Persuasion: The Wild and Wanton Edition

by Micah Persell

  “To see you,” cried he, “in the midst of those who could not be my well-wishers; to see your cousin close by you, conversing and smiling, and feel all the horrible eligibilities and proprieties of the match! To consider it as the certain wish of every being who could hope to influence you! Even if your own feelings were reluctant or indifferent, to consider what powerful supports would be his! Was it not enough to make the fool of me which I acted? How could I look on without agony? Was not the very sight of the friend who sat behind you, was not the recollection of what had been, the knowledge of her influence, the indelible, immoveable impression of what persuasion had once done — was it not all against me?”

  “You should have distinguished,” replied Anne. “You should not have suspected me now; the case is so different, and my age is so different. If I was wrong in yielding to persuasion once, remember that it was to persuasion exerted on the side of safety, not of risk. When I yielded, I thought it was to duty, but no duty could be called in aid here. In marrying a man indifferent to me, all risk would have been incurred, and all duty violated.”

  “Perhaps I ought to have reasoned thus,” he replied, “but I could not. I could not derive benefit from the late knowledge I had acquired of your character. I could not bring it into play; it was overwhelmed, buried, lost in those earlier feelings which I had been smarting under year after year. I could think of you only as one who had yielded, who had given me up, who had been influenced by any one rather than by me. I saw you with the very person who had guided you in that year of misery. I had no reason to believe her of less authority now. The force of habit was to be added.”

  “I should have thought,” said Anne, “that my manner to yourself might have spared you much or all of this. I do not — ” Anne blushed “ — do those things with just anyone.”

  “No, no! your reaction might be only the cause which your engagement to another man would give. Your eyes as you looked upon me when we were interrupted by Mr. Elliot — they cut right through me. I assumed you were bereft because I had stolen something from you that belonged to him! I left you in this belief; and yet, I was determined to see you again. My spirits rallied with the morning, and I felt that I had still a motive for remaining here.”

  Anne stopped him with a hand to his upper arm. “Frederick,” she whispered, “I was bereft because you stopped kissing and touching me. No other reason.”

  She was standing so close to him, and with her hand upon his arm, that she felt when her words caused every muscle in his body to clench.

  “Will I ever do the right thing with you?” he asked in dismay, his eyes cast down to where his fingers traced a shape on the back of her hand.

  The simple movement of his finger across her skin was setting fire to her body. “That depends on what you plan to do right now.”

  The nearly audible snap of his head jerking up so he could stare at her betrayed that her words had shocked him nearly as much as they had shocked herself. The blatant invitation in her tone had not been missed.

  Frederick stared at her for several moments before his face split in a slow smile. “Indeed,” he said, his voice a rumble.

  In the next heartbeat, he was obviously scouring their location. Her eyes joined his in the search, and they both spotted the stable at the same time.

  He did not have to stop to ask her if she would join him there, for she began walking in that direction immediately. His chuckle sounded in her ear, raising goose bumps across her chest, as he quickly followed in her wake.

  A door on the side of the building stood open, and he reached it first, opening it wider for her and allowing her to slip into the cool, hay-scented air ahead of him.

  A quick perusal showed the stable to be empty of all but a lone, sleeping donkey in one of the far stalls.

  “Thank heaven,” Frederick breathed on a laugh. “I have no idea what I would have said to some one if they had been in here.”

  Anne used the opportunity of his attention being focused elsewhere to look upon him. He was so much handsomer than he had been over eight years ago, and even then, she had never seen anyone who matched him. He was so big and broad that his presence dwarfed the roomy stable. Her eyes devoured every inch of him, and when her silence caught his attention and he turned toward her, he caught her in the act of ogling him.

  Immediate and intense heat flared in his eyes. “Anne,” he breathed, turning toward her fully and stroking the back of his finger down her cheek. His breath hitched in his chest. “I cannot believe I am permitted to touch you once more.” He tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes as his simple stroke of her cheek morphed until his fingers wove through her hair.

