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Lord Xerxes Fife was attempting to calculate the cost of replacing the infernal door trapping him in this servant’s storage room, over his rage. All the furniture around him was rough-houghened, hardly worthy of being so much as looked at by a man of his station, let alone be sat upon.
When he got out of here, that worthless-cunt of a maid Sarah?...Sophie, was it? Whatever that harlot’s name was, would be tossed out of his house on her ass, damn whatever his mother said.
Eying the heavy looking door, he kicked a stool over in his annoyance. How dare that trollop lure him here only to trap him? He wasn’t some unnatural ox like those Bridgerton idiots, he was elegantly built, like a proper gentleman, not a beast of burden! Halfway through another pass as he paced back and forth in front of the room’s only door, he heard movement in the corridor.
Before he could call out to whoever was out there a heavy thud resounded through the wooden surface, startling him into silence and retracting his hand.
A feminine moan filtered into the room but the doorknob did not rattle as if they were about to enter and set him free in the process. The distinct sound of mouths meeting was accompanied by the slide of fabric against the door.
The third Bridgerton’s voice was low but audible, "Please, Penelope. I didn't mean it, I swear I didn't mean it."
Penelope Featherington’s tone was cold as she said, "It doesn't matter. You said them, Colin. We all have to sleep in the bed you've made for all of us. I'll never not know how little you think of me. If or when I manage to marry, more than likely it will be out of pity, if the man is kind, ambition, if the man wishes to try for the baronetcy. I need his pity, I do not need yours. The damage is done, leave me be, Mr. Bridgerton.”
“I can’t,” Bridgerton’s voice sounded weak but suddenly the door shook, the chit’s gasp quickly muffled and transformed into a moan.
Growling like some heathen, Bridgerton’s voice became interspersed with the wallflower’s reedy moans and the sound of his wet lips encountering what Fife remembered as being, soft looking, peach-hued skin. With moans of his own, Bridgerton pled, “I’ve only been home a week, Penelope, and you icing me out has been torture. I can’t continue on like this. I know you don’t need me but can you want me? I know I'm only a third son, but I'm well aware women find me attractive."
A thud sounded, seemingly prompting Penelope Featherington to chide, "Colin, get up!"
Bridgerton’s voice was muffled but audible, “Please, Penelope. Just tell me what I can do to earn back your good opinion. Anything, please, Penelope.”
Fife couldn’t tell what Bridgerton was doing but the girl’s next exhale was shaky. In the silence that followed he entertained the idea of knocking on the door to notify the pair that he was there, but the rustling of fabric outside the room silenced him.
“Colin,” Featherington said. Whether in warning or pleading, Fife couldn’t say, but he was sure he heard lips on skin then the girl gave several shuddering huffs when a wet sucking sound began to filter through the door. He had bedded enough women to know what was happening on the other side, even before Bridgerton’s muffled moan sounded and the suctioning sounds increased in speed.
"Colin," she cried, the begging tone more evident even whilst mixed with the censure.
The door rattled once more, Bridgerton’s groans more audible than before, Featherington’s pants becoming whines. “You’re such a dirty rake. A libertine! You proclaimed to all and sundry that you would never dream of courting me, and yet here you are, at my feet, feasting on my cunt,” Penelope groaned, voice sounding forced through gritted teeth.
Bridgerton’s voice sounded wrecked, as he whined, imploringly, “Penelope mmpf ” There was a prolonged male moan as the suckling sounds resumed.
A squealing whine overtook Bridgerton’s muffled moans, the red-headed minx saying, “For someone that was so adamant about earning my forgiveness, I don’t know that you’re showing your due commitment.”
Her tone was poisoned honey, as she said, “You cannot think of taking me as a bride, I ought not to even think of taking you as my husband. Should we make you my Kept Man, then, hm? Would you like that, Pet? When my husband is away I could summon you to my feet, allowing you to worship my cunt with your tongue at my leisure. Could you be a good boy for me, Mr. Bridgerton? I rather think for all your poor decisions I’d be owed at least three climaxes before I’d let you cum.”
