From What I've Tasted of Desire

Chapter 19: Red Sex

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Robert's not certain how else to describe it, except blissfully ecstatic. Despite his reassurances to his wife through the months, he realizes now that he didn't actually believe Anna would come back to them. She's young, confused, and led by a repressive society that frowns on such brazen abandonment of caution and modesty which he and Hester live by.

But now here she is, more luscious and tempting than he can remember. He maneuvers her up the stairs and into his rooms, and she responds with adorable feigned chastisements and hushed chuckles.

He makes quick work of her dress and petticoats, her clipped whines as he tugs with haste at the layers of fabric encasing her has his ardor for her rising, desperate for her in a way that has all sense lost to him. She holds tight to the post of his bed, voluptuous body jolting back in his frenzied task of unlacing her stays.

He notices the flush in her cheeks, her breath catching with a small cry every time she's yanked at cruelly. She wants this. Wants him rough and mean, despite their history. And he wants to give it to her.

Finally, he has her in her chemise. She wears no leggings he notices, and wonders if she came here hoping for this. His naughty little governess.

He jerks her back against his chest, releasing a huff as the weight of her falls into him, leaving her off balance and compliant, just as he knows she longs to be in this moment. The lush curves of her figure yield around his taught body, making him stir.

He holds one hand under her jaw, her head immobile and where he wants it when he tears the wide neck of her chemise over her shoulder, revealing a flawless patch of skin he's determined to mark as his. With open-mouthed kisses he leaves a wet trail until he finds the crook of her neck, teasing the delicate surface with nips before sucking harshly. She responds with a grunt, a sound that's deep and primal, and in response he slides a hand low against her belly, driving her flush against his stiffening cock with a punishing hold, making certain that she can feel him.

"Robert," she breathes as if in another world, eyes shut tight and panting for him.

He glides his hand a bit lower, feeling her through the thin fabric of her chemise, soaking it in her quim when he begins his aggressive ministrations over her. One of her arms flies up around his neck and behind his head, fingers sinking into his hair and clutching painfully as dull nails scratch his scalp, urging him on. She dips and moves mindlessly in his tight grasp, seeking more but not knowing how to get it. But he's anything if not accommodating.

He walks them forward, not letting up on her abused clit. Once their knees make contact with the end of his bed he takes hold of the base of her skull, fingers digging in, and bends her over the high mattress, pressing her cheek into the opulent, silk duvet Hester insisted on during their last trip to the orient. Anna's eyes are wide but glazed over with lust, rolling into the back of her head when he pushes himself tightly against her.

"What do you want, pet," he asks politely though his voice churns like gravel, giving away his need for her. "Tell me."

He begins a sweetly torturous move, rubbing slow and hard, the outline of him through his breeches fitting perfectly within the crack of her backside through her chemise. He needs to relieve them of the rest of their clothes soon or he's going to embarrass himself.

Her fingers clutch beautifully desperate into his bedding, lips parted as she attempts to move with him. But she doesn't answer. He's not really certain if she can, but he wants it. More even than ravishing her begging body, he wants to hear her say it.

He lists over her, trying to get her attention, hand pressing harder into her back causing her to bounce with the mattress as he holds her hips still.

"What do you want, pet," he repeats. And she swallows hard, shoulders held tight with tension.

"You," she manages to moan.

As nice as that is to hear, it's not what he's after. He drags the hem of her chemise up, gathering it at the small of her back, revealing the full globes of her rear. After take a moment to appreciate and squeeze the bountiful flesh, his hand slips down, finding her drenched and more than ready when his finger enters her. She groans, breathy and luring, hips hitching back trying to force him deeper.

He uses his lips to caress her face, running across her eyelid and over her temple before drifting down her cheek bone to the corner of her dry lips. "What do you want me to do to you, pet?"

"Robert," she whines, pleading.

"Tell me," he demands softly, leaving gentle pecks around the shell of her ear, all while sliding another finger within her, exploring her depths as much as he can. "Be a good girl, and tell me what you want."

Everything about her begins to tense, eyes clamping shut, fists balling in his sheets, her sopping cunt clenching marvelously around his fingers. "I want- I want you-"

The anticipation is heady as he works her, fingers crooked deep inside until he finds it, that spongy, treasure trove of nerves that has her jerking against the prison of his hold.

