+18 (sexual content, please do not read it if you are a minor)
summary:Lady [y/n] is promised to marry a French man, but she feels unprepared for her nuptial night.
notes:my first smut/sexual writing, so please be patient and leave a comment if you liked it! I’d really like to know!
words:+7.900
She shouldn’t be about to do what her heart desired — either way, there she was, grasping at her yellow and pink dress, stressing out her nerves with anxiety dripping from her face. Allowing one last glance around before coming into the Bridgerton mansion, [y/n] sighed, hoping one last deep breath would be enough to give her the right amount of courage she’d need.
The house was full, but not as full as it could be. In a corner next to the garden, sitting around a marble table filled with sweets and tea, Lady Bridgerton, Eloise, Anthony, Benedict, and Penelope could be found. That was more people than [y/n] meant to meet, but she supposed it could happen, being that the person she longed to talk to was a Bridgerton.
“Good afternoon, Lady Bridgerton, Lord Bridgerton,” [y/n] started to salute. “Benedict, Eloise and Penelope, pleased to see you all.”
They all smiled and replied, and Penelope dragged in closer against Eloise, offering the butler that accompanied [y/n] an empty space to place a chair. The visit couldn’t reckon whether she should be thankful for being placed closer to the person she wanted to talk to or not.
“What are you doing here today, dear?” asked Lady Bridgerton, with a motherly smile. Any other person in town asking that question would be considered rude, but since it was Violet, [y/n] had no thought of her being unmannered. “I thought you should be preparing for your wedding day.”
She should, by the way. Violet Bridgerton had a good point, but then what she was there to do could also be deemed as preparing for the ceremonial occasion.
“Or at least be preparing for tonight’s ball, huh?” added Penelope, noticing [y/n] had widened her eyes and seemed to be in a shocking state.
[y/n] smiled at the girl, what she supposed could be viewed as a “thank you”.
“I do have much preparing to do, for bothoccasions — that is correct.” She had no idea where she was going to end her sentence, “But I felt like stopping by to visit the family I love most in the world.”
Lady Bridgerton couldn’t help but tilt her head in a happy expression. She’d seen [y/n] grow up to be a beautiful lady, and in one day she’d be wed. Violet could only hope one day all of her children would’ve passed through the same process too.
“Lady [y/n] probably wants the girls’ opinions towards flowers and dresses,” suggested Benedict, speaking up. He couldn’t be farther from the truth, though. [y/n] wasn’t there for the girls, especially because Eloise was the only Bridgerton girl around, and she did not like wedding and party planning.
Lady [y/n] was there for Anthony Bridgerton.
For remarkably private and personal reasons.
“Oh, I suppose I could help as well,” said Lady Bridgeton, leaning in over the table. “I don’t suppose I’m overlyout of fashion.”
“Oh, Lady Bridgerton!” exclaimed both girls that were not Bridgerton. Eloise just looked bored.
The men looked rather lost in the conversation, and they seemed to be looking for an excuse to get out of there the moment the ladies started discussing garments for that evening’s ball. Unfortunately for the men, a servant appeared with a plate filled with cookies, and so they had to wait a little longer to get out.
“So, Lady [y/n],” started saying Eloise, but [y/n] interrupted her.
“Please, call me [y/n] only,” she said, “I suppose we are very much family by now.”
Eloise smiled and rephrased: “[y/n], will your husband-to-be make an appearance tonight at the ball?”
Penelope stared at [y/n], curious, too.
No, he wouldn’t be coming along, because he was going to be merely able to arrive in London onthe wedding day, more often than not just in time. None of the Bridgerton had met Lord Jean Blanc yet — and neither had Lady [y/n]. It was an arranged matrimony, a desire of a father that most longed for his only daughter not only to marry well but to marry a French gentleman, as it was his dying mother’s last wish. The old lady had a thing for the French, and she had planned her granddaughter’s whole life based on her own conception. Even though [y/n] had no recollection of the old woman whatsoever, her father did everything in his power for his mother’s wish to come true.
Lady [y/n] had never objected to espousing Lord Blanc, and she was very happy to accept a destiny chosen to her instead of one she’d have to make on her own. That was until last night, when her dear mother told her what to expect for the wedding night. Oh, [y/n] was not expecting that!
She knew a simple version of what her mother had told her — she would lay in bed with her lovely husband and, magically, she supposed, she would give birth to a baby nine months later. It was that, in a way, but, Lord, there was so much more!
And her mother, deciding upon doing differently from what was done to her very self, let [y/n] on everything. All the details and positions, and she even added the father’s own personal preferences, supposing it could be the same with Lord Blanc.
Needless to say, [y/n] did not sleep. She laid awake, turning around in bed, trying not to visualize the sexual positions, trying not to feel the pain beforehand. However, her eyes could not help but wonder how Lord Blanc would look like and if he would be hairless like her father (her mother’s words).
[y/n] was in despair. She couldn’t do those things with Jean, poor man. A maid added, before breakfast upon her questions, that the French were much more sexual beings than the British, and [y/n] could not allow herself embarrassment or pain. But how could she manage that? She was going to marry a sex machine, and she was a bloody virgin!
She knew, however, a man of gossip, and that the chitchat surrounding him suggested he was as sexual as a French man. [y/n] had only one choice: talk to Anthony Bridgerton.
They were friends. They were very, veryclose. Yes, when [y/n] got older, being a Lady didn’t allow her much fun as being a Lord allowed Anthony, but they still talked and confabbed together almost every ball. She could ask him those things, right?
I mean, it wasn’t very “ladylike” but [y/n] supposed the whole wedding night talk was not ladylike at all, but she had already heard it. She was already inthe conversation. The least she could do was ask lord Bridgerton a favour.
She tried to picture herself in front of a man she barely knew, naked with all her insecurities and stretch marks and having to do all the things her mother instructed her to do: open legs, spread arms and so on; but she just couldn’t. Saying it wasn’t the same as showing — but not in any universe would she ask her mother to show her how to… make babies.
So her only option was to find a man she trusted as deeply as herself, but much more experienced in lovemaking than herself.
“…had no idea what he could possibly be wanting of me…”
“Oh, Eloise, dear! He was courting you!”
“He was not!”
Eloise Bridgerton’s shout was the phrase capable of bringing Lady [y/n] back to reality. Her courage was totally fading as time passed. She looked around, noticing Anthony and Benedict were already up and about to be gone. [y/n] didn’t even notice when they excused themselves.
“Hm, I’m sorry, girls, Lady Bridgerton, but I do need to ask Lord Bridgerton something if you…”
Mama Bridgerton interrupted with a smile and a wave of a hand.
“No worries, go. I noticed you’re pensive,” she said. Lady [y/n] smiled, and with a bow, she walked away, jogging a little to catch up to Anthony.
The three left ladies exchanged glances, but Eloise was soon back talking about her last ball and the troublesome gentleman she had met. Pen and Violet kept a knowing look on their faces, as if they had tasted something in the air before anybody else.
“Benedict, huh, sorry, LordBenedict,” [y/n] said, rambling and gasping for air, “where can I find your older brother?”
Benedict grimaced but thought it was better to simply answer than to make conversation by correcting her and allowing her to call him just by his given name.
“He’s in his office, [y/n],” he said. “Want me to escort you?”
“No need,” she replied. “I am quite certain I know this house as well as my own.”
They both tilted their heads forward, a silent goodbye, and [y/n] kept walking towards Lord Bridgerton’s office. She knew he wasn’t living at that residence anymore, allowing his younger siblings and mom privacy — or better said, allowing himself some peace and quiet.
She knocked twice on the door, afraid her emotions were talking the best of her.
“Come on in,” said a deep voice from inside.
Lady [y/n] gasped for air, a deep breath and walked in.
“[y/n], hello,” said Anthony, looking up from his papers. “What can I help you with? Is my brother gone, and you require a chaperone to walk you back home?” he asked, getting up promptly.
They were friends, but as much as a female and a male could be friends in British society, therefore it was very rare when [y/n] needed to talk to Anthony in such private places and situations.
“Oh, no, milord, nothing of that source,” she replied, grasping her dress. “I simply, huh…”
Anthony waited as she tried finding the right words.
“I wanted to ask you for a favour.”
He only kept staring.
“Yes, a favour,” she repeated, mostly to herself, as if approving of the word. “I suppose by now you are the only one that can help me. My marriage is just around the corner.”
“Tomorrow, I know,” he said, because he did, indeed, know. It was marked on his notebook, it was all his mother could talk about. And even Colin, one of his younger brothers, had written about it in his last letter. Anthony had no idea why his family wanted so desperately to remind him that his best friend was getting married tomorrow — he had already bought two excellent presents in the name of the family.
“Do you need me for something concerning your matrimony?” he asked, noticing [y/n] had grown silent.
“Precisely,” she nodded.
“Is it borrowing a carriage? We do have fine ones,” he said. “Or do you need me to walk you down the aisle? Isn’t your father supposed to?” Anthony really didn’t want her to ask for him to walk her down the aisle. He wouldn’t be able to. He’d very much rather borrow the carriage.
It wasn’t like it would hurt him to do so if asked. He liked [y/n] extremely, which could be exactly the issue. They had grown up together, he thought that was the problem. He wouldn’t want his sisters to be married to someone he didn’t know, so why would he like it when it was happening to his very best friend?
Except when he thought about marrying his sisters, he wanted to vomit and die. Now, when he thought about marrying [y/n], his heart would hurt so badly as if it wanted to jump out of his chest and go right in her hand — because it was where it belonged.
But he always knew [y/n] wouldn’t marry him, so why, whydid it hurt?
“No, I don’t need you for any of those things, I’m afraid,” she said, bringing him back to the factual thing happening. She stared at his beautiful and oblivious eyes. She had to speak up. “Last night, my mama told me some things I should expect in my marriage…”
Anthony swallowed hard.
“… especially on my wedding night. I didn’t know — I don’t know — what to do about it, Anthony,” [y/n] stepped closer to him.
The viscount was finding it very difficult to breathe.
“I suppose a lady such as myself and a lord such as you should not be discussing what I’m about to say, but I… I have no one else, and I will not allow myself to walk in my nuptial night knowing nothing of what is about to happen.”
“Lady [y/n], are you… what are you asking of me?” Anthony managed to ask, gulping. He wasn’t always formal, and he didn’t call her lady when they were alone, but he just needed to put up some walls between them. Even if they were invisible because [y/n] just kept coming closer.
“I don’t want Lorde Jean Blanc to be the first man I lay in bed with. I want it to be you,” she said, all in one breath.
She grasped her dress again, and lowered her eyes to his hands, so she could not visualize what she predicted would be a disappointment on Anthony’s face. How could she? No lady would ask a gentleman to bed her. Oh, god, not ask. She had begged.
