Work Text:
The day started off promisingly, as almost all days did when one shared a bed with Kathani Bridgerton. For the first time in recent memory, Anthony’s wife was not already awake when he opened his eyes. After seeing Kate suffer through weeks of restless, sleepless nights while they were holding their breath waiting for confirmation of her pregnancy, Anthony had become accustomed to waking up and seeing her sitting up in bed next to him. Sometimes she was reading. Sometimes she was writing in her journal. Other times she was just staring out the window. She almost always had one hand pressed against her abdomen, waiting. Worrying.
As was their tradition, the moment she realized he was awake she would look at him, smile and say, “Oh, there you are.” It was a silly thing. A remnant from their honeymoon when they were together nearly every minute of every day for six straight months. During their travels, if one of them stepped away for a minute or two to use the chamber pot, or to go into their dressing room to change, when they were reunited, the other would say. “Oh, there you are. I have been looking all over for you.” It never failed to make them laugh. At some point during the weeks they spent at Aubrey Hall after their return, it had gone from an occasional joke to their morning greeting. They eventually settled on the abbreviated version, which was now always uttered by whomever had awoken first that day, as soon as the other opened his or her eyes—their private way of saying ‘good morning, I missed you while you were asleep.’ Even in the height of Kate’s baby-related anxiety, when Anthony would awake and hear those words, he knew it would all be fine. That Kate was still there. She was bit sadder and a great deal more uncertain than he had ever seen her, but she was there and she was okay.
Thankfully, those days were behind them now. Approximately three weeks prior, their son had finally taken time out of his busy schedule to move around in his mother’s belly. And he now insisted on doing it regularly throughout the day, which put Kate’s mind at ease. With that heavy cloud lifted and Francesca successful debut behind them, it seemed Kate was finally able to rest. Because that morning, Anthony got to gaze at his wife while she slept. She was on her side, with one of her long, lean legs draped across the sheet that was concealing her rest of her nude body.
Kate did not always sleep sans clothing. It depended on the night, the temperature, her mood, her perception of his mood. These days, Anthony seemed to be in luck because more often than not, he would be in bed waiting for her to exit her dressing room and she would come out in a robe. A robe that stayed on her body for mere seconds before she took it off and hung it on a hook by her side of the bed before crawling under the sheets. When Anthony had asked her why she bothered putting on a robe for the short walk between her dressing room and their bed she had said she needed it close by in case there was a fire or someone barged into their room unexpectedly. That was Kate in a nutshell. Sensual and sensible. Passionate and practical.
Now, knowing she was completely bare under the sheets, it took all the self-control Anthony possessed to keep himself from touching her. If not for her stretch of sleepless nights, Anthony would have loved nothing more than to caress her with his fingertips. He would have gently pulled the sheet down so he could see more of her. Eventually he would grow impatient and lean over and press his lips to the deep ridge created by her breasts when she slept on her side. Maybe he would even run his tongue along the length of it, savoring the taste of her soft, smooth skin.
But he would not do that today. She needed the rest. And truth be told, he did not terribly mind the opportunity to look at her and listen to her slow, steady breathing. She was a sight to behold, his wife.
Last summer, when news of his engagement to Kate had finally become public, Benedict and Colin had insisted that the three of them go to White’s for celebratory drinks. “This time it will be a proper celebration, Anthony. Not just you slumped over in a chair, drowning yourself in drink.” Benedict had said, not-so-subtly referencing his pre-wedding drinks from earlier that summer. Colin had cheerfully chimed in. “Yes! This time you will not look so despondent. Who knows, perhaps you might even smile?” Anthony had initially resisted. In those early days of his engagement to Kate, he had either wanted to be in her presence or sitting at home, pining for her. Going for a drink at White’s checked neither box, and as such, did not hold much appeal.
But eventually, Anthony had changed his mind. Kate had been off limits to him after hours anyway, locked up and out of his reach in Lady Danbury’s house—which might as well have been a fortress as far as he was concerned. And he could just as easily pine for her at White’s. Besides, he knew he had been an ornery bastard to Benedict and Colin—to his whole family really—during the weeks leading up to his engagement, and had been carrying around a not insignificant amount of guilt on account of it. So a round or two of billiards and a few drinks with his brothers had not seemed like a terrible idea.
And actually, it had been quite enjoyable. Anthony had been in great spirits all night, spirits that were only bolstered by his beating both brothers at billiards. After losing, Colin and Benedict had proposed another toast to “the sister” and this time around Anthony had beamed so brightly that they had immediately launched into relentless mockery. Anthony had even pretended to be embarrassed by their teasing, just to make them happy. Unfortunately, around that time, Lord Marbury and Lord Willoughby had spotted them and felt the need to join their party. Both men had clearly been drinking for hours and seemed quite jolly. They congratulated Anthony on his betrothal and then proceeded to wax poetically about how he should enjoy the first few weeks of marriage because soon enough the “novelty” of a wife would wear off and he would be like all other husbands—reluctantly accompanying his spouse to balls and operas while counting down the hours until he could return to White’s.