She cries out his name, loud enough for the servants to hear, but they're used to this, he and Hester's hobbies no secret in their house. Or around all of London, really. But the Hall's know who their friends are, receiving delectable visits from them from time to time.

"I want- I want you to fuck me! I want you! Robert! I want you!" She says it like a wild thing, savage and demanding under the toxic influences of desperation and pleasure, spewing up like molten lava. If he's not careful, he fears she may burn him.

But that's all he needs, stepping away briefly to rid himself of boots, shirt, and breeches. Once naked he drags her up again, whipping her around fast enough for her to stumble before he catches her, wasting no time in removing the only item of clothing that separates them.

He kisses her hard, hands on either side of her face, forceful as he grips her. Then he suddenly breaks it, and with a hand placed squarely on her chest, pushes her onto the mattress, enjoying the site of her bouncing body.

"Move up, pet," he instructs. She complies immediately, pushing back until her head rests on a pillow.

He watches her for a time, the sight too beautiful to not appreciate. "Open your legs for me."

Knees bent, with trembling hands resting lightly upon her thighs, she's like a portrait of Venus, all timid eroticism, yet she's real and warm - and glistening for him. Her teeth catch her lip - a nasty habit of hers that he loves - as she squirms unconsciously under his gaze.

He clutches himself with sure, firm fingers, using her juices that still coat them to slicken his aching cock. Her eyes are glued to him - to his movements - watching with a sort of naive wonder, yet with all the knowledge that this is an obscene, lewd act. He can see how it makes her mouth water, her chest heaving as if she's just run a marathon.

"I'll have your mouth around this, pet."

Her eyes dart up to meet his, panic gripping her girlish features. He'd smirk if he wasn't so far gone.

"But that will be for later," he assures. Sauntering closer, he's sure to keep his hand slow, allowing her to take in what she's obviously never seen. "For now, I only wish to cull your sweet flower."

He climbs on the bed methodically, crawling to her till he hovers half over. Wrapping his hands around her hips, he roughly yanks her towards him, making her gasp, her head sliding from its comfortable spot on the feather pillow. Her hair fans out above her, messy and tangled since neither of them bothered to let it down before they began playing. But he likes it. It exhibits the rawness of their urgency to consummate what should of been long ago.

Leaning over her, he drags his tongue and lips from her navel, between her breasts, and finally ending on her collar bone giving sucking kisses across it. "Is this what you want, Anna?" He noses under her jaw, trying to stop from giving into his baser desires till he knows for certain. "Do you wish for me to take your innocence, pet?"

Her arms fold around his shoulders, hugging him close as she buries her fingers in his hair, and he can't help the sigh that escapes him, feeling her so warm and soft and submissive underneath is feverish body.

"Yes." She breathes it out, adrift in a sensual lethargy. "I long for you."

He finds her lips, tongue parting them and letting her drown in the simple, languorous pleasures of a deep kiss. She's ripped from it when he begins pushing inside, gasping into his mouth before tearing it away, breath held and body bowed tight against him.

He drops his forehead against her temple, holding back all urges to move as he lets her adjust. Perhaps he should've waited for Hester. Certainly another woman to whisper sweet nothings into her ear to help ease her into it would've been better. But she asked for him alone, wanted to share this moment with him only, just as she'd shared quite a few firsts alone with Hester. Or so his ridiculously competitive wife boasted one night as she rode him violently to completion.

He shifts slightly, and he feels more than hears her slight hiss. "It gets better, pet," he coos with gentleness. He caresses a thumb along her forehead with a solid hand set atop the crown of it, trying to ground her.

"You've no idea how good you feel," he groans, pushing deeper, her silken wrap deliciously tight. He bites back his moans as she releases clipped little cries into his ear that makes him shudder and twitch within her.

"Your sweet little cunt opening up for me. Fuck, Anna." Until finally he's as deep as he can go, taking a long moment to just relish the feel of her. Her nails clutch painfully into his ribs as her knees encase his thighs with a tight pressure. But then slowly he senses her body relax around him.

"You're such a good girl, pet. So good for me, hmm?"

