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Penelope had felt a lot of things about her permanent wallflower status over her life. Bitter. Resigned. Frustrated.
Today, she felt grateful.
All but lurking in the shadows, she hugged the wall closely and reminded herself to breathe. She focused on the colours of the decor around her, the movements of the couples engaged in dance, the concentration on the musicians’ faces. There was truly no end to things she could be distracted by.
So why, she wondered frustratedly, did she find herself unable to think of anything other than him .
Huffing with annoyance, she sipped her lemonade and absentmindedly pulled at her dress. When she had donned it earlier in the evening, she had felt powerful, vindictive, unstoppable. But now she was actually here, in the familiar ballroom of Aubrey Hall, she felt childish and petty. How naive of her to think that a simple change to the cut and colour of her clothes would be enough to make even a wisp of a difference to anyone, least of all the most charming of all the Bridgertons, she thought.
One part of her hoped she would perhaps not see him at all. The season beginning at Aubrey Hall was unorthodox, and it was possible that he had chosen to stay on his travels until his family returned to London once and for all. She had been here nearly an hour and had yet to see him. He wasn’t someone she tended to miss in a crowd.
A larger part of her, however, or more accurately, the rest of her, desperately hoped he would be there. Despite everything. She wished she could smother that part of her. Wondered if there was anything he could do that would be wretched enough to make her never want to see him again. But no. Even as her heart broke at his words last season, it still beat for him, mangled yet somehow still pumping blood. How she loathed it. How she loathed herself, in these moments. How she loathed that she could never quite loathe him, no matter how hard she tried.
She should hate him. She should be disgusted by him. She should leave him behind completely. And while her actions had implied she had done just that, his letters going unanswered over the summer, she was all too aware that beneath it all she was dying, desperate for his presence. She missed him so much her body ached, her mind preoccupied by little else, her stomach fluttering in anticipation at just the thought of seeing him again.
Damn him.
She heard a burst of laughter to the far end of the ballroom and tensed. Colin often left a trail of chuckles and warmth in his wake, and she glanced at the outburst in case he was the cause of it. She was relieved to see that it was a different Bridgerton responsible, though, Benedict smiling charmingly as the group of bachelors he was surrounded with reacted to his joke.
She felt her tummy flip when she remembered that she too was supposed to be finding time to charm bachelors. She had promised herself, after all. But alas, she just didn’t seem to be able to move from the safety of her little haven. She wasn’t completely sure she wasn’t invisible, actually, as no one had so much as glanced her way since she’d scurried here after greeting Violet and Francesca (the least stressful of the Bridgertons).
Next time she promised herself. She had already worn this ridiculous dress. That was enough bravery for one day.
Deciding she need only stay another hour or so before she could retire, she let herself relax for the first time that evening, glad to see her mother was too busy supervising her sisters to harangue her about her lack of socialising.
No sooner had her shoulders dropped slightly than did she feel a presence beside her. She did not have to turn to see who it was, she could smell him. How pathetic that she knew this man so intimately, when he cared for her so little in return. It was shameful.
Clinging to her pride, she did not speak, not acknowledging the man who had come to stand beside her. She felt his warmth radiate over her and tried to even her breathing. Why was he standing so close? There was plenty of room in this part of the ballroom, and if they weren’t partially hidden from view by a pillar his proximity would be scandalous. Yet there he stood, and she was sure if she was to look at him she would have to crane her neck up to meet his gaze.
The gaze she could feel, quite intently, on her right now.
“Penelope.”
She couldn’t help the little jump she gave at the sound of her name, and she cursed her own nerves a thousand times over. She wondered if it was the length of time between their meetings that made him sound different, his voice lower and more gruff than she could remember.
It doesn’t matter, she scolded herself.
“Mr Bridgerton.”
She said his name coldly, using his title in a way she couldn’t remember ever doing in all their years of friendship.
Former friendship, she corrected herself with a sharp pang.
“Are you well? It has been so long since we have spoken...”
His voice was earnest, and maybe even a little hurt. Penelope disregarded the notion and tried to answer as neutrally as possible.
“I am well, thank you.”
Colin was silent, perhaps waiting for her to say more. She held her tongue though, tension rising as the silence stretched between them. Colin cleared his throat, and she knew she wouldn’t have the strength to keep her walls up if he kept persisting. She was already on the verge of tears and they’d barely exchanged two sentences to one another.