Of course, Anthony had not put any stock into their drunken ramblings. For one thing, Marbury and Willoughby were both imbeciles. And even if they had not been, Anthony knew his feelings for Kate were atypical, especially amongst his peers. Most aristocratic marriages were more akin to business transactions than affairs of the heart. True love matches were few and far between. And in any event, Anthony did not just love Kate. He actually liked her. Seeing her was the best part of his day, not just because he was enamored with her, but because he wanted to talk to her. To make her laugh, to hear her opinions on this and that— important issues or trivial topics—it did not matter. He just wanted to be around her. So Anthony had just smiled and sipped his brandy while letting those two morons run their mouths, feeling smugly confident that their gripes had no applicability to him.
As it turned out, that was one of the few times Anthony had been right that summer. Ten months into his marriage, the novelty of Kate’s existence in his life had not worn off in the least. Quite the opposite. Most mornings, Anthony woke up and looked at her in awe. As if their life together was the result of some sort of clerical error, and any minute now someone would sort out the paperwork and Kate would vanish into thin air, leaving Anthony with no choice but to live the joyless future he had planned for himself before he knew of her existence.
And today was no different. He watched her sleep for some time, marveling at her just a bit, before dozing in and out of consciousness until the noisy London streets awoke him for good. Minutes later, Kate started stirring and then her eyes fluttered open. She blinked a few times as she adjusted to the morning light and then saw that he was awake. He leaned in to kiss her.
“Oh, there you are.”
She smiled sleepily and snuggled in closer to him. “Good morning, my love.”
That is when Anthony finally allowed himself to touch her. He cupped her face with his hand as he kissed her again and then let his fingers drift below the bedsheet that still obscured most of her body. He grazed her breasts, taking pleasure in the sigh of contentment that slipped between her lips when he did. His hand settled on her swollen belly. Just two weeks ago her bump had been tiny—easily hidden under clothing and nearly nonexistent when she slept in certain positions. Now, although it was still small, it felt unmistakably real. Anthony could actually imagine a baby in there. Their baby. It stirred up primal feelings in him—feelings with which Anthony did not quite know what to do. Often he opted to just place his hand over her stomach, enjoying the sensation of the firm roundness against his palm, which served as a comforting, tactile reminder that this was his woman—and his child.
Most days his hands would start out on her stomach but would end up drifting downward. He would run his fingers through the tuft of hair between her legs and then keep going. Some mornings when he reached between her thighs he would find her aroused and ready for him. Other mornings he would gently stroke her until she was. What happened next varied somewhat. Anthony knew that Kate tended to prefer slow, gentle love-making in the morning, saving her creative energy for the evenings or a hurried mid-afternoon romp. In the mornings, she was all about softness and tenderness. And Anthony was all too happy to oblige. As much as he appreciated and encouraged his wife’s sexual awakening, there was nothing quite like the feeling of having her beneath him with her giant, doe-like eyes staring into his and her legs wrapped around his waist as he rocked over her.
That morning though, Anthony had already been up staring at her for some time before she opened her eyes. By the time she was awake, he was flushed with desire. Then he put his hand on her stomach and that nagging, primal feeling reared its ugly head again, shoulder-to-shoulder with his sexual needs. And nothing—absolutely nothing—made Anthony feel more virile and masculine than orally pleasuring his wife. It was Anthony’s dirty little secret. Because as much as he loved doing it because of the pleasure it brought Kate, it also satisfied Anthony’s innate need to possess her. When they made love, she was a force of nature. She could bring him to his knees just as easily as he could her. But with his head between her legs and his tongue inside her, Kate fell apart. She would moan and whimper and hold him in place until he had licked and suckled every bit of her. And then he would swirl his tongue around that intensely sensitive part of her sex and without fail she would come undone. He would hear his name tumble from her lips, feel her fingers grasping at his hair and know that she was truly his.
Anthony was not necessarily proud of himself for feeling this way. He knew Kate would find the idea of him possessing her in any way to be medieval and offensive. But Anthony could not help how he felt, and in the grand scheme of flaws a husband could have, this one seemed harmless enough—perhaps even symbiotic.
That morning, when Anthony’s hand drifted past her belly and parted her thighs, he found his wife was just as aroused as he was. He looked at her as his fingers slid into her without meeting any resistance. “Kate,” he murmured. “You are so...”
She nodded groggily. “I was dreaming about you right before I woke up,” she said simply, as if she had no idea what such a revelation would do to Anthony.