“I want it to be someone I know, and like, and trust. Because I can’t bear the idea of allowing my body for use of a French man I barely know and having to just sit still because I have no idea of what he is going to do!”
Anthony Bridgerton desperately wished he had been sitting before listening to Lady [y/n]’s declaration. Not of love. Of necessity. She needed him.
He supposed she didn’t understand what she was asking, but he did it for her. No lady walks in and promptly asks a man to bed her, not unless she sees it can be her last opportunity to do so. And even then, she must desperately desire the required man, otherwise, she wouldn’t do it.
Anthony knew quite a bit about women and their first times. He generally wasn’t up for it — the tenderness and the passion, the waiting — it all scared him very much, but there was nothing [y/n] could ask him with her hearty eyes that he wouldn’t say yes.
But how could he say yes now? How could he make love with the woman of his heart and then walk away to see her marrying someone else?
Anthony reached for her chin and leaned it up, so he could stare her dead in the eyes. She tried ducking once again, but he didn’t allow it.
“[y/n], have you ever even kissed a man before?”
She denied it with her head. “I haven’t met Lord Blanc in person yet, and I’ve always thought that being him the one I’m going to marry, it would be unfair to any other man.”
Anthony nodded.
He then held her chin tightly, firmly, and with his other hand, he grasped her waist, bringing her closer. It was simply natural to do what he did next.
His lips encountered hers, gently, almost like a singular touch of a gloved hand, just allowing Lady [y/n] the space she needed in case she wanted to press her hands to his chest and push him away. She ended up putting her hands there, but not to move him away — she just wanted to be firm, press herself against Anthony and notforce him away. He was much taller than she was, which gave her a certain instability in such feminine heels.
[y/n] never expected a first kiss to be so welcoming.
Anthony took advantage of the girl’s leaning towards him and took her by the neck, bringing her closer and closer and making her belong to him with a soft opening of his mouth and an exploration with his tongue. He entered her calmly, allowing her to savour the new sensation, and then he devoured her, tongue and lips, and tightened his grip on her arms, clutching her waist. He was marking her as his, for he knew, or at least assumed, that she would walk away altogether after that.
Neither of them had noticed time passing, minutes felt like seconds, and without [y/n] observation, she was leaned against the bookshelf Viscountess Bridgerton kept full of new books.
That was enough to light her up.
“Huh, Anthony…” she whispered, not noticing her voice would be different after minutes of kissing. “Should we be doing it here? In your mother’s home?”
Her words confused Anthony, and he was not up to letting go of kissing her neck. “Doing what?”
“Deflowering me,” she said, nonchalantly.
Anthony immediately stopped. His hands were still on her skirt, keeping one of her knees up and open for his touches, while his head, bent into the crook of her neck, found a way to face her. The word choice scared the hell out of him.
“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Should I not have asked?” she did not keep her questions to herself. “Were you in complete control while kissing me?”
He gulped.
“That was more than just kissing.” And he had, in fact, lost control back there, but he was not about to admit it.
“What would you have called it?”
“We canoodled with each other,” he said. “And I recall some social parcels of London calling it ‘make out’ but it seems unfit.”
“Why?” she asked, lowering her knee and adjusting her skirt.
“Because I didn’t makeyou. I destroyedyou.”
She was positive he was right. What she didn’t know was that she had destroyed him too.
He ran his fingers through his hair, waiting for her to disappear, regretful and resentful towards him, but she did none of the sorts.
“Do you have a mirror here?”
“What?”
“A mirror. A looking glass. Do you have it?”
Anthony held in the urge to smile. “No, I suppose not here.”
She pressed her lips together as if thinking what she could do. To save herself? Anthony thought, but did not ask. He so desperately wanted to ravish her right there and then. Maybe even deflowerher, as she put it, but then he would need a safer space than his office in his mother’s residence.
“Well, then you’ll have to be my looking glass. Step closer,” she demanded while combing her hair with her fingers, trying to pin the left out parts.
“How’s that going to work?”
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Anthony gulped, getting suddenly nervous.
“With my appearance,” she added, noticing his jitteriness.
“You have, hm… you have something on the corner of your mouth,” he said, nervously.
“Where?” she tried to clean it, presuming it was her makeup blurred, but Anthony’s expression appeared to be that she wasn’t cleaning it at all.
He decided to clean it himself upon her request.
Terrible idea.
“Hm, [y/n],” he uttered.
“Yes, Anthony.”
“Why me? Why ask me to…?” he wasn’t able to say the words. “Are you sure of this?” he asked lastly, thinking that maybe he wouldn’t want to hear her saying she didn’t prefer him much more than he was her only option. Or it could’ve been Benedict, but Anthony was very glad she picked him.
She seemed to think before answering. “I picked you because it was only natural. And I am certain of this because I cannot face my husband unaware of what he’ll do to me.”
Anthony shook his head, still helping her adjust her visual aspect.
“Besides, I heard the French dislike oblivious and non-sexual girls.”
That was enough for Anthony.
“Then why, honestly, why are you marrying him?” Marry me! he wanted to add.
She shrugged. “Because he’s there. He wants me. Father sends him paintings of me all the time, and he still wants to marry me after seeing how I am. I know paintings are not the same, but well, people here in London are seeing me for who I am, and they are still not picking me.”
“Perhaps because they know you are engaged?” suggested Anthony, because that was his very reason.
“That’s not it. If they wanted to be with me, they would’ve come forward. An arranged betrothal with a French lord wouldn’t have stopped someone who truly desired me.”
“And would you have said yes?”
She did not answer that. She did not know.
If any other lord had come forward and asked her to be his wife, would she have gone against her father’s wishes and done it? Would she have done it if Colin for example asked for her hand in marriage?
No.
Regardless, if Anthony had proposed…
Anthony disliked the silence that echoed after his question, so he decided upon a lighter tone when he spoke again. “I will teach you if that’s what you truly desire. I’ll bed you, and I’ll be patient, and I’ll show you what a man like, but also teach you what you can like.”
She looked at his eyes, expectantly.
“But only if you ask me, only if you assure me that it is what you want,” he said. “Please only ask for it, however, if you truly want it and won’t regret it.”
“I won’t regret it.”
Anthony and [y/n] exchanged a look. They knew they were doomed, even though they didn’t want to admit it.
“Tonight then. When everyone’s at the ball, say you don’t wish to go because your wedding is coming, and you want to rest. I’ll send a carriage for you as soon as your mother and father have left your house.”
[y/n] gulped, suddenly anxious for more of those kisses, for more canoodling, as he had put it.
“I’ll be waiting,” she said. “Thank you, Anthony.”
He closed his eyes tightly, mashing them as if he wished he hadn’t heard her.
“Don’t thank me.”
Anthony Bridgerton was waiting for the most surprising guest of his life.
It wasn’t every day he would receive a lady friend in his small but only his house, but this one was a very special lady.
Actually, that night, she was no lady at all.
Lady [y/n] had picked the most sensual of her dresses, the one she only had worn once before. That was because when she did, Anthony almost passed out seeing her in a crowded ball and wearing that red tight thing that put all her natural beauties in place and upfront for any man to stare at. In fact, he had made sure she would only dance with him and her father that night because he decided no one else was allowed that privilege.
She decided it was only fit to wear it once again, for this time it was her ultimate goal to provoke Anthony.
Hah! She had always pondered over it, but never allowed herself to think too much because Anthony was not the man in her future. He still wasn’t, but it felt natural to close her eyes towards her future just for one night and enjoy having Anthony, being Anthony’s.
He was waiting for her in his empty house (he had dismissed the servants), holding a glass of wine in each hand. When she arrived, he offered her one, knowing it would help her nervousness. It was supposed to be helping him too, but as a man used to alcohol, he would need something much stronger.
“How are we going to do this?” she asked, feeling unquiet. The dress was affecting Anthony, she noticed it, but that simply wasn’t enough for her enquiring mind, who wanted to know every step of the way.
“Slowly,” he answered, drinking more wine. “Think of me as your husband after the wedding. How would you let the scene play?”
Oh, he liked to see her imagining him as her husband. After all, it was part of his little plan. He wanted to bed her, to love her for the whole night as long as she could, so she would be addicted and too scared to risk loving another man that can never be the same as Anthony.
“Well, not slowly,” she said. “I’m not a very patient girl.”
Anthony let his brows go up.
“So show me. I’m here to learn, too.”
Drinking in a quick sip of all the left wine in her glass, [y/n] got up and walked towards Anthony, only to sit down over his lap. That was the boost of courage Anthony needed, the confirmation that she was there as much as he was.
“Kiss me.”
And he obeyed.
They didn’t start out calmly, as the first kiss had been. [y/n] didn’t allow Anthony to be slow or tender. She didn’t want affection. She would soon be a wife, she hoped the affection would come with time, from her true husband. At that moment, she was a lover, a concubine, slipping away in the dead of night to find her great, seductive love.
And how big and seductive it was!
She could feel all his power through her dress and his clothing because the position made it all so easy. It was almost like the perfect fit. Anthony bit his lip, knowing he could very well hurt her if he did the wrong thing.
As they kissed, Anthony allowed her hands to explore him, get to know him, and she was grateful for the opportunity. He seized the instant and concentrated on undoing the beautiful hairstyle she wore, pulling out the bobby pins carefully so as not to hurt her and positioning them beside their abandoned wine glasses. Anthony enjoyed being able to see her hair completely down and was delighted to see that it was still the same beauty as when they were children.
Anthony wished he had the gift of painting that his brother Benedict had, so he could paint her in the dim candlelight of his living room, with her hair down and her dress falling apart on his lap. The skirt lifted, allowing for more friction, and her full breasts were desperate to pop out. God, he would burn that dress that night, for he would never consent her to wear it in the presence of the damn French lord.
Why didn’t she claim to be his, and they put an end to this farce? It was evident from the way she writhed in pleasure as he played with the skin of her leg that she was his. She was Anthony’s and would never be anyone else’s. Both came from good-class families, and Anthony was a viscount! A much better position than the Baron, and he was in London, where [y/n] would remain with her family. So why didn’t she confess everything?
He would make her concede.
Grabbing her hips, he rose with her clutched to his chest, and carried her upstairs to his room. He would need a bed to convince her.
He sprawled her out on his bed, happy with the image he saw. If he allowed himself to daydream, she could be there because she was his wife, ring and all.
“Anthony, tell me what to do.”
The words were intoxicating.
“Let your breasts come out. Let me see them. Play with them,” please, he wanted to add, but chose not to say. She was the one who should be begging tonight, not him.
She did as she was asked, carefully lowering the neckline of her dress and showing her breasts. Anthony let his head fall to the side in pleasure as a wave of heat washed over him. He well remembered the day he’d realized that Lady [y/n] had grown breasts. He was pretty sure the day got written down somewhere in his teenage writings. And now, seeing them in their full beauty, with no clothes to separate them, drove him insane.
