Chapter 21 #3
The halting words that came from her were uncharacteristic. They made his heart twinge as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her closer. How could he run away from this woman when he could not fathom being separated from her?
“I am here,” he reassured her. “I want you. Everything about you, including the infuriating chaos you represent.”
She might not have said the words, but peace and trust showed on her face.
Benedict walked them toward the edge of the pond, even as half of their bodies were still submerged in water. Then, he broke the kiss to appreciate the beauty in front of him.
Flushed cheeks. Dilated eyes. Droplets clinging to her lashes while her swollen lips parted.
“I have never felt like this before,” he growled. “And I want you. No, I need you. Now.”
Anastasia did not flinch. If anything, she lifted her chin, defiant even with her breath caught and her body trembling against his.
“Then have me,” she said, voice low and unsteady. “But if you claim me, Benedict…” Her gaze flicked to his mouth. “Don’t leave me feeling foolish again.”
Something in his chest tightened painfully at the words, as if she had reached inside him and closed her fist around what he kept hidden.
Everything felt as if it were in slow motion.
Deliberate. It was almost as if he was waiting for her to say no.
Even then, his eyes burned on her as he took in every detail of her body up close.
His hands trembled as he reached out to touch her cheek.
It was wet from the pond, but were there tears, too?
Her lower lip quivered even as her eyes gazed at him defiantly.
“What is it?” he asked. He had never seen her look like that.
Anastasia always met him with her chin up and a retort ready, as if daring the world to try her.
But now her mouth trembled, and her eyes held a hesitation that did not belong to her.
It made him pause at once, because whatever had unsettled her, he wanted it dealt with—immediately.
“I… I have never done this before,” she said.
He would have kissed her either way, but when he lowered his head this time, Benedict did not rush.
He held her face as though she were something breakable, his mouth moving against hers with careful restraint, the kind that cost him effort.
Even as need pressed hard and relentlessly through him, he kept his pace measured, watching her closely.
He did not step away. He stayed against her, chest to breast, thigh to thigh, holding her as though he meant to make it impossible for her to doubt what he wanted.
His hand slid from her jaw to her waist, then lower, drawing her in until she could feel exactly how much he had been fighting himself.
He shifted his stance, placing himself between her and the chill, blocking the wind with his body, and when he felt her shiver, he tightened his hold, as if the thought of putting even a breath of space between them was no longer something he could tolerate.
“Are you certain about this, Anastasia?” he asked, his voice sounding strangled. He would die if she said no, but he must respect it.
“Y-yes.”
He approached her then, bare and ready. Her mouth made an “O” shape at the sight of his erection.
Fear and fascination seemed to blend in her eyes.
He kissed her again, soothing whatever apprehensions she might still have.
His tongue danced with hers as he explored her mouth while his hands explored the curves of her hips and buttocks.
When his fingers touched her core, she gasped.
It was a sound of surprise and pleasure.
She was already wet, slick, and ready for him, but he knew that he had to help her prepare for his size.
He worked slowly, tracing her slit over and over, until she was moaning and thrusting her hips toward him.
With each movement, one finger slid deeper and deeper into her.
He worked to stretch her with that finger while his thumb rubbed at her nub.
“I… I want—” she panted.
“What do you want, Anastasia?” he grunted, holding on to his self-control for as long as it was possible.
“I want you, Benedict,” she panted, as he made a beckoning gesture with his finger. He had found the spot that made her breathing quicken and her skin flush red.
Benedict did not stop rubbing her clit and thrusting a finger into her until her panting became louder and her inner muscles clenched around him.
“You are such a good girl, Anastasia,” he praised, watching her squeeze her eyes shut as she took in the pleasure of her orgasm.
He spread her, then, even as she tried to clench her thighs to keep the pleasure in.
“I am right here,” he soothed.
He hovered over her, letting his hands hook under her knees.
Oh, she was ready, but it did not mean that he could be a brute about it.
He slowly positioned the head of his cock, nudging her entrance.
His eyes were on her glazed ones as he entered her inch by inch until he was seated in her.
Her sharp exhale and a stifled cry confirmed her inexperience.
For a moment, he froze. He tried to keep himself still.
She was tight and hot around him, gripping him.
He needed a moment to process the sensations before he started moving.
Benedict waited for Anastasia to adjust, peppering soft kisses over her forehead, cheeks, and lips, until her eyes opened once more. Her green eyes stared back at him, full of wonder.
Benedict moved slowly at first, taking cues from her face. He took a deep, measured rhythm, and she met him stroke for stroke. Her inner walls gripped him with every thrust. He had to hold on to every bit of his control not to take his release.
She felt good. But he knew she tasted delicious, too. He leaned down to capture one nipple in his mouth. He lapped it with his tongue, swirling around the hardening bud, making her moan louder. When he sucked it hard into his mouth, she cried out.
“More,” she begged, as she gripped his shoulders.
Her plea broke through his restraint. His hips took a different rhythm as he pounded faster and harder, the rhythm more urgent. His body had taken complete control as he drove into her over and over, the slap of their wet skin adding to the sounds of their grunts and moans.
Anastasia was no passive lover. She met his every move, her hips rising to meet his thrusts. Her legs locked around his waist, not letting go, pulling him deeper.
There were no more words between them. Just moans. But they were enough to tell him what to do, how to roll his hips over hers. He slid a hand to where their bodies were joined and found the slick nub at her center. He circled it with his fingers even as he continued to thrust.
Then, there it was.
Her back arched off the grass as her climax tore through her once more.
Her eyes widened with surprise as she cried.
Her inner walls clenched around him, letting him feel the waves of pleasure that racked her body, milking his length.
Her face. Her moans. The way she gripped him.
They were enough to send him over the edge as he released himself into her, deep, hot, and pulsing.
For a moment, they stayed joined, with their foreheads pressed together. It was not merely a physical release. There was a tender connection. He was sure of it.
Benedict pulled out gently. Then, he rolled to his side and embraced her. It was difficult to let go after that connection. However, ever the pragmatist, he rose and dressed himself and Anastasia in their wet clothes before carefully lifting her and carrying her against his chest.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, with a small, sleepy smile.
“To your bed, Anastasia,” he replied. “You cannot fall asleep here by the pond.”
“Do you still find me infuriating?” she asked through kiss-swollen lips. “What do you think? Answer well.”
“I believe that you can guess that I still find you infuriating,” he teased back. “More than ever. But I also find you the most entrancing woman I have ever met.”