His groin tightened instantly. “Were you? What kind of dream, exactly?”
“I cannot recall the details. We were outside somewhere and you were…your tongue was…on me.”
Anthony watched her lips as she spoke, his fingers slowly moving inside her. “Outside? In the gazebo, perhaps? Like the first time I tasted you?”
She squirmed beneath his touch. “No. It was not the gazebo. I would remember that.”
“Hmmm. Are you sure?” Anthony pulled his fingers out and pushed the sheet aside as he moved swiftly down her body, pressing a kiss to her belly before settling between her legs. His thumbs pressed into her inner thighs as he grazed her with his tongue. She gasped. “If not the gazebo, then where were we?”
“I do not—ahhh…Anthony—” His tongue was inside her now, tasting the wetness he had felt between his fingers just moments earlier. He deftly explored the inside of her body, gradually increasing the speed of his movements as he heard her moaning louder and louder. One of her hands grabbed at the discarded bedsheet, bunching it up in her fist as she writhed beneath him. He soon heard her breath quickening. He could feel her muscles tightening against his tongue and knew she was close. Sometimes when he brought her right to the brink he would pull back. Not too far. Just enough to build up the tension inside of her—to prolong her pleasure. But not today. Today, he was too impatient. He wanted to hear her cry out for him.
All of a sudden, she stopped and grabbed his head. “Anthony” she hissed. This was not exactly how he liked to hear his name on her lips but he figured she was just frustrated. He ignored her and swirled his tongue along the length of her sex. She yelped and then smacked the side of his head. “ANTHONY! Someone is knocking on the door.”
Anthony lifted his head and looked at her in confusion. Only then did he hear the light tapping at the door. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and cleared his throat before he responded gruffly. “We are busy. Come back later.” With that settled, Anthony lowered himself down again and refocused on his wife, who squeaked into a pillow as his tongue slid into her again.
“Lord Bridgerton, I am afraid there has been an incident. A fire broke out on the lands occupied by the Downing family, near Windsor. We believe it is now contained, and it appears nobody was injured, but the Downing residence was damaged in the process. We do not yet know the extent of the destruction.”
With this, Anthony sat up immediately. The Downings were his tenants, the property near Windsor a relatively small plot of land in his vast real estate portfolio, comprising just a tiny fraction of the thousands of acres his family had owned for generations. But nevertheless, his tenants’ home had been damaged in a fire. Anthony would need to check in on them and ensure they were alright. On top of that, he would need to survey the damage and confirm the necessary repairs would be made as soon as possible. And possibly arrange for temporary housing for the Downings.
Anthony told his valet to arrange for the carriage to be ready in ten minutes. When Charles asked if he would like assistance getting dressed, Anthony bellowed out a harried ‘no’ from the other side of the closed door. With Charles gone, Anthony examined the scene before him. Sometime during his brief conversation, Kate had pulled the bedsheet over her head, obscuring her entire body. Now, Anthony was upright on his knees, looking down at the sheet and the outline of his wife’s figure. He slowed pulled it down, revealing just her face. She looked concerned and very red.
“Are you alright under there?”
She nodded. “Yes. That sounded serious. I am glad the Downings are safe at the very least.”
“Me too. Now let us hope their home has not seen too much damage.” He lowered himself down, supporting himself on his elbows and forearms as he hovered over her body. “I hate to do this to you honey, but I am afraid I have to leave immediately.”
She kissed him lightly. “Do not worry about me. Go, be Viscount Bridgerton. But Anthony, if the fire has not been contained by the time you arrive, please promise me you will be very careful. Selfishly careful.”
“Of course. You have nothing to worry about. Will you be alright?” His eyes flicked down towards her lower half. She blushed and swatted at him.
“Yes, I will be fine. My problem has a straightforward, simple solution and I will tend to it as soon as you are out the door.”
He whimpered into her neck. “I will be home as soon as I can. I will ask for a bath to be drawn and afterwards we can take dinner up here. I promise I shall make up for the incomplete job I did this morning.”
She ran her fingers through his hair. “You should not rush back on my account. Do not forget, I am going to the opera tonight with our mothers and Edwina. I will not be back until late in the evening.” Anthony groaned in frustration. She chuckled. “Yes, I know. I will come straight to bed as soon as I return home.”
He nodded as he grumbled under his breath. She grabbed his face in her hands and pressed her lips squarely on his. “Come on, get up or you will be late. I will help you get dressed.” With that, she patted her hand firmly against his bare bottom and crawled out from under him. Anthony watched her as she passed her robe and walked towards his dressing room, completely nude. When she was nearly there, she turned and looked at him over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”
Anthony let himself lay face first in the bed for a moment or two. The pillow smelled like Kate. His mouth and lips still tasted of her. He took another deep breath and hoisted himself up. On his way to the dressing room, he plucked Kate’s robe off the hook. “I am coming, but you need to put this robe on or else I am not making it out of this room in time for tea, let alone in ten minutes.”
