Chapter Fourteen
Caraney House was shrouded in darkness with only the candle Benedict held casting light on its silent halls. El’s hand was soft in his, her fingers small and delicate, as they passed dust-covered furniture and shuttered rooms, the house empty of even the most casual of caretaker staff.
“This is so odd,” El whispered into the hush. “I’ve never been in a house so wholly empty.”
He grunted, his mind wholly focussed on leading her to the master bedchamber.
He had not thought much on Caraney House prior to tonight.
It was simply one of his brother’s many properties, and even when Colgrove had offered it to him—or rather, attempted to bribe him into marriage with it—he’d still had no connection with it.
Now, it would forever be the place El made him her lover, where he would kiss her and caress her and she would take him inside her.
Where he would make her moan and plead and scream with pleasure
He quickened his step and El followed, her hand tightening in his.
The master bedchamber was as shrouded as the rest of the house.
Letting go of El, he went first to the shutters, opening them to allow light from the moon and the streetlamps to stream in.
Next, he swept the dust covers from the furniture in the room and beat them as best he could before using them as a very poor form of bedding.
Damnation, he’d not thought this through.
He needed to make it as special as he could.
She deserved the best, and it was bloody poor form all he could offer was a shuttered house with moonlight and dustcovers instead of candles and the finest of silks.
El stood at the bedchamber’s door, watching him curiously. “Benedict?”
“I had not thought of the practicalities of Carney House. I had not thought the bed would not be made, or the fireplaces unprepared, or the lightning unmaintained, and I should have thought of that. I should have made sure—” Suddenly, the enormity of what they were about to do crashed over him.
He was to introduce her to pleasure. What if he fucked it up?
What if he hurt her? Christ, what if he hurt her?
Soft hands wrapped around his. El had moved from the door and now, cupping his cheek, she rose on her toes to brush his mouth with hers. Her hand ran over his hair, his cheek, his neck as she kissed his upper lip, his chin, the corner of his mouth.
The panic receded, replaced with need. “El,” he rasped.
“Benedict,” she said. “Unbutton me.” With a final brush of her lips, she turned, presenting her back to him.
Her skin was silvery in the moonlight. His mouth dried at the play of shadow over her skin, need thickening his cock.
She shivered as he undid the first of her buttons, his fingers brushing against her warm skin.
He worked them deftly, her gown parting to frame her smooth back, her chemise and stays.
Her gown fell from her body and her petticoats followed, though her stays required more effort.
She lifted her arms as he raised the stays over her head, and then she stood only in her sheer chemise.
He could see the outline of her body, the luscious dips and curves he’d always pretended he’d never noticed.
He couldn’t resist kissing her nape, and then running his lips along her shoulder, his hands curling around her waist.
She sighed, her neck arching as she rested her head on his shoulder. Her breasts rose and fell with her uneven breath, her hardened nipples pressing against the sheer fabric. Christ, he could tell the colour of them even in this dim light, pink tips against creamy flesh.
He brought his hands to them and his mouth dried as he cupped her, weighing the soft flesh that overflowed his hands. She made a noise, halfway between a gasp and a mewl, and Christ, it made him hard, Need roughened his voice as he said, “I can remove your chemise, El?”
“Yes,” she said thickly.
Fuck, her voice did things to him. Focussing, he gathered the chemise in his fist and dragged it up, over her calves, her thighs, over her hips, and then the chemise was gone and El stood before him. Naked.
Christ. El was naked.
Her creamy shoulders sloped into her narrow ribcage before flaring out gently into wide hips.
Tight pink nipples topped her large breasts, and his mouth watered to taste them.
Her breasts were topped with the most beautiful pink nipples he’d ever seen.
Her belly was soft, her thighs thick, her core shielded with a dusky dark triangle.
She was, simply put, perfect.
“Benedict?”
He dragged his gaze to hers. Uncertainty lurked beneath her smile, her hands twitching as if she were moments away from covering herself. Bloody hell, how could she doubt how much he wanted her, how utterly lovely he found her? “You’re perfect, El,” he rasped. “So bloody beautiful.”
Her face bloomed with a hesitant smile. “Truly?”
“I cannot imagine a more lovely sight than you.” Locking his gaze with hers, he raised his hands and very deliberately undid his cravat.
Her eyes dropped to his throat, the tip of her tongue touching her bottom lip. He felt her gaze on him like a touch as he removed his jacket, unbuttoned his waistcoat, took the cufflinks from his sleeves and drew his shirt over his head.
She licked her lips, her gaze devoured his bare chest, his tight abdomen. Lust tightened her features, her eyes glittering, her cheeks flushed, and he couldn’t keep himself from her any longer.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he hauled her to him and took her mouth in a wild kiss.
Twining her arms around his neck, she opened for him, her flavour sweet, her tongue tangling with his as need twisted inside him, an unbearable ache.
Her breasts flattened against his chest, soft, so soft, while her hard nipples rubbed against him.
Sliding his hands to her buttocks, he kneaded the soft flesh and she moaned into his mouth, her arms tightening.
Fuck.
“Get on the bed, El,” he rasped, so thickly he barely recognised the sound of his own voice.
She did as he bade, watching him as he closed the distance between them. Her gaze drifted down. “Your breeches.”
“They stay for now.” Holding her chin, he took her mouth again, telling her with his lips and tongue what this meant to him, what she meant to him. How she was intelligent and brave and wonderful and so beautiful she made him so hard he hurt.
He traced the cord of her neck with his tongue, the hollow of her throat, her chest. Covering her breast with a hand, her gasp music to his ears as he pushed her soft flesh up, the rounded fullness a delight, and her moan when he bent his head to her nipple drove him mad.
