Pen didn’t know it was possible to live out both your wildest fantasy and worst nightmare at the same time.  Not until tonight.

Never in a million years did Penelope believe she’d be tupping her secret fiancé in a butler’s pantry while her mother stood on the other side of the surprisingly thin wall educating her married sisters about the birds and the bees.  

The butler’s pantry hadn’t been a planned rendezvous with Anthony, but it turned out to be a rather convenient one.  

She’d gone to the dining room for a moment alone after a stare-down with Eloise, who was still not talking to her.  Clearly Eloise was upset that she and Colin were interacting.  Or, rather, that she was interacting with him, perceived betrayer that she was.  But Pen couldn’t help that Colin was bending over backward to try to mend their friendship after his careless words last season.  Since he remained persistent and she didn’t want to be the cause of any more strife within the Bridgerton family given the evolution of her relationship with his brother, Pen gave in to his request to make his transgression up to her.

Anthony, of course, was in tune with every one of her movements and had followed her when she left.   At first he’d inquired about her welfare, but, as usual, a simple conversation between them quickly escalated into an all-consuming need to be close.  Without preamble, Anthony had pulled her into the pantry, pushed her against the closed door, and kissed her senseless.  

“Fuck, I need you,” he whispered harshly against her lips when he broke the kiss to give them both a chance to breathe.

“Then have me,” she replied, tightening the hold her arms had around his neck so that her body came in full contact with his.  “Just keep your hands below the neck.”  

He pulled back briefly and ran a finger along the edge of her intricate updo.  She could tell he longed to dismantle it by the look in his eyes, but he didn’t.  Instead he traced his hand down her neck, shoulder, and bodice until it reached her skirt.  She felt him grasp a fistful of the material and begin inching it up her frame.  When his other hand joined that one, he smirked and said, “Somehow, I don’t think that will be a problem.”

~z~

They were courting scandal by slipping away together during a ball, but Anthony couldn’t find it in himself to care.  Not when he was this close to being inside his fiancé again after nearly a week apart.

They’d agreed to wait to reveal the truth about their connection until things between Pen and his siblings were more stable. However, thanks to his sister’s stubbornness, it was taking far longer than Anthony expected.  Despite Penelope’s numerous attempts to mend fences, Eloise still wanted nothing to do with her.  His sister’s contrariness was grating on his nerves and testing his patience, especially since she continued to associate with Cressida Cowper, a woman hell-bent on becoming the next Viscountess Bridgerton whenever she got near him.

The last time he’d been with Penelope was just after Lady Danbury’s ball, when he followed her carriage home after her confrontation with Colin and waited for her to leave through the servant’s entrance to deliver her column.  They’d fucked in the hack on the way there and back.  But it wasn’t enough. It never was.  Anthony longed for a bed and hours upon hours to show her just how much he desired her.

As his hands inched her skirts up, Anthony was reminded of their first night together at the Featherington ball.  How a moment of comfort between two people grieving for what could have been became one of unexpected connection between them.  One kiss was all it took for them to be lost in a maelstrom of emotion that had him inside her in a heartbeat.  

She left him that night after thanking him for his kindness and urged him to chase after Kate and make things right between them.  Penelope insisted he didn’t need to marry her because her fate as a spinster was already sealed. But his wasn’t, she argued.  So there was no reason for him to be miserable while doing his duty.  

Anthony took her advice and did just that. However, since Kate had no desire to return to London and planned to stay with her sister in Prussia after she married the prince, they ended up at an impasse.  Love, it seemed, wasn’t enough, so Anthony came back to home to lick his wounds and regroup.

As fate would have it, Penelope, clad in the most putrid shade of green imaginable, returned from the country earlier than everyone else.  He had been staring out his window when she arrived and saw her glance back at Bridgerton House as she entered her home.  Her face was full of pain and longing.  But, just as quickly as it was there, it was gone, replaced with a fake smile he knew all too well.  Perhaps, Anthony mused, they were far more alike than he ever realized.

After that moment, studying Penelope became his new distraction from his loneliness and heartbreak.  She was an enigma with a public persona as a wallflower that was far removed from the clever, passionate woman he’d tupped in the garden last season. 

