*sex scene*
•••
"painting her portrait,
an absolute likeness.
the loveliest face,
the most delicate skin."
•••
July, 1813
Releasing a low, possessive growl, Benedict stalked up to the girl, looking up at him highly amused.
With one swift movement, she was in his arms, being pulled down to sit on his breeches. "I want you." He groaned, rocking his hips up to meet her womanhood. "You have no idea." Roughly pulling her body down, his hands ran up against her cleavage, cupping her breasts in his hands, till he finally gave in to his own desires and took her nipple in his mouth.
Letting out a soft squeal, she could feel the smirk on the mans face. "Shhh," he crooned. "Just let me." She looked dubious, but when he moved his mouth to her other breast, and renewed his sensual onslaught, her eyes grew dazed, her lips parted, and her head leaned on the headboard, watching him. "Do you like this?" He whispered, tracing the peak of her breast with his tongue. She couldn't manage to open her eyes- only giving a swift nod.
"I need you." She panted.
His words were murmured into the soft skin of her breast, "I know."
She wanted desperately to feel his skin, and she grabbed at the muslin of his shirt, bunching it in her hands till it came loose of his breeches. She touched him, skimming her hands along his lower back, surprised and delighted when his muscles quivered under her fingertips.
"Sev," he grunted, shuddering as her hands slipped under his shirt to caress his skin.
His reaction emboldened her, amping her to trace her fingertips up his spine to his shoulders, broad and firm. He groaned again, cursing under his breath as he eagerly leaned up, shocking the girl. "Damn thing is in the way." He muttered, tearing the shirt off and disposing of it across the room. Sevyn had just moments to stare at his toned chest before he was atop her again, and this time they were skin against skin.
He was so warm.
"Did you imagine this?" He asked, tracing the crease of the back of her knee.
She shook her head frantically, attempting not to squirm. He slid his hands up the back of her thighs, "I daresay no one has touched you here," he said wickedly. To which the girl shook her head, "and I daresay you never imagined it." To which she responded no. "If you didn't imagine this..." he squeezed her thighs, causing her to squeal and arch off the mattress, "then I am sure you would not have imagined this..." he trailed his fingers upward as he spoke, the rounded curves of his nails lightly grazing her skin until he reached the soft thatch of her womanhood.
"Oh, no." She said, more out of reflex, than anything else. "You can't."
"Oh, but I can. I assure you."
"But- ohhhh." Her brain seemed to fly out the window, fixing her thoughts on the mans fingers. She began thinking of how utterly naughty this was and how she very much did not want him to stop. "What are you doing to me?" She gasped, her every muscle tightening as he moved his fingers.
"Everything." He returned, capturing her lips with his. "Anything you want."
"I want- ohh!"
"Like that, do you?" His words were murmured against her cheek.
"I don't know what I want." She breathed.
"I do." He moved to her ear, nibbling softly on her lobe, "I know exactly what you want. Trust me."
And it was as easy as that. She gave herself over to him completely- not that she hadn't been nearly to that point already. She was ready for this. She trusted Benedict Bridgerton.
His clothes finally gone, he lay back on top of her, pausing for a shuddering moment to just feel her beneath him. He was hard as a rock, harder than he could ever remember.
He snaked a hand between them and touched her. She was ready- more than ready for him. He slipped one finger inside of her- grinning with satisfaction as her entire body jerked and tensed around him.
"That's very-" her voice was very raspy, her breathing labored, "very-"
"Strange?"
She nodded.
"You'll get used to it." He promised. "I plan to get you very used to it."
Gently parting her legs with his thigh, he kissed her neck, roughly squeezing her leg as he positioned himself between her thighs and nudged at her entrance.
Noticing her parted lips, "trust me." He said, the words mumbled against her lips. Slowly, she felt him entering her.
She was being stretched,
invaded,
and yet she couldn't say it felt bad.
He touched her cheek, "you look serious."
"I'm trying to decide how this feels." She admitted.
"If you have the presence of mind to do that, then I'm certainly not doing a good enough job." Startled, she looked up. He was smiling at her, that crooked grin that never failed to reduce her to mush. "Stop thinking so hard." He whispered.
"Oh!" and then her eyes rolled back as she arched up beneath him.
Benedict buried his head in her neck so she wouldn't see his amused expression. It seemed the best way to keep her from over analyzing was to make her feel the pure sensation- to keep moving.
He winced- he had never been with a virgin before. He heard it hurt, but surely if he was gentle, it would go smoother for her.
He moved inexorably forward, sliding in and out till he reached the fragile barrier of her maidenhead. He looked down. Her face was flushed, and her breath was rapid.
"This might hurt," he warned.
"I don't care."
Benedict leaned down for one final, searing kiss as his hips surged forwards. He felt her stiffen beneath him as he broke through her maidenhead, and he bit- he actually bit his hand to keep the whole house from hearing him, and to discourage climaxing at that very moment.
She did this to him.
Only her.
Gritting his teeth against him baser urges, Benedict began to move within her. "Sevyn," he kept groaning to remind himself that this time was for her. To please her needs.
It would be perfect.
It had to be perfect.
He needed her to love this.
He needed her to love him.
She was quickening beneath him, and every wiggle, every squirm whipped up his own frenzy of desire. He was trying to be extra gentle for her, but she was making it so damn hard to to hold back.
Her hands were everywhere- on his hips, on his back, squeezing his shoulders.
"Sev..." he moaned again. He couldn't hold off much longer. He wasn't noble enough. He wasn't-
"Ohhh." She convulsed beneath him, her body arching off the bed as she screamed. Her fingers bit into his back, nails raking his skin as he quickly moved to cover her mouth with his hand.
Without thinking, and noting her release, Benedict could no longer refrain.
He exploded. There was no simpler word for it.
He couldn't stop moving. Couldn't stop shaking, and then, in an instant, he collapsed.
Unable to move a single muscle.
He should say something, tell her something about how wonderful it was. But his tongue felt thick and his lips felt heavy, and on top of that, he could barely open his eyes. He was only a man.
"Benedict?" She whispered.
He ran his thumb along her waist, signifying that her heard her.
"Is it always like this?"
He shook his head, hoping that she'd feel the notion and know what it meant.
She sighed, and seemed to sink, "I didn't think so."
Benedict kissed the side of her head, which was all he could reach. No, it wasn't always like this. He dreamt of her often within the passed month, but this... this...
This was more than dreams.
________________
*credit to Julia Quinn*
From "An Offer from a Gentleman"