Leaping over her on the bed, he lay his hand over hers on her right breast and stared at her left for just half a second before biting into her pert nipple.
She felt a surge of pleasure and squirmed, kicking off her shoes with only the rubbing of the edge of the wooden bed. Anthony was golden when he heard the clatter of shoes falling to the floor.
“Are you enjoying it?”
She didn’t answer, just squirmed once more.
“I need you to say it, love.”
“I am enjoying it,” she never admitted how much ‘love’ had affected her, even more than the tender touch of his on her breasts.
“Good, I’m enjoying it too,” he said, moving from one breast to the other. “I love how full they are.”
She moaned something he was unable to understand.
“Use your words, love.”
She bit her bottom lip, meeting his gaze. “I like that my bosoms please you.”
He smirked and pulled her by the arms so that she sat on the bed. She sat up, confused, and he got to his feet. “I want you not to be tense. I’m going to take my clothes off.”
“Want me to take mine off too?” she asked, tilting her head.
“No, I’ll do it,” he said, holding his pants by the waist belt. He hadn’t worn a suit since [y/n]’s arrival, but he still had his vest over his shirt. “I want you to watch me.”
And watched him, she did, completely fascinated by the view.
She was stunned to discover muscle under all the tailored clothing Anthony was always wearing, but that wasn’t all that left her with her mouth hanging open. When his underclothing fell to the floor, Anthony allowed her to see his long, hard cock. [y/n] looked down, imagining and remembering what she had under her skirt.
Her mother had informed her that his and hers would be different, but she never imagined that his would be so…big. That would never fit.
“What is it, love?” he asked, kneeling in front of her, positioning his chin in her lap. His eyes showed concern, and he was right to feel that way, thought [y/n], after all, he should have known he had an anomaly between his legs.
“It’s big,” she whispered.
He smiled with pleasure, holding back a laugh. “Yes, it is.”
“It’sverybig.”
He had to lower his face into her skirt, so she wouldn’t see him laughing. Of course, her reaction was to be expected, being a virgin, but, God, what wouldn’t he give her, so she could repeat that in front of his brothers. Or rather, all of London.
“You can take it,” he said when his laughter vanished. He rose again and asked for her hand. “Get up, let me undress you.”
She did as asked, and he went to see her buttons on the back, one by one. She felt his fingers play with her soft skin, and she felt exposed but in a good way. [y/n] had presumed she would feel ashamed, but she felt alive and hot.
“Are all men like that? Is Lord Blanc going to be as big as yours?”
Anthony snorted, and he stopped being careful and just tore the dress away.
“No, Blanc’s cock is not half as big as mine,” he supposed she couldn’t understand, not yet, how that was a bad thing for Lord Blanc.
Before she could comprehend, her dress was on the floor, all torn apart, thanks to the Viscount little jealous fit. Later she’d worry how could she leave the house with a rubbish gown, but at that very second, she only felt hot and alive and desirable. The dress had worked its magic on Anthony.
She was desperate to cover some part of her, knowing her two hands were not enough to cover it all. At least, the candlelight is not as bright as it could be, she thought, holding her belly.
Anthony noticed the sudden blush, and hurried to grasp her hands and let her body completely open to his view. “Don’t be ashamed,” he whispered, closer to her ear, “you are so very beautiful. The most gorgeous miss I have ever seen.”
[y/n] couldn’t help but blush again.
How long had she waited to hear a man, a proper man of London society, to say that to her? To compliment her naked body even though it was evident she was just another wallflower?
And to have Anthony to do so, oh my! The most handsome of the British men — she was more than sure now, that she could stare at him defenseless, with all his glory.
He held her left hand and squeezed it a little.
“Are you still sure of this?” he hated himself for asking, for if she answered no, he would die right there and then. His member was in so much bloody pain, throbbing non-stop with desire.
She nodded. “Yes, Anthony. I do, very much, want it.”
Now more than ever, she thought.
She could sense he was smiling in the dim light. “Come,” he whispered, taking her to bed once again, this time slowly, as if scared she could break when naked.
She laid, spread, and he, positioned on top, started kissing her, lips and neck, and his hands wandered all over her body. Her breast felt hurtful with his touch, but it was a different kind of pain because it emanated to the centre of her very core, and when Anthony fingers found her entrance, she let out a soft moan.
The Viscount couldn’t help but smirk, and while one hand stayed there, playing around her core, the other went to her face, as he played with her hair.
“Describe how you’re feeling,” he demanded.
“I can’t,” she said between groans, “I don’t know how.”
“Just tell me, love,” he kept demanding, “when I do this,” he said as he let his tip of the finger play with the mouth of her arousal, “what do you feel?”
She bit her lip. “Anticipation.”
“How so?”
“It feels good, but it also feels like there is more.”
Anthony smirk widened. “Do you want more?”
“Yes, milord,” she nodded, feeling a little pleasure when he started using two fingers to wander around. “Sorry, I meant Anthony.”
He stopped his fingers. “Keep the milord. I like it,” he said, coolly.
It was her chance to smile. She reached for his hand at her entrance and pulled it forward, with more of a firm grip.
“I like it when you call me love, as well,” she let out, feeling a sudden wave of blush.
With the help of her hand, Anthony allowed himself to get in more deeply, to really feel her, and when he played with her clit, he felt like he could die in peace.
“You are so wet for me, my love,” he whispered, desperately to taste her. He knew it could be weird for a first time, though, so he only kept playing with her clitoris, wondering about her taste as she moaned loudly.
Thank God they were alone.
“I feel… I feel like…”
“Like bursting?” Anthony suggested, looking forward to facing her as he knew she was about to come.
He teased and slither, and she just kept trembling and moaning, until a sudden wave of absolute pleasure took over her, and [y/n] like she was at Paradise, the rise of relaxation stronger than she ever felt.
“Anthony, that was…”
“I know,” he said, before pulling his fingers and finally allowing himself some taste of her, even though it was not how he planned. He wanted to really taste her, core and everything, but the wetness on his finger would have to be enough.
He let her breath hard for a whole minute, while he just kept teasing and kissing her belly, shoulders and sucking her finger — he found it a very nice thing to do.
“Is it now you are going to… penetrate me?”
My God, gasped Anthony Bridgerton, shocked Lady [y/n] had said those words. “I guess you did learn to use your words,” he whispered, playfully.
She blushed. “Well, the finger thing felt very, very good, but I’m quite sure it isn’t the thing that gets me pregnant.”
Anthony rose from her belly to kiss her lips. “You do know quite a lot, huh.”
“I did my reser…” but [y/n] never finished her sentence, for she remembered the consequences of making love. “Am I going to be pregnant with your baby?”
Oh, Anthony liked that idea. He kissed her again, again.
“Probably not,” he replied after a while.
“That is not very sure.”
“Nothing ever is,” he said, smirking.
She nudged his arm. “Anthony!”
“You came to me, love, what do you want me to do?”
“Not get me pregnant,” she replied.
“I can’t make promises,” he said, letting his smirk fade away, “but I’ll try my best.”
She breathed out, relieved.
“But, anyway, you are getting married tomorrow so… no one would figure it out,” he added, only to mess with her.
“I don’t know how Lord Blanc is. What if he’s your opposite? How am I expected to explain?”
“By marrying me,” he answered before he could hold his tongue. Lady [y/n] froze at his touch. “Don’t worry,” he quickly added, “you are not going to be pregnant on your first try.”
Noticing her brows were down again, Anthony took the opportunity to kiss her body once again, and she came alive at full speed. He touched her core.
“You are ready,” he said, and with the help of his elbows, he got a little up on her, only to adjust himself over her entrance.
She bit her lip, expecting, waiting. She needed that. Not only that, but she was desperate to know how it would feel to have all of him inside her. And he wasn’t strong enough to wait any longer.
Holding his tip with one hand and massaging her entrance with another, he said: “This might hurt a bit. But I’ll give you time to get used to it.”
Anthony allowed his member to slither in her core, and waited so she could feel more comfortable.
She held her breath when she felt the tip of him enter, but managed to settle down when she breathed again. Anthony let some more of him into her, and she sighed.
“Does it hurt?”
“I just need… I want a moment,” she said.
“Wait,” then he thrust deeper into her, startling her. She widened her eyes and grabbed him in his forearms, feeling a slight discomfort, like the pressure of something breaking. “You better get used to it now that I’m all inside you.”
And inside her, he was, because she could feel him through her pussy, something hard, nudging her. He held on tight, waiting for her to adjust. Meanwhile, Anthony avoided looking her in the eye, as it would be too much for him, and he imagined if he could get her pregnant.
He had never dreamed of having as many children as his parents had, but there, with his cock at the centre of her, he decided it wouldn’t be all bad to have eight children. Perhaps ten.
“Can you move?” she asked, in a whisper.
It caught Anthony by surprise. “I’m sorry?”
“Can you move… it? I feel like it would be better if you moved,” she said, blushing for having to explain her wishes.
“Of course I can move, love,” he smiled, and started the movement.
He delicately and caressing moved his member inside her, but she quickly grasped his back, bringing him closer and whispered “faster”. That was his favourite word in the whole world, for all he wanted to do was to thrust and throb with velocity as his member required.
Feasting, his hip movements allowed Lady [y/n] some absolute pleasure, way better than the fingers and the waiting. She moved with him, trying to bring him closer every time he pulled away.
[y/n] was euphoric and Anthony was flaming, both so caught up in the moment they didn’t even notice when they got very close to coming. He kept charging and she grasped him tighter.
“I’m feeling it again,” she whispered between a moan.
Taking advantage of her state, Anthony kept thrusting, but he added his finger at the tip of her clit, just to make things easier for her. “Then come, my love” he demanded, for he was not able to hold himself much longer.
“Oh, my…” she whispered before moaning, feeling the last string that fixed her on reality getting cut.
Anthony exploded not much after, remembering to pull out. He did not want to, he so very deeply wanted to plant his seed on her, to mark her as his by a definitive mean, but he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her. If she wanted to be with him, she should do it because it’s her heart’s desire, not because of her uterus.
He laid right next to her, and she didn’t hesitate before coming closer and nestling on his bare chest. They were both out of breath and wet; Anthony could feel a drop of sweat running down his forehead, and [y/n] could feel the molasses on her legs and belly. But they weren’t disgusted — quite the opposite. Anthony felt that if he held her any longer, he would regain the energy to do it all over again soon.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, applying pressure to the lady’s forearm.
“Different,” she said, surprising him with her choice of word. “I think I must have even changed my appearance. How am I?” she asked, turning to face him.
“Beautiful,” he said. “Magnificent,” he continued. “You are marvelous.”
She felt herself blush and buried her face in the Viscount’s chest.
“You can’t tell me these things,” she sighed. “You’re going to spoil me.”