The sound of her laughter reverberated against the walls and filled Anthony with joy.
Some thirteen hours later, Anthony was having dinner without his wife for the first time in ten months. If one wanted to be precise about it, he was having dinner without his wife for the first time since he had a wife with whom to have dinner. And he was having a terrible time of it. What was even the point of sitting at this table pushing food around his plate if he could not look up and see her at the other end? What did he do before he was married? Did he just sit here, eating his food and making conversation with his family without having someone’s gaze to catch between the flickering candles? It seemed unthinkable.
Anthony’s day had been long and exhausting. The trip to Windsor had taken over three hours each way. By the time he arrived at the Downing residence, the fire had long-been extinguished. He met with his tenants, walked through their home and surveyed the damage. Although the fire had not actually engulfed the home, it had gotten close enough that there was extensive damage to the dwelling from the smoke and soot. It would not be fit for inhabitants for several weeks while repairs were being conducted. Luckily, Anthony owned more than one plot of land in the area and was able to set the Downings up in an unoccupied cottage down the road. Then, he and Mr. Downing met with a carpenter to discuss what needed to be fixed in the house. After he had confirmation that the family was settled in their temporary lodgings, he got back into his carriage and return to London where he had a late afternoon meeting scheduled with his steward.
And now, after a full day of work, rather than making eyes at his wife from across the room, he was staring at Hyacinth—who in turn was staring at Gregory—waiting for him to look away so she could launch a spoon full of peas in his direction. Anthony knew what she was after, and some part of him knew he should scold her, but with his mother out for the evening, Anthony had neither the energy nor the inclination to get involved in their hijinks.
He checked his watch.
“Anthony, it is a quarter past eight. The last time you checked your watch it was ten past eight. The time before that, it was the top of the hour. Kate is not expected back until after ten, so perhaps you should just leave your pocket-watch out on the table and save yourself the trouble.”
Anthony glared at Eloise, thinking, not for the first time that month, how it really was a shame they were not a more pious family. A convent seemed like the perfect environment for a spirited woman like his sister.
“Eloise, have you considered how you would look in a habit? I for one think it would bring out the blue in your eyes.”
She glowered at him as Colin snickered.
“Eloise, leave Anthony alone. He cannot help that he is madly in love with his wife. I think it is rather sweet.”
Anthony’s eyes shot over to Benedict, waiting for the other half of his statement—for the inevitable jab that he knew was coming. Benedict just looked at him and smiled, his eyes slightly glassy. Anthony looked at Colin in confusion.
“Benedict was at a boxing match earlier today and then spent the afternoon at the club. He is slightly sauced.”
Anthony exhaled loudly. “Wonderful.” He looked across the table. “Franny, how was your day? Kate mentioned you were expecting quite a few callers.”
Franny looked at him and smiled. “Yes. And lucky for me, a handful of them actually passed Kate’s inspection. In case you are wondering, any suitors who speaker fewer than three of the modern languages have been deemed unworthy of my attention.”
Colin piped up. “Say, Anthony, it seems Kate has styled herself as something of a gatekeeper. I forget exactly, how do you feel about that?”
Francesca smirked. “One poor man admitted he had only read Don Quixote in an English translation instead of its original Spanish and your wife nearly tossed him out of a window.”
Anthony, who had not read Don Quixote in any language, beamed with pride. “Well, let us all be grateful she is as capable as she is. Kate is doing exactly what she is supposed to be doing. We do not want you marrying some simpleton, do we?”
Francesca rolled her eyes. “You two really are perfect for one another. Anyway, it may not matter. The Earl of Kilmartin called on me today and was able to converse with Kate in both Spanish and French, and thus was able to cross the threshold into the parlor.”
“John Stirling was back today, was he?” Anthony raised his wine glass to his lips, his eyes narrowing as spoke.
“Yes. He said he would be back tomorrow as well. If you speak to him, please try and be kind. Kate was all but drilling him on verb conjugations today.”
As Anthony pictured Kate torturing the young earl, he could not help but laugh and when he did, Franny joined in as well. “It was quite amusing, actually. He got so flustered, and the more flustered he became, the more intimidating Kate appeared.”
Anthony took another sip of his wine and thought about his formidable, lovely wife. He thought back to how he left her that morning—standing by the bedroom door in her robe as he donned his coat and reluctantly prepared to leave. He knew the moment he walked out the door she had returned to bed and finished what he had started. He wondered how she had done it. Was she efficient about it, or did she draw it out like he preferred to? Did she allow herself to be loud? Did she fall back asleep after?