A few beats of wordlessness followed, filled with only both of their pleasured exultations, and the sound of Bridgerton working at her sopping pussy. Several thuds against the wooden surface preceded the bit off high-cry from Penelope Featherington, signifying that Bridgerton had managed to bring her to her peak. There was some loud slurping and then the wet sound of his skin separating from hers, the pair breathing heavily.
Miss Featherington mused amidst her panting, “Oh but you are so very mouthy, I’d have to punish you so very often. Strip you down and rub my cunt all over you until I climaxed multiple times before even thinking of touching your cock.” Bridgerton groaned, clearly equal parts aroused and dismayed by the threat, as was Fife.
Bridgerton managed to say, “Penelope…” before he was cut off once more.
The vixen rasped, “You probably couldn’t control yourself, could you, you impulsive thing? You can’t even control yourself in this corridor, your cockstand would trip anyone happening by.” Fife had no idea what the red-head did after that, he only knew his school mate suddenly whimpered like a needy puppy, a moan seemingly stuck in his throat.
She chided, “You’re such a mess, how am I to rejoin the party with you like this?...Get in here, now !” Her command and the jostling of the doorknob were his only warning, as the redhead unlocked the door somehow, granting him a quick glimpse of her dainty slippered-foot pressing into the bulge in his schoolmate’s trousers.
His chin was shiny, his cravat undone around his neck, the third Bridgerton brother stood and stumbled into the room, landing on his knees in the very center of the small space. His head hung loose at his neck, fever-bright eyes only looking up and finding him when Penelope Featherington turned around, having turned the key in the keyhole. If she was surprised to see the room was occupied, she managed to look completely nonplussed about it, as she circled Bridgerton to face him.
Bending down to cup his jaw, she forced Bridgerton to meet her gaze, dominance clear as she loomed over him, “Your eyes will not stray from me as long as we are in this room, do you understand, pet?” The man nodded emphatically. In reward, the red-head tipped his chin up and licked her slick off his throat and chin, further instructing, “Xerxes Fife is inconsequential, he is nothing, do you understand?” Lithe fingers making quick work of the buttons securing the fall of his trousers closed, Fife was impressed but also embarrassed that this third son was just as well endowed as he had heard about his older brothers being from the gossipy brothel girls. Nodding obediently in understanding, Miss Featherington pecked his lips chastely in reward, concluding, “Good.”
A shove to his shoulder sent him to his ass with his lower legs folded underneath him. Quirking her head to assess his display, Penelope deemed the position unfavorable and smacked his knee, scolding, “At least spread your legs like a proper harlot.” All the blood in his body concentrated around his groin, Colin struggled to unfold his legs from the awkward position, barely careful enough in his maneuvering to avoid accidentally kicking the woman sitting primly on her heels between his splayed knees.
Her face the picture of impatience he had barely settled flat on his back again before she scooped up his sack in one hand and pressed the looser skin above the orbs into the angry red vein running the length of his under phallus, effectively preventing him from release. Bridgerton’s panic was easy to see as his eyes darted from his captive jewels to the wallflower holding them so, as he fumbled to push his trousers down to his thighs. Fife knew what she was about to demand, despite not being able to see her face, and he pitied the other man in that moment, "You are not to cum until I allow you to, do you understand?"
Bridgerton froze, clearly uncertain about his ability to do so, but haltingly nodding anyway. With a decisive nod and a poised, "Good," the redhead slathered Bridgerton’s dribbling pre-spend over his shaft, pulling away when the job was done and before Bridgerton could have garnered any real relief from the touch.
Fife knew he should have left the moment they opened the door, and, for that matter, the key was still in the keyhole…for some reason he felt he couldn't, the wallflower’s aura commanding him as well, without her ever telling him directly. As a man, Fife was always in control and he relished others, especially the fairer sex, reinforcing that, but something was stirring within him. Granted he was a first son, and a Lord in his own right, and a sight richer than even Bridgerton’s oldest brother…envy was bubbling up in his gut as he watched his taller and more muscular cohort scede all control to the diminutive miss, who was gathering her skirts just high enough to not be soiled by the slicked erection she was maneuvering over.