“So be it,” he replied, kissing her on the top of her head.
“Oh, Anthony,” she breathed, more regretfully this time, permitting herself to look at him. His eyes gleamed in the night, and she imagined hers did the same. “This was a mistake.”
Anthony froze beneath her. He was hearing the words he never wanted to hear, but she kept saying it, and he heard it all, for he wanted the explanation to be more than just denying his feelings.
“I believe… I don’t want to marry any French lord,” she proceeded. “I want… No, I can’t. But I don’t want Jean, that’s for sure, and now… I’m doomed. What a bad idea of mine to sleep with my best friend!”
Anthony felt the smile appearing on his face before he actually felt the pure happiness that came with her sentence. Did she realize she was making all his wishes come true?
“Then don’t marry him,” he whispered, kissing her cheek then her temple.
She stared at him, widening her eyes.
“Marry me, [y/n],” he whispered, closer to her ear. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave this room.”
She couldn’t help the tears coming down.
“I love you, Anthony,” she whispered back. Those were his favourite words, he gasped, correcting his early thought. “But my father…”
“He can’t do anything if we get to marry before he finds out.”
“Anthony! You are a Viscount! You need to get married properly!”
Anthony sat on the bed, bringing her up with him, and squeezed her.
“[y/n], I love you with my very heart and soul. If you say you love me too and wish to have me forever, there is no one, God or mortal, that is going to stop me from making you mine,” he said, nonchalantly, so confident in himself. “I have always desired you, but never as strongly as now, and if you tell me it’s Jean Blanc you wish to marry, I’ll step away. You’ll never see me again.”
“I don’t…”
“But if you say it’s me you want,” he kept going, ignoring her attempt of interruption, “then I am yours, [y/n]. And you are mine, and I’ll make you a Bridgerton by law, as I’m pretty sure you already are one by heart.”
She smiled, genuinely smiled, feeling she was the most beautiful of the human beings and the most enviable, for sure.
“I want you, Anthony Bridgerton, and I want you to make me Mrs. Anthony Bridgerton, for I’m sure to be the happiest of the ladies next to you,” she said, making him kiss her desperately.
They laid in bed again, caught up in kisses and canoodles.
“Now, what do we do?”
“Leave that to me,” said Anthony, before kissing her again.
Anthony’s plan worked.
Well, of course, it did. He had an infallible tactic, and the whole of London was cheering for him and [y/n] to eventually get married.
The morning after they had sex for the very first time — and second and third, for Anthony Bridgerton was exquisite to know he was going to marry his best friend — he went straight to his mother’s house. He left [y/n] at his.
“Mother, I might have impregnated Lady [y/n] [y/l/n].”
That was a very powerful and enough sentence on its own. Lady Bridgerton almost fainted, but recomposed herself, sparkling with joy, for she had planned to see those two together their entire lives.
She excused herself and went to [y/n]’s family home. It was Violet who arranged everything, in a lighter tone than Anthony ever could, even though he was right next to her when she spoke. [y/n]’s mother started jumping and clapping around, filled with happiness. [y/n]’s father was not even a bit happy, but after a long conversation, he realized there was nothing he could do but to give Anthony’s [y/n]’s hand in marriage.
And so, the French lord got excused to go back to his country before he even arrived in London, and the party planned to happen in the afternoon went on. But this time, it was Anthony the man at the altar.
[y/n] was so happy she couldn’t believe it, and she liked to have seen Anthony taking charge of making them official. When it was announced they were husband and wife, [y/n] jumped over Anthony to kiss him as a lady should never in the presence of her family and in a church, but she did not care, for she had just married her best friend and the love of her life.
“I love you, Anthony.”
“I love you too,” he replied as they sat together at the wedding reception.
“What happens now?” she asked, curious and anxious as she has ever been.
“I shall take care of you, as I always have, but this time I can burn all of your dresses that I don’t approve of, and I shall buy you new ones that will cover you whole, for I’m the only one that can see your wonders now,” he said, making her laugh.
“And I shall keep all of those uneducated ladies away from my Lord, forever,” she said, and he kissed her cheek, unable to hold in his touches.
“You hold that in for very long, huh?”
“Very long indeed,” she said, smirking, for she was not thinking about herself but about him.
“Do you remember what you asked me yesterday afternoon?”
It sure felt like an eternity ago, but she remembered.
+18 (sexual content, please do not read it if you are a minor)
summary:Lady [y/n] is promised to marry a French man, but she feels unprepared for her nuptial night.
notes:my first smut/sexual writing, so please be patient and leave a comment if you liked it! I’d really like to know!
words:+7.900
She shouldn’t be about to do what her heart desired — either way, there she was, grasping at her yellow and pink dress, stressing out her nerves with anxiety dripping from her face. Allowing one last glance around before coming into the Bridgerton mansion, [y/n] sighed, hoping one last deep breath would be enough to give her the right amount of courage she’d need.
࿐ ˚ . ✦ summary: even though you ‘don’t’ like him, you’d reluctantly agreed to accompany anthony on a trip— which ended with both stranded in an inn, locked in the same room. and guess what? only one bed too.
࿐ ˚ . ✦ warnings: anthony is a warning on his own, enemies to lovers (?) | smut:teasing, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, kinda rough sex, hate sex (barely)
Laughs erupted all across the table, everyone sharing looks and smiles, enjoying their time. A small breakfast was taking place in the Bridgerton’s Residence, and you had been invited by Daphne; one of your dearest friends.
“As pleasant as this morning has been, I must part now,” Anthony said, standing up from his chair and straightening his clothes. “There are some state affairs I need to solve that cannot be ignored any longer. Is anyone available to accompany me on this journey? I must admit it’s quite long and it would be better in company. ”
“Oh, I would love to, but I cannot, brother,” Daphne said, looking around the table at all her siblings, and lastly, you. “I must go back home to my husband, we— well, we need to make some arrangements for the soirée.”
“What soirée?” you questioned with curiosity, since your best friend hadn’t mentioned any soirée.
“The one we will host at Clyvedon Castle.” she answered with one of her dazzling smiles.
“Alright,” Anthony said with a sigh, focusing on the rest. “Siblings?”
“Oh, I am sorry, but I cannot accompany you either,” Benedict excused himself. “I have an event with the art group and I cannot miss it for anything in the world.”
“I must pay… Pen a visit. ” With a grimace, Eloise said.
“Oh, I would love to—” Colin was saying, but a knock was heard and a grimace appeared on his face. “Ou, but I have this thing with… well, I am busy.”
Everyone at the table turned to look at you, Anthony’s eyes followed as well, quickly both understood what everyone wanted.
“Oh, no thanks.” You said. / “I will be far better on my own.” Anthony was quick to say.
“Oh, come on!” Daphne said with a grin. “This enmity between you two cannot last any longer. I would say it is time for the two of you to grow up and find some common ground.”
࿐ ˚ . ✦ summary: even though you ‘don’t’ like him, you’d reluctantly agreed to accompany anthony on a trip— which ended with both stranded in an inn, locked in the same room. and guess what? only one bed too.
࿐ ˚ . ✦ warnings: anthony is a warning on his own, enemies to lovers (?) | smut:teasing, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, kinda rough sex, hate sex (barely)
Laughs erupted all across the table, everyone sharing looks and smiles, enjoying their time. A small breakfast was taking place in the Bridgerton’s Residence, and you had been invited by Daphne; one of your dearest friends.
“As pleasant as this morning has been, I must part now,” Anthony said, standing up from his chair and straightening his clothes. “There are some state affairs I need to solve that cannot be ignored any longer. Is anyone available to accompany me on this journey? I must admit it’s quite long and it would be better in company. ”
“Oh, I would love to, but I cannot, brother,” Daphne said, looking around the table at all her siblings, and lastly, you. “I must go back home to my husband, we— well, we need to make some arrangements for the soirée.”
“What soirée?” you questioned with curiosity, since your best friend hadn’t mentioned any soirée.
“The one we will host at Clyvedon Castle.” she answered with one of her dazzling smiles.
“Alright,” Anthony said with a sigh, focusing on the rest. “Siblings?”
“Oh, I am sorry, but I cannot accompany you either,” Benedict excused himself. “I have an event with the art group and I cannot miss it for anything in the world.”
“I must pay… Pen a visit. ” With a grimace, Eloise said.
“Oh, I would love to—” Colin was saying, but a knock was heard and a grimace appeared on his face. “Ou, but I have this thing with… well, I am busy.”
Everyone at the table turned to look at you, Anthony’s eyes followed as well, quickly both understood what everyone wanted.
“Oh, no thanks.” You said. / “I will be far better on my own.” Anthony was quick to say.
“Oh, come on!” Daphne said with a grin. “This enmity between you two cannot last any longer. I would say it is time for the two of you to grow up and find some common ground.”
࿐ ˚ . ✦ summary: even though you ‘don’t’ like him, you’d reluctantly agreed to accompany anthony on a trip— which ended with both stranded in an inn, locked in the same room. and guess what? only one bed too.
࿐ ˚ . ✦ warnings: anthony is a warning on his own, enemies to lovers (?) | smut:teasing, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, kinda rough sex, hate sex (barely)
Laughs erupted all across the table, everyone sharing looks and smiles, enjoying their time. A small breakfast was taking place in the Bridgerton’s Residence, and you had been invited by Daphne; one of your dearest friends.
“As pleasant as this morning has been, I must part now,” Anthony said, standing up from his chair and straightening his clothes. “There are some state affairs I need to solve that cannot be ignored any longer. Is anyone available to accompany me on this journey? I must admit it’s quite long and it would be better in company. ”
“Oh, I would love to, but I cannot, brother,” Daphne said, looking around the table at all her siblings, and lastly, you. “I must go back home to my husband, we— well, we need to make some arrangements for the soirée.”
“What soirée?” you questioned with curiosity, since your best friend hadn’t mentioned any soirée.
“The one we will host at Clyvedon Castle.” she answered with one of her dazzling smiles.
“Alright,” Anthony said with a sigh, focusing on the rest. “Siblings?”
“Oh, I am sorry, but I cannot accompany you either,” Benedict excused himself. “I have an event with the art group and I cannot miss it for anything in the world.”
“I must pay… Pen a visit. ” With a grimace, Eloise said.
“Oh, I would love to—” Colin was saying, but a knock was heard and a grimace appeared on his face. “Ou, but I have this thing with… well, I am busy.”
Everyone at the table turned to look at you, Anthony’s eyes followed as well, quickly both understood what everyone wanted.
“Oh, no thanks.” You said. / “I will be far better on my own.” Anthony was quick to say.
“Oh, come on!” Daphne said with a grin. “This enmity between you two cannot last any longer. I would say it is time for the two of you to grow up and find some common ground.”