He pulled out his watch again and before he could read the time, all six of his siblings shouted in unison. “Anthony, it is eight-twenty!”
Anthony sighed and dropped the watch on the table before reaching for his wine glass again.
Two hours later, Anthony was in bed pretending to read a book. In actuality, he was listening for any sound that might indicate that Kate had returned home. Fifteen hours was really far too long for a man to be away from his expectant wife. It was outrageous really. If Anthony could determine who was to blame for this poor scheduling, he would have a stern word with them tomorrow. When he finally heard Kate’s footsteps in the hallway, he straightened up and thumbed past the title page of his book.
The door to their bedchamber creaked open and Kate stepped into the room. Anthony could see her two maids trailing behind her in the hallway. Kate looked over at the bed and smiled at him before glancing back towards the women. Anthony cleared his throat. “You can send them away. I will help you undress.”
“Are you certain? You are already in bed.”
Anthony looked at his wife and just tilted his head slightly. She smirked and nodded before dismissing her maids. Then she stepped back into the room and quietly shut the door. Anthony drank in the sight of her. She was wearing a deep, almost iridescent, blue gown with her hair pinned in some complicated braid he would struggle to undo later. Her breasts hugged the bodice of the dress in a way they would not have a few weeks prior, but otherwise, her clothing largely concealed her swollen belly. Anthony stood up and quickly crossed the room, pulling her into his arms.
“Well hello.” He said, as he pressed his lips to hers. “You look gorgeous.”
She hugged him. “Thank you. I missed you today.” She snuggled her head against his chest. “Mmmm. You smell good,” she murmured.
“I took a long bath when I returned home. I reeked of smoke.”
She nodded into his chest. “How did it go today?”
He pressed his lips to her temple and then gently turned her around so he could begin undoing the buttons on her gown. “It was fine. Thankfully, the Downings are safe and their home saw minimal damage, all things considered. Some of their belongings were ruined, but we will sort it out.”
“I am sure they appreciated you being there.”
“Well, it is my duty.”
“Yes, but you do it well—and with kindness and empathy.”
Anthony blushed as he shrugged off her praise. He momentarily gave up on her buttons and pressed a kiss to the back of Kate’s neck. “How was the opera?”
“It was lovely. Your son, however, seemed completely uninterested in it. He slept through the whole thing and only awoke when we stood to leave.”
“Active during your intercourse seminar and asleep at the opera. He is wise beyond his years,” Anthony said with a sly grin. He finally unhooked the last button and gently slid Kate’s dress off her shoulders before turning his attention to her corset.
“And the rest of your day? I heard you gave some of Franny’s suitors unsolicited language lessons.”
Kate scoffed. “Well, honestly, Anthony. Some of these men seemed quite foolish. I mean, what is the curriculum at Eton these days? I do not think expecting proficiency in French is too much to ask. And Francesca is far too polite to say anything. So yes, I did have to filter through some of her suitors. But only the dumb ones. Not that it matters anyway. We both know that John Stirling will be asking to speak to you very soon. He is completely besotted with her. And she hardly even glances at anyone else.”
Anthony fumbled with her laces as he grumbled. He had not been expecting Franny to get engaged so quickly. He thought he had a bit more time. “John Stirling,” he muttered under his breath. “Who lives in Scotland, anyway?”
“Well, the Scots, I imagine. Actually, speaking of French, that reminds me. Are you familiar with the term soixante-neuf?” Kate asked the question casually, almost as if it was an afterthought.
Anthony stopped breathing and his hands froze in place, the strings from her corset unmoving between his fingers. He did not respond.
“Anthony, did you hear me?”
There was a long pause. “Yes.”
“Well, do you know what it means?”
He felt his face getting warm. He cleared his throat but when he responded, his voice still cracked. “It means sixty-nine.”
“Well yes, of course I understand the translation. But what does that signify? The numerical meaning did not make any sense in the context in which I heard it.”
He squeaked. “Kate, where exactly did you hear this phase?”
She looked at him over her shoulder. “Can you keep going with the laces? I can hardly breathe with this thing on, it keeps pressing into my abdomen.”
Anthony was also finding it hard to breathe, but for an entirely different reason. His hands were shaky as he continued. “The phrase, Kate, where did you hear it? If you say from Daphne I swear to god I will—”
“No, not Daphne. There was a French couple behind us as we were leaving the opera house. They were a bit tipsy it seemed, and the wife was talking about it. But it did not make any sense to me.”
Anthony took a deep breath and slowly blew out the air. “Perhaps you just misheard them. Or maybe your translation was off.”
With her corset finally undone, Kate whipped around and looked at him. “My translation was certainly not off. This woman was hanging off her husband and asked him if they could hurry home because she was in the mood for soixante-neuf that evening.”