He starts a slow pace, every part of him giving into her as her muffled cries transform into hard puffs of air, gliding sensually past his ear making him shiver. Lifting his head, he sees her closed eyes. She looks like she's trying hard to concentrate, to understand when she should only be feeling.

"Open your eyes," he grunts through a thrust. She does as told, an uncertain expression there as she tries to accept these overwhelming sensations. "Look down, pet. Look down at us."

Again, she listens, he thinks she'd most likely do just about anything he says in this moment. But the sight of him disappearing within her must shock her out of her logical mind, gasping loud and throwing her head back onto mattress.

"No- I- Mmm." She seems to have lost all use of any language, muttering insensibly.

He presses a hard, quick kiss against her temple, thrusts coming faster. "It's alright, pet," he growls. "It's alright." She jolts with his every push, mouth slack and remaining silent, punctuated only by shaky cries every four or five strokes.

He begins fucking her like he has something to prove. He fucks her like he needs her to know just how deep his feelings for her run. He fucks her until she cums, the sticky heat of her quim rushing around his cock while her muscles grip him tight, and he has to drop his head into her sweaty hair.

He's starting to lose his own sense, his hips driving hard, the obscene sound of it drumming in his ears. Then she raises her legs, knees bracketing his ribs and Jesus, he's incapable of holding out much longer. He grits his teeth when she begins whispering in his ear. Moaning run on sentences that are breathless and full of filth.

"You feel so good- oh- oh- I'm your good girl- Robert- I want to be your good girl- uh-"

And he can't continue after that, her voice and words tipping him over the edge, knocking into him like some tumultuous wave, spurting hot and furious inside her. And she accepts it all, hips canted up, soft finger brushing soothingly through his own sweaty hair.

He begins to feel her after a time, trembling as she holds him close, humming low and senseless, easing them both down from their high.

His every muscle feels like liquid. Unable to move. Unable to speak. Hardly breathe. He finds enough strength to roll off her, staring up at the decorative designs in the plaster ceiling, his eyes following the ornate lines and curves blooming into sculpted flowers.

He feels her eyes, and he turns to look at her, trying to gauge her thoughts and emotions. She's become hard to read, he realizes, his innocent little governess. And he wonders what the hell happened to her these last few months. She blinks, then drifts towards him, expression still frustratingly unreadable before she lays her head on his shoulder, her dark hair tickling his nose.

"Was it good," she asks with hesitance as if he wasn't the one performing for her.

He snorts into her hair, his hand smoothing down the soft locks. "Yes, pet."

"You've ruined me," she says before he can add more. His breathing catches in his chest, hand stilling in its caress.

"Do you regret it?" He tries not to sound distraught over the very idea of it, his every muscle becoming suddenly tight.

She lifts her head, lips in a straight line and face serious. But her eyes, her eyes are bright within their chocolate depths. "Not a moment."

The relief that washes over him comes out in a huff, grinning at her like an idiot before raising his head quick to kiss her on the end of her upturned nose. She giggles, wiping at it, then taking his jaw in her hand, fingers pressed on one side and thumb on the other, holding him still as she presses a hard kiss to his lips.

And it feels almost heavenly. Almost like he might be able to give up his debilitating need for revenge and just live a happy life with her and Hester. But the post coitus high is a tricky beast that makes you feel all manner things, and he has much work to do yet.

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Chapter 20: Roué

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Her head lays on his chest, fingers tracing mindless shapes across his abdomen. He watches with amusement when her fingers dare to slip beneath the sheet, never going too low, just enough to show her curiosity.

"Is it even possible for a woman to own property without being widowed?"

"No," Robert sighs, resigning himself to talk about this. It's been quite a few years since he's spoken about Eliza, instead choosing to push the memory of her as far away as he could. Even Hester knew better than to bring up the subject of her sister around him.

"She cannot own it, but her son can. It's willed to her as a life tenet until any male heirs she might have."

She rests her chin on her hand, looking up at him, her dark eyes blazing with a need to know and understand. He doesn't fear it as much as he once did, but still there's that creeping doubt that if he doesn't keep these cards held close to his chest he'll regret it.