What Anthony learned when he watched Penelope’s movements from his window was that she came and went freely at all hours of the day, sometimes even by herself.  After the third time he saw her sneak out in a dark cloak after midnight, his curiosity got the best of him and he followed her on his horse.  Anthony got the shock of his life when he found her delivering her Whistledown column. 

The mixture of conflicting emotions he felt at learning her secret identity had his blood boiling.  Without preamble (and with a hefty bribe for his discretion), Anthony had the coachman tie his horse to the carriage and hauled her inside for an explanation.  Their heated exchange sparked one of the most memorable sexual encounters of his life.  They took out their anger and frustration at the world, their situations, and themselves on each other to a surprisingly satisfying conclusion that had Anthony proposing marriage on the spot.

Penelope tried to refuse him again, but he insisted.  Whatever shred of honor he had left after ruining her twice demanded he do the right thing.  When she scoffed at him, Anthony brought her off again with his fingers and reminded her that, in their case, honor could come with boundless pleasure.  Would she rather have a cold, lonely bed or fall asleep sated and content next to him every night?

So, that’s how he ended up here, in a butler’s pantry at a ball, fucking Penelope Featherington on a countertop and enjoying every moment of it.  The passion they’d unleashed that night in the carriage hadn’t abated and Anthony found himself craving her every minute of every day.  

Penelope, bless her soul, seemed to feel the same way based on the gusto with which she was attacking the falls of his trousers.  She freed him and pumped harshly just as Anthony’s hand found her soaking pussy beneath her sparkling skirts.  “So wet for me already,” he remarked, sliding a finger through her folds and pressing on her clit.  “Does your desire for me drip down your thighs every time you see me, baby?”

Penelope moaned at his touch and he felt more wetness seep out of her, coating his hand with her juices.  Instead of nodding like a good girl, Penelope looked down at his cock and replied, “Does that jump to attention every time you see me?” in a sarcastic tone.  She punctuated her question with a tight squeeze that made his hips buck toward her and had a groan escaping his lips. 

They locked eyes, letting the heat simmer between them as they stroked each other.  Pleasure thrummed through his body with each subsequent pull on his cock, but Anthony refused to break their impromptu game of wills first.

~z~

Penelope stared Anthony down and tightened her grip on his erection with each pull in retaliation for the wicked things he was doing to her pussy.  Did desire drip down her thighs whenever she saw him?  Of course.  To an embarrassing level.  It was the only reason Penelope was glad to be persona non grata at Bridgerton House right now.  For to sit there and take tea with Violet and Eloise while Anthony paraded himself in front of her under the guise of fetching something from the drawing room would be torture of the highest order.  

And he knew it, too, judging by the smirk on his face as he asked the question. It quickly vanished, though, when she turned the tables on him.  She didn’t know much about carnal relations, but she was a quick study.  He loved it when she touched him there.  She loved it, too, because it made his control slip.  And seeing the unflappable, rigid, stoic Viscount Bridgerton on the edge of control was one of her favorite sights.

But Anthony had more willpower and restraint than Pen anticipated.  His jaw was clenched and his fist was gripping the counter under her derrière for dear life, but he still managed to outlast, outmaneuver, and outwit her in their game.  Anthony leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss that had his tongue invading her mouth the same way his fingers were invading her pussy and it wasn’t long until she keened and shattered.

Anthony kissed and stroked her through it all.  Once her tremors subsided, Pen used her grip on his member to pull him closer to her.  He had just inserted himself inside her aching quim when she heard the door to the dining room close.  They froze where they were, breaking their kiss and waiting.

Had their luck run out? Would they get caught?

Penelope, breathing heavily (due more to nerves than desire), locked eyes with her fiancé and prayed for the best.

~z~

Who knew heaven and hell could exist simultaneously?  Certainly not Anthony.  And certainly not until he finally entered his fiancé’s warm, willing cunt only to be denied the pleasure he sought thanks to the untimely arrival of partygoers into their space.  

Nirvana was so close yet so far away as they froze where they were and waited to see if they would be discovered.  Anthony white-knuckled the countertop with both hands and clenched his jaw, appealing to whatever god above he could for restraint when all he wanted to do was let loose.

Anthony rested his head on Penelope’s shoulder and blew out short, shallow breaths to maintain control as whoever was outside engaged in their conversation.  The voices were surprisingly clear despite the wall separating them and he knew immediately that it was a group of women based on the tone of voice and cadence.  Anthony was fine to continue, as the threat of discovery only heightened his pleasure, but he could tell Penelope wasn’t on the same page by the tension in her body. 