Anthony’s eyes widened and he started coughing. The French were really out of control these days.
“Anthony! You know what it means, don’t you? Tell me!”
Anthony bent down and picked up his wife’s dress and tossed it on a nearby chair along with her corset. “Kate, I do not think…”
“It is some kind of French food? One of their fussy delicacies?”
Anthony slowly rubbed his hands over his face. “That is certainly one way of putting it.”
“I see. Have you ever tried it? Does it taste good?”
“NO!” Kate flinched in surprise. “I apologize, I did not mean to startle you. I…have not tried it. I have only heard mention of it.”
“Well what is in it? Innards or organs or something? Anthony, why are you so red in the face?”
“Am I?” Anthony turned his back to her and walked over to the chair, where he began folding her dress. He heard her slowly approaching and saw her out of the corner of his eye as she watched him.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I am doing? I am folding your dress.”
“I do not think I have ever seen you fold anything before. You are just bunching it up. Besides, those hang in the wardrobe, they do not get folded.”
“Apologies! I am not an expert on the proper storage procedures for women’s garments.”
Kate stood there in her shift, arms crossed against her chest. “What is the matter with you? You are so worked up all of a sudden.” She looked down at the now wrinkled dress and back up at Anthony, who was vigorously rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “It is not a French dish, is it?”
Anthony groaned and scratched at his head. “Kate, it is not…I would not…it is not a phrase one utters in polite society.”
“Well lucky for us there is no society in this room, polite or otherwise. Just a man and his wife.” She raised one eyebrow. “What does it mean, Anthony?”
Anthony looked up at the ceiling, wondering if there was a guidebook for men in his position. His father had raised him to be a gentleman. How exactly was a gentleman supposed to respond to such an impossible line of inquiry?
“Is it something sexual? It that why you are so red and will not make eye contact with me?”
Anthony exhaled and looked at her. Against his better judgment and before he could stop himself, he nodded.
“Well, tell me, then. What does it mean?”
“Kate, I am afraid that if I explain to you what it means I will immediately burst into flames.”
She stared at him for a moment. “I see.” She took one final look at him and proceeded to stomp into her dressing room. Anthony groaned in frustration. This was madness. He had expected challenges in his marriage—after all, disagreements were normal in every relationship, and one did not marry a woman like Kate without expecting some healthy discourse. But never in a million years would he have expected to be arguing with his wife over this. If only Willoughby and Marbury could see him now. Before he could figure out what to do, she stomped back into the room, this time clad only in that damn robe of hers.
“Does it have to do with…I have heard rumors of French gatherings where more than one man and one woman are involved in intimate…situations. Is it that?”
Anthony blushed furiously. “No! And Kate, where in god’s name are you spending your time? You are no longer allowed to leave this house without me.”
She rolled her eyes. “There was once a delegation of French dignitaries who stayed at the palace for several months. They did not realize I was fluent in their language and were not careful with their conversations in my presence.”
Anthony thought of his then-virginal wife’s ears being corrupted by Frenchmen of ill-repute and got so irritated and possessive he quickly closed the short distance between them and wrapped his arms around her as his lips crashed down onto hers. He had missed her all day and now she was in front of him, nearly naked, putting the filthiest of thoughts in his mind. His hands moved from her waist to beneath her robe and cupped her bottom, pressing her against his arousal.
“Kate,” he murmured, when he finally came up for air. “Please do not speak of other men in our bedroom. It makes me feel murderous.”
She bit her bottom lip, clearly trying not to smirk. “I apologize. I did not mean to wind you up like this. I was just…curious, and I thought you liked my curious nature in the bedroom.”
He looked into her eyes, his entire body now overheated with desire. “Your sexual curiosity is one of the greatest surprises of—and delights in—my life.”
She took his hands into hers and leaned in towards his ear. “Mine too.” He whimpered. Under his robe, his arousal was throbbing painfully. “Is this…thing…not something you are interested in…trying?”
Anthony’s head dropped to her shoulder as he pictured him and Kate sharing that experience. He was not strong enough for this—not by a long shot. “Kate, you do not understand what it is. It is…unsavory. I would not want to disresp—” Anthony’s words died on his lips as she put her index finger firmly against his mouth.
“Anthony, you used to be bashful about other activities we now enjoy quite regularly. Why would this be any different?”
At this, Anthony bristled. “I was never bashful, and please do not use the word ‘enjoy’ to describe the things we do together in this room—as if they are tea sandwiches.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Fine. You know what, Anthony, you do not have to tell me. It is fine. Just fine.”
“Well it certainly sounds like it is fine.”
“It is. Forget I even asked the question.” She shrugged and walked towards the bed, removing her robe in the process. “I am just a bit surprised, is all. I did not take you for a priggish person.”
