A serious take on Felicity and the Admiral. Please do review.
At twenty five years old, Felicity Worthington was everything short of worthy. She was unmarried and incredibly poor for a woman of her position. Having gotten into a hideous fight with her mother, Felicity had moved away from the little Paris home and into her own, visiting only to meet her younger cousin, Polly. But after months of living alone and wasting away all of her inheritance, Felicity had no choice but to return to London, defeated.
Unlike her closest friends, Ann and Gemma, an actress and a poet, Felicity had opted for a more adventurous life that had without a doubt, led to disaster. Blonde haired and well endowed, Felicity had taken many lovers in Paris. She had become both a mistress and a muse to many rich men, living off their money when she lost all of her own. Since she had moved to Paris, many men had been interested in Felicity and her radical ways. But there was always something missing. Felicity, after a few weeks, seemed too radical in the eyes of her consorts. None of these men wanted to stay in her life: they would have her as a proper English flower or not at all. And beautiful as she was, rich and famous men did no believe that Felicity Worthington was worthy enough to become their wife.
During the long ride to her estate, Felicity noticed the changes that London had undergone. With a small smile, she noted a poster with Ann's face. Slowly the carriage stopped in front of a large kissing gate and she once again entered her childhood home. The butler opened the large doors for her and she breathed in the house. It remained the same as ever, even after seven years: cold and unwelcoming. Maids fussed over her and Felicity warmed to them, though missing Fanny just the same. Fanny had remained in Paris to care for Polly. Bitter memories filled Felicity and she was distracted by her tears while being dressed. Polly had grown to be a twin to Felicity. Except that Polly would remain safe, loved, and cared for, while Felicity was banished to live with the Admiral.
With one last tight tug, she was finished. Dressed and presentable, in a gown with a very low bodice, the maid suggested she search for her father, ignoring the pleas for rest. Seeing that she had no choice, Felicity walked through the house in search of her father.
"Papa?" She called out to the figure looking out a window.
"Felicity! My darling princess, give your father a kiss." The man reached for his daughter in a way that was inappropriate for a father. And Felicity, in her months of loneliness, felt a shiver run through her spine. The man noticed this and his eyes darkened. Before he could react, the two were called for a meal.
They dined and she stuffed herself with food in a most unladylike manner, in hopes of making herself seem unattractive. He ignored this and simply eyed her hungrily. His eyes wandered and she felt like a harlot to her own father. Within minutes she had risen and excused herself to bed. He merely nodded and watched her leave.
A maid helped Felicity out of her dress and she was left with her undergarments. She looked at herself in the mirror, brazen and blonde haired. A few months ago she had been a courtesan. But today, she was nothing but a wench. She stripped off her undergarments for she knew that within a few minutes, they would have been ripped away. The maid had locked the door but Felicity walked to it, fighting against her moral judgement. With a shake of her head, she unlocked the door and walked back to her bed.
Within an hour, she heard the door swing open, close, then locked. A shadow loomed over her and she feigned sleep. Then she felt a hand creep its way beneath her blanket and pull it slowly away.
He threw her body back and pinned her to the bed, roughly. Fervent kisses and urgent touches followed and she knew that she could not pretend any longer. She cried out and her body, celibate for two months, pushed into the man, pulling him towards her. He kissed down to her breasts and she scratched at his back as he moved against her, dangerously. She called for him, craving the warmth and the pleasure that he could give her. Without any preparation the man entered her and she arched against him, tears springing into her eyes. He was rough, thrusting in, hard and fast, and she could feel it all building up inside of her. This went on until she felt it, pleasure everywhere. She called out his name with abandon, biting into his shoulder and he growled appreciatively. She spasmed against him and he groaned before falling into her. She fell into a deep sleep, satisfied by the wrongness of her being.
She did not wake when he crawled out of her room. She did not wake when he left. She did not wake until he was hours away. By the time she woke, he was gone.
Her maids and butler both looked at her, pitifully. There she was, the big hero's little girl left alone. But she wasn't. And she knew that he would return home soon, return to her. She would wait by the window for his carriage to come, she would wait patiently. Felicity knew that he would come back to his daughter, he would come back just to be with his sweet princess once again. Because her father loved her like no man had ever come close to.
Despite the perverseness of it all, Felicity needed the company and the warmth for she had become lonely in her last months at Paris. Despite the abuse she had experienced and the guilt that twisted through her body, Felicity felt warmth spread down her abdomen. Her father gave her this warmth and made her feel worthy. A complete wench and an utter waste, Felicity was worth the Admiral's love.
And the Admiral's love was far better than no love at all.