Her laugh. Her breaths. Everything about her had sent him into a frenzy and the feel of her nails digging into his arms sent an inkling of pain through his nerves. Just enough for him to reach down to his trousers to unbuckle his belt so that he could finally take her and enable her to finally and fully become his.

At least, that was how he envisioned it would go. In reality, there was the sound of someone by the doorway clearing their throat. Instinctively Charles jolted upward and almost pulled Emmeline from the table. He swallowed. Hard. And grabbed his shirts.

Fuck.

What could he say? How could he explain this?   Sorry Mr and Mrs Woodcroft, I was just about to fuck your daughter senseless on your ornate wooden table.

He was... speechless. And flustered. And embarrassed. His cheeks met the colour of her own as he clambered to hastily pull his shirt on.

"Mr.. er.. Mrs... erm, Woodcroft. Er," He stammered.

Usually he was quite suave and charming. Usually. Not right now.

Right now, he felt like he was back in Hogwarts being scolded by the headmaster.

Pulling his undershirt over his head, Charles chuckled awkwardly and ran his hand through his hair, "I... Enjoyed... Dinner?" He... asked? Said?

Nope.
This was it.
Charles was not going to die on the job.
He was going to die by the hands of Emmeline's parents.

Merlin he wished he was dead right now.

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