Her skirts were thus that he could see her calves but her thighs, garters, and mound were obscured as she lowered herself onto Bridgerton’s cock. He almost laughed when Bridgerton gasped and his hands clumsily found her hips under her skirts, but Fife then recalled the wallflower’s impending spinsterhood and that she had never had a caller, if the gossip was true, even without Whistledown reporting on such a trivial matter. Penelope Featherington was likely a virgin, with a vice like cunt, if the assumption and Bridgerton’s reaction was anything to go by.
Once properly mounted, she was still for a moment, catching her breath, and pinning Bridgerton with her blue-eyed stare. Small hands braced on his chest, she rose up and slowly lowered herself back down, pausing once more. The room was silent except for Bridgerton’s heaving breaths and the slick sound of his length entering and exiting the chit’s channel at a slow pace, the woman moving over his cock with intent care. As her movements grew more sure, her chin rose from her chest, seeming to take notice that Bridgerton was guiding her hips into a faster rhythm. Whatever she was thinking she allowed him to continue until her considerable bosom was jiggling deliciously with her bounces.
To his credit, Bridgerton held back much longer than he ever had with a woman on top of him. He made her name a plea, "Penelope." Carefully, probably fearing censure, he lifted his hips into one of her downward strokes hesitantly, making them both cry out when they collided. The girl's spine was taut with the pleasurable shock no doubt coursing through her.
Fife didn't know when he had moved, perhaps when her bosom began to bounce but he could see the Featherington girl's expression when she shook ever so slightly and began to move once more. Bridgerton repeated his motion, just as slowly, when his vixen nodded in encouragement. This next collision was more purposeful, but their cries were just as loud.
Almost like the opening beats of a jig, an unspoken agreement seemed to pass between them as Bridgerton braced his feet on the floor and the girl adjusted her bracing hands to adjust to the change in angle of her seat. Once in position they moved together, tentative at first but quickly falling into the rhythm.
The slap of skin on skin sped up until he was all but slamming her down onto his cock. Whether to keep mounted or bracing against the sharpness of her pleasure, the buxom redhead had her steed's waistcoat bunched in her fists, though her arms shook so harshly they looked a moment away from giving out from under her.
Her head hung low but amidst the jolting movement of her body, she seemed to force her eyes up to Bridgerton’s. The man’s gaze was locked on her jiggling assets, maintaining their rhythm despite the distraction. And rightly so, the wallflower may be short, quiet, and plush but only Christ Almighty himself would have been able to find a better pair of breasts than the youngest Featherington’s.
A wicked grin over took her formerly innocent face and she suddenly stopped the movement of her hips, leaving Bridgerton to continue to fuck up into her cunt. It took the man a moment to notice but when he did his thrusts slowed, asking, “Penelope?”
Rolling her eyes, formerly demure Penelope Featherington , snipped, “I did not say you could stop, pet.” She shifted slightly, and Bridgerton bit off a cry as his hips jolted back into motion, his back bowing sharply with them. Humming with pleasure, she cooed, “Good. That’s good, pet. Oh, how well your cock fills my cunt. I barely have to clench at all to grip you.” Fife was taken aback by her crass words. He’d never heard such outside of the whore house and certainly never from the mouth of a gently-bred woman, not even in his trysts with pretty Maggie Goring.
Bridgerton’s gaze was locked on where their hips met, his arms bulging as he gripped her hips to lift his to meet her stationary ones. Each thrust punched a whining cry from the cunning miss, both of their peaks fast approaching. She leaned forward slightly, quickly resuming riding his heated length, while she released the stranglehold one of her hands still had on his waistcoat and used it to tug one of his until she could press her heavy breast into his palm.
Almost immediately, Bridgerton grasped the giving flesh that overflowed his fingers, the circling and pinching motions of his fingers easily working her nipple into a stiffened peak, until the redhead gasped his name, “Colin!” Her pretty mouth dropped open, brow furrowing in her ecstasy, while they raced towards their ends. Fife had to wonder if her nipples were as pretty as her mouth, were they the same color as her pillowy lips, darker for the flush born of her rushing blood?
