Author's Note:
This story takes place in the universe of When Curiosity Met Insanity, an AiW fanfiction. So yes it's a fanfiction of a fanfiction. It is a fantastic read. This story takes places after Chapter 14.
Turn onto her left side. Turn onto her right side. Flop onto her back. Flip over to her stomach. Back to her left side. Repeat again and again and again. She had thrown her blankets to the floor hours ago, but she was still so warm, too hot to be able to sleep comfortably, and had been ever since Reginald had left.
"Oh that ill gotten miscreant!" she yelled at her ceiling. "My sleeplessness is all his fault!"
She climbed out of bed in frustration, wanting nothing more then to wring his neck. She glanced at the window, wanting nothing more then to open it and let the spring air cool her down, but she had no real proof that he had gone home and the last thing she needed was to see him again tonight.
A quick glance at the looking glass told her that her face was still flushed so brightly that it must be a fever. Or no she was angry! It absolutely had to be because she was angry. The red cheeks, the way she needed to breathe so much more deeply then normal, the red flushed skin that peeked out from her neck and the small part of her chest that her nightgown did not cover. Red flushed skin?
"Now how on earth does that happen?" she asked the air. Granted she was not exactly in the habit of looking at her own body. A common trollop she was not. Therefore this could be something that happened every time she got angry and she wouldn't even know it. Perhaps she should look a little bit right now. It wouldn't be crude, she promised herself. Merely scientific. Still her hands shook as she undid the ribbon that held the front of her nightgown together.
She allowed the nightgown to come down to the tops of her bosom. Not decent by any definition of the word, but there was no about at least. She stared at the mirror curiously. The red flush traveled down her throat, her chest, and her bosom. Fascinated, she lowered the gown a bit more and frowned in confusion.
Her breasts seemed swollen, like ripe pieces of fruit. And the nipples at the ends were stiff, pointed, as though they were reaching for something. A liquidy heat seemed to flow through them down her stomach and from there down to…
With a small gasp, she covered herself up properly. Far from blaming Reginald, this certainly had to be a fever. Anger could not have caused reactions like this.
Alice climbed back into bed hoping that sleep would claim her and this strange fever would fade with the morning.
She snuggled in closer, soaking in the warmth that he offered. The porch swing moved gently back and forth as Reginald tilted her face up to his. She expected him to try and kiss her again, but instead he traced the curve of her lips with a gloveless finger. She shivered, the light contact burning her skin. She tried to pull back, but this time he didn't let her. Instead he continued to trace a path from her lips to her throat with those lovely hands of his, the long fingers whispering across her flesh.
Almost involuntarily, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back. His fingers, slightly roughened by years of work, seemed to dance against her collarbone, leaving trails of fire that sank deep into her skin, flowing through out her whole body. As his fingers moved across the side of her neck, a soft moan escaped her lips. She felt as though she was on fire, almost painful as a strange feeling of heat began between her legs. And as he continued to stroke her exposed flesh, the heat grew stronger causing her breath the come in gasps. She needed, she wanted-
"More," she whispered. He pulled back and she nearly whimpered at the loss of contact.
"What was that, Cricket?" he asked tenderly. She opened her eyes and oh he was looking at her that way again. She froze for a moment. She should go inside, lock the door, never let him near her again.
But for the second time that night, she did not follow her own advice.
"I want more," she told him, so shocked was she at her boldness that she was barely able to raise her voice above a whisper. But it was more then enough for Reginald. She had just enough time to see his eyes blaze as he lowered his mouth to hers-
Gasping, Alice sat up in bed, the dream still vivid in her mind. Just the fever's work she thought, desperately trying to reassure herself. And she continued to try and tell herself that as she tossed and turned for the rest of her sleepless night.