Chapter Text
The time between jumping off the bridge and crashing into the river was both infinitesimal and infinite for Anthony.
During those moments, two things were at the forefront of his mind:
He trusted Penelope not to reveal the truth of the circumstances of his death to anyone.
and
It’s not the fall that’s going to kill him. It’s the landing.
~z~
Anthony had never been so peaceful, warm, and content when he’d been alive.
He felt completely relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever.
He must have made it to Heaven after all.
He’d been worried that the sin of killing himself would preclude him from entering these pearly gates, but Anthony was immensely grateful it hadn’t, because he now had a chance to reunite with his family one day.
Thoughts of his family, of the father he was impatient to see, became fleeting, however, as soon as the pleasant warmth he’d been feeling morphed into a raging inferno of heat.
One that was spreading through his body like wildfire and concentrating in a very specific location.
A very human location.
The realization shocked Anthony out of his relaxed state and into one of wakefulness. Reflexively, he tensed and clutched at the surface below him, which felt suspiciously like bedsheets. What in the world? he thought as he cracked an eye open and was inundated with daylight filtering through some very familiar drapes.
No. It can’t be.
Needing to know if his eye was deceiving him, he opened his other one, too, and confirmed that he was definitely in his chambers at Bridgerton House.
In his bed.
And very much alive.
So alive, in fact, that his heart was racing, his muscles were twitching, and sweat was running down his brow thanks to a very warm, wet mouth enveloping his erect cock inside it.
Anthony jolted and shifted his gaze from the window to the woman kneeling face down between his legs and sucking him off with expert precision.
Not just any woman, but one with a swath of long, bright red hair so unique that it could only belong to one person.
What the bloody fuck was Penelope Featherington doing sucking him off in his bedchamber?!
“Penelope?” he blurted hoarsely. Incredulously. Mind full of confusion.
She, however, ignored him in favor of continuing her endeavor, sucking, licking, and nipping until his hips were jerking of their own volition and his cum was spurting into her mouth.
Anthony let out a strangled moan and pushed his head back into the pillow as he came with one of the most powerful orgasms of his life.
Huh. Maybe he was dead after all.
He had to be.
Because there was no way little Penelope Featherington would be giving him orgasms otherwise.
~z~
While Anthony was boneless and panting, Penelope released his cock and kissed the tip before crawling up his body at a slow, languid pace. She stopped at his abdomen, stomach, and chest to drop kisses before leaning in to give him one on the mouth.
Anthony intended to turn his head away, but his body didn’t listen to his mind and she made contact before he could. The kiss, just a close-mouthed peck that only lasted a few seconds, had his lips tingling and his mind whirling. Before he could make heads or tales out of his reaction, she pulled away and bounded off the bed.
His eyes were glued to her naked form as she pulled on a dressing gown laid out at the foot of the bed and said, “Once you regain your faculties, do get dressed, darling. We cannot be late for Francesca’s presentation.”
Anthony had just opened his mouth to speak, to tell her he had no idea what was going on, when she blew him and kiss and strode through the door to the Viscountess’ dressing room, closing it softly behind her.