Chapter Eleven
Her carriage had barely departed for the Downeys’ ball before it shuddered to a stop.
Throwing an arm to brace herself, Eleanor sucked in a breath as the door was wrenched open and a large figure blocked the gap.
Gripping the door frame, his arms stretched above his head, Benedict grinned at her. “Take me, too, El?”
Eleanor scowled, ignoring the way his biceps strained the sleeves of his jacket. “I dislike it intensely when you do that.”
“Do not fib, El. You love it when I surprise you.” Settling into the seat opposite, he said, “Where are we off to, then?”
“I am off to the Downeys’ soiree. I have no notion where you are going.”
“If you are to the ball, then I am too. How fortuitous our destinations align.”
“Does Lady C and Amanda not also make their way to the ball?”
He tapped his chine. “I believe they might do. At least, they were dressed as if they were to attend not ten minutes ago.”
“And yet, that has not stopped you from availing yourself of my carriage when I know for a fact the earl has a perfectly serviceable one.”
“Your carriage is more comfortable.” Putting action to his words, he stretched out his legs, his breeches tightening over the long, thick muscle of his thighs.
Her mouth dried. “Victoria has left for Scotland,” she blurted.
His brows shot up. She breathed a sigh of relief as he shifted, the fabric of his breeches no longer so tight. “What? Why?”
“Lord Dunseith is unwell.”
“He has been unwell since birth,” he said flippantly.
“Well, it now seems he is closer to death than not.”
“Oh.” Chagrin coloured his expression. “That is not pleasant at all. I am very sorry for her.”
“Yes. I also.” Victoria may soon be without her husband, but it had always seemed to Eleanor there was little feeling between them, not even friendship. Not like she and Benedict.
A small smile touched his mouth as he looked at her, his expression warm and open and always the loveliest thing she’d ever seen. She always wanted him by her side. She never wanted to threaten that. “Are you regretting our lessons?”
Surprise lifted his brows. “What makes you ask that?”
Picking at the velvet of the seat, she avoided his gaze. “You acted strangely at the end of our last lesson.”
Exhaling, he leant back against the squab. “I did.”
“We do not have continue with them,” she said in a rush. “If they disturb you, we can cease.” She would much rather lose the lessons than lose him.
“No.” Leaning forward, he took her hands. “El, I want nothing more than to help you.”
His blue eyes held hers. She was intensely aware of him, his big body filling the carriage, how his knees brushed hers with the sway of the carriage.
Her gaze snagged on the gloved hands surrounding hers, how much larger they were than hers, how strong.
Hands that had touched her and brought her such pleasure.
Her heart pounded, her breath jerky. “It was an intense experience. Anyone would be disconcerted. Especially as we are friends.”
Something flickered in his eyes before he gave a smile that didn’t quite reach them. “We shall always be friends, El.” Light and shadow passed over his face as the carriage rumbled on. “It will be some time before we arrive. Fancy a lesson?”
The casual way he asked was somehow like a slap to the face. Was he… Did it mean so little to him? He did it for her, she knew, and for her to attract another but…did it mean so little to him?
Light again passed over him. His hand were as fists on his thighs, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. Maybe he was in truth not as casual as he seemed. Though it was ill done of her and unfair, relief filled her. “What can be done in a carriage?”
He raised a brow. “Many things. For example.” He started to pull at the fingers of his gloves.
“You taking off your gloves is not that much of a lesson.”
“Patience, El.” Laying them to the side, he held out his hand.
Without hesitation, she slipped hers into his.
He traced the soft mound of her palm through her glove.
“Such a delicate hand, El, and yet I have seen the marvels it has wrought.” His fingers trailed up the line of buttons running above her elbow.
She bit her lip, tingles running along her skin.
A dark lock fell over his brow and her fingers itched to push it back in place.
Then, she realised she could. His gaze jerked to hers as she brushed the lock back.
Blue held her, locking the breath in her chest. So many carriage rides she had shared with him, so many moments like this, but never with this feeling in her chest, the swirl in her belly, the heat.
Still holding her gaze, he flicked open the first button. And then the next. And the next. All twelve he opened, and she was undone along with them. Desire raced through her along with liquid heat, and from nothing more than the unbuttoning of her gloves.
