Page 7 of Beecham’s Infirmary for the Affluent Afflicted (My Darling Malady #1)

I’d never anticipated how deafening loss could be until the day it echoed through my bones, ravaging me from the inside out.

But Annie understands this feeling. As strong-willed as she is, she’s as marked by grief as I am. This type of loneliness doesn’t fade. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to her, because there’s a reflection there. I’m sure there are days she’s collapsed upon this very floor like I have.

What would it take to be the one who caught her then?

“No,” I croak, barely audible.

“Then say that instead.”

And I do. Except, I say it in the form of her name, and bend to kiss her like I’m starving.

Because I am.

Her palm slides down the front of my trousers the tender moment her tongue meets mine.

She wraps her hands around my girth, gasping and smiling into my mouth as I lift her.

She’s not a short woman, broad-shouldered with unbelievable curves under her loose clothing that I can now feel, but she weighs next to nothing with all of the adrenaline slamming through me.

“My dresser,” she says feverishly, wrapping her legs around me. I hesitate—there are things there, some of her belongings, but her voice is thick her want. “You wouldn’t care if I offered you to taste me.”

At this, I am not only a man starved, but parched.

Without another word, I turn and sit her upon it, and she sweeps her hands across the top to make room, knocking a cup and several compacts off.

Annie then unbuttons the top of her blouse—three down, just enough to bare her cleavage, when three more would have removed the garment altogether.

Tu oses me braver ainsi . At this moment, her very existence is a provocation.

I press my lips to the tops of her breasts, groaning against the plump veins I can’t help but notice as my hand slips beneath her skirts.

She stills, watching in fascination as I sink to my knees and find her entrance; her lips part, and she gasps when I splay her slick arousal between my fingers, thumbing her sensitive clitoris. I swallow, gauging her reaction, waiting for her nod before I bring my mouth to her cunt.

It comes quickly. Shudderingly. “Please,” she mouths.

Annie . She tastes even better than she smells. Warm, floral, and sweet. But when my fingers enter her gently, my other hand finding purchase in the flesh of her thighs as I tongue her… Her head falls back, exposing her throat.

She rocks her hips forward and palms her breast as I continue, my breath hot and shallow against her.

I glance up to enjoy the view, and immediately regret it.

My mind instantly blanks. I’m thrusting into her, feeling her muscles—her blood —pulse and coil around me, but all I see are the blue-green roadmaps and rivers dancing across her beautiful skin—the calligraphy inevitably leading me to a most unholy oblivion.

I’ll try it , I tell myself. Feel my lips against her pulse and stop there… because, what else would I do?

I’m pulled from my thoughts when she squirms against my face. I rise over her, and she whimpers in surprise when I flatten my tongue into the hollow of her neck. Unaware of the strange hungers festering inside me, Annie pulls me closer, her nails digging into my arms.

Unthinking, I drag my tongue slowly up the side of her throat to her earlobe.

“Jacques,” she moans.

It’s at this moment, I come to understand that this is the danger in her—of this. She has no idea I am overcome with the sudden urge to grip her by the throat and have her take my cock. No idea my urges grow beyond that—that I’d like to nothing else but to claim her and paint her in burgundy.

In wine, right? I blink rapidly. Jam? Figs?

I’ve straightened in alarm, but she lurches toward me, her throat rising toward my mouth hung open in self-disgust. I jerk away from her.

“Jacques?” Annie says again, this time in alarm. Her face is deliciously flushed. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” I swipe my arm against my mouth, my tongue, panting hard. I taste iron—an alarming sweetness on my tongue. “Nothing,” I rasp, easing out of her and quickly planting my lips upon her forehead. “It’s nothing.”

A lie, and a poor one at that. She takes both sides of my face between her palms. “You’re trembling, you know.”

“So are you.”

“Yes, but I hide it better.”

That, she does. Overcome with need, I reach for her waist, and she meets me where I stand. She slides off the dresser and kisses me harder, desperately, as if she needs this, too. Needs me to enter her, fill her. Bleed her dry.

Whatever the fuck is wrong with me roars to life when she falls against me. I drown in her, her nails sliding up my bare back. My hips press back into hers, and I feel the very moment she is undone, her whole being coming alive in heat and friction.

I spin her, just before we crash backward onto her bed.