Anthony lifted his head up and cupped Penelope’s cheek.  “Baby, what’s wrong?” he whispered.  “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” Penelope said with a shake of her head.  “It’s just, well… my mother.”  She inclined her head back toward the room behind her and cringed.

“Your mother?”  Anthony asked.  “Is out there?”

Penelope nodded.  She inched her bottom toward him and locked her ankles behind his ass.  “I’m fairly certain my sisters are with her, too,” she whispered.  

“Do you want to stop?”  It just might kill him, but he would.  Anthony loved pushing her buttons and boundaries, but he would never force her to do something she didn’t want to do no matter how blue his balls got in the process.  

~z~

Stop?  She’d rather die than stop, especially now that he was inside her.  But Penelope was far less experienced at this sort of thing than Anthony was.  Every time they’d coupled since she returned to London, he’d had to silence her screams and moans with his hand or mouth to keep her from drawing unwanted attention.

Pen frantically shook her head.  “No,” she stated.  “But…”  How could she possibly explain  her concerns without sounding foolish?

“But what?”

Penelope bit her lip and averted her eyes.  Bashfully, she whispered, “What if they hear us?” just as they heard her mother’s voice on the other side of the wall saying, “A woman’s pleasure is more … subtle… than a man’s.”

Anthony, who’d grinned like an idiot at her insinuation about not being able to keep quiet, broke into quiet laughter.  “Subtle?” he asked as his thumb brushed her clit and made her gasp.  “You?” 

Penelope slapped his shoulder for his cheekiness, which made him respond by pressing on her clit again as he pulled back and thrust back inside.  The action had her covering her mouth with her hand to cut off a moan.  “Hardly.”

Penelope could only half pay attention to the echoes of her mother saying, “When a man… inserts himself,”  because she was too busy trying not to scream when Anthony did just that, harder and faster than the last time.  She could feel one forming in the back of her throat though, so she dropped her hand, tugged on his lapels, and pressed her lips to his, hoping that if her mouth was busy, she wouldn’t succumb to the urge.  

Anthony, as always, understood her and latched on, sucking all the air from her lungs and preventing a scream as he kissed her back with abandon.  

The rhythm of their tongues and hips pushing and pulling, however, was interrupted by her sister’s loud, “Inserts himself? Inserts himself where?”

~z~

Anthony’s hips stalled of their own accord at the ridiculous question and he pulled back from Penelope’s lips.  

As she covered her mouth with her hand again, this time to stifle laughter, he wondered how her sister could not know. Hasn’t she been married for a year? 

Anthony asked the question with his eyes.  She shook her head and glanced heavenward as if to say Your guess is as good as mine.

When he heard the chit say something about them kissing and then Finch going to change his britches, an indelicate snort left Anthony unbidden and he had to bury his face in Penelope’s chest to muffle it.

His fiancé tipped her head down and laughed into the crown of his head as she lovingly stroked his hair.

This was undoubtedly the most absurd situation of his life. 

~z~ 

Penelope sat motionless, warming Anthony’s hard cock and petting his hair until the conversation abated and she heard her mother and sisters leave the room.  

When he was sure they were gone, Anthony lifted his head.  The fingers that were still under her skirt swiped between her folds, immediately re-stoking the fire within her.  “You don’t mind being punished over and over again, do you, baby?” he asked, voice low and husky. 

“No,” she whimpered as one stroke turned into two and so on and so forth until her hips started undulating, pushing him in and out of her hole.  

Anthony smirked and kissed her, continuing his ministrations with his fingers as he started thrusting again, first slowly and languidly and then more quickly with power.  

The closer she got to completion, the tighter her legs gripped Anthony’s hips.  To make up for the lack of range of motion, Anthony leaned their upper bodies back toward the wall behind her. The new angle enabled him to hit that spot every time he drove inside.

Penelope bit her fiancé’s tongue to stop from crying out when he pinched her clit and sent her over the edge.

~z~

When Penelope climaxed, Anthony preened.  He loved getting her off as often and as intensely as possible whenever they fucked.  The pain of her biting his tongue only increased his pleasure and he moaned into her mouth.  He moved his hand from her center to her bare hip and gripped her hard, keeping her immobile as his hips bucked into hers.