The glove gaped open. Breaking their gaze, he rested his fingertips lightly upon her exposed skin, tracing the faint blue of her veins, her fluttering pulse.
He had destroyed her with not much more than a touch, baring nothing more a brush against skin.
How could he make her feel so much with so little?
Bring her palm to his mouth, he pressed his lips to its centre. She gasped as his tongue touched her fleetingly, his lips soothing the moisture from her skin.
Murmuring her name, he wrapped his arm around her, his hand cupping her cheek as he brought her mouth to his.
The kiss was passionate and wild, and he pressed into the squab.
He smelled delicious, of Bayswater and citrus, and underneath the scent that was Benedict.
Moaning into his mouth, she clutched the lapels of his jacket to bring him closer.
He kissed beneath her jaw, light, feathering kisses, and then he did the same down her throat.
She squirmed under the delicate licks and nibbles, her skin so sensitive she felt everything.
He devastated her, taking her apart until all she wished was the brush of his lips, the nip of his teeth, the luscious stroke of his tongue.
His tongue. The illustration from Sophia flashed before her. “Benedict?”
He hummed against her skin in response.
“I have seen something… That is, can we…” She licked her suddenly dry lips.
He pulled back. “El?”
Hesitantly, she met his searching gaze. She could ask him. She could ask him anything. “I saw…That is, there is an illustration of a woman and a man was and he was…”
His thumb traced her cheekbone. “You can tell me, El.”
Heat burning her cheeks, she started, “He was between her thighs.”
“Like this?” He cupped her knees, opening them until he could push between, stopped only by the drape of her gown.
She shook her head. “He was… His head…” She took a breath. “His head was between her thighs.”
Heat flared in his eyes. “Ah. You would like to try that, El?”
She bit her lip. “I do want to, but…”
“It is intimate?” Idly, his fingertips trailed the sensitive skin at the back of her thigh as he waited.
“Yes.”
“It is you and me, El. Only you and me.”
Of course it was. It always had been. “You and me.”
Sinking to his knees, his hands curled around her calves, sliding up her legs and taking her gown with them. Her skirts settled about her hips, and she fought the urge to close her legs.
He glanced up. Voice gone, she nodded.
His gaze drifted down. In the dim light, his eyes glittered.
“Open for me, El,” he rasped and, slowly, she did as he bade.
Lust darkened his expression. “Look how beautiful you are, all pink and pretty. I cannot wait to taste you.” Hooking one knee over his shoulder and pushing her other leg wide, he covered her with his mouth.
A moan burst from her, her hands griping his head as his hot, wet mouth devoured her.
She had seen the illustrations, had imagined them late at night in her bed, but nothing could have prepared her for the feel of him against her, the decadent licks and luscious suction.
Nor for the sensation of his long, elegant fingers slipping between her wide-spread thighs and teasing at her core, gathering her dew to slick her.
“So wet, El,” he rasped. “I think you like this. I think this might be your favourite, but we can make it even better.”
As he uttered those words, he slid a finger inside her.
Just a little, rubbing her shallowly, his mouth locked on her pearl.
White-hot pleasure streaked through her and her hips bucked, seeking more.
Back arched, she couldn’t think, need burning through her, her world centred to him and what he was doing to her.
“Benedict,” she gasped. “You…”
He looked up, framed by her thighs. His eyes burned into hers.
She shook her head. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t… “Benedict,” she pleaded.
“I know, El. I know.” With a growl, he doubled his efforts, his tongue curling about her.
He licked and bit and sucked, shattering her with his mouth.
She arched, pleasure streaking through her, coiling tighter and tighter.
She gasped and moaned, his name, words, things she could not fathom.
His hand tightened on her thigh, holding her wide, the stretch delicious.
She opened her mouth on a silent scream as intense pleasure broke, devastating and overwhelming.
She convulsed, gripping his head as she shattered.
Passing his hand over his mouth, he rose up her body, his arms caging her against the squab as he kissed her fiercely. Aftershocks of pleasure rocking her, she held him to her, returning his kiss with everything she had. He tasted salty and sweet, and she realised he tasted of her.
He smoothed her hair from her face, touching his forehead to hers. “Was that as you imagined?”
She could never put into words how it had been nothing like she imagined. “It was so much better.”