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Taggie felt tired, even though she hadn’t done anything to help with the party. She didn’t have to cook an enormous dinner or clean the tables after the guests. But she wasn’t used to being the center of attention. In a crowd usually invisible, after a very long night, she really wanted to return to normalcy, to be invisible again, even if just for a moment.
She was surprised by the attention from the other women. Becoming a duchess meat gaining power in English society, and these young ladies were like moths drawn to a flame. To dull the unpleasant feeling that everyone in the room wanted to talk to her only because she would soon be Rupert’s wife—and not because they found her interesting—she started drinking champagne.
By two in the morning, evidently drunk, with a fizzy haze in her head, she found the last shreds of energy to say goodbye to the remaining guests. Sitting on the stairs, holding a glass of Scotch whiskey that someone had left behind, slowly sipping it, she frowned at the unpleasant taste of the drink. The staff had already started cleaning up after the party, the sound of glass and porcelain clinking filling her ears.
She took off her slippers—even though they were the comfiest shoes she’d ever worn, her feet still hurt after a long day. Then she started pulling pins from her hair, placing them on one of the steps of the long, wide staircase with its carpeted runners.
That’s where Rupert found her. He seemed a little less drunk than her. Without a word, he helped her to her feet and guided her toward the bedrooms. World was spinning, so she grabbed his elbow to steady herself.
When they reached the corridor, she stopped, slipping her hand off his arm.
“What is it?” Rupert asked, turning to face her, slowly stroding down the corridor.
“I need to find my father and get him to bed,” she said, rubbing her face with her hands. She always did that after parties.
“He’s asleep in the guest room—with your mother,” he added after a second.
“Oh God, it’s such… I heard someone say he got very drunk. I’m so sorry.” She speeded up to close the distance between them.
“That’s not your fault,” Rupert reassured her. Her room was very close to his, but as they passed it, it didn’t occur to her. He stooped for a second, added something that she didn’t understand and began to walk away. Dumbfounded, she ended up following him instead.
When he opened the door on the left, she stepped inside, entirely sure it was hers bedchamber.
The room was dark, the curtains drawn, and the only light came from the open doorway.
“Can you help me with my dress?” standing in the middle of the room, she felt his heavy gaze.
Rupert, still in the doorway with dim, warm light falling on his face, hesitated. The shadows made his features appear harsher, his wrinkles deeper.
He stepped inside, leaving the door open, and began working on the strings of her corset. With each loosened string, she felt herself relax.
Not paying much attention to the fact that Rupert was still in the room, she shed her gown, remaining in only her long white knickers and undershirt. Then she slid into bed, not realising that her own bed wasn’t this large. Within moments, she drifted off to sleep.
***
Taggie opened her eyes, feeling a hand on her hip. Lying in a dark room, the only thing she could see was that it wasn’t hers. Through the drawn curtains, near the floor, a faint blue light seeped in—it was already beginning to dawn.
The large hand resting on her body stilled her movement. She must have been dreaming, every memory of it slipping fast from her mind. Feeling the heat against her back made her unconsciously snuggle into it. She started to recall the end of the night.
Behind her was Rupert, certainly, who probably wasn’t asleep—she recognized him by his scent. There was a problem: the building sensation between her legs. Normally, she would have slipped her hand down, and after some relief, gone back to sleep. But she wasn’t alone, and the embarrassment of pushing her ass into some man’s crotch overwhelmed her.
Why, for the love of God, did she have to be in this situation? she thought to herself. She remembered Moud once saying, “Sometimes you have to let a man deal with your problems so they can feel useful.”
The alcohol still hadn’t left her system, which might have been why she found the courage to turn onto her back. Rupert, who hadn’t expected this, didn’t move his hand—so it rested low on her belly. Very low.
For a moment, he looked as though he might pull his hand away, but when he saw she wasn’t asleep, he stopped. Their eyes locked.
Within seconds, the atmosphere between them shifted. The air grew heavy, her skin felt like it was burning under his touch, and she liked it.
For a fleeting moment, she felt foolish, anxiety gripping her as she wondered if he might expect her to return the favor, if she asked him to help her with a problem between her tights. But the way he looked at her—with pure desire—made her feel bold. The visions flashing through her mind, with her making him feel the same pleasure, no longer made her nervous; instead, they sent heat pooling in her belly. The awareness that she had made him feel this way filled her.