I follow Annie down like I’ve done it a thousand times before—like we have a lifetime to go. My hands slip under her skirts again, and her legs open eagerly beneath me. I remove her undergarments and slide my own trousers down—carefully, so as not to ruin all of her hard work—and hover over her.

Annie slips me out of my pants before I’m done, fisting me. Her eyes widen in delight as I begin to thurst slowly.

“Do you like it when I fuck your hand, Annabelle?”

She only manages a nod.

My heart is thrumming, and I swear I can feel her pulse as much as I imagine tasting it. But my blunt, throbbing teeth would fuck her throat up—of that much I’m aware, even in my state of delirium.

Yes . That’s what it is. And I might’ve doomed Annie to it, too.

The feeling of my head against her pussy yanks me from my worried reverie; she’s angled me down, guiding me.

I think I’m about to come the moment I sheathe myself and the sound of her shallow panting invades my senses—but there’s slight resistance there. I frown, but she arches toward me hungrily, seeking friction, so I bring my mouth to hers and give it to her.

Annie lets out a muffled gasp as my cock eases in, and I’m just halfway in when I feel her stiffen beneath me.

Freezing, I slowly pull myself out to see myself covered in a layer of her arousal, and?—

And… My eyes go entirely black.

I wasn’t thinking—haven’t been thinking. She’s unmarried, unspoken for. Cares for her grandmother. I myself haven’t been with anyone for years. Not this way.

She watches my face contort in realization, and her cheeks are suddenly dusted in rose. “I didn’t think it mattered. I told you about myself. What I do here. I don’t know what you were expecting.”

When I don’t reply—I’m unable in the moment, feeling the alarming urge to open and snap my jaws shut—she moves to sit up.

“It doesn’t matter.” I fix the dumbfounded expression I’m wearing and bring her hand to my mouth, speak against her knuckles, my lips lingering longer than they should as I try my hardest not to glance down at the glistening red covering me. “And I wasn’t expecting anything from you. I promise.”

Annie hesitates, watching me closely, reading too much in the pause before I flip and kiss her inner wrist, as if she's waiting for me to regret this. Regret her . To pull back or change my mind.

I don’t.

“You think your inexperience is something I mind?” I murmur, dragging my gaze up to meet hers. “ Mon c?ur , it only makes this more precious.”

“I am not inexperienced,” she growls softly, her guard giving way to something deeper, more profound than annoyance.

“I’ve been pleasured before. And I’ve brought myself to it.

But I’ve tended to my grandmother since I was seventeen, not out of duty alone.

I care for her. She is my only family here.

” Annie’s face is bright red. “One doesn’t easily come and go from such a life, you see.

It leaves little room for leisure or introductions, let alone attachments. ”

“You’ve given so much of yourself without asking for anything in return.

I’m sure your grandmother is grateful, and the people who truly matter will see how special that is.

They will wait if they must. If this is your first time, then I’d be honored to be the one to make you feel safe in it.

Wanted. And, if not…” I offer her a smile I hope is consoling rather than hungry. “I have time. Lots of it.”

“Health and fortune on your side, granting,” she adds.

I laugh unexpectedly, but the distrust in Annie’s eyes starts to return. And for good reason.

I’ve gripped myself over her. Her noticing, watching me start to pump my cock with her come and blood, is sickening, yet I don’t think I’ve ever been more hard. There is something wholly, utterly wrong with me tonight, and I cannot help it.

Annie cups my hand in hers and begins to move our fingers together, up and down my shaft, mesmerized. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I admit, low in my throat.

“Revolting,” she breathes. But excitement swallows her pupils whole. “What else do you like?”

It has been so long, I don’t remember what I like outside of having the company of a beautiful woman in my bed.

I don’t even know if I’ve had the time or opportunity to explore what I enjoy, but of two things I’m certain—that I’ve never been graced by such a lethal presence before, and that the urges I feel tonight have never once plagued me.

Restraint altogether has eluded me since the moment I stepped into Lewis Annie’s fingers go to the remainder of her blouse buttons.

I catch her hand at her front. “You’re always the one dressing others. Undressing them, making them feel their best. Allow me do to that for you.”

There’s reluctance there, but she obliges as I begin removing her clothes, lace by lace. Layer by layer. When I peel her chemise away, my mouth goes dry. She is exquisite…