“Pen-”
She cut him off, ignoring the stab in her heart at the familiar nickname.
“I apologise, Mr Bridgerton, but I do believe my mother is looking for me.”
Without waiting for a response, she swept away, tears gathering in her eyes as she weaved through the crowd and towards the nearest exit. She could not bring herself to care that her mother was on the other side of the room to where she was now headed, so caught up in conversation with the other mamas that it was doubtful she even knew where Penelope was. She had to escape.
Rushing down a hallway, she recognised the door to the library and was relieved to find it unlocked. Pushing inside hastily, she closed the door just as the first tears began to fall, a soft sob escaping her lips. She crossed the room and sank down in her favourite seat, an armchair by the window as she began to cry.
It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair that he should have such an effect on her, even now.
It wasn’t fair that even though he thought so little of her, he was still somehow kinder to her than anyone else.
It wasn’t fair that she loved him. Loved him so much it hurt. Loved him so much she already knew she would never love anyone else.
She looked out over the gardens of Aubrey Hall, bathed in moonlight and remembered all the joyful times she’d spent there. Gossiping with Eloise, Playing Pall Mall, reading under the big oak trees. How she would sit with Lady Bridgerton and her daughters, almost as if she was one of them, and they would drink tea and laugh at the boys fencing nearby. How she would hope no one noticed her blush when Colin, looking particularly fetching in his loose shirt where his chest hair could be seen, would laugh and jest while sparring, throwing her the odd wink when he said something particularly cheeky.
She felt her heart ache as more tears fell. She had already lost Eloise this year, and now she had lost Colin too. Well. Maybe lost wasn’t the right word. He was never hers to lose.
She berated herself for ever being so stupid as to think that she might mean anything to Colin Bridgerton. He, a charming, handsome and worldly young man from one of the most highly regarded families in the ton. Her, a shy, awkward redhead, who was too short, too pale and too soft to be considered anything other than a joke. She always knew she was not a realistic romantic option for him, this was drilled into her since the moment she had run home to tell her mama about the boy she had met while she was out to play with Eloise. But it seemed she had been delusional to even consider him her friend.
A friend would not speak about her that way. Would not sully her chances of finding a match so completely. Would not let others laugh and jest at her in his presence.
Wiping her tears, she bid herself to gain some composure. She had had a whole summer to come to terms with this, and she thought she had, but seeing him again. That had been her undoing. She had underestimated how much it would pain her to have him near her again, hear his voice yet know she could no longer trust a word from his lips. That, despite what she had previously believed , they were never anything more than acquaintances. She was his sister’s friend (ex-friend), someone to keep at bay the boredom during tedious balls and other social events. Someone who would listen to his travel stories. Someone who would boost his ego and demand nothing in return.
Not beautiful, desirable or good enough to be courted.
Not even important enough to be considered a friend.
Fresh tears threatened to spill over, and she was just about to allow herself one more crying jag when the door to the library opened. She froze, mortified.
Maybe they wouldn’t see her.
She nearly groaned as her eyes adjusted to the light-streaming around the intruder, unable to yet see their face but recognising the silhouette instantly nonetheless.
Colin.
She held her breath and watched him scan the room, tempted to close her eyes as she felt his gaze land on her by the window. She felt like the world’s worst hide and seek player.
If I can’t see you, you can’t see me.
“Pen?”
She didn’t say anything, didn’t trust herself to speak without crying. She watched him stand in the doorway, could see his eyes squinting to make her out in the dark, before he let out a gasp. She knew it would be obvious she had been crying, her eyes puffy and cheeks wet. For a moment she thought he would leave her, would shut the door and pretend he never saw her. Maybe get her mother if he was feeling particularly vindictive.
Instead, he gently closed the door behind him and hurried over to where she sat.
“Pen!”
She hated how easy it was to imagine the concern in his voice. Hated herself for wanting him to care. As he came to stand before her she turned to look out the window, afraid she would dissolve completely under his gaze.
She took a shaky breath, trying to gather at least a scrap of dignity.
“Mr Bridgerton, I am well. Please leave me be.”
“But, Pen, I do not understand-”
“Please , Mr Bridgerton. I wish to be alone.”
“Penelope, please, tell me what is wrong. Please.”
Hearing his voice closer than before she turned and was shocked to see he was now on his knees in front of where she sat. She couldn’t believe her eyes. This man was so obsessed with honour it could be considered an illness.