“It will be a good thing,” Benedict added, agreeing with Daphne’s opinion. “Not only for the two of you, but for everyone. I am sure that I’m speaking for the rest when I say that we cannot stand your petty arguments any longer.”
Eloise’s loud groan meant she agreed with her brother, and everyone nodded their heads as well, a silent way of letting you and Anthony know that they, indeed, were absolutely done with your attitude.
It is understandable. After all, Anthony and you have known each other for over twelve years, and you’ve yet to find a way to get along, or at least have a pleasant coexistence. You and Anthony do nothing but argue, contradict each other, and find petty little things to fight about.
To Anthony, you were spoiled, insufferable, and annoying. He could not stand you, but… It would certainly be better to have someone to accompany him than to be alone, even if that ‘someone’ was annoying.
“Then so be it.” Anthony said, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, trying to avoid showing just how annoyed he was by this.
“Ugh…” you mumbled, knowing you would now be between sword and wall. You certainly didn’t want to accompany Anthony, but it would be rude not to after he partially accepted your company.
Anthony noticed your hesitation, and instead of using that as an excuse to travel alone, he used it against you, to make you angry.
“Or does my presence bother you that much, that you will not share a carriage with me?” questioned Anthony, with a little smirk that made your insides burn. “What is it that you hide from me, Lady Y/N, is it anger still? Or perhaps… otherfeelings?”
Your mouth opened wide as soon as you understood what he was implying, and everyone’s eyes widened, attentive to what was about to happen.
“Do not think yourself so important, Lord Anthony,” you said, with a fake smile that he knew well enough to recognize. “I was simply pondering whether you’re worthy of my presence after your attitude this week.”
“If I– my attitude?” Anthony sounded almost offended, but you knew he was upset by the fact that you exposed his attitude in front of his entire family. “You are no better than me. Get off your high horse.”
Violet, the Bridgerton’s mama, let out a gasp at that, “Anthony! Be more respectful. She’s a lady, I raised you better than this.”
“Have her act like a lady, then.”
“And you should act like a man, not a boy.” you argued.
Everyone’s gazes moved from Anthony to you, back to Anthony, and back to you again. These types of arguments were not new, so everyone hoped that someday, preferably soon, these silly arguments would have a… positiveoutcome.
Everyone knows that what you and Anthony feel for each other is not hatred… not exactly.
“As a man, I should not have to prove anythingtoyou, but as a token of my sincerity, I cordially invite you to accompany me on my business trip,“ Anthony said as solemnly as he could, avoiding smirking as soon as your expression became annoyed. "Lady Y/N, you certainly would not turn down such a kind-hearted offer, would you?”
Son of a…
“Certainly not, Viscount Bridgerton,” you said reluctantly. “It would be my pleasure to keep you company on your journey.”
The smirk on Anthony’s face after his ungracious comment made you roll your eyes.
You regretted having said yes, having given in to accompanying him; but your pride wasn’t going to let him get away with it, you were a decent lady, and of course you wouldn’t turn down a gentleman’s offer, even if that gentleman was one you felt like punching— in the most… ladylike way possible, of course.
When Anthony said the journey would be long, you did not believe him, for you supposed he was saying it to discourage you from accompanying him; but it was not so. It really was a long journey.
It had been three long hours sharing the same carriage and you hadn’t even covered a quarter of the distance, the only thing you had managed to do was to argue. Argue about the route, the clothing you were wearing, even about the shade of the grass outside… in other words, you argued about EVERYTHING.
As if dealing with an Anthony ready to infuriate you wasn’t enough, it began to rain at the beginning of the fourth hour of the journey. And it wasn’t the kind of rain that could have lulled you into calmness, no… it was a thunderstorm. A bad one, at that.
“Wonderful, could this day get any worse?” Anthony complained, looking through the window and observing the dark sky being adorned by lightning every few seconds.
“My lord?” Said the horseman through the front window. “I’m afraid we will have to make an immediate stop, it is impossible to continue the journey in these conditions, it is perilous.”
If it had not meant that you were stuck with Anthony for longer than planned, you would have laughed, celebrated and danced at the sight of his frustrated, annoyed expression on his face.
His day was going badly, and you were enjoyingit.
“All right,” Anthony said reluctantly. “But we are halfway there, what proceeds in this situation? We cannot stay out here in the open.”
“It seems to me that there’s an Inn a few miles from here, Lady Y/N and you could spend the night there, while the storm abates, and we will continue on our way tomorrow, when the weather is more amenable, my lord.”
Anthony looked at you to be sure you were okay with this, he couldn’t stand you and wanted you away from his presence, but he wasn’t going to leave you here alone, and he wanted to be sure that at the very least you were on board with the plan.
“Sounds better to me than risking an accident.” You agreed, trying to be as ‘understandable’ as possible.
“Alright then,” Anthony sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “The INN it is.”
Getting out of the carriage in the midst of the storm had been a challenge. Anthony got out first, and almost slipped in the mud, you merely giggled at that, for which he refused to hold your hand to help you down, being as petty as he is.
You got out by yourself and almost slipped as well, thing is, Anthony reacted quickly and wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you on your feet, which puzzled you both so badly, that the rest of the way to the INN you walked separately, so apart, that it didn’t even look like you arrived together when you got in.
“Good evening, I would like to book two rooms.” Anthony said to the burly man behind the counter.
“One room.” said the man, checking his book.
“Two.” corrected Anthony.
“One,” said the man firmly, picking up the key and putting it on the counter. “INN full, storm. One room, yes or no?
“Good heaven..” Anthony said in exasperation, running a hand through his hair again. “One room will suffice then.”
Great. One room. ONE.
Anthony walked back to you and raised a finger before you even got the chance to open your mouth to protest. “I do not want to hear you complain, you heard me, I tried to get two rooms and I could not.”
“I thought you were a viscount.”
“I am, but I am not God to stop a storm, nor the Queen to order everyone to leave,” he said, starting to walk towards the room. “I guess you will be stuck with me for the night, Lady Y/N.”
Wonderful. Just magnificent. Expectacular.
"Do not look.” you said firmly, sinking deeper into the hot water of the bath, trying to hide your body from Anthony, who was sitting on the bed, freshly bathed.
“You wish I was anywhere near interested.” he replied, turning his head completely the other way, which is the only reason you were unable to see his expression.
You wouldn’t be bathing now if it wasn’t absolutely necessary to keep you from falling ill, but that didn’t make it any easier. With Anthony in the room, bathing wasn’t as enjoyable as it usually is, let alone now that your dress is soaking wet and you don’t have anything to put on other than your corset and knickers.
“I will lend you my shirt, so you do not sleep so indecently tonight.” he said, as if he had read your thoughts.
“What will you wear? Your jacket is soaked.”
“I suppose no harm will come from sleeping without a shirt,” he replied, still not looking at you. “Though if that makes you uncomfortable, then I can find somewhere else to stay.”
“No, do not worry,” you said, perhaps a little too quickly, making you more nervous than you already were. “You are being kind enough to lend me your shirt, and I will not not be so cruel as to send you away.”
Anthony raised his eyebrows in surprise at your response, but didn’t say anything about it. “Fine then.”
You hurried out of your bath, put on your uncomfortable corset and knickers, and put on Anthony’s dry shirt, buttoning most of the buttons to cover most of your body, although there were still parts that were exposed, such as your legs and part of your chest.
While you had stopped arguing because you were in a peculiar situation, the silence that enveloped the two of you was uncomfortable. The kind of silence that exists when there are so many things to say, but none of them are said.
“Why–” “How–” Anthony and you managed to interrupt each other after having spent around 10 minutes without uttering a word, an awkward coincidence.
“You first.”
“Well, since we are long past formalities…” Anthony began, signaling his lack of shirt and your indecent clothing. “Tell me frankly, why is it that you despise me so much?”
The question caught you off guard. You never thought Anthony cared what you thought of him, or why you chose to feel this way, but this question changes everything.
It was a good question, why indeed? Was it his insufferable attitude? His deadpan comments? The damn smirk he gave you when he knew he was getting on your nerves? The way he looked at you? The way he made you feel?
Whydo you hate him at all?
“Would you believe me if I said I do not hate you?” you replied, not often do you get the chance to be honest with him.
“No,” he said bluntly and you raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Because you act like you hate me.”
“I do not hate you, you just…” you sighed and looked down. “Anger me.”
“Because you anger me first.”
“Then it seems to me the proper question would be, why do YOU hate ME?” you questioned, raising your tone only slightly.
“I never said I hated you.”
“You act like you do.” you replied as he did, giving him a taste of his own medicine.
All calm seemed to leave Anthony’s body with those words, he let out a growl fit for an animal and ran his hands through his hair.
“See what I mean? You are aggravating!”
“Because I act like you?” you questioned him, raising an eyebrow.
“You do not act like me!” Anthony raised his voice slightly, and took a step towards you. “You act like… like YOU! Insufferable, with that sharp wit of yours, those charming remarks that make me want to… to… UGH, you drive me crazy, woman!”
Anthony had been so focused on letting you know how much you despair him, and you on listening to him; that neither of you realized how close he was now to you.
You could feel his breath brushing against your lips, one more inch and his nose would touch yours, his chest yours, his lips yours.
“Show me you do not hate me, then.” you dated him one last time, looking at his deep brown eyes and down at his lips, then back at his eyes.
The moment your lips pressed against his, his partially calm demeanor faded away. It was all lips, teeth and tongue, a mess that quickly turned heated, your hand holding the back of his head as one of his hands found a place in your hip, pulling you closer to his body.
Out of impulse, you opened your mouth, allowing him in. And it seemed like he suddenly remembered he was arguing with you, because he bit your lower lip and pulled, to then run his tongue over it and push you away slightly.
Even though he pushed you away, he never let go. He kept his hands on your hips as he looked directly into your eyes, searching for the same feeling he felt. And he found it.
Without another word, you kissed again, but this time the kiss was unrestrained, filled with desperation, hunger, desire, passion and something more. Anthony held you as close to his body as he could, but it seemed to be insufficient to quench his thirst for you.
Slowly you began to walk to the bed, the back of your knees collided with the mattress, so you fell backwards and Anthony quickly followed, not taking his lips off yours for a second, even as your bodies begged for air.
From there, you lost all shame, your hands caressed his smooth back, his muscular arms, even ran down his chest, you wanted to feel him, to convince yourself that this was really happening and was not a dream.
His lips moved from your lips to your jaw, and he began to make a trail of kisses down your neck, slow, wet kisses that made you burn for him. He kept moving down and down, down your collarbone, and the part of your chest that wasn’t covered by his shirt.
Through the open shirt, he found access to your abdomen and kept kissing, biting sometimes and licking after to ease the pain. He looked at you and asked quietly, you knew where he was going, and you wanted him there, so you nodded your head.
