“I want you to come and live with me. And be my whore. For all to see.”
“I can’t. My—my post.”
“You will keep your post. You will still be vicar. But you won’t live here anymore. You will live with me—at the Abbey.”
I hardly know what I am saying. All I know is that I need Alfred nearer to me. I cannot go days without seeing him any longer—and now I don’t have to. It would be a pointless sacrifice under the circumstances, when our relationship is about to be known in Trescott and in London. Across England perhaps.
“The scandal,” he gasps. “I can’t.”
“Say you will and I’ll let you come.”
He is close. It has been a week without release for him. He must be dying for it.
I roll my hips and he lets out a desperate sound.
“I shouldn’t agree.”
“I will let you come inside of me, Alfred. Don’t you want to fill me up with your seed?”
He lets out an agonized cry. “It isn’t safe.”
I push from my mind that, technically, this enticement is still part of my plan. For some reason, I don’t want to feel calculating in this moment. I don’t want to feel like I am deceiving him.
“That is not your concern,” I murmur. “You only need to worry about filling my pretty little cunt to the brim.”
“Annabelle,” he moans.
“Agree and I’ll let you do exactly that,” I press.
“I’ll be infamous.”
“You will be infamous if you stay in this vicarage. Andthis way, you can be infamous and have me morning, noon, and night.”
“I am ruined. You have ruined me.”
“Yes. I have.”
“And if I refuse?”
“You won’t refuse, Alfred.”
“If I do.”
I stop moving and reach down to touch his face.
I say the next words tenderly.
“Then you will lose your post. I will dismiss you. You will be out in the world, alone and defenseless. You have no choice, Alfred.”
He looks up at me, his expression completely open.
“What scares me is that I don’t want a choice.”
“Agree.”
I move up again. I am so wet. The slide of us together is so perfect, so sweet, that I find my own climax nearing.
“Yes,” he cries out, tears evident in his eyes. “Yes. I will do whatever you want, Annabelle.”