“Mr Bridgerton, there is nothing for us to discuss.”
“And why are you calling me Mr Bridgerton? What is going on, Pen? I do not understand. First, you do not reply to my letters, and now you will barely look at me. Are we not friends?”
Penelope stared at him, for the first time taking him in since the evening began. He knelt in front of her, breathing heavily, eyes wide and…desperate? Penelope wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a look she’d seen on him before.
Her stomach twisting at his words, she felt what was left of her composure dissolve, indignation taking its place.
“Friends? Friends ? We are not friends, and how dare you pretend to feel otherwise. I do not need your pity or your platitudes.”
She all but hissed at him, face hot with anger. She watched shock and confusion fly across Colin’s face.
“We are not friends? How can you say that?”
Penelope looked away again, not allowing herself to identify the emotion that looked a lot like hurt in the man’s eyes. She realised with frustration that he had not made a single move towards leaving. The wretched, stubborn man. Why did the only person so committed to demanding answers from her also have to be the one she seemed to not have a single defence against? It was cruel.
Realising that the truth might be the only thing that would actually rid her of him, she took a steadying breath before raising her chin defiantly toward him.
“Yes, Mr Bridgerton. Friends do not behave as you do. I heard you last season, at Mama’s ball. Telling half the ton how you would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington.”
She did her best to keep her voice even, even as her heart pounded violently in her chest.
She watched with grim satisfaction as horror and understanding bloomed simultaneously on his face. She continued, doubling down and twisting the knife.
“I never asked you to court me, Mr Bridgerton, as you may remember. But I certainly did not think you would deem me so unworthy as to disgrace my name in public, shattering whatever small chance I had of being seen as a viable match. I never thought you cruel, but perhaps I never knew you at all. I was a fool to think we shared anything that even resembled friendship.”
Colin stared at her, mouth open as he listened to her words. He seemed speechless.
Good.
“So you will forgive me if I do not wish to be seen with someone who has openly declared my undesirability. It only serves to make a further mockery of me than you already have, and I wish to find a husband this season.”
At last Colin seemed to find his voice.
“You…wish to marry?”
Penelope saw red.
“That is what you take from my words?” She felt the fury lace her tone as she glared at the man in front of her. Of course he would disregard how he hurt her, focusing on the part he found most unbelievable.
“No…I mean yes, I mean.. Pen I am so sorry. I do not know what I was thinking. They were talking about you and…”
“Please do not try to explain, Colin.” She realised too late she had called him by his first name when she saw the corresponding flash in his eyes. She continued anyway. “It insults us both.”
Colin sat back on his heels, and brought his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. Penelope watched with fascination as it smoothly fell into disarray. She wanted to touch it so badly.
She hated him.
Well, no.
She loved him.
Damn him, actually.
When he spoke again, Colin's voice was low and firm, sending a thrill through her that she could not quite explain.
“Is that why you ignored my letters? Because of what you heard me say?”
Penelope nodded once, watching him warily.
He exhaled heavily.
“Penelope, I have no excuse. It was an awful thing to say, but you have to know I did not mean it. I found myself uncomfortable with the way they were speaking about you-”
“Because I embarrass you?”
Penelope couldn't help but challenge him.
“No, of course not. Because you are special to me. I did not want those men, those rakes, to even think of you in that way. So I said the first thing I could to try and quell the subject and it was wrong. I am so, so sorry Penelope. Please, you must believe me.”
She considered him, his pleading eyes, his concerned expression. She did believe him, she realised. She remembered all the times he had called her special in the past, and was astonished to find this only angered her more. She set her jaw.
“Very well, you are forgiven. Now, will you please leave me be?”
Colin looked taken aback.
“If I am forgiven, why must I leave?” He demanded.
Penelope cursed Violet Bridgerton for never telling her favourite son no.
“If you have the answers you want, why do you wish to stay?” She returned bitterly.
“Because I've missed you Pen. I missed you so much while I was away I went half mad. I have been desperate for a moment to talk to you since I set foot in England. I wish to tell you-”
Penelope felt sick. She couldn't do this anymore, she realised.
“Please don't, Colin.”
He looked confused.
“Don't what?”
“I can't keep doing this, I cannot-” she stopped, the confession she had been about to spill stuck like a lump in her throat. She couldn't tell him. It would wreck her. She had to hold at least something back, if she was to survive him.