She grew impatient when he didn’t act.
“Sorry, I had this dream…” she began, quickly realising that it might not have been the best thing to say to a man like Rupert.
“About what?” His voice was low, near her ear, Tag had to look up, to see him. She slightly opened her lips, feeling his hand starting to move. His thumb started caressing little circles.
She licked her lips, not sure what to say. She wasn’t sure if her words made any sense.
“I think that I need something to remind me of what was in it.”
“And what will it be?” She simply didn’t respond to him. Instead raising her head, to join their lips, in a slow kiss. She wanted to fully turn to him, but he already started to press his hand lower, and she was scared that he would stop.
Taggie was surprised with how she felt with his touch. When Ralphie touched her, she didn’t feel this good, even though doing something that was forbidden made that situation with him more intense.
She shouldn’t have initiated anything with Rupert, but she was tired, still slightly drunk, needy and even that he was older than her, was making her heated.
So she wasn’t able to stop gasping when his hand completely copped her heat, and started rubbing it. She took his head closer to her, pulling him down by his jaw to have better access to his lips. Then his hand returned to her belly, only to slip in her knickers. She lightly lifted up her hips, when one of his knuckles slipped between hers folds. It made him groan with approval. When she again shifted her hips, she was rewarded with his finger. He started to work on her, slipping out, rubbing, like he was studying her every reaction, testing what she liked the best. She couldn’t hold back her moans, his lips on her neck, going further down, his fingers hitting this one place, that was making her tights clutch, and filling her mind with pure pleasure. When Rupert pulled down straps of her undershirt, dragging with his teeth the hem of the neckline, and began to kiss and suck her nipples, she gave up and let herself come around his fingers. He was completely on her, his hand still moving, through her aftershock, his head between her breasts, steady by her fingers, that were in his jet black hairs.
When he looked up to meet her eyes, she felt red start to creep on her cheeks and neck. Alcohol evaporated from her body at that moment, and even though getting her relief, she was still in a fluster.
So she just widened her legs, making space for him. He took his hand off her centre, and took two fingers that a second ago were in her, to his mouth. She was so stunned that she completely lost any ability to think.
“So, what was in your dream?” At first, she didn’t understand anything he said, but it clicked after a moment of silence. She really didn’t remember anything about it.
“Why do you want to know so badly?”
“Oh, I’m just curious about what’s on your mind,” he said with his typical smirk on his face.
“No, you just want to know if you were in it, and sorry to d-disappoint you, but you weren’t,” she definitely said it too quickly.
Even so exposed, Taggie didn’t feel the need to cover herself. Something in Rupert’s gaze made her feel confident with her body.
“Oh, don’t be so sad, Rupert,” she added, giggling, when he made a doubting expression with his face. He only groaned and rolled off her, sitting back against the bed frame. He took a cigarette from the bedside table and lit it.
Lying next to him, she felt this emptiness, and the realization of what they had just done hit her. She didn’t adjust the straps of her undershirt. Rupert was smoking, watching her. He rubbed his forehead as though calculating something in his mind. She turned to lay on her belly, fixing her curls, resting her chin on her wrists. She didn’t break eye contact between them. Waiting. For something to happen, anything. She didn’t feel obligated to do anything with him, but she wanted to. She mindlessly furrowed her forehead, remembering that Rupert didn’t do anything, even though she had spread her legs under him, in a very inviting way indeed. For some reason, he was holding himself back, despite the fact that in a few weeks, they would be husband and wife.
By the time he finished his cigarette, she had managed to think through how their marriage might look, what already stung her in the eye about the appearance and functioning of society, when she would be in it in completely different situation, and this stubborn behaviour of Rupert, who, instead of kissing her and taking advantage of the fact that a young, eager woman was lying in his bed, chose to smoke a damn cigarette.
“Are you done?” She didn’t know where that little angry note in her tone had come from…
“We’re done for today,” he added, not even emphasizing “for today,” but Taggie couldn’t stop a small smile, hearing this.
“I don’t think you’re done.”
He laughed at her loudly.
