Joan Champernowne Chamber.

He chuckled and sat up in the bed, watching her as she walked to the fire. Her body, supple and lean in the candlelight. There was something dark and dangerous in her eyes as she looked at him.

He laughed and wrapped the sheet around his hip, walking from the bed to the fire where she lay. He crawled to her side with a mischievous smirk, "I have not the restraint," he whispered as his lips reached hers.

"You are entirely beautiful, Joan."

"There is another thing," he began, taking advantage of the situation that had transpired before the fire. His lips came to her jaw, carefully trailing down her neck as he held himself up with his arms at either side of her. Measuredly, he nudged her knees apart as his mouth reached her collar bone.

His icy bright eyes glanced up to her devilishly mischievous before they went back to her neck, he knew exactly what he was doing, "The King also," he mumbled, "Suggested you might perhaps join the Lady Anne's household."

He did not like the idea of her going away to the country to wait upon some Baroness. Anthony's position alone allowed them greater roles in court...and selfishly, he wanted her near him. Court was a consuming environment and Joan had become his refuge, he didn't need to travel miles to Cornwall to be home - he need only share her bed.

Anthony sighed in her ear as she brought his hand to her woman hood, his fingers nimbly began to tease her soft fold and he eventually eased his finger into her, "But you'll consider it," he whispered lustfully to her, slipping another finger in and feeling her quiver around him.

He shifted slightly so he hovered over her, his nose nudged hers in a playful manner as his mischievous grin appeared on his lips, "Consider it for me," he added as he moved his lips down to her ample bosom.

He had become hard as he could hear her almost silent moans, hushed and gentle whispers. There was something in her expression, a naivety in her pleasure - almost the way she appeared when he first met her - but something mysterious that hooked him to her. He could not linger any longer...

He rolled over, holding himself over her and then thrust himself into her. With a moan, he replied, "I want you near," he said quietly, "So we can be like this."

As much as he wanted her to stay close to him, he was now lost in his own lust. The feeling of her womanhood embrace him, the warmth of her resulted in an absence of thought - except driving forth their own passions.

He clasped hold of her hands, brushing his fingers past hers as he held her hands at her head. His head dipped down, short hair brushing against her forehead. There was something about the way Joan spoke to him when they were together as they were in that moment. There was a maturity in her, as if she knew exactly what to say - exactly what he would wish to hear. His mind was calmed, his moans hushed and he continued to thrust into her.

He leaned closer to her, his hands began moving across her body. Each curve and dip of her flesh was soft, inviting him closer and beckoning him deeper into lust. He cupped her plump breasts into his hands, his mouth caressing the corner of her neck, "Tell me how you want it," he whispered against her flesh.

Usually Anthony was ruled by his own whims and passions - he would follow his own desires. It had been thus for years but Joan was different. Anthony - perhaps a little selfish in nature - somehow felt different about Joan. He yearned to see her flush in ecstasy and hear her moans, those sweet and gentle moans of hers.

He held onto her hips and moved up for a moment, rolling her over - thrusting into her as her chest was against the bed. He leaned over her, his lips upon her neck and mischievously biting her ear, "You are mine," he whispered with a smirk, thrusting into her more deeply.

He shifted a little, keeping a hold of her waist as he began to pushing his hard manhood into her. Moaning as he could feel her warmth around her - contracting as their pleasures increased. There was no restrain between them when they lay together. Anthony was at peace as he pursued his lust, he knew he could make her come and even her smile could give him pleasure. He peered down at her, her hair tousled and untamed, her back honey golden in the dim light - dewy with sweat.

He traced his hands down from the curves of her waist, her skin was soft and warm - tempting him to touch her more. His hands lingered as they reached her rear, he caressed her flesh until finally taking a firmer hold. He moved her chess apart as he continued to move in her.

He leaned over once more, his lips upon her back as he nudged away her wild hair. He wanted to possess her - body and soul. It were almost as if he was driven by something other than lust or love, it was satisfying a need in him, every thrust almost healing the scars from their arguments.

He couldn't control his release when it came, catching him off guard. Her warmth clutching around him was enough to cripple him to pleasure. He tipped over her with a deep and gravelly groan, penetrating her deeply for a few delicious moments as he released himself inside her womanhood.

Her name tumbled from his warm lips which were pressed against her neck, until he finally rolled off her with a deep sigh. Catching his breath, he lay by her side - his hand searching for hers which he brought to his lips, "You are entirely beloved, Joan," he mumbled.

He shifted a little beside her, rolling his head to look at her. His icy eyes - bright as glass - beheld the heavy rise and fall of her chest, her pursed pink lips. He smiled warmly, "We are alright now," he mumbled and wrapped her closer to him. He said it more to himself than anything. He would make their marriage work.

He had never known a woman as long as Joan, he had never felt what he felt when he was with her. Her naivety and youth, the wildness in her eyes. She was saintly when he met her upon those steps and now she was naked and flushed in his strong arms. And Anthony...was entirely in love.

He sighed contently and began to caress her back, resting his chin upon her head. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, for so close was she pressed to him. There was a calmness that washed over Anthony when he was with her. He didn't expect much when he had agreed to marry her, perhaps she would provide comfort and company. No doubt, he was consumed by her beauty when he saw her first but often that past. Yet, it hadn't - his feelings had grown and been nurtured.

He sighed as he thought about it, his mother had a handmaiden but not a proper lady in waiting. In truth, his upbringing had been spent in isolation from his sisters - they were educated separately by his warm and loving mother and so the intricacies of feminine habits were a mystery to him. Everyone in the family thought that his mother spent too much time sewing indeed, she was a bit of a snob but her heart was always good.

He collected her left hand, smiling at her ring and kissing her hand again, "I couldn't say," he replied, "I expect they shall want you to do everything for them...and they aren't even married to you," he replied playfully, "I want you close Joan but...you are not mine. I married no kitchen maid and so if you want to wait upon this Baroness...then you have my blessing."

He added with a chuckle, "As long as you find your way to my bed often and find time to make my supper when we are in Cornwall from time to time."