But she also couldn't keep going down this path. Being told all the ways she was important to Colin, yet never important enough. It was killing her. She needed it to be over, she realised. Once and for all.
She had to break it. Shatter it so completely there was no hope of piecing it back together. Fortunately she had some recent experience in destroying the things most important to her.
Colin stared at her, waiting, confusion creasing his brow. When she didn't finish her sentence he made to speak again but she cut him off with a whisper.
“I am Lady Whistledown.”
She watched as the words he had been about to speak died in his throat. She watched every tiny expression flicker in his eyes. Shock, disbelief, horror. And then, finally, anger.
“What.”
He all but spit it out, and Penelope at once felt despair and relief at his sweet demeanour finally disappearing.
She said nothing, knowing he heard her. She simply waited.
She watched him rise to his feet, disgust on his face. Watched him turn and stride toward the door, just as she'd hoped he'd do only minutes before. Why did it feel like she was suffocating, then?
“I'm sorry.”
She couldn't help but say it, so soft she thought he wouldn’t hear, but she watched him freeze, his hand on the door handle.
He slowly turned around, gaze darker than she had ever seen it.
“You're sorry?”
His voice was low and had an edge to it that made her shiver.
She could only nod. She waited for him to leave, waited for him to storm out of her life for good.
But instead he stood, glowering at her, not moving a muscle.
“You're sorry.”
This time he said it as a fact, a menacing lilt to his voice.
“I'm sorry too, Penelope. Sorry I ever trusted you. Sorry I ever thought you were good, and kind, and decent.”
Penelope flinched at his words, reminding herself that this was what she wanted. She needed him to hate her if she ever had a hope of leaving him behind. He took one step back towards her.
“Sorry that I thought I could trust you, could confide in you, whilst all the while you were laughing at me and my family.”
“That's not true!”
Penelope couldn't help but argue, her dismay at his words so strong she thought she may be swept away. She pushed herself up from her chair, needing to feel taller, stronger.
“I never have held anything but the utmost respect and appreciation for your family, Colin. For you!! You must know that!”
“How do I know anything, Pen?” Colin’s voice was louder now, his words harsh and rough. “You are clearly not who I thought you were. Why on earth would I believe you did what you did, said what you said, out of anything other than…than..wickedness!!”
“I was trying to help you, you fool!” She watched his face grow even more furious, but she couldn't stop herself, “Everything I ever wrote about you, or Eloise or anyone in your family I did to help. I know that the way I conducted myself was not right, and I should have found a better way, but I never wrote about you out of anything but love!”
He was closer now, only a few feet away, and Penelope could hear his ragged breaths
“Love?? Is that what you call humiliating me? Near ruining my sister?? Ruining Marina?!” .
He was roaring now, and Penelope was glad the ballroom was far enough away they would not be heard. She glared back at him, feeling strangely powerful seeing him like this, feeling herself like this. Finally speaking her truth. She was burning it down. She would burn it all down.
Eyes flashing she snapped back.
“I had no choice, you would not listen to me! And the Queen was after Eloise. I did what I had to do!”
“Oh no, Penelope, please tell me more about what you had to do. Tell me who forced you to start that godforsaken rag and goad the Queen”
Penelope felt a shiver down her spine. She had never heard Colin be sarcastic before. She levelled her gaze at him.
“I am sorry for everything I have done that has hurt anyone, especially you and your family. But do not think for one second I am anything but proud of all Lady Whistledown has achieved. I built her from nothing. I am someone that nobody notices, nobody sees, and yet when I speak, everyone listens, even if they do not know it.”
Colin looked at her in disbelief, panting. When he spoke, his voice was level and quiet. He took one more step towards her, so close now she could feel the heat rolling off of him.
“Well then. I am glad you are proud of yourself. I hope that is a consolation when you are forced to marry a man you do not love, writing your gossip rag in secret because you would rather hide in the shadows than let anyone see you.”
Penelope felt herself tear up, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how his words hurt her. Swallowing, she squared her shoulders and replied quietly.
“Why would I want anyone to see me, Colin? You saw more of me than anyone, and even you see me as nothing more than a pitiful girl who, to use your own words, “does not count”. So you tell me, what about the real me is worth preserving?”
Colin stood for a moment, regarding her. She stared back, refusing to break eye contact. Then, she watched as Colin turned, and without a word, left.
This time, she actually felt her heart break.
She slid to the floor and sobbed.