She clutched his head to her, her legs moving restlessly as he pulled upon her, her nipple delicious and hard in his mouth, and it was even better when he blew on her wet flesh, her nipple tightening further as her fingers pulled his hair.
Surging up her body, he kissed her. Her thighs rubbed his hips and belatedly, he remembered he still wore his breeches.
Pulling back, he shucked himself of his breeches and his underclothes before returning to her, bracing himself as he fitted his hips between her thighs.
He about swallowed his tongue at the feel of her.
Christ, she was wet and soft and hot. He fucking ached with how much he wanted inside.
But she had not done this before. “I have heard it hurts the first time,” he said.
“I do not want to hurt you, El, but I might.”
Raising her hand, she brushed it over his brow, into his hair, over his nape. Closing his eyes, he leaned into her touch. “All will be well, Benedict,” she said softly.
A disbelieving laugh stuttered from him. “Are you attempting to reassure me?”
Her brows drew and they stared at each other. Her lips twitched and then they both started laughing.
Never before had he experienced this. His bare, aching cock pressed against her wet heat, his body tight with need even as his heart was light with laughter. But it was El, wasn’t it? Of course it would be different. It would be the best experience of his life.
Sobering, he dragged his thumbs over her cheekbones. “Are you ready?” he murmured against her lips.
A flush staining her skin, she nodded, her gaze on his, and he drowned in pools of gold-flecked brown.
Grasping her knee, he lifted her thigh to hug his hips, opening her to him. Taking himself in hand, he notched himself against her. Wet heat enveloped his head and, gritting his teeth, he rasped, “El?”
She frowned in concentration. “It is…strange. You may continue, however.”
Christ, even now she made him smile. He pushed another inch into her and swallowed a moan.
She was tight, and wet, and as soft as silk, and he was about to die.
God help him, he’d better not fuck this up because he definitely wanted to do this again.
With her. Forever. But first, they had to do it this once.
She gasped, a twinge of pain entering her expression. He froze immediately. Hands curling around his biceps, she exhaled. “There is more, is there not?”
He nodded, his ability to speak gone. Straining above her, he determined to keep still but, fuck, it was hard to do so when she felt the closest thing to heaven he’d ever experienced.
“I am ready,” she announced, the most adorable frown creasing her brow.
Again she made him smile. Brushing his lips over her frown, he drew his hips back and then pushed forward another inch, and then another, until he was finally inside her, his hips cradled by hers. Holding himself still, he rasped, “Are you well?”
Frowning, she adjusted her hips. “Yes?”
Need raced along his spine. Fuck, don’t come, don’t come, don’t come. He couldn’t help the tiny thrust, his hips stuttering into hers.
She drew in her breath sharply, her eyes flaring. “Oh.”
“There?” He made the move again.
The sound she made almost made him come. “Benedict, what was that?”
“El,” he ground out. “Are you ready for more?”
Nodding frantically, she said, “Yes. Benedict, I—” She moaned as he moved, pushing into her. She was wet silk and heat, her core grasping him greedily. She tilted her hips, her eyes going wide. “Oh, that’s— Yes. There. Oh!”
He made sure to hit that spot each time he returned. “Come for me, El,” he grunted.
She arched against him, her head thrashing on the pillow. “Benedict, I—”
Reaching between them, he found her clitoris, his thumb circling the swollen flesh. She keened, her thighs tightening around him, her heels digging into his thighs.
“B-Benedict. What— Oh!” A flush painted her chest, her mouth opened on a silent scream.
He doubled his efforts, hitting that spot again and again, his fingers circling her, drenched in her. She gripped his forearms, her fingers digging into him as she shattered beneath him.
Burying his face in her neck, he held her thighs wide as her channel clenched around his cock, her orgasm ripping through them both.
Fuck, he wanted to move, he wanted to fuck her again and again, but he had to hold still, he had to let her experience this to the fullest but fuck, he couldn’t hold on and then he didn’t have to.
He didn’t have to hold back any longer and he shoved into her, all sense of rhythm gone, choppy and hard.
She clenched around him again, her mouth an ‘o’ of surprise and he just about passed out, the pleasure blinding.
His spine tingled, his ballocks drawing up, and he wrenched himself from her, release ripping through him as spilling his seed on the bedsheets.
He collapsed upon her, dazed. That was… She was… He had no words to describe what they had shared, apart from the best he’d ever had. The best. Turning his head blindly, he found her mouth. She returned his kiss, her hands stroking his back.
Finally, he regained the power of speech. “Was it as you wished?”
“Yes. More, even.” Her fingers dragged up his spine. “Can we do it again?”
The eagerness in her voice made him smile. Christ, he wanted to, but… “Perhaps not tonight. You will be sore.” He hesitated. “But we can again. If you want. To do it again. Another night. Perhaps tomorrow?” He held his breath.
She nodded enthusiastically. “And the night after, even.”
Moving himself off her, he pulled her into his arms. She lay her head on his chest and he told himself to ignore how perfectly she fit into him. “You do not wish this a one time only event, then?”
“No. I…It would be wonderful if…” Her cheeks pinkened. “Can we continue? As lovers. We can still remain friends,” she rushed to add. “The very best of friends. You are so dear to me, Benedict. But perhaps we can also be…more?”
Something twisted in his chest. He resisted the urge to rub it. “Of course,” he said, with a smile he did not feel.
The return smile she gave him was blinding. “I do not know why I did not think of you in the first instance,” she said happily. “This was a very good idea I had.”
“Yes,” he said. “It was.”