And I plan to show Annabelle de Lacey exactly how dangerous a man who loves her with nothing to lose can be.
When we returned to the Abbey, Annabelle fled to her study, and I was left to acclimate to my new environment. For our evening meal, we dined together in near silence.
Now I stand in my dressing gown and night shirt, looking at the door that adjoinsour chambers.
I do not know if she plans to come through it this evening. But I do not care what she wants.
I walk to the door and push it open.
When I enter, Annabelle is standing by the window.
“Please, Viola,” she says without turning. “I do not need any help undressing.”
“I’m sorry to say that someone much less useful has come to visit you, Annabelle.”
She whirls around. “Alfred.”
“Did you not expect me to come? After the pains you took to bring me here.”
“I was going to let you rest.”
She crosses her arms over her body.
“I do not need to rest.”
“Very well,” she says in her haughty manner, not meeting my eyes.
I swell as I drink in the sight of her. She stands in her night dress, long blonde hair loose around her shoulders. The dress is sheer, almost translucent. It shows the shadow between her legs and her sweet, pink nipples.
“You promised me that if I came to live here with you under such sinful conditions, then I could have you morning, noon, and night.”
“I promised you nothing,” she hisses.
“Yes, you did promise,” I say, stepping forward, not countenancing her evasions. I do not understand why she would evenbeevasive. Perhaps because she does not wantmein control. Well, she should have thought of that before she had me give up everything for time in her bed.
“Take off your night dress. And lie on the bed.”
“Why would I obey such a command?Youdo not give me orders, Alfred.”
“Because you want me here too, Annabelle. Perhapsyou really would have dismissed me if I refused you. Only you can say. But you can’t pretend that you don’t enjoy bedding me. And I need to have you. Right now.”
Her eyes widen. She looks, perhaps for the first time in our acquaintance, a touch innocent.
“I was not kind with you today, Alfred. I was rough—and?—”
“I don’t care about that. I will always want you, Annabelle. It doesn’t matter what you do. You could dismiss me, betray me a thousand times. You could tell me I’m nothing to you. Perhaps it’s a flaw in me. Maybe I have no proper respect for myself. But wanting you appears to be the new condition of my existence. Now take off your damned night dress and get on the bed.”
“Fine,” she says, her voice irritated. “If you are going to be so difficult about it.”
She pulls the thin material of her night dress over her head. Then she stands blessedly nude, the most beautiful creature I have ever seen or will ever see. Her heavy breasts, full and bountiful, cry out to be touched. Her tight velvet quim clearly needs to be claimed.
“Get on the bed. With your legs over the edge.”
She complies, although her manner is not soft. She is haughty even when obeying me.
I walk over and sink to my knees. I hook my arms roughly around her legs. When I touch my mouth to her pussy, she is already wet. When I open her with my lips and tongue, she moans.
I lavish attention on that sweet bud at the apex of her quim. Then I plunge my tongue deep into her, savoring her sweetness. She cries out. But I can tell it is almost unwillingly done. She does not like obeying me. She does not likeyielding.