As he roamed your abdomen with kisses; he slid his hands under your shirt and grabbed the edge of your underwear, sliding it down your legs until he got rid of it.
You threw your head back as soon as he leaned over where you needed him most, his big soft hands squeezed your thighs while his lips left little bites and small kisses on the inside of your thighs.
He paused for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, and you sighed nervously, waiting for his caresses. The tip of his nose brushed against your clit, causing you to inhale suddenly, and at this he continued his kisses on your area, getting more gasps from you than he could count.
“For future reference, I am not against being begged for and having my hair pulled, I like it.”
Your eyes rolled at his endless arrogance, though his arrogance itself made you realise that you need him more than ever. He began to kiss gently all over your thighs, clearly avoiding where you needed him most, to tease you one last time.
Without warning, Anthony wrapped his lips around your clit, and sucked. Immediately, and knowing you would react like this, his hands roamed up your body to hold your hips, as he moved the tip of his tongue in circles and up and down.
“I must admit, for the first time, I like what you are doing with your mouth.” you dared to say.
Anthony gave you a little slap on the inside of your thigh, causing you to unconsciously tighten your legs around his head.
“Do not tempt me to stop, woman.”
“As if you wanted to.”
“No, I suppose I don’t really want to.” he admitted, before continuing his ministrations.
You let out a small moan even though you tried to hold it back, as Anthony moved his lips and tongue skillfully up and down your centre, never neglecting your clit as he used his thumb to rub quick circles. The intensity, speed and rhythm of his tongue and thumb were giving you more pleasure than you had ever felt before.
Until he suddenly stopped.
“Anthony-”
“I will make you feel so good,” he said, and you felt his breath on your pussy. “For the first time in your stubborn life, trust me.”
He removed his thumb from your clit, so he could slide two fingers inside you. You let out a louder moan this time, and threw your head back. You heard a chuckle from him, but Anthony didn’t move his fingers.
His hot breath against your area sent shivers all over your skin, as did his voice as he said. “I feel like I ought to teach you some manners.”
“Anthony, I swear to you by all the gods…”
“Beg for it, darling.”
Fuck your ego, you need this release.
Letting go of your bottom lip, you decide to surrender and murmur, “I need it. Please, Anthony.”
His tongue soon returned to your pussy, and this time, his fingers began to slide in and out of you slowly, menacingly slow. Desperate, you grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged lightly, causing Anthony to grunt and send vibrations into your sensitive body.
“Good girl.”
The rhythm of his fingers increased as your breathing quickened, you couldn’t control the way the moans left your lips without shame, nor the way your hips rose steadily, trying to chase his face.
It was so erotic, downright filthy and forbidden, but still you felt that this is the place to be. With him between your legs.
The sounds that left your lips embarrassed you at times, but it seemed to only encourage him more, and you didn’t know if the heat in your cheeks was from your rapid breathing or the way Anthony was looking at you. He smiled against your skin and began to leave wet kisses before speeding up the movement of his hand.
“Cum for me, my dove, do not hold yourself back, let go.”
And that’s what made you come.
For a few seconds, you see nothing but black, as you closed your eyes as pleasure courses through your body, all while he cleaned up the mess. There is a moment’s pause before he rises from between your legs, looking down at you with parted lips.
And of course— Anthony being Anthony— was going to keep teasing you. And he succeeds, by wiping the corners of his lips with his thumb, licking his lips and sucking your ecstasy from his fingers.
“As sweet as I imagined, truly.”
“Youimagined?” you inquired, sitting on the bed to get a closer look at his face.
“Is my devotion not enough proof to you?” he questioned, licking his lips. “I have desired this for a long time, my lady.”
“Is that so?” you questioned, biting your lip.
“Allow me to enlighten you just how muchI want this.”
He gave you a little push and you fell back to the bed, he helped you remove the corset from your body, leaving little kisses across the newly exposed skin, one of his hands travelled between your legs again, knowing full well what he had to do. His thumb circled over your clit, his fingers teasing your entrance.
"I think you are ready for me now,” he assured, standing up to remove his trousers, leaving you puzzled at his size. “Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely.”
He let out a little smirk and quickly got on top of you and without further ado, entered you.
“Bloody hell, Anthony…“ you murmured, accidentally leaving scratches on his back, as his hips moved at a fast, rough and above all, deep pace.
Anthony said nothing, but gasped and left a nibble on your shoulder as you tugged lightly on his hair, and he sped up the movements even more, his dick hitting your spot with each and every thrust, the pleasure was almost uncontrollable, as he, who was insatiable. He couldn’t get enough of you.
You knew that in addition to the sexual satisfaction this brought him, it was also feeding his ego to be on top of you, making you moan after fighting for so long.
And you certainly wouldn’t let him win.
As best you could, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him off you, causing him to pause for a second, when you pushed him back to lie down, and straddled him, that’s when he understood.
You lined him back up with your entrance, and lowered your hips, making both let out a loud moan.
You began to move at a pace that was satisfying to you, but not satisfying enough for him, which was making him desperate and even more so when he knew you were doing it on purpose.
"Donot tease me.”
“Oh, where is your playful spirit, Lord Anthony?”
“Here it is.” Anthony placed his hands on your waist, also moving his hips up and down, intensifying the depth and speed.
The moan that left your lips did not go unnoticed as he increased the speed of his thrusts even more, hitting your spot again and again and again. Determined not to let him win, you began to clench your walls around him, just as he moved his hips down.
“I’m going to… I’m going to cum.” He said, tightening his grip on your waist.
One last wickedness, for the sake of the rest of the night.
You suddenly stopped moving, which made him look at you with confusion, and some anger too. Slowly, you began to move your hips in circles, causing his dick to have different sensations and reach even deeper, and that’s what made him finish.
And the sensation of that, plus the sight, which was him closing his eyes and biting his lower lip, while the muscles in his abdomen tensed, was what ended up making you finish.
You fell exhausted a few seconds later, pulling him out of you and lying down next to him, aware that you must clean up, and above all… talk, but you were so tired that you didn’t even want to move.
Anthony got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, taking a wet towel, wiping himself and then you, carefully. He threw the towel to the bathroom and returned to the bed, lying down next to you.
“Can we put this absurd enmity behind us? It seems pretty obvious to me how we really feel about each other,” he commented calmly. “While it’s fun, I do not want you to think of me and have it be a negative thing, Y/N. I am tired of it. I think it’s time we face our feelings as they are, would you not agree?”
“And what exactly are those feelings?”
“Quite the opposite of hate, it seems to me,” he said with a smirk. “There is adoration, admiration, certainly a bit of devotion, a sprinkle of exasperation, but lots of…”
“Love?”
“That precisely, my lady.”
“So, are you saying that—“
“Yes.” he confirmed, not quite saying it, but you knew what he meant.
“I love you too.” you blurted out, the truth that had been eating you alive for years now.
He kissed the top of your head and sighed. Anthony remained silent for a few seconds but you knew he had something else to say.
“I cannot believe I got you to say it out loud first.”
“If it’s a game to you, I will take it back, for you have not said it back.”
“You were never and shall never be a game to me, my lady. And you cannot take it back now, it’s etched inside my mind.” he placed to fingers under your chin, softly lifting your head so he could look at you in the eye. “Also? I have loved you since I met you, since the very first time you challenged me, since you smiled at me for the first time. I just wanted to point thatout.”
“Good. You ought to own and earn my love from now on, my lord, no more dick-ish behaviour.”
“No more, my lady, I promise.” Anthony pulled your body over his. “I shall treat you like you deserve.”
You smiled widely, proud of him and yourself. Anthony began to hum a song that, along with the rain, slowly lulled you into a deep sleep.
Who knew that an INN away from everyone would be the answer?
Request: BESTIEEE DO AN ANTHONY BRIDGERTON ONE? Enemies to lovers smut ehehehhehehehe
Summary: Anthony finds out that you’ll move to America if you don’t get married by the end of the season. He doesn’t take it very well.
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader
Warnings: SMUT! praising kink, enemies to lovers (kinda), very very fluffy at the end, this is badly written, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving)…
Word count: 4,890 words
REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!
*ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. *. •.°
The third ball of the season was, unfortunately, being held at your place - your mother offered. A swarm of servants were rushing in and out of your room, helping you to get ready. Your mother even got Madame Delacroix, a popular modiste from France, to design you a dress.
The other day, you saw a flower bloom while you were on your daily walk with your horse, Luna. You were pretty sure it was a lavender flower, but the colour was ever so pretty. You picked the flower and took it to Miss Delacroix with your mother, asking her to make a gown in this colour.
And she did exactly that. With multiple touches of silver, of course.
Your maid pinched your cheeks as a final touch and stepped away, admiring you through the mirror. She sighed and smiled at your reflection as you let out a breath.
“Miss Y/L/N… your beauty is truly unmatched,” she complimented as you give her a tight smile.
“Thank you, Lilah. Let us hope that it’s enough for my mother,” you roll your eyes subtly and stand up. Lilah tilted her head at you, stepping closer.
“Your mother wants nothing but the best for you. That is why she needs you looking your best.” She tilts your chin up, giving you a warm smile. You bite your lip and nod.
“Thank you, Lilah. Go, I’ll be joining everyone shortly.” She nods and ushers the other servants out of the room, closing your bedroom door behind her.
You look at your hands, seeing them in silk gloves. You look at your reflection, blinking at yourself. Your hair was slicked back in a braided bun with small diamonds decorated in the braids. A tiara sat neatly at your head. Your gown went all the way down to the floor, a bow tightening it at the waist. Your bust was showing slightly and a necklace was complimenting your collarbone. You were wearing your ballet slippers - they were new.
You contemplated whether you should go down there. Your mother would spend the whole evening walking your around to find the ‘perfect’ suitor. As there was ever such thing.
Love isn’t real. Perfection isn’t real. Not in this world.
Just then, you heard a carriage pulling up as you looked toward your balcony. You walked out to it and peered down, seeing a man step out. A brunette, around six feet and dressed in plush navy, velvet coattails and vests.
Decorated with purple.
“Oh, bollocks,” you muttered. The man helped out two women as the second carriage came. And then he looked up.
His curious eyes met with yours. The moonlight shone on his aura, his face coming into light. His eyebrows raise a little as his arms rest on the sides of his body. You let out a shaky breath as your chest heaves up and down. His mother then came into sight, pulling onto his arm. She smiled and tugged him inside as he slowly looked away from you.
That man is Anthony Bridgerton. The opposite of perfection. Personality wise.
His appearance, however—
You roll your eyes at your invasive thoughts, walking back into your room. You smooth out your gown one final time before leaving the room, closing the door behind you. A guard was standing outside, holding his arm out for you. You gladly accept it, walking down the hallway towards the steps…
ೃ⁀➷✎
Anthony, his three siblings and his mother stepped inside the Y/L/N household. Eloise only came to see you, other than that she would’ve stayed home. Benedict and Colin were forced to come by their older brother, but the younger Bridgerton brother wouldn’t mind seeing Pen Featherington tonight. Poor Benedict has no one.