“A PRIGGI—” Anthony realized he was shouting and cut himself off. He huffed as he watched his naked wife crawl into their bed. He had completely lost control of this day and was about to lose his mind as well. Anthony yanked off his own robe and dropped it on the ground before storming over to the bed. He got in and tossed his abandoned, not-even-remotely-read, book on the floor. They both sat there for several minutes, silently staring at the foot of the bed.
Finally, Kate turned to him and took one of his hands between her palms. When she spoke, her voice was whisper-soft. “If soixante-neuf was a tea sandwich, which kind would it be?”
Anthony tipped his head back against the headboard and laughed in surrender. “It would be like if you took an egg sandwich and pressed it against a ham sandwich and then took a bite out of both at the same time.”
She looked at him in confusion.
“Kate, soixante-neuf is when a man and a woman orally pleasure one another...simultaneously.”
Kate’s eyes narrowed as she considered what he had said. “I do not understand. How does that work?”
Anthony scratched his head as he considered his predicament. Until tonight, whenever he had a moral dilemma, he would stop and ask himself what his father would do if he were in Anthony’s shoes. For obvious reasons, Anthony could not bring himself to consider that question. In fact, every spare inch of real estate in Anthony’s brain was working double-time to prevent him from asking himself that very question. And in the absence of that source of guidance, Anthony was at a complete loss. Was morality even the right framework for this problem, he wondered. Anthony wished he had paid better attention during his philosophy courses at university. Or listened more at church instead of snickering with Benedict the entire time.
Perhaps this was truly an issue of first impression. Perhaps no man in the history of time had ever been faced with this precise problem. The more and more Anthony thought about it, the more he was convinced that was true. Surely no man on earth had ever been laying in bed with his naked, impossibly beautiful, pregnant wife and had to choose between his honor and a sexual fantasy so powerful it was making his vision blur.
Anthony’s philosophical quandary was interrupted when Kate elbowed him in the side. “Anthony, did you hear my ques—ohhhh, I get it. You lay head to foot. Oh…my…” Her eyes widened as she considered it.
Anthony shifted and adjusted himself under the sheets. It seemed his groin had not yet received news of Anthony’s moral dilemma.
“But who is…is one person on top of the other person? That seems like it would be quite difficult to manage.”
Anthony covered his face with his hands, pressing the heels of his palms into this eyes. A voice that sounded a lot like his own responded. “I think it is easier to…maneuver…if both people lay on their sides.”
Kate paused again as she thought about it. “I see…”
Anthony adjusted himself again and continued laying there with his eyes closed, trying to breathe.
“Were you lying when you said you had never done it before?”
He wordlessly shook his head. Anthony’s rakish reputation had originated from his flippant demeanor towards love and the sheer quantity of his sexual partners, not his adventurousness. It was a subtle distinction he knew Kate would not appreciate in the least. His eyes were still closed when he felt Kate stir next to him, and the next thing he knew, she was straddling his waist, her knees on either side of him. Anthony opened his eyes and stared at her breasts for several seconds before tearing his gaze away and looking up at her face. His hands were in tight fists at his sides. When he looked into her eyes, he knew he was done for.
“Anthony, I want to try it.”
He shook his head weakly. “Kate, I truly do not have the willpower for this.”
“For what?”
“To resist this. You. To resist you.”
She leaned forward and took his face into her hands. “There is nothing to resist. You are trying to solve for a problem that does not exist outside of your head. Your gorgeous, slightly jumbled head.”
Anthony scowled but he allowed himself to cup her breasts, anchoring himself to them for comfort.
“Let us try it, Anthony. It sounds like it would be rather fun. And I want us to do something you have never done before.”
Somewhere deep inside him, another thread of Anthony's honor snapped. He cursed under his breath as he grabbed Kate's hips and rolled them both until she was on her back, with him hovering just above her.
He hoped his eyes did not reflect the madness he felt inside. He pressed his lips to her ear. “Do you, Kate? And why is that exactly?”
Her hands were gliding up and down his back, squeezing his shoulders and kneading his muscles as she raised one eyebrow at him. “Because you are mine. And this will be one thing you have only done with me.”
Anthony’s head dropped to her collarbone as he tried to catch his breath. If there was one thing he could comprehend in the midst of this haze of desire it was her need to truly and completely possess some part of him. How could he not understand it? He would never have to grapple with the knowledge that she had been touched by someone other than him, and yet he struggled every day with wanting all of her to himself. He lifted his eyes and looked at her, nodding. “I think it is going to feel quite intense. It might be overwhelming. Are you sure you are ready for that?”
She stared at him, eyes never wavering. “Yes. Are you?”