Later that night, having managed to sneak back to her chamber unseen, she stared at the canopy of her bed. She could not sleep, but she also could not cry anymore. She felt raw, wrecked and ruined, all at once.
She told herself, again and again, that she had done the right thing. She must move on if she wished to find a suitor. And she couldn't do that with Colin beside her, unknowingly stealing her heart with his every word, touch and crooked smile.
But she was dying, she was sure of it. Colin, the small part she'd had of him, had been enough to light up a thousand dreary days. She did not know how she would survive without him, now that she had ruined their friendship so completely. She realised that before now, part of her always knew she would forgive him, eventually. And that was why she had to make him hate her. She was not strong enough to keep him out of her life with sheer will alone.
Wondering whether the next few decades would take very long before she could happily die, she heard a noise from her door. A light tapping noise.
She froze, staring at the wood, wondering if it were a mouse she was hearing or her imagination.
But then it came again, more insistent this time. Louder. Someone was knocking on her door.
She sighed. It was probably one of her sisters, drunk and wanting to brag about whichever poor gentleman they'd accosted that evening. She moved to the door, ready to guide them to bed so she could return to her heartbreak as soon as possible.
She opened the door and couldn't stop the squeak that left her mouth when she saw who it was.
Colin Bridgerton stood in her doorway, jacket and cravat missing and shirt partially unbuttoned and wrinkled. She stared at him, unable to make sense of his presence here, at her room, at this hour, after the worst fight they'd ever had.
The only fight they'd ever had.
She realised with mortification that she was only in her nightgown, her hair undone and feet bare. She felt dangerously exposed.
“Colin,” she managed, but all other words died in her throat at the intensity with which he was staring back at her. Was he back to continue their argument? Penelope wasn't sure she would survive round two.
“Penelope.”
Colin voice was ragged, like he was struggling to keep his voice even. Then he surged forward, his arms circling her waist and he pulled her into him, kissing her hard.
Penelope didn't move for a moment, completely stunned by his behaviour. She felt his lips on hers, his hands on her back, and wondered if she was dreaming. Then she felt his lips move against hers.
“Penelope,” he said again. Need, raw and primal, soaked his voice, unmistakable. It unlocked something inside of her and then she was kissing him back.
She felt him groan into her mouth and she couldn't help but whimper in return. She had imagined his lips on hers a thousand times, but never could she have dreamed the reality of them.
His kisses bruising, he guided her back into the room, closing the door behind him with his foot. His hands roamed her body through the thin fabric of her nightgown, moving from her waist to her hips and bottom, making he pulse between her legs.
She reached into his hair, needing him closer, pressing herself into him so that her breasts crushed into his chest.
Somewhere part of her tried to tell her this was not how things were done. This was not how ladies behaved. That this man had reduced her to tears not even an hour ago and that he was probably taking advantage of her.
But she couldn't bring herself to care, she just kissed him harder. She felt his tongue press into her mouth and couldn't help the moan that spilled out of her. She felt like she was on fire, and she needed more, more, always more.
Colin broke their kiss for a moment, using one hand to grip her chin as he searched her gaze frantically. She stared back, completely at his mercy.
“I'm angry with you, Penelope,” he growled and Penelope felt herself grow even hotter, much to her confusion. She didn't know what to say so she just waited, feeling his breath caress her lips.
“I'm angry with you, and I should be angry with you. For everything that's happened. I should be furious.”
Penelope could only nod dumbly, not understanding what was happening at all but hoping he would go back to kissing her soon. If this was her punishment, she'd create a thousand Whistledowns, all saying awful lies about the man in front of her.
“But I can't find it in myself to care about any of it, Penelope.”
She felt her face scrunch with confusion.
“No, instead I find myself angry that you put yourself in danger.”
He brought his other hand up to gently tug on one of the ringlets that spilled over her shoulders.
“Angry at myself for not seeing you for all that you were. All your brilliance. Of course you're Lady Whistledown. Who else could be so clever? I'm furious at how blind I have been to how extraordinary you are.” He shook his head with something akin to wonder. “And do you know what makes me most furious? What makes me see red?”
Penelope couldn't believe what she was hearing. She managed to shake her head, looking up at him with wide eyes as he looked down at her, his gaze smouldering.
“I'm angry that I nearly lost you, Penelope. That I ever let you think you didn’t mean everything to me. That if your silence hadn't driven me half mad, I would have never have known how much I needed you.”