Sliding a dainty hand into Bridgerton’s hair, she lifted his head so she could give him the filthiest kiss he had ever seen, passionate with nibbling bites to each other’s lips. Sobbing in pleasure, she flattened herself the best she could, while still fucking herself on Bridgerton’s cock, under the skirt of the day dress she still wore. Their foreheads were pressed together, as she moved her own hands to cover his where they both massaged at her ample bosom. Staring Bridgerton down, the vixen made the ultimate poisoned chalice of an offer, “Don’t forget, my pet, you are not to spend within me.”
Having clearly forgotten, Bridgerton sobbed in protest, “Penelopeeee!”
Kissing his plea away, she continued, “If you can be a good boy for me, I will let you paint my rosy peaks with your seed.”
Nodding hesitantly, Bridgerton’s doubt was clear, but Featherington didn’t acknowledge it, only hugging him to her, as her moans and cries increased into continuous strings of pleasured vocalizations. Her murmuring became incomprehensible though her noises continued to spur him on.
Continuing to thrust up into her, Bridgerton’s eyes began to roll up into his skull, his arms crushing her down into his chest. A dam of expletives had seemed to have burst within the young woman he couldn’t even remember hearing the voice of before this afternoon, as she smothered her high scream into Bridgerton’s neck, hurtling over her peak. The man was beyond reason or logic, drowning in sensation, he bellowed, burying himself into her channel and spending his entire life and soul into her, following shortly after her into orgasmic bliss.
Minutes passed as the pair of them lay together, catching their breaths. Forcing her arms under herself, prim and proper Penelope Featherington returned, pulling Bridgerton’s own handkerchief from his breast pocket. Glaring down at her supine “bed” partner, she stated, “You have a sennight to propose to me or I will go straight to your mother. We both know she favors me over even you.”
Without further preamble, the young woman stood, side stepping his torso, pressing his handkerchief between her thighs presumably mopping up their juices. Task complete, she tossed the soiled fabric at his softening member, saying, “You have five minutes to clean up before I expect you back with the others, don’t make me bring Anthony into this.” Without a second look at either man, newly de-flowered Penelope Featherington marched to and out the door.
Fife stared at the closed but unlocked door for a moment, before the other man’s merry voice called his attention away, “Congratulate me, Fife. I am to marry the best, most attractive, most intelligent woman of our acquaintance!” Still dumbstruck, Fife blankly watched Bridgerton clean himself up the best he could, tuck himself away, and rebutton his trousers. Tossing him that stupid grin that all the debutantes and mamas found so charming, Colin Bridgerton tugged his clothing back into place and carded his fingers through his own hair, somehow looking slightly disheveled but still presentably charming. He didn’t even bother to close the door when he left.
Blinking in astonishment, Fife looked down at his untended bulge with a grimace and relocked the door, whipping his own handkerchief out with a peeved huff.
He’d have to have a think over the kind of woman he next requested at his preferred brothel.
Colin caught up to her amongst the garden's hedgerow, turning her to him and lifting her to spin them both around, her skirts flaring out in a beautiful pale green arc. The moment he set her back on her feet, Penelope lifted up onto her tiptoes and pulled his head down so they might share a prolonged kiss amidst their giggles. But Colin was far from satisfied with one kiss.
Despite having just had a thorough tumble with his love mere minutes ago, Colin doubted he’d ever have enough of her. Only knowing they were to meet with Anthony and Kate presently, prevented him from laying her down on the nearest bench to sink into her heat once more, this time with the warm rays of the sun dancing across their skin.
With many parting kisses, Penelope couldn’t restrain her smile any longer. Her eyebrow rose at the heat in his gaze, chuckling, she queried, “Are you not satisfied, Mr. Bridgerton?”
Smirking lasciviously, Colin shook his head, “My darling, Pen, I have not ever had enough of you since I first took you in your mother’s drawing room.”
Biting back her chortles, Penelope shook her head at his rakish act, “Mama and Prudence still believe they broke that settee, you know?”
Smirk softening into a genuine smile, Colin replied, “I’ll offer to have it fixed once we are married, but I shan’t ever regret my enthusiasm for you and our intimate acts, Pen.”
Colin’s solid arms wrapping around her melted her into a puddle on the inside in a way Penelope would be hard pressed to explain to another person. Burrowing into his hold, Penelope asked, "How long do you suppose before he notices?"
