Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
She was so damn beautiful and all his. More than he had ever dared to hope—and so damn responsive for him.
Benedict knew he was a degenerate, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to paint trails of her spend along her throat and breasts, dipping his hand between her thighs for more.
Eliza’s breath escaped in tiny pants between her parted lips.
She was awake, but not entirely aware. But when he drew along her taut nipples, she shuddered.
His cock, still weeping, was pressed against the graceful curve of her hip. Depraved, he swiped a little of his seed to add to his art, drawing delicate swirls across her flesh.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, eyes still closed but with a soft smile on her lips.
“Sinful things,” he said, keeping his tone conversational.
She huffed. “Nothing about that was sinful.”
“It absolutely was,” he insisted.
“You sent me to heaven—entirely impossible if our actions were sinful.” Her dark lashes fluttered open, catching his gaze.
“The Bible would disagree.”
Small hands rose to catch his cheeks. “You are not sinful, Benedict Sinclair.”
He blinked, thoughts still fuzzy with arousal, as those words penetrated his mind. The instinctive denial lingered at the tip of his tongue—so accustomed as he was to publicly reveling in his moniker.
“There is no sin within our love,” she insisted.
His heart threatened to crack wide open as tears pooled in his eyes before he scooted up alongside her and ducked into her shoulder to kiss at the home he’d claimed there.
Eliza’s hand found the back of his head and pulled him closer.
She allowed him to recover from his overwhelm there, in the violet-scented haven of her neck, before she shattered him.
“You’ve been so good to me, Benedict. Are you ready to let me be good to you?”
He swallowed, unable to mistake her meaning. Especially not when her free hand slid down to wrap around his cock.
Nothing had ever been so incredible as her inexpert hand closing too gently around his impossibly hard prick. Benedict’s breath was already ragged, and his hips thrust involuntarily into the circle of Eliza’s fist.
Her other hand tugged lightly on his hair, drawing him from her shoulder. Once he was free, she claimed his lips in a sensual kiss, her tongue tasting his boldly. Too soon, she pulled back.
“Help me. I want you to feel as I do.”
“You’re doing so well, little violet,” he replied, reaching for her lips again.
Her fist tightened.
“You made me feel so wonderful. Show me how to please you.”
Benedict nearly peaked at the words, eyes squeezing shut as he counted to ten.
Eliza’s breath caressed his skin, and he had to begin his count again, then twice more.
“Does it please you when I tell you how happy you’ve made me? How wonderful you’ve made me feel?”
His hips surged against her hand and he had to pull her delicate fingers away from his cock. He needed to be certain Eliza had no further designs on it at present.
He released a shuddering breath before swallowing thickly. “How is it that you’ve learned this about me in minutes when I hardly knew it myself?”
Eliza’s smile was sweet before she tucked her head shyly into his chest. He dropped a kiss on her head, then fell to his back, easily able to ignore the twinge of pain.
The riotous curly strands of her hair were impossibly soft as he ran his fingers through them. “Does that preference bother you?” he asked, his heart pounding despite his even tone.
“No!” she insisted, head popping up. “I find it no hardship to tell you the truth. In fact, that was the first time I’ve ever said anything with the intention of… experimenting.”
Benedict ignored the throb that thought drew from his prick. “Then why are you hiding?”
“It is only… I’ve only the vaguest idea what to do. And I quite like knowing what to do. I am nervous I will bungle it all up.”
Benedict considered for a moment how to best phrase his question. “What is it you want to happen today, here, now? Do you want anything more?”
She swallowed. “Are you— Is—” Eliza shook her head in irritation with herself. “I was so brave yesterday. I’ve used up my entire reserve—you had best be prepared for self-indulgent foolishness.”
“I am so very glad you were able to be brave when you needed to, Eliza. You needn’t be brave now.” He pulled her in closer to his chest, wrapping both arms around her to keep her close. “You’re safe here.”
“I know,” she whispered, which might have been the most wonderful thing she’d ever said to him. Quite an impressive feat given the very long list he’d accumulated from that morning alone. He kissed her forehead in gratitude.
“You cannot disappoint me. There is nothing to bungle. Would it help if I listed some of the infinite possibilities? Any of which would please me greatly.”
Her curls brushed against his chest as she nodded.
“You can stay right here, and I can hold you just like this, and we can hide from the world awhile longer.”