Yet.
“Anthony, see anyone that interests you?” Violet, their mother, asks him. The Viscount rolls his eyes slightly, scanning the crowd. He sees the same, boring women he’s seen his whole life.
Some more occasionally than others.
“What about that one over there?” Benedict nudges his brother, pointing to a lady he saw last week at some brothel downtown. He furrows his eyebrows as the girl made eye contact with him, her cheeks flushing red because of the embarrassment she’s feeling.
Anthony remembered the sight he saw when he walked into that brothel and shook his head. “She looks lovely, but she’s also not my type,” he gave a tight smile to his mother as she sighed. Something else caught her eye however and her face overcomes with a smile on her face.
“It looks like mother found your type, brother,” Colin says with amusement in his voice. Anthony pulls a face and looks where Violet is looking.
“Is that…” Eloise adds with a smile.
And what a sight he saw.
A woman dressed in a lilac gown decorated with jewels and silver sequins was standing at the top of the staircase. She wore a tiara on her head which the chandelier light reflected. Around her sweet collarbone sat a necklace which had the same lilac gems that were in her headpiece. The gown touched the floor but she was holding it up, meaning you could see the ballet shoes she was wearing. They looked brand new. Her lips formed into a sweet smile which complimented her facial features. Anthony had never been more smitten.
Everyone stopped their conversations to look at her, the woman that has caught every suitor’s eye tonight. Even the Viscount’s. He was mesmerised.
“Mrs Y/L/N suggested that the two of you should match outfits tonight. It was only proper since you’re the Viscount and Y/N is the star of the season.”
“Mrs Y/L/N…” Normally, he would throw a tantrum about this. But tonight, he didn’t. Tonight, he saw perfection.
However, when the girl’s eyes met Anthony’s, her eyes hardened. The corners of her mouth dropped and her eyebrows went up. The guard next to her let go of her arm as he urged her to come along. But she didn’t break eye contact. She refused to. Anthony understood that.
“Darling? Are you alright?" The woman snapped her head to her mother’s, smiling before she nodded. Anthony let out a breath when she finally made her way down the grand staircase. She watched her step carefully and stopped at the final step, taking in the crowd in front of her. Suitors swarming to gather her attention. She was the opposite of flattered. Mortified. Scared. Nervous.
There you stood, Y/N Y/L/N. The named diamond of this season. Words being said by your mother were not being heard. The praises the suitors were giving you felt like lies. You could feel Stephanie Crawford’s patronizing eyes from a mile away. It was as if Lady Whistledown was watching your every moment. Your heart was beating faster every minute as you felt overwhelmed by all of these voices.
Your pride was diminishing in front of everyone. You felt like dropping dead.
Until your knight in shining armour appeared.
He shoved past the gentlemen and gentlewoman in front of you and reached for your hand. Everyone’s words turned into breathless mumbles as you glanced at their faces, slightly annoyed expressions on their faces.
Lord Bridgerton has destroyed everyone’s confidence.
"Miss Y/L/N, would you like to join me for a dance?” He asked, waiting patiently for your answer. You nodded quickly, grasping for his hand. He had a little smirk on his face as he pulled you away from - literally everyone.
“Little desperate tonight, are we?” Anthony muttered as you hung onto his arm. You rolled your eyes and regained your composure.
“If you don’t keep your tongue in that mouth of yours, I’ll pull it out with one of the serving forks,” you say, your tone laced with honey. Anthony let out a laugh that wasn’t venomous for once. It was sincere… Loving.
“No need to get so feisty, little dove,” he says as he stops walking in the middle of the ballroom. Your heart swooned at the nickname, the name he’s always given you ever since you were children.
“Again with the nickname?” You taunt as the song changes to a German waltz, composed by Ludwig van Beethoven. A classic. “I’m pretty sure you’ve called most of the girls in London 'my little dove’. Since you’re a rake and all.” You look at him with an accusing look on your face as he raises an eyebrow.
“Rake? Do you think that low of me?” he asked as he began to bow. You curtsied at the same time, your lips forming a little smirk.
“I always have, my lord,” you whispered as you rise. Your left hand faintly touches Anthony’s right hand as he looks deeply into your Y/E/C eyes.
“And why is that, Y/N?” Your name rolls off his tongue like honey as you both begin walking in a circle, Anthony following your lead.
You think about it for a minute. There’s not a good enough answer to that question.
“You remember when we first met?” You recall as Anthony nodded. “You were running around in my garden like a madman. With a cup of tea in your hands for your mother.” He smiles at the memory, his eyes asking for you to go on. “You supposedly bumped into me by accident. That tea ruined my dress!” You exclaim as you switch hands, walking in the opposite direction.
Anthony wanted to laugh. But he couldn’t with his mother watching. “Do you not remember what happened after?”
You look at your mother who was smiling with Anthony’s mother. “Of course I do.”
He preceded to tell you anyway. “A dove flew in from the west and landed on your shoulder. I expected you to shriek and shove it off but you didn’t. You let it perch there and the tea incident was forgotten.” You look at the Viscount, a warm smile appearing on his face. “The sight was beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” You mumble as both of your hands fall to your sides.
He hummed. “Perfection.”
You snickered, causing your dance partner to raise an eyebrow. “Something funny?”
“Yes,” you bite your lip while smiling. “Perfection isn’t real.”
It was Anthony’s turn to laugh, his reaction stunning you. Both of your hands were a few centimetres away from his as you began to walk again.
“You speak utter nonsense sometimes.”
“I’m speaking the truth,” you scoff at him, looking him dead in the eye. “If perfection was real, then I’d already be on my way to America.” Anthony furrows his brows. “Yet I’m still here,” you sigh.
“What?” his voice drops and you seem to notice. “America? Why there?”
“Uh,” you shrug, not having an answer. “I don’t like it here anymore if I’m being honest. Mother promised that if I do not have a fiance by the end of the season, then I am allowed to move to America where my father’s side of the family lives.” You explain but Anthony was still confused.
“So you’re moving there because you want to?” he says in disbelief. You tilt your head as he lets go of your hands.
“Only if I’m not married,” you repeat.
Something changed in the air. It wasn’t the comforting air you both had breathed in a few minutes ago. These moments were very rare, keep in mind. It switched back to the hot-headed tension you both feel for each other.
The tension that always turns into hatred.
“You cannot live there,” he stated. It was your turn to be confused.
“Excuse me?”
“I forbid it.” You look at him, a chuckle escaping your lips.
“You do not control my life, milord. I’m moving there so I can at least get somewhat of an education—”
“Then I will arrange something for you. A mentor to teach you things a man cannot,” he steps closer. You feel eyes on the two of you.
“Even a Viscount can’t do that!” You say, getting irritated. “What is this, anyway? I thought you would be happy to see me gone!”
“Happy? You think I would be overjoyed?” He retorts.
“Yes! Yes, I did!”
“Clearly, I am not. You cannot leave, Y/N/N.” Another nickname. Your father used to call you that all of the time.
“Do not call me that,” you say, your voice low. “You’re not allowed to.”
“And what will you do? Hm?” he challenged and you shook your head, pointing at him.
“You always do this! We have one good moment together where we get along and then you ruin it with your words. I despise you for it!” You spat as Anthony nodded.
“Like you don’t do the same bloody thing? You’re the one who just dropped this on me.”
“Yes, because I didn’t think you’d bloody care,” you yell, causing your mother to come over.
“That’s enough, Y/N,” she said, glaring at you. “The both of you need to calm down.”
Violet came over as your breathing slowed. You were still furious. “I think you need to apologize, dear, to Anthony. You must’ve said something—”
“Me? I need to apologize?” You say, staring at Anthony’s mother. Anthony was glaring at you, daring you to speak. “Sorry, my lady, but I refuse.”
“Y/N—”
“You know what? Enjoy the rest of the night without me, mother!” You give her a tight smile before rushing upstairs and down the hallway.
Anthony watched your every move. As you walked up the stairs, he glanced at the gentlemen around them, seeing them whisper and ogle you like you were some object.
He was not having any of it.
“Excuse me.”
ೃ⁀➷✎
You entered your father’s study and shut the door behind you, leaning against it. Your breathing became heavy again, only because of how furious you were.
You were embarrassed. Ashamed. Anthony is the only person who makes you feel that way.
He makes you feel worthless.
The opposite of perfection.
You step away from the door and try to distract yourself with something else. You look towards your father’s desk, seeing a stack of letters in the middle. Your mother was supposed to open them.
You sigh and go around the desk, picking up the papers and leaving them in the open drawer. You sat in your father’s chair, hiding your face in your hands. You move them away when something catches your eye.
It was a 'painting’ that you remember making when you were around five years old. It was framed and it sat next to a cup of stationary. You were so proud of it and you decided to show your parents. Your mother waved you off, however, your father picked you up and sat you on his lap. He told you not to listen to your mother and he praised every single aspect of the little drawing. It caused you to smile like some Cheshire cat.
Earlier this year, your father died from a tragic accident. He went riding on one of the many nights of January - while it was snowing. His horse slipped on the ice and your father fell into a ditch. He hit his head pretty hard and since it was the middle of the night, no one knew that he was missing.
Of course, your mother did. But the guards reassured her that her husband must’ve been staying at a hotel.
You found him the next morning. A few miles away from your home.
The picture of his corpse has remained in your head ever since.
What made it worse was that it was your birthday the upcoming week. He went out to get a present for you. It was practically all your fault. Your mother never blamed you. That did not stop you from blaming yourself.
You leaned back in the chair, taking off your silk gloves. You folded them and laid them on the desk.
You didn’t want to be here. You’d rather be anywhere else. You could see your perfect life ahead of you. All you had to do is not marry anyone.
And then your mind drifts back to earlier. A particular face stands out in your mind and refuses to get out.
Anthony bloody Bridgerton.
“Why? Why must you be so aggravating?” you whisper to yourself.
“I was going to ask you the same question.” Your head shot up to see Anthony himself at the door. He closed it behind him as you immediately got out of your seat.
“Why are you in here?” He didn’t get a chance to reply. “Get out.”
He rolls his eyes and walks around the office, admiring its aspects and features. “Your father’s study?”
“Why do you care?” you mutter, your eyes following his.
“He was a wonderful gentleman, Y/N,” he says, turning to look at you. You blink as he continues, “He was always so kind to me. Ever since my father passed, he was like a second…” his voice trails off as you look away from him.
“Still, never saw you at his funeral,” you retort, fiddling with your hands.
“I wanted to go, but I couldn’t,” he admits as you turn around.
“Why? Too busy snogging women in the local area?” you say, catching him off guard.