Dropping a kiss to her forehead, Colin replied with a chuckle, "I'd be shocked if he remembered his own name after that display." Her responding smirk necessitated another kiss.
Pulling back, he hummed contemplatively, stroking her delicate jaw, before continuing, "He won't have time to track her down, not with the lot of us looking out for her."
Sighing in relief, Penelope replied, "I'm glad. I wouldn't want to have said all those harsh things for nothing."
Shrugging slightly, Colin argued, "Not for nothing , Pen. I'm sure the Yunbraes would have approved."
Chuckling, Penelope shook her head, remembering the seemingly beastly way the Yunbraes were jabbing at each other at the Wilcox's ball last night. Right before their irate foot stomping and dishware thudding turned into ardent sounds of passion, whilst their verbal attacks about: the misbehavior of their son, the incompetence of the new footman, Mrs. Yunbrae's annoying mother, how Lady Cowper was "leering" at the fit of Lord Yunbrae's trousers, and Lord Fife’s leering at Lady Yunbrae's cleavage, his preferred wine, her favorite wine, all continued. Colin and Penelope were so thrown they could not finish their rendezvous.
This new dynamic was sufficiently shocking that when she and Colin were making their way to make sure Lord Fife stayed put, the first thing she thought of was how she had frozen that night, not wanting to interrupt the couple's bout to the point that when they became ever jarringly louder, Colin had to be the one to resecure his pants and relocate them to another another room. There wasn't much time to think of a plan to distract Lord Fife after discovering his plans for his poor maid, so she reacted without thinking when she heard his footsteps approaching the door.
"I'm more concerned over your approval and willingness, Col. You may have participated and gleaned some satisfaction from this scene we put on, but I rather pressured you out of your choice with what was at risk, no?" Penelope asked, a frown pulling at the corners of her mouth.
Smiling at her tenderly, he surprised her with a shake of his head, "No, indeed."
Heading off her thrust, he parried, "I was just as intrigued by the Yunbrae's dynamic as you were, Pen. We're so new to the nuances of intimacy, I wasn't averse to trying it on , so to speak. And for a good cause. I'm sure there were other ways to go about our actual goal but I assure you, love, I am content with the act we chose and its outcome. Furthermore, if you remember, I was the one that progressed the act into sexual territory, was I not?"
Blushing at hearing him say the word sexual , Penelope had to concede to his point. They had both had ample opportunities to decline the next step in their act after Colin began to nuzzle into the apex of her legs over her dress, their eyes dancing with mischief the entire time.
Seeing the truth of it in his gaze, Penelope’s tensed shoulders relaxed, “I am content, as well then, with what we did and happy for the outcome for Sophie, but I would rather forgo the critical words, if we brought anything similar to our…actual private time.” They had only lain together a handful of times, so Penelope was not yet practiced in being comfortable speaking on the topic.
Colin hummed in agreement, "What made you decide to bring the scene into the room with Fife?"
Giggling, Penelope ran the tempting heat of her hand over his groin, causing Colin to groan lowly under his breath while his exhausted cock gave a valiant twitch of interest, "You were visibly… erect , I thought it'd be safer for our reputations to make use of the room that was at hand than to try to find another one. At least in using that one we'd know where Lord Fife was or in what state he was when he left."
Brushing his thumbs over the pinkened apples of her cheeks, Colin murmured, shaking his head, chagrined, “You clever wit."
Dazzled by the smile that earned him, Colin took a moment to continue, "Hearing you speak so harshly was disorientingly discordant, but I must say, I wouldn’t mind being your Kept Man every now and then.”
Penelope nodded vehemently, “It was so entirely odd to have to keep my praise and appreciation to myself…you have always been a good boy for me.” They both blushed slightly at the term but Colin couldn't deny how positively his body reacted.
Chuckling slightly, Colin divulged, "That was truly the oddest part of this farce. Even when you were at your most cross with me, you chose to remain silent rather than cut me down."
Penelope’s smile shrunk slightly, hesitating before saying, "I'm not sure how much of that was giving you grace and how much was my inability to speak up for myself."