  He pulled her forward, and she went willingly, stepping into his tall, warm body and wrapping her arms about his waist. She turned her head and rested her ear against his chest. The solid thumping of his heart sounded through every fibre of her being, and his arms enclosed her and squeezed her tightly.

  She squeezed him in return, though his body gave a lot less than she suspected hers did. His middle was firm, and her hands splayed across cords of muscle in his back. She felt that muscle shift, and she raised her head to find he was lowering his.

  Her heart grew nearly too big for her chest as she tilted her face up and accepted his kiss. The sigh of relief that left her when their lips touched she heard echoed from him as he gently swept his lips back and forth across hers.

  His touch was light, his hold upon her loose — it spoke of the confidence he now felt that she was truly his, that he did not have to hold her tightly or lose her.

  “Anne,” he spoke between kisses. “I am so sorry.” His hold did grow slightly tighter as he continued to breathe a litany of apologies and what sounded like such a fool while tasting her lips and allowing his hands to wander her back.

  She shushed him as well as she could with her lips occupied.

  He began to walk her backwards, and next she knew, he was lowering her to the ground. She went without question and found herself lying upon a mound of hay. He immediately followed her down and stretched out atop her. The weight of his body pressed her deliciously into the softness at her back, and she sighed once more as she clutched his jacket with both hands and pulled him even closer. She widened her thighs and silently thrilled when his body fell into the area she had meant it to.

  His hard, unforgiving arousal pressed against her centre, and they both broke the kiss to suck in a startled breath. His eyes searched her face, and it was a few moments before she realized that he was asking permission.

  “Oh, Frederick,” she whispered. “Love me. Please.”

  He paused only long enough to gift her with a beauteous smile, and then he lowered his head once more. This time, his kiss was determined. Gone were the soft sweeps of his lips. He licked his way into her mouth and stroked her tongue languidly. His hand gripped the sides of her thighs, and she felt him tugging her dress up.

  She moaned into their kiss and reached down to help him. Together, they bunched her skirts around her waist, and his hand slipped into her drawers. Two fingers stroked down her centre, and she gasped as they passed over the throbbing bundle of nerves at the top of her sex, but he did not stop there. His two thick fingers slid into her sheath, stretching and filling her so swiftly, she nearly peaked on the spot.

  “Frederick!” Her gasp echoed around the empty stable, and it quickly turned into a moan as he shifted his body to the side so he could stroke the top of her sex with his thumb.

  Things were moving so quickly. Her body was carrying her away. She was going to reach her pleasure any second, and it would be without him inside of her body. That she could not abide.

  “Slow down,” she pleaded breathlessly, clutching his jacket and tugging fretfully. “Frederick, not yet.”

  He immediately stopped, and a look of horror flashed across his features. His body immediately moved away from hers, and the slow drag of his fingers against the sensitive skin of her core was almost her undoing
. Thankfully, enough of her mind remained in command to recognise that he had misinterpreted her passion-addled words. Her grip upon his arms tightened, and she yanked him back down upon her with more strength than she thought she possessed.

  “No,” she whispered. “Inside me. Please.”

  He stilled, and through the haze of passion, Anne saw the conflict and confusion in his eyes.

  “I do not want to finish without you inside me.”

  His body relaxed, and she knew all was well when a breathless laugh escaped his lips and his fingers returned to their deep-seated position. His thumb stroked a sure circle around her bud, and he leaned down to kiss the shell of her ear. “If I enter you now,” he breathed into her ear, “I will never last.”

  His thumb continued to circle, and Anne moaned fretfully, knowing she should be focusing on his words instead of the sensations he was wringing from her body, but being unable to do anything but revel in the slow, steady rhythm of his hand.

  His breath teazed the hair at her temple as he spoke once more. “It’s been eight and a half years since I have loved a woman, Anne.” His thumb picked up the pace, and Anne’s back bowed involuntarily. “The moment I enter your body, I am done.”