She shuffled in closer to his side but said nothing.
“I can feast on your sex again until you forget how to walk. I’m rather partial to that option—I would like it noted.”
He sensed her smile against her chest.
“Together, we could wrap your perfect fingers around my prick. While I must assure you, it is quite literally not possible for you to touch me incorrectly. I can show you how I touch myself when I think of you.”
“You think of me?”
“I’ve thought of no one else since the moment we met.”
Eliza hummed against his chest. “What else?”
“You could take my cock inside of you. We could move together until we reach a peak.”
“That is— That is what I hoped for when I arrived.”
Benedict’s thoughts tripped over the realization that she had longed for that physical connection the way he did—had come to him for that very purpose.
“Eliza, I should warn you—that is what everyone means when they mention ruin. Everything we’ve done before now—”
“I know. I trust you,” she said, shattering his head and heart.
He swallowed a tidal wave of conflicting emotions threatening to overtake him.
“Tell me what to do,” she demanded as she leaned back, a charming little pout crossing her lips.
“Come here,” he whispered before catching her lips with his own.
His sweet violet met him at every step, slotting against him with perfection, her tongue engaging his in a carnal dance.
Her hands roved over his body with abandon, tracing the planes of his chest, teasing his nipples, the edges of her nails grazing his shoulders before sliding along his side to slip beneath the loose fabric of his trousers and cup his arse.
Her touch was still hesitant and a little unsure, but she was every bit as bold as he hoped. And because she was Eliza, thoughtful and loving, she was careful to avoid grazing the wounds on his back.
She slipped from his lips to taste the skin of his neck. Benedict clutched at the back of her head before flopping onto his back to ease her experimentation. His back only merited a wince before Eliza’s determined exploration washed any discomfort away.
“Breeches off,” she demanded, lips against his throat, adding a sheepish, “please?”
Benedict could deny her nothing, nor was it a hardship to obey her. He lifted high enough to shove the fabric past his hips before kicking it off.
Satisfied, Eliza threw one leg over his thighs once again.
Benedict pressed up with one hand, aiming to capture her lips again. She indulged him in a sensual, all-too-brief kiss as her palms splayed across his chest, shoving him back down.
“Show me?” she asked, glancing down at his prick and back up to meet his gaze.
He sent a silent prayer to whatever deity prevented a man from spilling too quickly before he drew a hand between her thighs to gather a bit of her dew.
She gasped but watched with rapt attention as he drew his slick hand along the line of his cock. Satisfied with his efforts, Benedict gathered her hand in his.
Indulging himself, he brought her palm to his lips for a quick kiss.
And then he brought their joined hands down, arranging her fingers along his length.
Studying her face, he adjusted her grip—her expression never changed from one of fascination.
Together, they worked his length, moving as one in search of pleasure.
“Is it good?” she asked, tearing her eyes away from his prick.
“It’s perfect—” Eliza twisted her wrist experimentally, ripping a groan from his chest. “Too perfect if you wish for this to go any further.”
Her grip loosened, expression curious.
“How are you feeling? Do you still want to—”
She cut him off with an eager nod.
Permission granted, Benedict drew a teasing hand down between her legs. His fingers danced across her pearl before he slipped one, then a second, inside her cunny. Eliza was tight as he worked her bud with his thumb to stretch her.
When her hips began to move against his hand, a private dance of their own making, he pulled his hand away. Those eager hips chased his fingers as they left.
“Too empty?” he asked, not teasing as he might once have been, but desperate to ensure she was ready for him, eager.
“Benedict?” she whined
“I know, one moment, my violet.” He dragged his damp hand along his length once more for good measure.
Then Benedict rose, one hand holding his cock in place, as the other helped ease her over the length. “If there is any discomfort, you must tell me.”
Eliza nodded, breathless, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as, together, they eased her onto his cock. With impossibly slow, shallow thrusts, Benedict worked his way inside, earning only sweet whimpers for his efforts—no sign of pain.
Far from it, Eliza clung to him, her arms thrown around his neck, pulling his lips onto hers.
When their mouths broke apart, panting, Benedict pressed his forehead to hers. “Alright?”
“Perfect,” Eliza whispered back with a nod.
Satisfied, Benedict allowed himself the luxury of a more forceful thrust.