Colin was still learning to recognize her self-deprecation when it showed in her diction, but it was plain now, so he promptly kissed her with a lingering intent, holding her close, "Perhaps that's what aroused me so viscerally here, seeing you dominate me. Oh how my blood sang for you in those moments, my Pen. After all my confusion over my feelings for you, I felt crystalline resounding proof that my very soul responded to your word, your command."
The aforementioned soul vibrated when her eyes danced with a mist of tender loving tears and she whispered, "You have always made me feel that way." Colin could feel his own gaze misting to match hers at her declaration.
Penelope felt her own blood begin to sing at the look he was giving her, desire bleeding into her voice, as she said, "I'm sure something could be arranged, pet. Perhaps whilst my husband, Colin, is away…"
She didn't get to finish whatever offer she was about to make, Colin’s tongue diving in to steal the words from her mouth. For long delicious minutes their tongues and lips danced, Penelope going slightly weak-kneed, as Colin’s lips rubbed sensuously down her neck, teeth nipping over the swell of her bosom. When his lips returned to hers, Penelope groaned in approval at the feeling of his fingers sliding under the edge of her bodice, prepared to pull it down.
They were startled by a reprimanding clearing throat. Separating their lips but staying wrapped around each other, they turned their heads to see a chagrined Kate, her husband’s face buried in his hands in annoyance.
Her eyebrow rising intimidatingly, Kate reprimanded, “You two are not yet engaged, so unless you wish to entwine such a happy occurrence with the presence of the Cowpers, you ought to maintain a more polite stance.”
Biting her smile back, Penelope apologized, “Sorry, Kate.” Under her breath she whispered to Colin just how vehemently she did not want to taint the memory of his proposal by being on a Cowper property, nevermind being in their presence. Colin cleared his throat abashedly as he removed his fingers from her bodice and averted his eyes and grin from his brother, not allowing his expression to spoil his plan to offer for her. He released Penelope and they repositioned themselves into a pose more commiserate of polite societal norms. Anthony’s gaze flitted to Penelope and gave her a wink as he straightened from his peeved hunch.
Smiling at her love’s brother, Penelope squeezed Colin’s arm in reassurance, asking the newly arrived pair, “Did Sophie make her escape successfully?”
Nodding, the Viscount explained, “Your girl is very light on her feet for not being a Bridgerton that needed to sneak well to survive childhood, I had already sent her off with Benedict and had stood by Fife’s jaildoor for a handful of minutes, listening to him call her name as he searched for her before he even tried to open the door. He sounded quite like Hyacinth in a tantrum when he found it to be locked.”
Sighing in relief, Penelope replied, “I’m so glad. It was clear she wished she hadn’t been made to accompany Dowager Lady Fife here when they arrived, but I never expected to find him cornering the poor girl whilst not on his own property.”
Kate responded, “I believe you did a good thing. Who knows what he would have done to her if she attempted to flee on foot like she had planned and was caught?”
Colin queried Anthony, “Are you sure mama can make a place for her at No. 5?”
Anthony replied, “I’m almost certain, especially with all of us vouching for her. I would have suggested Bridgerton House, but I have some business dealings with Fife that seem pertinent to cut short, given this new information about his character. I don’t think it’d be wise to risk an accidental encounter.”
They all hmmmed in agreement then took up their positions to re-enter the party as though nothing were amiss and they hadn’t just assisted a beleaguered young woman in escaping the clutches of a libertine in a lord’s clothing.
A few yards on, Kate mused, “How did you distract Fife all that time? We had more time to mix back in with the other guests than we expected.”
Silently communicating with her lover, Penelope answered, “I think it best that you remain blissfully ignorant on the matter.” Anthony half twisted to give them an incredulous look but Kate turned him back around by their linked arms.
Colin asked, suspicion heavy in his tone, “How did you steal away Sophie’s belongings from Fife’s carriage staff?”
Clearing his throat awkwardly, Anthony replied, “I know it is best that you remain ignorant of that matter.”
Giggling, Penelope poked Kate in the side in play-censure.
Throwing her free hand up in surrender, Kate commented, “I apologize, there’s just something compelling about Anthony in his velvet and satin striped waistcoat.”
Looking at Colin’s pale blue waistcoat with sage green filigree, a favorite of hers which always made her fingers itch to touch him, Penelope commiserated, “Oh, I quite understand, Kate.”