Penelope felt the breath leave her body.
“That some other man might have courted you, married you, had you.” His eyes were wild as they bore into hers. There was no way, no way he was saying what she thought he was saying…
“Please, Penelope. Please tell me it's not too late to make you mine. Tell me that to want me to be yours. Please.”
Penelope looked into his eyes. Saw the desperation. Was able to recognise the sheer need only because it so perfectly mirrored her own. One last piece of her ruined heart tried to resist, begged her not to believe him. She let that part of her be drowned out by her pounding heart.
Because she knew him. She did. And as much as she had tried to hate him, she never could. Because he was good. And he would never lie to her, not about this.
Yet again that evening, she felt tears pool in her eyes. Finally, she nodded.
“I am yours. I always have been, Colin. I couldn't belong to anyone else even if I wanted to.”
She watched, spellbound, at the awe in his eyes. Only for a moment though, because then he was pulling her to him once more, kissing her senseless.
He guided her to the bed, hands on her waist as he hungrily licked at her lips. He kissed down her throat, sucking her pulse point and nipping at her earlobe. Penelope didn't think she'd ever felt something more exquisite, her head dropping back to give him better access, gasping with the need possessing her body.
“Penelope.”
She shivered at the way he said her name, so desperate and ragged. She looked up at him as he held her, thumbs rubbing circles on her waist.
“Where can I touch you, love?”
Penelope felt like her heart would burst at the endearment, the gentleness with which he spoke.
“Everywhere.” She said it matter-of-factly, no longer able to hide her want for him. No longer wanting to. She watched with fascination as his eyes darkened and his breath hitched. She felt like she was dreaming.
“Are you sure? We needn't rush. I can return to my room.”
Penelope felt her heart lurch at the thought. She gripped him tighter, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, suddenly afraid he might disappear from under her touch.
“No. I want it all, please, Colin. I've wanted this for so long. Do what you wish with me.”
She stepped back from him, and with a bravery she did not know she possessed, lifted the hem of her nightgown before pulling it up and over her head.
Colin did not move, and Penelope resisted the part of herself that wanted to cover herself and run away. Colin had been so brave tonight, coming to her despite not knowing how she felt. She would be brave for him too.
She could only hear her heartbeat and her breath in the quiet room, and she watched Colin take her in. She bit her lip nervously, unsure at his lack of reaction. His eyes travelled over her body, from her face to her breasts, to her stomach and her quim, down her legs to her feet, before they lifted up and began their journey all over again. He stared at her hard, like he was memorising her, lips slightly parted and eyes black. He looked so severe Penelope shivered, hoping she had not made him angry with her brazenness.
Unable to take the tension anymore, she spoke.
“Colin?”
His eyes, currently on her breasts, snapped back to her face, looking dazed.
“Is this alright?” She tried and failed to keep the tremble from her voice. In an instant he was in front of her, arms pulling her to him.
“Penelope.” He said her name reverently, staring into her eyes so intensely she nearly forgot how to breathe.
“You are exquisite.”
And standing there, his eyes so earnest and overflowing with passion, she had no choice but to believe him. For the first time in what felt like years, she felt a small smile emerge on her lips. Colin’s eyes tracked the movement, smirking before growling and descending on her mouth once more.
His hands pulled her close, and Penelope shivered at the alien feeling of hands on her bare skin. It felt so good. To be touched, to be held. To be loved. She could cry again. Maybe she already was.
She let out a gasp as suddenly she felt her feet leave the floor, Colin lifting her effortlessly and depositing her on her bed with a bounce. He quickly covered her body with his own, kissing her once more as his hands roamed over her hungrily. Penelope responded in kind, pressing herself into him, pulling at his clothes and hair, not knowing what she was doing, only knowing that she needed more of him.
His hands drifted down to her breasts and she keened, feeling his fingers strum and pull at her nipples. She could feel something pressing into her stomach, something hard, and it excited her more than she could explain. She felt her hips rut against him by themselves, her body seeming to know what to do before her brain could even process what was happening.
Colin groaned as she rocked up against him, lowering his mouth to her breasts. Penelope’s eyes flew open in shock, never having imagined such a thing. Never having imagined something feeling so good. Colin watched her as he suckled on her nipples, his hair mussed and eyes wild, an image Penelope was sure she would never forget.