Pen didn’t seem to mind.  She held onto him just as tightly and broke the kiss to pepper featherlight ones across the underside of his jaw and down the little bit of his neck that was exposed.   When she ran out of room, she moved a hand from around his neck to behind his head, grabbed his hair, and pulled, forcing his neck to crane uncomfortably.  Penelope latched her lips onto the particularly sensitive area just under his chin and laved it with her wet, open mouth before and suckling it so hard that he was sure he’d have a hell of a welt to explain away tomorrow.  

Penelope lowered her other hand from his back to his waist.  She toyed with the bare skin under his shirt and waistcoat for a few seconds, tickling him tantalizingly, before sneaking it down to his ass cheek.  She rubbed it - once, thrice, twice - prior to gripping it for dear life and biting his neck at the same time.  The action had him exploding inside of her before he could stop himself.  “Fuck,” he muttered, both at the sensation and his loss of control.  

Anthony knew his behavior was reckless at best and irresponsible at worst.  

But somehow he couldn’t seem to care.

~z~

Until now, she thought Anthony grunting and pulling away was the norm.  But, apparently, that was not the case.  Penelope had enjoyed it every time they came together, but always felt strangely bereft at the abrupt end of their relations.  Now she knew why.  

It wasn’t what was should happen.

She was supposed to feel his release spurting inside of her and making her feel complete. 

 Full.

Of him.  

Of them. 

Penelope was basking in being joined with her future husband when she felt a wetness seeping out of her.  Worried it would stain her dress, Penelope tugged on Anthony’s hair to get his attention.  “Anthony,” she whispered into his skin.

“Hmm?” he asked, his question vibrating against her face.

Penelope released her hold on him and lifted her head.  “I think I need to get down.”  

Anthony seemed a little bit confused and a lot dazed when he caught her eye, so she explained, “My dress…”

“Oh… Right.”

Penelope released her grip on his behind and he immediately backed away, making a squishing sound as he did so.  Anthony cringed and reached into his breast pocket to pull out a handkerchief.  He wiped off his member with it before balling it in his hand and helping her down from the counter.

Her skirts immediately fell around her legs with a swish.  Glad her they were safe, Penelope blew out a relieved breath.  Unfortunately, her relief was short-lived because she immediately felt wetness begin to leak out of her body and had to cross her legs to stop it.  

Anthony, who was finishing up tucking himself back into his pants, smirked when he saw the way she moved.  Instead of offering her the cloth as she expected, though, he stepped toward her, lifted her hands onto the edge of the countertop behind her, and said, “Hold on.”  Pen watched him warily as he lowered himself onto his knees, lifted her skirts, and disappeared under them.  

Anthony tapped on her leg to get her to uncross it.  Penelope thought he was going to wipe her with the cloth, but he didn’t.  Surprisingly, he parted her thighs with his fingers and licked her and Penelope’s knees almost buckled in response to the pleasure the simple action brought her.  She was still sensitive down there, so every swipe of his tongue had her gripping the counter harder.  

When an involuntary whimper escaped her, she felt Anthony chuckle against the fine hair at her core, tickling her in the most delicious way.  Penelope whispered his name and bucked her hips into his face, pleading for more.  Of course, Anthony obliged and she was seeing stars again within minutes.  

Penelope was panting when Anthony reappeared, smoothing her gown as he did so.  He looked up at her, licked his lips, and smiled devilishly and Penelope was immediately overcome by the beauty of him.  His hair was mussed, lips swollen, chin wet, and cravat askew, but seemed incredibly happy about it.  

His happiness was infectious and had Penelope immediately dropping to her knees and kissing him soundly.  “Let’s get married,” she blurted when they parted for breath.  “As soon as possible.”  She wanted him - them - to be this happy for the rest of their lives.

His smile widened impossibly, glee at her suggestion evident.  “That’s what you want? Truly?” he asked, squeezing her to him tightly.

“Yes.”

Anthony reached out and up to grasp the counter and used his hold to pull them up together.  He squeezed her again and spun her around, laughing quietly into her ear.  When Anthony stopped, he released her, straightening her dress and hair as he did so. Once she was presentable and he had fixed himself the best he could, he held out his hand to her and asked her silently to come with him. 

She did. 

THE END 

(for good)