“I couldn’t go because I knew you would be there.” These words shock but anger you. You meet his gaze, scoffing at his words.
“Of course, I’d be there. I’m his only daughter, Anthony,” you state as if this wasn’t already known.
“You misunderstand. That is not what I meant.”
“Then what do you mean?” you question, stepping forward. “You didn’t come because you hate me? Despise me? This is already known information,” you chuckle dryly. He looks away for a split second, then looks back.
“I do hate you.” Again, his words sting you. I’m pretty sure you physically winced at his reply. But you allowed him to add on. “I hate that whenever I catch a glimpse of you, you are always smiling.” He steps closer, but you do not move. “I hate that whenever I see you sad, my first instinct is to find whoever hurt you. I hate that whenever I see you with a man that is not me, I feel envy. Jealousy. Hurt.”
You are stunned. Your hands fell to your sides as you blink at him in shock. You did not know what to say.
“Anthony—”
“Let me finish,” he interrupted, a longing look in his eyes. “Let me finish for once, Y/N.”
You nodded slightly, allowing him to continue.
“I hate that whenever you look at me, your pupils widen. The colours in your eyes bloom. They seem more appealing whenever you look into my eyes.” Your breath hitches as he puts a hand on your chin. You wanted to pull away, but you couldn’t. Something was pulling you in.
“Y/N. I hate that whenever I see you in a gown like this, in anything…” His index finger runs along your bottom lip as you close your eyes, feeling his breath fan on your cheek. “I want to rip the fabric to shreds.” You open your eyes, getting lost in his honey-glazed ones.
“I-I do not understand, milord,” you whisper, chuckling a little. A little smirk appears on his face as he watches your eyes grow curious.
“You do understand, little dove,” he muttered, his voice making your stomach tighten. He leans closer to your ear as your heart beats faster every second. “Do not think I don’t see the filth you read.”
He pulls back, seeing the look on your face. An expression of horror crossed your countenance. Anthony wanted to laugh, but instead, he continued.
“Whenever you stay at Aubrey Hall, I always see you carry a book around with you. You read it every night.” His fingers ran along your thigh as you let out a small gasp. “A smile would always appear on your lips after reading a particular line. Your legs would even squirm.”
“Y-You watched me read?” you questioned as he gazed into your eyes. You weren’t scared that he knew. You were just shocked - again. Maybe this will teach you not to read on balconies.
“Your room was always next to mine, love. Maybe I could not see everything, but I could most definitely hear,” he smirked as your cheeks heat up.
“Tell me a passage,” he suddenly said as you furrowed your brows.
“Pardon?”
“Describe a few lines of the book to me,” he repeated. You hadn’t realised you stepped backwards until you hit the desk behind you. He had pushed you on the desk so you were now sitting on it. Anthony was right in front of you, you couldn’t escape.
Though, you didn’t want to.
You bit your lip, looking away. “The man. He um, he took his finger,” Anthony hiked up your dress so it exposed your leg, the cold hair hitting your calf. “And he spread the woman’s legs.” Anthony preceded to spread your legs so he could see your intimate part for himself. He smiled slightly, his eyes wanting you to go on. “And then he put his finger in.”
“Where?” He asked, looking into your eyes. “Where did he put his finger, Y/N?” You hesitated, causing him to lift your chin with one of his hands. His eyes told you he wasn’t asking this time.
“He put his fingers inside her intimate part,” you said, without a doubt. He looked down. You could feel his fingers sliding up your inner thigh. His fingers hooked your You waited patiently for him to do something.
And then all of a sudden, his index finger slid inside your clit. You let out a gasp as you gripped his shoulder. His finger started moving around, slipping in and out of your folds. He was teasing you, going slow at first. But he was picking up the pace.
“Oh- oh, Anthony,” you moaned as rubbed your clit in a circular motion.
“What did he do next, Y/N?” he asked softly.
“He praised her,” you breathe as Anthony raises an eyebrow. “He’d call her things like 'sweetheart’, 'my love’…” your voice trails off when Anthony went faster, slipping his finger in again. You moaned as he played around with your folds, feeling your walls tighten around his finger. He groaned slightly, slipping his middle finger, curling his fingers inside of you.
You threw your head back as an orgasm came on. You bit your lip, gripping the desk with both of your hands as Anthony carried the rest of you. “Oh, love, you’re doing wonderful,” he said as you looked at him with your doe eyes. “Keep going, little dove. Tell me how much you’re enjoying this. How I’m teasing you, playing with you.”
“I-It feels so good,” you moaned as your ballet shoes grazed Anthony’s calves. “Please, keep going, milord. I do not want it to stop.”
The ecstasy you were feeling felt unreal. This feeling, this pleasure, it felt like heaven. It was addicting and Anthony adored that you were enjoying it as much as he was.
“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re firming it so well,” he coos, pushing his fingers in and out. Your cunt was dripping, your cries filling the room. “You feel amazing.”
Your insides were tightening around Anthony’s fingers as he spoke again, “Tell me, Y/N, what else did he do?”
“He lowered his head and—” you groan and lay your head on the desk as Anthony pushed his fingers deeper.
“Come on, Y/N.”
“He positioned his head in front of her legs. He began- He started licking,” you breathlessly explain. Anthony pulled his fingers abruptly, your pussy sagging with nothing to fill it. He saw that his fingers were soaking and you sat up, staring up at him with lust.
You grabbed his hand and placed his fingers in your mouth, sucking and licking your juices up. You didn’t break eye contact as he let out a little moan. Your other hand ran down his chest, unbuttoning his waistcoat. Your confidence was coming out yet again. Anthony was enjoying it.
You pulled his fingers out of your mouth, taking off the other layers of his outfit until his torso was covered in nothing. You stood up, both of your hands running down his chest.
“Y/N,” he breathes as your lips brush against his neck, “What are you doing to me?”
“I’m telling you what happens next in the story,” you reply softly. You look into his eyes, then they drop to his lips. “The woman mustered up the confidence to stand up… And to kiss him,” you whisper, your lips now inches away from his.
“Did he accept it? The kiss?” His eyes were now on your lips and they weren’t pulling away.
“Yes. Of course.” Anthony didn’t hesitate. He swooped you up in his arms and kissed you as your arms and legs wrapped around him. You kissed back, smiling in the kiss.
It was sloppy, the need the both of you have for each other is irresistible. Anthony wanted to destroy you. You were his to destroy.
Your kisses were quick, but there was often a long one added in there. Anthony squeezed your ass as you moaned into his mouth, tugging at his hair.
He sat you on the desk again, groaning into the kiss. You pulled away, your lips trailing down his neck instead. You left small kisses as his moans pleased your ears. Anthony pulls away from you again, pulling you off the desk slightly. He unbuttoned your dress, letting it slip down your body. He untied your corset, pulling it off impatiently, causing you to giggle slightly.
“This gown is beautiful, but your body…” his words trailed off, “Gorgeous.”
He admired your body, his hands exploring every single part of it. He kept the ballet shoes on. He kissed your neck, then your chest, then your stomach. You watched as he went down on his knees, spreading your legs even wider so he can have easier access.
“I didn’t say you had to kneel,” you teased as he smirked slightly.
“It’s more enjoyable from the angle.”
He gave you no warning. He went straight in, ravaging your clit. You gasped as he grabbed your legs. You gripped the table, your legs going above Anthony’s shoulders. His tongue played with your cunt as he bobbed his head up and down. You grabbed his hair, tugging at it as his eyebrows raised, pushing his tongue deeper.
“Oh, God, Anthony!” you groaned, inching your pussy closer to his mouth. “Oh, yes, right there… Right- right there!” Anthony’s tongue was overwhelming you. You felt so close to finishing. You felt like you were the woman of the book you read - Anthony being the person you desire most.
“I am close, so close,” you whisper. Anthony smirks against your slip, licking your pre-cum up. You were on the verge of finishing. Your legs squirmed, squeezing around Anthony’s head. Your walls tightened as you threw your head back for one last orgasm.
You came. You were gushing and Anthony was swallowing it all up. You looked down as he looked up, your breathing slowing and coming to a stop. He pulled away, wiping his mouth with his hand. He stood up, kissing you with more passion than the last kiss. It was more sincere. Like you were both in love.
Anthony cupped your face with both of your hands. You were kissing him back, your hands on his chest. The both of you pull away, gazing into each other’s eyes, soaking up this very moment. There was a different look on the Viscount’s face. His eyes were more open, his mouth slightly parted… He adored you.
You adored him.
“Am I your first?” He asked as you smiled.
“Yes,” you muttered. “Is that bad?”
“No,” he replied, “It’s perfect. You are perfect.”
Your smile dropped slightly. You couldn’t believe it. You? Perfect? Is it true?
“How?” you asked as he cocked his head. “Tell me how I’m perfect.”
“It’s a lot,” he began. “But I will tell you.” You sucked your bottom lip, wanting him to go on. “You have these eyes. These doe-like eyes that trick me into doing anything you want.” You gulp. “And then your smile… Oh your smile,” he chuckled, “whenever you smile, it radiates your positivity. Your kindness, your innocence.” You smile as he smiles back at you. “Your whole personality is perfect. You have not made it easy for me, but for everyone else, you’re an angel. You manage to make everyone’s day. You never upset anyone and you manage to make them smile without even doing anything.
"You have this effect on me - maybe on everyone else. Whenever you walk into the room, my eyes are always on you. They stayed glued to you. I admire every inch of you whenever you’re showing off a new dress for a new ball. You make the room light up whenever everyone is being bland, boring, uninteresting.” Your eyes watered - you couldn’t believe you were getting emotional because of this little speech.
“Y/N Y/L/N, need I say more?” Anthony sighed as you chuckled, a tear trickling down your face. He wiped it away, kissing your cheek.
“No. You’ve convinced me, Lord Bridgerton.” Your head lay on his chest for a minute, his hand resting on the small of your back.
“Don’t go to America,” he stated as you pull back, knitting your eyebrows together. “Do not go without me, at least,” he added as you smile yet again.
“Are you going to ask me something, Mr Viscount?” you tease as his smile widened.
“I do not know, Miss Y/L/N. It depends on you in all honesty.”
“Ask me,” you whispered.
“How would you feel about being the new Viscountess, little dove?” he asked, rubbing your left hand, clasping it with his. You look down at both of your hands.
“It seems to be a lot of pressure, milord…” you taunt as you gaze into his eyes, seeing hope glint in them.
“I would understand if you do not—”
“Yes,” you interrupt. His head snapped up to yours, another smile appearing on his face. “I’ll be your beloved wife,” you add, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Our mothers will be overjoyed with this, you know?” His hands squeezed your hips as you nuzzled your nose against his.
“I know,” you giggled, “it was as you said.” He raised an eyebrow as you bite your lip.