She could feel herself growing warm between her legs, and she felt wetness down there that only seemed to be increasing with each new sensation. She knew nearly nothing about marital relations, but she knew everything she was experiencing seemed to be culminating there. She just didn’t know what to do about it.
Groaning with frustration, she bucked up into him once more, dragging at his shirt. Colin, breathing heavily, seemed to sense her distress and brought his face up to hers.
“Do you need me to touch you, darling?”
Penelope nodded, but she was confused. Wasn’t he already doing that? Colin chuckled at her perplexed expression, and it felt like sunshine after rain to hear it. She smiled despite her bewilderment. The smile Colin returned was dazzling.
“Are you aching between your legs, sweetheart?”
Penelope nodded vigorously, glad he seemed to understand what was happening even if she didn’t. Maybe he knew what to do about it.
“Would you like me to touch you there?” Even as her eyes widened, slightly scandalised, the ache intensified. She nodded again, suddenly wanting it more than she’s ever wanted anything.
Colin smiled at her again and she felt his hand at her curls, her breath quickening in anticipation.
Then she felt it. A single finger, tracing her folds. She gasped and bucked, the sensation intense and strange. Colin watched her intently, his pupils wide and fixed on her face.
“You are very wet, Penelope.”
His voice was rough and she bit her lip, torn between wanting him to touch her more and worry that she wasn’t doing this right.
“Is that alright?”
Colin smiled at her and kissed her sweetly on her mouth.
“It is more than alright, my love. It means you want me.”
Penelope couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her at that. Colin looked at her, surprised.
“And what, pray tell, is so funny?” He spoke sternly but his eyes sparkled. Penelope felt like she might burst. She had missed these moments of humour between them, even as his hand hovered over her sex.
“I do not think there has been a moment of my life where I did not want you, Colin.”
Colin looked almost as though he was in pain then, but before she could query it, he was kissing her again, and his finger was exploring her once more.
Gently he traced her, spreading her wetness and rubbing circles in one spot that felt particularly pleasurable. Surrounded by him, immersed in sensation, everything was Colin. She moaned as he played with her, taking his time and swallowing her groans and sighs in his mouth.
She felt something building within her, something foreign and exciting. She felt Colin’s finger press into her channel and she gasped, the stretch heightening the sensation even further. She felt the pleasure rising again, and she chased it, going higher and higher as he moved in and out of her, her hips bucking up into his hand as he slid in and out, mouth moving from her lips to her neck as she writhed under him.
Then she felt a second finger enter her, his thumb circling that special spot, and she felt herself falling, pleasure shaking through her in wave after wave. She cried out, unable to keep her eyes open as Colin watched her intently, thrusting in and out of her as each spasm rocked her body.
Finally she relaxed, her quim twitching and pulsing as he withdrew his hand. She opened her eyes to see Colin looking down at her proudly, licking her wetness from his fingers. She felt her mouth drop open. She could never have conceived of such a thing in her wildest fantasies, and yet the sight was enough to bring back that pulse between her legs again. She felt like she might be going insane.
“Was that alright for you, my love?” Colin asked her, his smug smile telling her that he already knew the answer. She smiled.
“That was…amazing. But…” She looked up and down his fully dressed form, confused. “I did not get to see you. Did you take your pleasure already?”
He smiled at her softly, and she felt comforted despite her lack of knowledge.
“No, I did not. But I do not need to. I get pleasure from watching you get pleasure.”
Penelope frowned. There was no way she was waiting any longer than necessary to see the man she loved bare.
“Take off your clothes, Colin,” she said, almost crossly.
Colin looked shocked, but grinned and rose from the bed, quickly shedding his shirt and trousers.
Penelope eyed him hungrily, taking in his form. He was beautiful, she realised. All hard lines and golden skin. She shyly lowered her gaze to where his member was, at once understanding where the hardness she had felt earlier had come from. It was large and erect, and she felt compelled to touch it.
She looked up to see him watching her.
“What do I do with it?” she asked.
Colin smiled gently.
“Well, you can touch it, if you like. You don’t have to, though.”
Penelope glared at him, annoyed. It was as if he was trying to deprive her.
“I want to.”
Colin chuckled.
“Well, like I said, you can touch it.”
“And that will bring you pleasure? Like you did for me?”
Colin nodded, grasping his length and slowly running his hand up and down as he watched her. The hunger in his eyes made her feel giddy.
“Is that what you want? For me to touch you?”
Colin grinned wickedly.