He growled at her and then his lips fell to her breasts, attacking them with the same degree of frustration and desire he had been feeling for the last twenty minutes. Her legs wrapped around his waist as she held his head in place. Suddenly, Anthony lifted his head and looked at his wife with the utmost seriousness. “Kate, if we are going to do this, we need to do it now. And I mean right now. Because I have been thinking about…forgive me, fucking you, since seven this morning. And I cannot hold out much longer.”
She bit her lip, nodding, and then started to shift underneath him. A low, guttural sound came out of Anthony’s mouth. “Do not move.” Anthony yanked the bedsheet off to the side and gently grabbed Kate by her ankles, slowly sliding her down towards the foot of the bed. Before he released her legs, he placed a kiss on the inside of each ankle bone. “Roll over onto your side.” His voice was strained to such an extent he hardly recognized it. She did as instructed and Anthony took a deep breath before he turned his body so he was facing her feet, his mouth at eye level with her sex.
He paused for a moment to consider what direction to give her and before he could say a word he felt her hand curve around his arousal as she guided him into her mouth. He gasped out and said her name. At least he thinks he said her name, but either he did not or she ignored it, because she did not stop or show any hesitation as she wrapped her lips around him. Anthony allowed himself a single second to catch his breath and then he grabbed one of her thighs with his hand and lifted her leg, holding it up with the curve of his arm as he exposed her to himself. Unlike that morning, he did not have the wherewithal to focus on what to do to maximize her pleasure. He was not thinking rationally at all. He just took her into his mouth, sucking and licking whatever he could reach. As she took him deeper into her mouth and suckled him more intensely, he instinctively did the same to her. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if this felt as good to her as it did to him, but he did not have the mental clarity to pause what he was doing and ask her.
As he dipped his tongue deeper into her, he rubbed his chin against that sensitive patch of skin above her sex and felt her moan loudly, the sound vibrating against his arousal. Anthony heard a ringing in his ear. He did not dare stop, fearing that if he did she would cease touching him and he would die on the spot. One of her hands was grabbing his thigh so tightly that he was vaguely aware of it hurting, but the pain associated with it was so far down the queue of feelings washing over him that he could not be bothered to explore it with any seriousness.
Some time later, probably seconds, maybe minutes, he felt her tightening against his tongue. He was briefly transported back to that morning. The Anthony from that morning was a completely different person than the one who had his head buried between his wife’s thighs right now. Kate gripped his leg harder and he felt her fingernails digging into his skin as she continued her movements against his manhood. He shook his head and pulled the exposed part of her sex into his mouth, sucking it deeply as he swirled his tongue around it. That was all Kate could take. She pulled her mouth away and pressed it against his thigh as she cried out. Seconds later, while Anthony was still trying desperately to get his bearings, she took him back into her mouth.
Anthony lifted his head and weakly said her name. She ignored him. “Kate, you do not have to—” He was physically incapable of completing his sentence as his wife circled her tongue around his arousal, evoking a sensation so pleasurable that Anthony felt lightheaded and slightly insane. He leaned his head against her legs and tried to breathe as he felt the tension in his body building to catastrophic levels. He was not going to last much longer and he did not plan to spill his seed into her mouth. Even in the midst of his insanity there were limits to what Anthony could imagine doing with his pregnant wife, and that was one large step further than he would allow himself to go. Realizing he had a few short seconds remaining to make a decision, he said her name loudly, once, and then pulled himself upright. Before she could even react, he turned his body around, leaned over and slid into her, gasping her name into her hair as she clenched around him.
If she was surprised, she did not show it. She just wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and held onto him as he thrust into her. Mere moments later, he shuddered and shook as he came. Not wanting to collapse on top of her, he half-heartedly rolled them back onto their sides and then just laid there, unmoving, until his breath steadied and the fog in his brain began to lift. She did not move either. Her lips were pressed against his forehead as her fingers rested in his hair. At some point he pulled out of her before pulling her body back against him. He felt her breath slowing against his chest.
Finally he was able to move enough to press a kiss against the top of her head. “Kate, are you falling asleep?” She nodded. “Was that too much?” She shook her head. “Can you say something out loud, so I can be sure you are okay?”
She sleepily lifted her head and looked at him. “I can see why that woman was so impatient to get home from the opera,” she mumbled. Her head dropped back onto his chest and by the time Anthony could think of a response, she was asleep.
The sound of birds chirping awoke him the next morning. He laid still with his eyes closed, listening to their call and response. The events of the prior night flashed across his mind and Anthony's entire body tingled. He wondered briefly if it had all been a dream but truthfully, Anthony’s fantasies of Kate had never been quite so ambitious. As he laid there he heard the unmistakable sound of pages turning in a book. He slowly opened his eyes and looked to his left.
Kate was sitting up in bed, reading. She looked over at him and smiled sweetly.
“Oh, there you are.”