Witty, daring and with a secret knack for painting Frances Granville arrives at London with two convictions: one, that she is not interested in men, especially not in lords who parade impeccably around courting innocent young ladies at balls only to...
As I promised, here it is. I should probably include a warning that it is slightly (or maybe not slightly?) NSFW so read at your own peril. Alas, you have watched Bridgerton so I shouldn't be too worried.
L.H.
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"We wouldn't like to be interrupted, would we," Franny asked in a low tone, with a half-smile and a brow raised.
Then she approached Benedict with determined, quick steps and a steady composure, not taking her grey eyes off him. Benedict felt a rush of desire run through him and he suddenly grew very impatient for her touch. There was something urgent and demanding in her gaze as if she was daring him to touch her, to kiss her, to make her his. There were no unnatural mannerisms and artificial primness, no games and feigned interest; Franny's desire for him was thinly veiled and that made his blood boil.
She walked by him, and stopped in front of him hesitantly, biting her lips, wondering what to do next. Benedict had many, many ideas, one more wicked than the other, and each involving fewer and fewer layers of clothes, but he wanted to give Franny the chance to decide how to proceed. Then she turned around, brushed her hair forward, revealing the swanlike column of the back of her neck.
"Will you help me unbutton my painting gown," she asked, her chest rising and falling under heavy breaths.
"Of course," he replied with alacrity and untied the knot at the small of her back.
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He took pleasure in this slow, tantalising interlude, with each button coming closer to removing the unwanted piece of cloth. It was painfully intimate as his fingers moved along the back of her spine. Then he reached out and brushed them across her shoulders to push the dress gently forward. The gown fell on the ground with a soft thud, and Franny spun around. With a mix of innocence and ardour, she placed both of her hands on his shoulders. Without taking her eyes off him, she slowly, but confidently put one leg after the other across his toned tights, crawling into his lap. Benedict grunted as their bodies touched and he could no longer contain his desire. A delightful shade of crimson spread on Franny's cheeks as she could also feel his need and she bit her lower lip.
"You have no idea how many things I want to do to you," he whispered in a low tone, grabbing her head, his palm encompassing her cheek. He felt her easing into his touch, then her eyes darted back to his, her pupils extended.
"Why don't we get to work then," she purred, then draw her lips forcefully to Benedict's, devouring him in a hungry, possessive kiss. Benedict gave in to his animalistic instincts, racing her in a primal dance of passion.
Her fingers dug deeply into his thick, coal-black hair, while Benedict's hand slid down and grabbed her bottom. Her spine tightened and she let out a moan, making Benedict growl possessively. His fingers quickly found the fastenings of the back of her dress, while his tongue was still exploring Franny's mouth. He loosened the dress just enough so that he could yank it down with one swift move, undoing her bodice, freeing Franny's breasts just on his eye level. She gasped as the cold air hit her bosom and was painfully aware that she was now exposed in front of Benedict. He did not seem to be bothered, on the contrary, his eyes darted downwards, and his lips curved into a hungry grin.