  As soon as his words registered, Anne’s body threw itself into paradise. Her lips parted as she moaned long and low. Her thighs tightened, and her fingers flexed in his jacket. She heard herself breathe his name, and he thrust his fingers even deeper inside of her, crooking them slightly and rubbing them against a spot that wrenched a haggard gasp from her lungs. The pleasure grew in intensity until it was so great spots flashed behind Anne’s eyes. “Now!” she half-sobbed. “Please, now.”

  She heard his bitten off curse and the sound of his breeches rustling, and in the next instant, he pulled his fingers from her body. The scalding hot skin of his arousal branded her entrance, and he never paused. He grasped behind her knee, pulled her leg over his hip, and thrust forward. Her drenched body gladly accepted him, and he slid in to the hilt.

  “God,” he choked out, throwing his head back and setting the cords of his neck into stark relief. “So tight,” he groaned as every muscle in his body flexed and then began to tremble.

  Anne’s hands wandered over his chest and up his neck, and she pulled him down so that he was lying heavily upon her once more. She raised her head and bit his lower lip. “Move,” she begged while grinding her hips against his in a circle.

  “Anne, it is too good.” He shook his head, but his body contrarily took over as he pulled back his hips and thrust into her once more. Another pained noise rumbled in his chest, and he buried his face in her neck. She heard him pray for control as his hips again moved, and then continued to move, quickly picking up the pace until the sound of his hips slapping against her echoed in the air.

  The loose, gentle hold he had used when they’d first entered the stable had certainly vanished. He touched her everywhere, and he touched her hard. His beard rasped against her neck. One hand squeezed her breast while the other’s fingers dug into her flank. She felt the edge of his teeth as he nibbled a path down her neck to her collarbone where he bit and then sucked. Her fingers clutched his hair and held him close, and he gifted her with another bite.

  Impossibly, Anne felt the peak she had already met once looming before her, and his dire warning of not being able to last suddenly mattered a great deal. “Do not stop,” she moaned as she wrapt her legs around his hips and crossed her ankles over his bottom. “Please.”

  “Oh, God, Anne.” His fingers flexed into her flesh, and she heard him swear violently. His thrusts grew deeper, and it was this new depth that had him grinding against the top of her sex.

  Anne sucked in all of her breath as her body reached completion, and Frederick crushed his lips against hers, bruising them and capturing her scream at the same time. He thrust his tongue deeply into her mouth, and his groan rumbled through her as his thrusts grew erratic and his muscles shook. She felt him jet hotly into her womb, and her eyes stung from an overwhelming rush of emotion.

  Their bodies stilled, but their breaths billowed out of their chest in almost perfect synchronicity. He kissed her slowly and softly one last time before pulling back to look into her eyes. As she met his gaze, she knew the happiness she saw glowing from his every feature was mirrored in her own face.

  They heard voices outside, and they both tensed as they realized they had just made love — rather loud love — in the middle of the day and in the middle of Bath.

  Anne laughed softly, and the trace of worry that had edged into Frederick’s expression vanished. He rolled to the side with a groan, pulled down Anne’s skirt, and pressed a kiss to her temple before setting his breeches to rights.

  “I cannot believe we did that,” he said in a soft, amused voice.

  “I can,” Anne said with a smile. “I have been wanting to do so since you first arrived in this city.”

  He chuckled and turned to wink at her, one lock of his blonde hair falling rakishly across his brow. She reached up to brush it with her fingers, and he captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips.

  “We must go, love,” he said with a reticent smile. “Charles will beat you home and use his new rifle on me.” He rose effortlessly to his feet and turned to help her to hers.

  Anne brushed her skirt, and Frederick plucked several pieces of hay from her hair. He clucked his tongue and passed a finger over a sensitive spot on her collarbone. Her eyes followed his touch to find a mark upon her skin.

  “I bit you?” he asked incredulously.

