking; he would never forgive himself for this. She regretted it.
“Pen,” he whispered, wiping her tears with his thumb.
“It’s burning again,” she whimpered, a raw sob racking through her chest. “I need more. I thought that would be enough, but I need more.”
She was shaking above him, even as she started shifting her hips, grinding, chasing another orgasm.
“All will be well, Pen,” he murmured, placing a kiss on her lips.
“That’s not true!” she wailed. “All will not be well; I’m exhausted, I’m aching, I-”
He gently rocked beneath her, his hands gripping her thighs as he felt himself start to harden again. “I will never stop helping you, Pen,” he promised, “As many times as it takes.”
“It will be morning soon,” she whimpered, dropping her forehead against his, their breaths intermingling.
“I would stay in this room for the rest of my days,” he promised, pushing a curl behind her ear, and shifting up to give her a gentle kiss.
She let out a breathy moan as she slowly ground her hips against him. Her eyes were shining; they were bright blue with tears. He couldn't help himself from wrapping his arms around her in comfort, pulling her flush against him.
“I love you, Pen,” he whispered, “We will be married soon, and I will look after you, I promise.”
“You love me?” she echoed, pulling away to look at him properly, her face etched in disbelief.
“Of course,” he murmured, reaching a hand down to thumb at her clit making her jaw drop with a silent groan. “You are my Pen. It nearly destroyed me being away from you for so long in Cyprus without your letters to keep me company.”
He lifted his head up and wrapped his lips around her nipple, sucking until she cried out, before continuing his confession, “When I bought that damned hell flower,” he gasped, as she started to ride him faster, “I knew I would die if I was away from you any longer. So I cut my journey short; it was- it was-“ he groaned as he tried to keep focus on his words, moving the hand that wasn’t worshipping her clit to her waist, attempting to slow her down a moment. “It was horrible without you, Pen.”
She paused above him, panting as she took his words in.
“I missed you dearly. I love you with my entire being,” he said.
She looked down at him in abject wonder, her pretty lips parted.
He vowed he would be worthy of that expression for the rest of his days.
“I love you too, Colin,” she whispered, her eyes starting to well, “I always have.”
He reached up behind her neck, threading his fingers through her curls and pulled her down to press his lips against hers, sliding his tongue in her mouth. She moaned into him, he felt the vibrations of it thrum throughout his entire body. He rolled them over, reaching behind her knee to bring her thigh up by his face. He kissed her there and started rolling his hips, one hand placed by her head.
She reached behind him and grabbed his arse, pulling him closer, harder against her. He grunted with exertion as he picked up his pace, revelling in the sound of his flesh clapping against her own. He wondered if her cheeks would be pink. He bent down to kiss her neck, her collarbone, her luscious breasts. He bit down on her breast, leaving a mark there, soothing it with his tongue. He wanted her to be stained with the imprints of him in the morning. He felt her hands making a journey up his back, scratching hot tracks along him, he smiled. She was his, and he was hers.
He continued to pound into her, grinding against her clit with every thrust of his hips. She was crying out again, his name like honey on her lips. Her cheeks were flushed and shining, her eyes rolled back into her head, he could feel her shattering around him. He slammed into her, chasing his own high, feeling it building in him, closer and closer. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, begging him to find his pleasure in her. His hips stuttered as he came with a broken, primal roar.
He collapsed on top of her, breathing in her familiar sweet scent, mixed with salt and sex. He kissed her neck and made to roll off her but she held him there, squeezing him between her thighs.
“Just a moment longer,” she whispered, “I feel so full with you in me.”
Colin felt like he could cry; this was love, this was Penelope.
She started to play with his hair, stroking her fingers lightly down his damp neck. He sighed and nuzzled himself further into her neck, content.
He felt her giggle beneath him and then she stilled. “It’s gone,” she whispered, her voice laced with shock.
Colin pulled back in confusion. “What’s-”
“The burning; it’s gone.”
She moved her hands to his chest and pushed at him, Colin scrambled to move off her. Both of them sitting up and looking across the room for the flower.
It was still sitting on her vanity. Except that it was now naked, its petals having fallen to the floor. The edges of them were already browning, curling inwards.
“I think- I think it’s done,” she exclaimed, her face breaking into a wide relieved smile.
Colin felt a bubble of something light move up through his chest, escaping from his throat as laughter. Until now, he hadn’t realised how terrified he was for Penelope, that she might be sentenced to this torment for the rest of her days.
She collapsed back into the bed, her laughter bouncing out from her mouth. She giggled and turned to face him. “I should like to sleep now.”
He grinned, pulling her toward him, tangling their limbs together as he wrapped himself around her, “Good night, darling Pen,” he whispered, kissing her sweetly on the neck.
And so they drifted off into the sweet relief of slumber.