“Miss O’Hara, I think you should return to your bedroom , before someone would notice your absence.” But a small clock on the bedside table was showing that it was just over six am, and only stuff would be on their feet for a couple of hours. “And everyone would be interested in where you wandered.”
She started getting up, smoothing her hair.
“And what should I tell them, sir?” She catched glimmer in Rupert’s eyes. “They wouldn’t believe me.”
“Knowing my reputation, it wouldn’t seem unussual.”
“Knowing your reputation mister Campell-Black, you wouldn’t let out a woman from your bed that fast, but what do I know? The devil is not as black as he is painted.” Taggie was sure that she wrongly used the proverb, but it seemed to suit the situation quite well.
“You spent with…” He stopped himself mid sentence, she must have stung his pride, that he even started to explain himself.
“You little brat.”
“Four hours.”
They said at the same time.
Taggie stretched her muscles, like Rupert would want to jump at her, but he reached the bedside table.
“For heaven’s sake.” He was smiling, and it even reached his eyes.
She decided to not let him take another cigarette, so she simply sat on him, and took one from his hand, which wasn’t lit yet.
“And what now?”
She pressed her knees to matres to slightly lift her up and slide the duvet off his hips and tights. She kissed him briefly, but the still fresh taste of cigarettes on his tongue made her abandon his lips. She started pressing a wet path of kisses on his jaw, slightly rocking her hips into him, feeling bulge through material between them.
“So you intend to make me come like a school boy?” He rasped in her ear. She didn’t know that this, whatever this was, had a name, but she had done that with Ralphie, and he was a schoolboy at the time. The name was spot on.
She slowed, not sure what to do, waiting for him to say that he wanted to do this in some other way. But he gripped her hips, and pressed her to him firmly.
“Don’t you dare stop.” Hearing that, she felt like she was on fire. She obeyed, taking a faster tempo, surprised that Rupert hadn’t taken the initiative, his hands shifting higher to take off her shirt.
She didn’t know that doing this could feel so different depending on the person. She was more sensitive to Rupert’s touch, like her body was responding to him. He knew where to touch her, where to press, where to kiss.
And when he started talking to her…
“That’s it. Angel, you are just perfect. Take what you need. Good girl. When you are mine, I’m not going to let you out of this bed. You like this idea, don’t you? Do you want to hear what I intend to do to you, to do with you?”
He wasn’t given the chance to finish, because he came, pushing his hips forward, then flipped her over, laying her on the edge of bed. Kneel on the floor between her spread legs. He slid her knickers down her tights, to her knees just enough to slip his head under her legs and started kissing her on her centre. Like he couldn’t wait any longer, to taste her. Totally surprised, she unconsciously tightened her thighs around his head.
“Easy,” she heard him growl, like she was a horse he wanted to calm and control. But Taggie wasn’t sure how she was supposed to stay calm in this situation; not knowing what was happening, and with every lick of his thong sending her to heaven. How he could want to control her when she wasn’t able to stop her moans, gasps, simply not capable of regaining her composure.
But she relaxed, just like he wanted her to do, when he slowed down significantly, and when she became familiar with sensation, he speeded his movements. The feeling building in her. He sneaked fingers into her, and when they started hitting repeatedly one spot.
“Rupert…“ She tensed, her back arching. She was so close, pleasure stretching her body. Tired, satisfied, and trembling, she let herself come.
Rupert bent down to get out from between her legs, his hairs brushing her tights. Then he put her knickers back in place, came back after a minute, dressed with different undergarments. He stood between her again, but this time she raised to sit. She looked up to him, as he tucked fingers under her chin, to lift it up, his fingers brushing her jaw. With the second hand he started to smooth her hair, but her curls were stubborn. Then he proceeded to bend and kiss her slowly.
She responded to his mouth, but was first to end the connection.
Taggie moved out of Rupert’s reach, put on her undershirt and grabbed her gown from the floor.
He was looking at her, his face bit frown, like her every step towards doors was coasting more shadows on his expression. Like he didn’t want her to go just a moment ago.
“Sleep well” she added shouting doors, her dress pressed to the front of her body.
After returning to her bedchamber, before she stepped in the cold bed, her attention catched hair pins laying on her vanity table.