“Oh yes, Penelope. I have dreams of you touching me.”
She blinked, startled.
“You do? How?”
She cocked her head as she watched him touch himself, licking her lips as fresh desire pulsed in her belly.
Colin groaned, looking at her mouth.
“Well, you might think me terribly wicked, Penelope, but I’ve dreamt about you touching me in a whole manner of ways.”
Penelope felt her breath hitch, unable to believe what she was hearing. Unable to speak, she waited for him to continue.
“I dream of you taking me in your hand, pulling me off until I spend in your palm.”
Penelope squirmed, fresh wetness dripping from her without even knowing exactly what he was talking about.
“I dream of you taking me in your little mouth. How your tongue would feel against my cock”
Another gush, and she was all but panting now. How had there been this entire world she knew nothing about?
“But mostly, I think of being inside you.” Penelope followed his gaze down to her quim, gasping as she realised what he meant. Suddenly it was all she wanted. “I think of taking you slowly and deep, your cunt stretching around me as I slide into you. The way you would sound as I took you.”
Penelope rubbed her thighs together and whimpered, unable to believe the filth coming from her dear friend’s mouth.
“Or I would take you hard and fast, pounding into you as you screamed my name. How I would make you mine. How I would-”
Unable to take it any longer she rose to her knees on the bed in front of him.
“Please, Colin, I want that. Please take me.”
Colin groaned, reaching out to cup her face.
“Are you sure, my love? It will hurt a little as it is your first time.”
“I don’t care, Colin, please, I need you.”
Colin nodded, and taking her in his arms once more, lowered her back onto the pillows.
“I need you too, Penelope. I always have, I think.”
Penelope whimpered, overwhelmed by anticipation and joy.
She felt him reach between her legs once more, felt his hard tip against her entrance, making her moan. She gripped around his neck, holding tightly as he began to slowly press forward.
He stared down at her, watching her face carefully for discomfort. When he reached her innocence, he paused for a moment, allowing her to adjust to the stretch so far.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, so sweetly it made her want to cry. She nodded, floating in the feel of him on her and in her at once.
“This will hurt now, my love, but only for a moment.”
She nodded again and then he pushed forward firmly, making her cry out at the strange mix of pain, pleasure and fullness. He shuddered, panting as he waited for her muscles to relax around him.
Penelope couldn’t believe how good this felt. On instinct, she felt her hips move up to take him deeper, making him gasp. She stilled immediately, worried she’d hurt him. Instead she saw him grin as he began to thrust slowly into her, making her eyes roll back at the exquisite feeling. How had she lived without this all her life?
Colin picked up the pace and Penelope felt each slide and thrust in her very core. Pleasure seemed to pulse through every part of her, and she could hear noises she did not recognise slip from her mouth as he rutted into her.
Colin looked down at her, his eyes never leaving hers, then lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her slowly as he thrust into her deeply, her cries muffled by his tongue. His hands raised to her breasts and she shivered as she reached new heights of pleasure, feeling her legs wrap around his hips to pull him even closer.
She felt the same pleasure building within her as last time, her channel fluttering around the hard length sliding within her. Colin’s thrusts became more erratic, his kisses and touches more wild, and Penelope felt as though she was being swept away and swallowed all at once. Suddenly she was flying, her body shaking as wetness gushed out of her, her cries turning into screams as he pounded into her with so much force her body was pushed up and down the mattress. Then she felt a warmth within her as he thrust in once more, his body shuddering as it became still on top of her before sliding out of her and onto his side next to her.
Their breaths intermingling, Penelope opened her eyes to see the man she loved staring back, tears in his eyes. She felt her own well up again, and felt herself raise her hand to his face, just to make sure he was real.
He was.
The proof of his presence was spilling out between her thighs even as they lay there.
“I love you, Penelope,” Colin whispered, raising his hand to cover hers.
Penelope felt her heart glow, all cracks and bruises healing as if by magic.
“I love you too, Colin,” she whispered back, her voice shaking slightly.
Colin smiled, his eyes closing.
“We'll talk about you calling me a fool in the morning…”
Penelope's mouth dropped open until she saw the smirk on his mouth. Grinning, she snuggled into him, laying her face on his chest.
“You are a fool, Colin. There is nothing to discuss.”
She felt him grumble under her and for a moment thought he might argue. Then she heard a soft snore and smiled, letting sleep take her easily for the first time in months.