"But John is only a boy," she says, forehead wrinkled adorably while she tries to work out this twisted tale. "So it would be his father that cares for the property anyways. At least until he comes of age."

"Perhaps, under normal circumstances," he concedes. "But Eliza and Hester's father was not normal." Tension begins to slither it's way throughout him. He tries to control the seething rage in the pit of his stomach, reminding himself that Anna's not here to hurt anyone with the past. Like always, she only ever just wants to help.

Sitting up beside his slouched form, she chuckles good-naturedly. "Like Hester, herself."

Her smile falls when he doesn't return it, a shadow of fear in her eyes.

"No, pet. Not like Hester."

With a sharp inhale he rolls away, throwing the blankets from his legs and sitting on the edge, starting to feel too confined in this small room and even smaller bed.

The heavy silence lingers for a time before Anna finally breaks it, so soft and hesitant. "What happened?"

"Their mother died birthing Hester, and their father had been quite in love with his tall, blonde, winsome wife. He refused to marry again, never forgetting the wife whom he barely knew yet placed high upon a pedestal."

He hears Anna shift behind him, trembling fingers finding his shoulder blade, calmly waiting to see if he will bite, like some sort of wild animal. And he hates that's how she thinks of him now. After the garden, she'll always be watching for that side of him to emerge.

He takes a heavy breath, trying to ease his mind and body.

"But, eventually, he did again find love... with his eldest daughter, who was the spitting image of the wife he'd lost." Anna's hand jumps away from him, her quiet gasp laced with horror.

"They even shared a name, she and her mother. Elizabeth." He wants to turn, to see her reaction, but he's too afraid.

"Why- It's- How could a father do such a thing to his own child," she questions after a few false starts, obviously in shock.

Sparks burst behind Robert's eyelids when he rubs them forcefully, as if trying to burn out the story from his mind. "Not all people are good or even decent."

He stands and makes his way to the decanter along the wall, pouring himself a drink. "Most are selfish." The amber liquid burns down his throat like fire. "You should know that by now," he says, pointing at her. He probably sounds accusing, but he doesn't mean to. She's just so damn naive and trusting. A proper little gentlewoman who still thinks the world is a good place with good people, and it scares the hell out of him. "Don't ever trust anyone, pet."

He slams back the rest of his drink, arm leaning on the fireplace as his mind begins to wander dangerously. He doesn't hear her leave the bed, nor even pad across the room to stand in front of him, proud with her shoulders back and chin high, naked as the day she was born. And he feels his want for her rousing him again, despite the dark tale that's colored their surroundings.

"I know the world," she assures, hand raising to let her cool fingers graze soothingly down his overheated body. "You forget that I have lived a life before I met you, and it's never been easy."

He tucks his chin into his chest, a bit ashamed if he's honest. "No, I don't suppose it was." Then her lithe fingers take him gently, wrapping around his partially erect cock that's soon to begin swelling at her touch. "Anna."

"There are bad people in the world," she says, coming close enough for him to smell the sweat and sex that lingers on her. "But that doesn't mean you can't hope for good."

The backs of his fingers caress her cheek, feeling the warmth of her flush as the blood pools there. "Such an agreeable, idealistic girl."

"I'm not a child," she insists with a calm demeanor that proves it.

Perhaps not, though there's still an intoxicating mix of innocence and knowing there, her face still a bit round with childhood, just starting to show the sharp edges of womanly cheekbones.

"No you're not. Not anymore. But that might make this world even more dangerous for you." With a hard swallow, he sets his hand over hers, showing her what to do, how to pleasure him. Its a lesson with few words, except for a few shy questions on her part, and a few corrections and assurances on his.

"You said you wanted my mouth on it."

His pet has become so bold. He can't help but laugh. "Eager, are you?"

Anna kneels, taking her time, eyes never leaving his on her journey down. He releases a tremulous sigh, trying to gain control of himself.

"Curious," she corrects. She lists forward, glancing between him and his cock, and gives its head a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

Licking his lips, his fingers card through her dark hair, gathering it behind her head, wanting to watch her do this.

When she pulls away she gives a coy smile along with a shrug. Oh she is a very naughty governess, indeed. "But I also enjoy keeping you on your toes, sir."