  Anne smiled. “Oh, yes.” At his horrified look, she laughed once more and drew her shawl over the spot. “I rather liked it. Remember that for the future.”

  His instantaneous smile dazzled her. “The future,” he repeated dazedly. “Indeed.”

  At last Anne was at home again, and happier than any one in that house could have conceived. All the surprise and suspense, and every other painful part of the morning dissipated by this conversation and by their love, she re-entered the house so happy as to be obliged to find an alloy in some momentary apprehensions of its being impossible to last. An interval of meditation, serious and grateful, was the best corrective of everything dangerous in such high-wrought felicity; and she went to her room, and grew steadfast and fearless in the thankfulness of her enjoyment.

  The evening came, the drawing-rooms were lighted up, the company assembled. It was but a card party, it was but a mixture of those who had never met before, and those who met too often; a commonplace business, too numerous for intimacy, too small for variety; but Anne had never found an evening shorter. Glowing and lovely in sensibility and happiness, and more generally admired than she thought about or cared for, she had cheerful or forbearing feelings for every creature around her. A pleasant ache burned at the apex of her thighs and overshadowed any ill feeling. Mr. Elliot was there; she avoided, but she could pity him. The Wallises, she had amusement in understanding them. Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret — they would soon be innoxious cousins to her. She cared not for Mrs. Clay, and had nothing to blush for in the public manners of her father and sister. With the Musgroves, there was the happy chat of perfect ease; with Captain Harville, the kind-hearted intercourse of brother and sister; with Lady Russell, attempts at conversation, which a delicious consciousness cut short; with Admiral and Mrs. Croft, everything of peculiar cordiality and fervent interest, which the same consciousness sought to conceal; and with Captain Wentworth, some moments of communications continually occurring, several stolen caresses, and always the hope of more, and always the knowledge of his being there.

  It was in one of these short meetings, each apparently occupied in admiring a fine display of greenhouse plants though he used the opportunity to stroke his finger down her arm, that she said —

  “I have been thinking over the past, and trying impartially to judge of the right and wrong, I mean with regard to myself; and I must believe that I was right, much as I suffered from i
t, that I was perfectly right in being guided by the friend whom you will love better than you do now. To me, she was in the place of a parent.” His finger stilled upon her skin, and she felt him tense. “Do not mistake me, however,” she hurried to say. “I am not saying that she did not err in her advice. It was, perhaps, one of those cases in which advice is good or bad only as the event decides; and for myself, I certainly never should, in any circumstance of tolerable similarity, give such advice. But I mean, that I was right in submitting to her, and that if I had done otherwise, I should have suffered more in continuing the engagement than I did even in giving it up, because I should have suffered in my conscience. I have now, as far as such a sentiment is allowable in human nature, nothing to reproach myself with; and if I mistake not, a strong sense of duty is no bad part of a woman’s portion.”

  He looked at her, looked at Lady Russell, and looking again at her, replied, as if in cool deliberation —

  “Not yet. But there are hopes of her being forgiven in time. I trust to being in charity with her soon. But I too have been thinking over the past, and a question has suggested itself, whether there may not have been one person more my enemy even than that lady? My own self. Tell me if, when I returned to England in the year eight, with a few thousand pounds, and was posted into the Laconia, if I had then written to you, would you have answered my letter? Would you, in short, have renewed the engagement then?”

  “Would I!” was all her answer; but the accent was decisive enough.

  “Good God!” he cried, “you would! It is not that I did not think of it, or desire it, as what could alone crown all my other success; but I was proud, too proud to ask again. I did not understand you. I shut my eyes, and would not understand you, or do you justice. This is a recollection which ought to make me forgive every one sooner than myself. Six years of separation and suffering might have been spared. It is a sort of pain, too, which is new to me. I have been used to the gratification of believing myself to earn every blessing that I enjoyed. I have valued myself on honourable toils and just rewards. Like other great men under reverses,” he added, with a smile. “I must endeavour to subdue my mind to my fortune. I must learn to brook being happier than I deserve.”